Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 138522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
I don’t have to say who “him” is. “Exactly what kept me up all night,” he admits. “We should meet.”
“Agreed. I need to get Abbie to the office and settled but I don’t want to talk there.”
“The coffee shop,” he says, referencing the spot by the office we often meet. “Ten AM.”
“Ten AM.” We disconnect and I head back upstairs to feed Dexter.
I enter the bedroom already peeling away my T-shirt and toeing off my shoes. “Your dog licked the doorman from chin to forehead,” I call out, walking toward the open bathroom door. “And I’m talking full-on lips-to-tongue action.” I find her at one of the two double sinks, a silk robe hugging her curves.
“My dog?” she laughs, turning to face me, a lacy black bra teasing me through the gaping V of the silk robe.
“I’ve decided he’s your dog when he does shit like that,” I say, dragging her to me and squeezing her backside. “I could really get used to this view in the morning.”
“You better. I’m moving in, remember?”
“I do. When Abbie?”
“You tell me?”
“Now.”
“Now?” she laughs.
“Yes. We’ll get all we can ourselves this weekend and call movers to get the rest.”
“I have a lease.”
“I’ll pay it.”
“You are not—”
I mold her to me and kiss her. “What’s mine is yours. We’ll work out the details later, but you will never want for anything ever again. You have my word.” I kiss her again and walk to the shower, undressing and stepping inside, pulling the door shut.
It opens again and Abbie stands there, tempting me to pull her inside, and if her hair wasn’t dry and her make-up done, I would. Hell if I didn’t have the meeting with Reid, I’d do it anyway and she could just get dressed all over again.
“I don’t want your money. I’ve had money, remember? It didn’t keep me warm at night or make me laugh, or even moan like you do, Gabe. And I don’t want to be taken care of. I want to be equal. I want to be friends. I want you, Gabe Maxwell, and nothing more.” And with that, she shuts the door and disappears, leaving me with more of that warmth spreading through me, as does my determination to do just what she said I shouldn’t.
Take care of her.
Whatever that has to mean. Whoever I have to cross. Even Jean Claude. I don’t care how dangerous he is, he’s not as dangerous as a man protecting the woman who woke him up.
***
Abbie and I drink coffee in the kitchen, our kitchen, and talk through the plans to move her out of her place. Dexter is exceptionally excited, feeding off our energy and laughter as we talk about what furniture she wants to keep. “We can redecorate,” I offer. “Anything you want.”
“Really?” she challenges, sipping from my coffee cup when hers is out of reach, comfortable. We’re remarkably comfortable with each other. “Because I was thinking a pink theme. Pink blinds. Pink rugs. I have a thing for pink.”
“Then we’ll decorate in fucking pink rugs and blinds, baby.”
“Good,” she says. “I can’t wait to go shopping.”
We laugh together, give Dexter goodbye affection and a bone before we decide to make the short walk to the office. “Talk to your mother about the shelter,” I say. “If she can’t get a place secured, find some options. Let’s start looking.”
“You’re sure about this, Gabe?”
“Tax write-off, baby. Is there another shelter we could buyout and merge with? A shelter we could improve? Turn it into a doggy spa shelter?”
“A doggy spa,” she laughs. “I like that idea. And maybe. I’ll talk to my mother.”
We chat that out a bit more, including the merits of doggy manicures, and we’ve just walked into the office to be greeted by Lulu who is apparently back from Italy today. I should know this of course, she is my assistant, but hell if I did. I introduce her to Abbie and since she’s also a redhead, the comparison is awkward. The looks Lulu casts between me and Abbie are as well. She knows me. She senses something between us, but I’ll have to have the “zip your lips” conversation with her.
When I’m finally in Abbie’s office with her alone, she arches a brow. “You don’t like redheads?”
“I don’t care what color her hair is when she kicks everyone’s ass for me, and she does, you’ll like her.”
“I do, but I think she knows about us.”
“She knows me,” I say, repeating my earlier thoughts out loud. “She reads me. She, no doubt, knows about us because of those things but she’ll zip her lips. She’s good like that.”
“I didn’t even think about how living together might make us more obviously a couple here at work. We live right around the corner. We could be seen in the area walking around arm in arm.”