Icing On The Date (The Bannister Brothers #1) (14 page)

Chapter Twelve

Holy crap
. Gabby looked around the foyer of the beautiful home. “Is this really your house?”

The house had the great room design, and a living room with a huge stone fireplace covered one side and a modern kitchen with cherry wood cabinets filled the other.

Owen pulled off his coat and dropped it on the floor. The clattering of toe-nails sounded on the hard work floor and a huge, block-headed yellow Labrador retriever rounded the corner and plowed excitedly into Owen.

He laughed and rubbed the dog’s neck as its whole body shook with joy. “Yes, this is my house. But I have no idea whose dog this is.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because he seems to know you pretty well.”

“Oh wait, I do recognize this big lug. This is Fred.”

Gabby reached out her hand, and the big dog licked her fingers. “Hi, Fred.”

“This guy really is my number one fan. Aren’t you, boy?” He crossed the room and opened the door into the backyard. The dog shot out, and he pulled the door shut. “I only wish that I could live up to that dog’s remarkable opinion of me.”

She chuckled. “I feel the same way about my dog.”

He gestured to the kitchen. “You want something to drink? A glass of wine?” He opened a cabinet and pulled down two wine goblets, then gave her a look, his expression clear. “You can have a drink now. You won’t be driving anywhere else tonight.”

Gulp. She swallowed, and her inner vixen woke up and purred. “Sure. I’ll have a glass.”

She watched him open the wine and pour two glasses, admiring the muscled lines of his body and the efficient way that he worked.

Flames of passion licked at her stomach every time he looked at her, the desire evident in his eyes. “Don’t forget about the exhibition game tomorrow. I’d really like you to be there. It starts at two, and it would mean a lot to me if you came.”

“Sure. Yeah, of course.” At this point, she’d go anywhere, do anything he asked. As long as he kept looking at her like that, she was his for the taking.

He handed her a glass, and she took a sip. Hell, she wanted to take a gulp. To swig it down and let it give her the courage to crawl across the counter and climb his perfect body.

Instead, she looked around the room as Owen turned on the fireplace.

The décor was a cross between elegant and man-cave, with lots of hard wood tones accented with blues and burgundies. Overstuffed sofas and a couple of recliners clustered around an oak coffee table and a big-screen television covered half the wall. The kitchen had modern appliances, but still had a homey feel.

A few pieces of antique hockey equipment accented the room and a foosball table sat between the kitchen and living room in place of the traditional dining room table. The big chairs, the giant TV and the foosball table all added to the man-cave feel. Albeit, a tasteful man-cave.

It was evident that Owen had a lot of money. Her entire apartment would fit in the space of his living room and kitchen. And some of his appliances looked like they cost more than her car. Considering she drove a late model Toyota sedan, she was fairly certain the fancy coffee pot sitting on the counter cost more at the department store than she had spent to purchase her vehicle.

She took another swig of wine.

What was she thinking? She was totally out of her element here. She was used to a bologna and macaroni and cheese lifestyle, and this was more like caviar and champagne. Okay, maybe it wasn’t that snazzy, but it was definitely filet mignon and high-end microbrews. And still more than she’d ever known.

“Your house is beautiful. Did you decorate it yourself?”

“Not hardly. My mom helped with a lot of it, she has really good taste and a flair for decorating. But some of the touches are mine.” He nodded at the foosball table and let out a low chuckle. “We almost came to blows over having the foosball table instead of a dining room table.”

Gabby smiled. “It is a little unconventional. And seems hard to sit down at to eat a nice meal.”

“That’s what restaurants are for.” He grinned and pointed toward the fireplace. “I need to do a little Christmas decorating—at least put up a tree. I just haven’t had time to do it. I was thinking I’d try to get to it this weekend.” He cocked his head at her. “What do you think about coming with me? I’d buy you dinner if you helped me pick out a tree and get it decorated.”

Putting up a Christmas tree sounded so domestic—and totally romantic. She could almost smell the scent of pine as she imagined the fireplace crackling and the Christmas music playing as they strung tinsel and lights on a huge tree.

At least that’s how they made it seem in the movies. At her house, putting up the tree usually ended in too much spiked eggnog and a fight over not having enough money to put presents under it.

Although she did have one good recollection of putting up a tree. She swallowed at the emotion that came with the flood of memories.

She’d been in high school, and she and her mom had found a great deal on a fake tree and a box of ornaments at a thrift store. They’d brought it back to the apartment and had it up and decorated before Ron got home from work. She remembered her mom had found a station on the radio that played Christmas music, and she’d made Gabby hot chocolate as they laughed and decorated the little tree together. It was one of her favorite memories of spending time with her mother.

She smiled at Owen, feeling warm and nostalgic. “Sure, I’d love to help you get a Christmas tree.”

“Great. It’s a date.” He winked at her before crossing the room and opening the back door.

Fred bounded in, sprinting to her to request another head scratch. She willingly consented and rubbed his big blocky head.

It’s a date
. She had
another
date with Owen. Her heart raced in excitement and fear. She really liked this guy. She
wanted
to go on another date with him, but she was afraid she liked him too much. She was getting in way over her head.

She tried to take another sip of wine, but was surprised to see her glass was empty.
Uh oh.
Must have been doing more sipping than she’d thought.

“Hut,” Owen commanded, and the dog ran to him then crossed to a sheepskin dog-bed in front of the counter. He circled the bed then plopped down in the center, his big pink tongue lolling from the side of his mouth.

“Wow. Impressive.”

Owen shrugged and refilled her glass. She noticed his was still half full. “He’s a good dog. Labs are eager to please, and he’s a fast learner. I’ve had him since he was a puppy, and he’s almost seven now, so we have a routine.” He took her hand and led her to the sofa.

Sinking into the corner of the couch, he pulled her down next to him.

Oh boy.

His arm rested easily on the back of the sofa as she pulled her leg up and turned so she was facing him. She could feel the heat of his body as her leg nestled against his thigh.

Her hand trembled slightly as she took another sip of wine. She hoped he didn’t notice.
Keep things light.

This was no big deal. She was just snuggled up on the sofa with a professional hockey player, a guy that was so incredibly good-looking it almost hurt to look at him. A guy whose abs were hard as steel and whose slightest kiss had her toes curling and her clothes threatening to fling themselves off. A guy totally out of her league and out of her scope of reality.

Nope, nothing to be nervous about at all.

So, keep it simple. Talk about his house, his car, his dog. Anything other than how much she wanted to rip his shirt off with her teeth and lick him. “Isn’t it hard to have a dog when you travel so much?”

“Nah. I have a huge family, and my mom doesn’t like to admit it, but she has a soft spot for Fred. And I think he loves her more than he does me. He usually stays at my folks’ house when I’m on the road.”

She sighed. “Your family seems really great. You all seem so close.”

“We are. My parents are awesome. And even though my brothers drive me crazy sometimes, they’re my best friends, the guys I know I can count on, no matter what.” He lifted a lock of her hair and absently twirled the curl around his finger. “Kind of like you and Justin.”

She laughed. But not a ‘funny ha-ha’ laugh, more like a ‘you’ve got to be kidding’ kind of laugh. “No. Your family is nothing like mine and Justin’s.”

“You guys seem close though. Are you in pretty good with your parents?”

“If by
good
, you mean it’s a
good
thing I don’t live there anymore, or it’s a
good
day when I don’t see or hear from them, then I guess we’re good.” She shifted in her seat, hoping to distract him and go back to talking about his family. “What does your dad do, besides help create incredibly handsome sons?”

This earned her a slight grin. “He’s in construction. His company is Bannister Building and they build homes and do large scale renovations. One of my brothers works with him, but he taught us all how to do the basics. What about your dad? What does he do?”

You mean besides riddle my mother with insults and abuse?
“I don’t know. I don’t really remember my real dad. He left when I was three or four years old and never came back. We had a pretty rough time of it after that. It’s not a very happy story. Let’s go back to talking about your dad and how he taught all of his fine sons to use a hammer. I’ll bet you built a treehouse in your backyard.”

“A tree fort, actually. And an ice rink in the winter. My dad wasn’t a fan of video games so he kept us all busy. The only time we were allowed to lay around in our rooms was if we were reading a book.”

“The library is a great place for that. Justin and I spent as much time as we could out of our house as well.”

“Your mom must have remarried because I’ve heard you mention your step-dad. What did he do?” He seemed determined to hear more about her family.

“As little as possible.” She took another swallow of wine. “Listen, my life growing up was nothing like yours. We were dirt poor. We didn’t come from a happy home where our mom baked cookies and we had a treehouse. We didn’t even have an actual house. We lived in a crappy apartment.”

He looked at her with sincerity in his eyes. “Gabby, I’m not trying to pry. You don’t have to tell me anything about your family. I’m just trying to get to know you better.”

She rubbed at her forehead and the tension settling there. She didn’t usually talk about her family. Her past was her past. They’d got through it and she’d moved on. Well, maybe not moved on.

Otherwise she wouldn’t have had such a hard time at the game tonight, but she’d moved past it.

His hand rested on her thigh, his fingers moving in a gentle circle on her leg. The fireplace gave off a warm glow in the dimly lit room, and she felt safe. Whether that was the wine talking or the feeling of closeness to Owen, she didn’t know. She probably shouldn’t have had so much wine.

She took a deep breath. “After my dad left, we were pretty bad off. My mom couldn’t pay the bills, and we got evicted from our apartment. We actually stayed in a homeless shelter for a while.” She stopped, sneaking a glance at his expression, anticipating the look of horror.

But he didn’t seem horrified or even shocked. He didn’t get up and run for the hills either. He remained calm, unflustered.

“My mom eventually got a job as a cashier at a grocery store, and that’s where she met my step-dad, Ron. He was the assistant manager. Apparently he swept her off her feet. My mom was really pretty back then. I mean, she’s still pretty now. She just looks like she’s lived a hard life and gone through a lot. Which she has. Sometimes, like if Ron was gone for a business trip, she’d get her spirit back, and we’d dance in the living room. She’d turn up the music, and laugh and get Justin and me to dance with her. We loved it. We loved her.”

She picked at the seam of her jeans. “I can’t blame her. I used to. But I don’t anymore. She was so young. And she had these two little kids to support. And Ron was nice, at first. He had a job and we moved into a little apartment after they got married. He seemed to genuinely care about us kids, and he loved my mom. But in a possessive controlling kind of way. Like he was totally obsessed with her, always worried that she was going to leave him for another guy. Things were okay until he lost his job. And started drinking more. And yelling more. And obsessing more.”

Owen frowned. “I don’t like where this story is headed.”

“No. And it only goes downhill from there. We fell into this vicious cycle where Ron would get a new job and everything would be good, then he’d get fired for drinking, which led him to drink more. And hang around the apartment, brooding, and railing against anything that got in his way. Which was usually us kids or my mom.” She shrugged. “You don’t realize it when you’re in it. Realize how bad it is. You just live it. We had bad nights and my mom swore she would leave, then we’d wake up in the morning, and he’d be sorry and swear he’d never do it again, and we’d cover up the bruises with makeup and long sleeves and make up stories about falling down stairs and running into doors and go on with our days. It was just our life. Until it wasn’t. Until I turned eighteen and left and took Justin with me.”