I can't not write stories and I love to share what I've done. For those of you familiar with Crooked Fang, here is Xan Marcelles as a human Gabriel Nez and very vulnerable to Jessica DiGiovanni, Realtor...Just a sweet slice. Smile with your coffee and see why Gabriel Nez/Xan Marcelles has stolen my head and heart for ten years. - C.C.
She kind of gave me the eye as her lips mouthed the real estate words a buyer wanted to hear: Spacious walk-in closets, garden tub, ceramic tile. I don’t think I ever heard ceiling fans said in a sexier breath before. After the short tour (and every other stalling tactic I could think of) we found ourselves standing on either side of the bar in what I’d already decided was going to be my house. I’d buy anything if she came with it. Her first name rolled around in my head and I wondered what it’d feel like to say it in her mouth as I kissed her.
“Mr. Nez?” I blinked. She’d been talking to me for a few minutes and I’d completely not heard her.
“Please, call me Gabriel or even Gabe,” I said, my heart twisting in my chest, wanting to burrow deeper. She smiled, brightening the entire kitchen. I couldn’t help but return the gesture.
“Gabriel,” she said in the same voice that had just described the sexiest ceiling fans in the world. “You seem distracted.” She tilted her head in question. God, she was cute. Cuter than cute, like fine-cute. That smile again. She had me figured out. Had to. I couldn’t be standing there not-red.
“Sorry,” tumbled out of my mouth, “I just…”
Say it. You’re Beautiful. Say it Idiot.
“I just think the house is great,” I managed to finish, kicking myself in the mental balls for lack of the same.
She straightened her shoulders. I had to congrat myself for snapping her back into business mode. “So you’re interested in making an offer.”
“I am,” I said, “Let’s go get a drink. I’ll buy.”
Her eyes widened then narrowed. “Mr. Nez, I am on the job. And I drove you here.”
I licked my lips. I’d already stuck my neck out. Might as well go for the gold. “After work then. Please say yes.”
She blinked. “Yes.” Abject horror. “I mean—“
“Nope, I got a yes out of you.”
Her look of surprise slowly melted into a smile, reaching her turquoise eyes. They had little gold flecks in them. Sigh. “Alright.”
“And call me Gabriel, or even Gabe.”
“What does your girlfriend call you?”
I snorted. “You’re fishing.”
She turned on her heel, her spun-silk ponytail swishing a fresh breeze of Jessica-perfume over me. I swayed on my feet and followed her back outside to the Cadillac.
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” I said as she unlocked the doors. The door handle was scalding to the touch in the sun. I opened the door as fast as I could and we both backed away from the opened car to let the heat escape. She met my eyes.
“I find that really hard to believe Gabriel.”
I loved the way she said my name. It was like a breath with sound, but a Jessica-breath. I was Jessica-smitten. She could’ve taken me in an arm wrestling match because my knees felt like jelly.
“It’s not so hard to believe,” I countered. “I work two jobs, and spend the rest of my time either sleeping or fiddling with things in the house. Aside from a drink after work sometimes, I just don’t get out much.”
“You’re an artist right?”
I laughed. “You know all this stuff about me already. No fair.”
She grinned and dropped into the driver’s seat to turn on the car and I got in on the passenger side. “I know your credit score,” she said, sticking out her tongue.
“You gonna tell me?”
She shook her head and I felt that stupid smile creep up on my face again. The whole goddamn car smelled like her. I just wanted to kiss her all over.
“It’s against the law.”
“I bet you tell your boyfriend his.”
She bit the inside of her cheek to hide the smile. “Now you’re fishing.”
I shook my head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, crazy house-lady.”
Our giggles died down and we were just kind of staring into one another’s eyes, faces drawing closer together until she blinked hard a couple of times and jerked away to back out of the driveway.
Photo credit: EmmiP from morguefile.com
Photo credit: EmmiP from morguefile.com
