Gauge: Rockstar Romance (The ProVokaTiv Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

of.”
    The tour was full of all sorts of great insights. Everything the guide said made me think of a question. She said the architect was John S. Norris, and I wanted to know what else he’d designed. Two people had died there: some freak accident where a guy fell from the second floor and a really weird one, where some kid had ran up on the roof chasing a pigeon and fell right off, impaling himself on the beautiful wrought iron fence. Weird stuff. I was fully expecting to see something at least slightly bizarre with all the odd things that had happened at that house. Sadly, I didn’t see anything that was more than ‘interesting. ’
    An hour later, we were walking out, talking about debating why we didn’t get to see Jim Williams, and whether the movie and book based on the house, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil , were accurate at all. As we bantered back and forth, I found myself laughing and relaxing more with Gauge. He did the same, and that pleased me. He seemed genuine, a change from all the guarded conversations we’d had before. Perhaps he wasn’t as complicated as I thought he might be, but he certainly was cockier than I’d imagined.
    “Should we get some lunch?” he asked.
    “That would be great. I’m starving…no more big burgers, though. I haven’t had a chance to run or do anything the past week. ”
    “Are you one of those women constantly worried about their weight?”
    He wasn’t afraid to ask the personal questions. I marveled at his forthrightness.
    “No, but I don’t want to start being one. Plus, a good work-out helps clear the mind and think things through. Don’t you think? You obviously work out.”
    “I do, and I never miss a day.”
    “How do you do it?”
    “I do all core work—just my body and what’s around me.”
    I didn’t say it, but I sure thought it—that is one effective workout plan. I hadn’t see him with his shirt off, but I imagined he had a six pack on his six pack, the type of guy who would be sought out by Calvin Klein or Playgirl—I’d definitely buy that issue and explore what was all happening underneath that tight fitting gray t-shirt he had on.
    “That’s cool. More people are starting to do that. I’m not a huge aerobics person, but I love to run.”
    “Runners usually look so tortured.”
    “I’m probably one of the few that you see running with a silly grin on their face. Those who look so serious are just deep in thought, not tortured—usually, anyway.”
    “So I don’t need to worry that they’re not eating their prunes,” Gauge said.
    I looked at him. His face was so serious, I started laughing, wrinkling my nose at the thought. “Disgusting!”
    He burst out into laughter, and I couldn’t help but laugh, too. His laugh was deep and a little dark, and you could tell it was authentic by the way the crinkles around his eyes formed.
    “Okay, we’re around a bunch of cafes. Any preferences?” Gauge asked.
    “Not really. I don’t know this area.”
    “I do. How about Foxy Loxy Café?”
    “Sure, sounds good.”
    A half hour later, we were sitting outside in a quaint courtyard at a small café table. We were drinking horchata lattes, one of their signature drinks. The waiter said that that horchata had originally been made with melon seeds, but rice was more common now. I was all about adventure, but I wasn’t keen on ordering it at first—sounded horrible. I was glad I gave it a try, though, because it was actually good. We’d also ordered food. Gauge was having pork carnitas and I was having a cheese board, salivating at the thought of biting into one of the plump grapes that came with it.
    “What an amazing place,” I commented, looking around at everything. I just loved the atmosphere that the Spanish moss swaying in the breeze gave the entire courtyard. It was more haunting than the Mercer House was, in my opinion. The long, willowy green vines reminded me of arms that might reach out and wrap you up when you