“Yes. Quite.” Faster than I would have thought possible, he was on his feet and heading to the door, calling over his shoulder all the while. “Don’t worry about a thing, Nicholas! You can count on me.”
“Thanks, Harold,” Nick said weakly, dropping his head down on his arms.
I rubbed his back sympathetically, but couldn’t resist calling back.
“And me too, right Harold? I can count on you too?”
There was a momentary pause as the elevator dinged. When he finally did respond, I could practically see the sneer.
“Abigail...try to style your hair in such a fashion as to hide the horns.”
Before I could think of a witty comeback, the elevator dinged again, and he was gone. I turned instead with a grin to Nick, only to see that he had become some sort of listless invertebrate—slumped hopelessly over the kitchen table.
Chapter 5
“NICK?” I TRIED TENTATIVELY. “Hon...are you okay?”
His eyes flickered up for the briefest of moments, before he dropped them back down.
“Are you calling me hon because we got fake engaged, or because the two of us had sex the other night?”
I froze dead still, shocked speechless by his abrupt honesty. But he wasn’t finished just yet. In fact, now that Harold was gone, he was just getting started.
“Or are you calling me hon because we’ve been friends for two years, you know me better than anyone, and you’re afraid I’m going to do something stupid and fuck this all up?”
Okay...someone wasn’t as reassured as I’d thought.
“Neither. All of the above.” I fired each answer out clumsily, not really thinking about whether or not they made sense. “Both.”
Nick’s lips twitched up into a reluctant smile.
“Both?” He lifted his head, fixing me squarely in those blue eyes. “Are we having trouble counting today, Abby?”
I exhaled deeply, trying to let go of as many nerves as possible. But at the same time, I went out onto a rather massive limb.
“I’m not having trouble counting at all,” I answered quietly. “For example, I happen to know that you’ve had at least six cups of coffee already today.”
He blinked, then shook his head. Not understanding.
“Why does that...”
Then it clicked.
This time, the smile was real. So was the surprise that followed.
“Six cups,” he repeated, pushing slowly to his feet and leaning toward me with a predatory grin. “How utterly careless of me. I didn’t know that you were counting.”
I bit my lip with a coy smile, and averted my eyes—playing the part of the victim.
“Well one of us had to.” I sniffed self-righteously. “I can’t always have your back, you know. At some point—”
“No, Abby.” His voice lowered to a deadly purr. “Right now, I’d like to have yours.”
...what?
Before I could gather my senses, he pulled me to my feet and spun me around—shoving me straight up against the giant window that looked out over the city.
I had never been so close before. From this high up, it felt almost dizzying. A sheer pane of glass—no lines, no bars—that stretched from floor to ceiling. The most spectacular view Manhattan had to offer.