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)
She laughs. “He is. Please wear my clothes and we’re coming to help.”
“You’re pregnant, Cat,” I remind her. “You don’t need to come and help.”
“I’m pregnant,” Cat says. “Not disabled. Good grief, Gabe. I’m coming to help and so is Reese, he just doesn’t know it yet. Abbie, wear my clothes. All is well. No worries at all. Do you need waterproof boots, too? I have extras. I’ll bring you some.”
Abbie’s eyes meet mine, hers warm and appreciative. “That would be great, Cat. Thank you.”
“You bet. I’ll see you soon. Tell Gabe to text me the address.” She laughs. “Never mind, I just told him. I’m on speaker. Text me, Gabe!” She hangs up.
I slide my phone in my pocket. “If you’re wondering how my grown sister left clothes at my place, Reese, her husband, was traveling and she forced her way into my apartment with an overnight bag, and then forced me to put up a Christmas tree. She proceeded to spill eggnog, which she brought with her and made for me to drink, down the front of her. She did her laundry here and left it behind.”
“You didn’t have to tell me that, Gabe.”
“I know, and if you were anyone else, I wouldn’t have. You’re different, Abbie. I don’t know why. I don’t know how, but you are.”
“And you are nothing that I expected.”
“Considering what you’ve been through, I’ll take that as a compliment, which I’ll thank you properly for later.” I motion to the dresser again. “Top drawer behind you,” I remind her. “Where you’ll find the only women’s clothes I’ve ever had in the apartment.” I leave that statement in the air, and I don’t wait for her reply. I kiss her and then set her free to walk into the closet and start dressing. Once I’m in sweats, a T-shirt, a hoodie and sneakers, I return to the bedroom to find Abbie in my sister’s black leggings, pink T-shirt, and socks. “I have no shoes.”
I hold up a finger and walk into the closet, grabbing Cat’s sneakers. I return and glance at the size. “Seven. Does that work?”
“Perfect.” She says, shoving her red curls from her face and taking the sneakers from me, but not before she plants a kiss on my cheek that charms the hell out of me.
Fuck.
I’m in trouble with this woman and while that’s crazy for me, the crazier part is that I don’t even care.
We finish dressing, and I find myself watching her, only to find her watching me. We keep looking at each other, a charge between us that mixes with smiles and laughter, but no words. We don’t need to speak or fuck to connect. I’ve never experienced anything quite like it. We don’t even verbally agree to leave the apartment. We just do. We know when we’re both ready and the minute we’re in the elevator I give security a show. I pull all those soft, sweet curves of hers next to me and tangle my fingers in her wild, red curls, and kiss the hell out of her, drinking her in.
Claiming her.
It’s a crazy thought and I like it.
A few minutes later, we’re in my black BMW M4 and pulling onto the road and Abbie has given me the address to our destination that I key into my navigation system. I set us in motion and hand her my phone. “How about texting Cat the address? She’s in my directory as expected: Cat.”
She takes the phone from me, and I focus on the road, but I can feel her hesitation at the request that implies intimacy and trust, but she sends the message. Almost instantly my phone buzzes with a returned text. I stop at a light and Abbie drops her head back to rest on the seat and hands me my phone. “I just saw the message Cat just sent you.”
“What did she say?”
“Gabe,” she breathes out. “It was about me.”
“I have no problem with you reading anything she wrote.”
“I shouldn’t have read it.”
I take the phone and scan the message before reading it out loud, “Since when do you care what any woman thinks? Since when do you have a woman at your apartment? Am I in an alternate universe or is she really special?” I glance at Abbie. “Like I said. I have no problem with you reading that message.” I type a reply and hand her my phone. “Read my reply.”
The light turns green and I start driving. She seems to hesitate but reads the reply. “She’s a witch. I’m under a damn spell. It’s the only explanation I have for what’s happening right now.” She glances at me. “I’m not a witch.” She sets my phone in my lap and tries to pull away, but I catch her hand. “I’m not falling for you, Gabe. No matter how great a kisser you are. No matter how many orgasms you give me. No matter how charming, funny, and—you, you are. I’m not.”