Page 17 of Coming Up Roses
“I’m not. I’m just busy.”
“You’re anxious.”
It’s pretty obvious, and I can understand why. These people are my family, but they’re strangers to her, all except Dallas—her ex and father of her estranged daughter. Not to mention Katie, Dallas’s new girlfriend. Katie’s one of my best friends, and I know she wants the best for Abigail, because it means the best for Sadie, but Abigail doesn’t know that. She doesn’t know Katie isn’t going to be bitchy and resentful of her arrival.
“Fine. Yes. Happy now?” I shrug and Abigail huffs out a breath before continuing. “I know they’re all really nice, and they’re your family, but it’s still terrifying. The fact you’re all so close makes it worse somehow.”
I chuckle. “I get that. But you still need to eat and the sooner we go, the sooner you can get back to your paperwork.”
“Why are you so judgemental about the paperwork? It’s important.”
“Oh, I know. I’m not judgemental. It’s just something I’ll never understand. Things on paper never make sense to me. Plus, you know what else is important? Food. Come on.”
She lets out a little growly noise and a smile tugs at my mouth. She pushes to her feet and grabs her phoneoff the table. “Fine. Let’s go.” She’s in full business mode and I can’t deny how hot it is when she’s like this.
“Awesome. I’m starving.” I spin and head back down the stairs, listening to the sound of her shoes on the timber stairs as she follows me. I lead her outside and swing my leg over my bike.
“What the hell is this?” She stares at me.
“A motorbike.” I grin at her. “Mode of transportation. Your ride to lunch.”
“No.”
“It’s this or walking and Abigail, those shoes wouldn’t make it. Do it for the shoes.” I laugh, gesturing at the pair of sexy as fuck high heels on her feet, and I see a spark of humour in her eyes before it vanishes again.
“No.”
“Come on. We need to get back to the paperwork.” I pull a disgusted face.
“Yeah, I’ll do that now,” she snaps and spins to head back inside.
“Nope.” I reach out and snag her wrist before she gets too far away from me. I tug her towards me and she stumbles a little, ending up way closer than I anticipated. “Sorry,” I murmur. “You need to get on the bike. It’ll be fun.”
“I just … it’s …” She gestures at the bike, then at herself, then back at me. I wait until she processes whatever it is she’s trying to say. She gives up and says nothing, just giving a defeated little shrug.
“You’ll be safe,” I say, an embarrassing thread of hopeshining in my voice. “Come on, Abigail. I’ll look after you. I promise.”
She takes a deep breath, glances back over her shoulder—no doubt desperately trying to come up with an excuse I’ll let her get away with—then takes a step towards the bike.
“I am not suitably dressed for this,” she mutters as she delicately places a hand on my shoulder and awkwardly swings her leg over the bike.
“You really do need to get some jeans and boots,” I say twisting to face her. “But this,” I gesture at her sitting astride my bike, “It’s a good look.”
Her cheeks flush and I grin, then direct her where to put her feet, warning her to be careful of the exhaust.
“Where do I hold on?” she asks, voice soft with a slight quiver giving away her nerves.
“You hold on to me,” I say, stamping down on the kickstart. The bike flares to life and Abigail lets out a startled sound. Her fingers dig into my shoulders as her body slides forward, pressing into mine.
I did not think this through.
“Wrap your arms around my waist,” I say and when I feel her forearms band around my torso I realise just how much I didn’t think this through.
Abigail in that skirt is hot.
Abigail in those heels is hot.
Abigail on my bike is hot.
