He shrugged, and she hurried down the steps, through the house to the back window. What he heard then was not quite a girlish shriek, but very close to it.
"It's only cleared," he said as he walked up behind her. "It's too late for planting, but Rose said the garden ought to be put to bed properly."
She turned and gave him a wide grin, a bouncing-on-toes, little-girl-at-Christmas grin. Then she put out her arms and said, "Can I? Just say no if--"
"You can."
She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, fairly strumming with excitement, and he thought, I did it. Also Top that, Ricky, and yes, he did feel a twinge of guilt, but it was a very small twinge, and really only because it was not quite sportsmanlike to compete against someone who didn't realize there was a competition.
But Gabriel hadn't gotten where he was by being sportsmanlike. And he did respect Ricky enough that he would never try to seduce Olivia away in any more overt way. Which wasn't, to be honest, a moral choice so much as the admission that, there, he would probably fail. But there was some degree of--if not morality--personal respect, the same quality that knotted his stomach when he thought about the river tunnel and the kiss. He did feel guilty about that. He really did...even if that guilt took a while to arrive, following well after other emotions that accompanied those particular memories.
"Sorry," Olivia said. "I'll stop hugging you now."
You don't have to, he thought, but in the time it took for him to realize he could have said that, at least with a smile, she'd already backed off and the moment had passed, which was probably best. For now.
"Okay, so coffee..." She turned slowly, as if in a semi-daze, still glowing with excitement. "Is that--? That's not a coffeemaker, Gabriel."
"It makes cappuccinos as well, which I'm told can be used for mochas."
"That's...You didn't need to..."
He tensed. Here he'd crossed the line. Here it was too much. Too extravagant.
He'd wanted to say, in the most unmistakable way, I hear you. That he paid attention. That changing the locks and having furniture brought down was the least she needed. The bedding and towels and dishes took it a step further, but were still basics, as a host might provide for a guest. The rest was where he really said what he wanted to say. I know you'll want that cupola for a reading room and you'll want pillows. I know you'll want to sit out in the garden while you can, without fretting that you should be clearing it for winter. I know you'd like a mocha when you sit outside or up in your reading nook. I know all this. I know you.
But the coffee machine went a step too far. It was not merely an act of consideration. It was a gift that, while easily covered by a trip to the bank machine, was more than one friend ought to give another, and now, seeing it and thinking of all the rest, she seemed to realize that.
"First you save my life," she said. "Now this. Racking up your side of the tally, huh? I owe you big-time now."
His insides chilled. "You owe me nothing, Olivia. I was merely preparing the house for your possible arrival."
She flushed. "Right. Sorry. There's a bill. Of course. I knew that."
More chilling, settling in the pit of his stomach. "No, this is a gift. I would hardly purchase items for you, without your consent, and expect you to repay me."
She reddened more, stammering out an apology.
For God's sake, Gabriel, stop being an ass. Get your back down and apologize.
She'd been smiling when she said she owed him. Teasing him, in a way that wasn't entirely teasing because she wasn't entirely sure. That was how relationships worked with him. Take nothing and owe nothing. Keep the balance firmly in his favor.
When he got snippy and said he was only preparing the house, she'd presumed he meant he expected her to pay, and had flushed in embarrassment at her mistake. Could he blame her for that? Before she'd come to work for him, he'd charged her for his time, a bill to be paid when her trust came in. Of course she would think he might have only been showing consideration in buying the items, to also be repaid.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"No, I--"
"I overreacted, and I was unclear regarding the nature of the gesture. It is a gift. I appreciate everything you've done." He knew he should say more, but here he struggled. I appreciate the work you've done for me, at the firm? True, but that said he'd done this for her as an employee. I appreciate your friendship. Also true, but when he opened his mouth to say that, the words wouldn't come out. They were still too damning an admission.
Damning an admission? That she was a friend? That he valued her friendship? There were greeting cards for that, for God's sake, and he couldn't even say the words? How the hell did he ever expect to say more?
Sweat beaded on his forehead.
I feel as if I've taken huge leaps, and I haven't even caught up to where a normal person would start. Ricky would have been able to say he valued her friendship after a few coffee dates.
Say something. Say anything. Goddamn it, just--
"I appreciate everything," he blurted. "That's what I'm saying. I know I'm not always the easiest person. I know I've made things difficult for you. I know you've...you've..." Words, Gabriel. Words. "You've stuck by me regardless of my mistakes. And I...I appreciate that."