“It’s not a game,” Blank says, interrupting my trip down memory lane.
“Does the woman know that?”
“Guess I don’t know.”
Dumbass. I told Abigail I was going to marry her the night I popped her cherry. She must’ve believed me because she parted her legs without another word. Thinking about our first time always gets me rock hard. It wasn’t just because she was tight as a fist but there was a shyness about her that still makes my gut clench. She didn’t want the lights on. She was apprehensive about taking her clothes off. She thought my dick was a monster and I was going to split her in two. She begged me to let her hold it before I shoved it inside of her. That was the closest thing to torture I’ve ever experienced. Her small hands moving all over my erect, aching cock was more than I could handle and I came before I could even get inside her. Good thing I was young and rebounded instantly or her first time would’ve been a huge disappointment.
Funny thing is that Abigail has remained somewhat shy. Even though we fucked on those very stairs at school one early morning when she had come in to retake a chem test or when I fingered her to an orgasm in the lunchroom or when I ate her out in the girl’s locker room after swim practice, she still managed to blush whenever I so much as called her sweetheart.
Our high school days were some good fun. The thrill of almost getting caught ratcheted up the excitement about a hundred. It’s why I still like taking her in public. She gets off on it. I get off on it. It’s all real, real good. Fucking love that woman.
“Who is it anyway? Someone I know?” I can’t remember Blank being interested in a woman. There are plenty that throw themselves at him, but I’ve never seen him catch one. He usually watches them fall and then steps over their prone bodies.
“Cindy from your new grocery store.”
“My new grocery store? You mean Orchard‘s chain?”
“Isn’t Abigail an investor? I swear I heard that on the street.”
“No. Not as far as I know and she would’ve told me. This is the one time your information is wrong.”
“Don’t see how that’s possible, but you know your wife better than I do.”
“Damn straight.” Sometimes people just get things wrong–even billionaire hedge fund managers like Kale Blank.
Chapter 8
Abigail
I rub my eyes. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve been dragging for days. I head out of the store trying to fight my exhaustion. I popped in to check on the construction that’s already underway at the grocery store. A perk of Orchard being married to Heath is everyone hops to when stuff needs to get done. We had construction crews fighting over the renovations.
“Hey, Layla.” She opens the car door for me. “Can I sit in the front with you?”
“Of course.” She shuts the back door, opening the front. A habit I can’t break her from doing. “Dr. Lane’s?” she asks as she hops into the driver’s side.
“No, the Olive Garden on Caster.” She gives me a funny look. “What? They have kickass breadsticks. And they’re unlimited along with the salad.”
“I know that, but what about your appointment?”
“It’s been rescheduled,” I lie. I think I’m getting good at it. Wonderful. I don’t feel like going today. I thought I might have been pregnant a few weeks ago but I got my period. It was light but it’s there nonetheless. I need a break from bad news. I don’t feel like hearing the doctor tell me the whole spiel again. Not today.
“Okay.” She pulls away from the curb, the car growing silent.
“I’m meeting Teddy. Okay?” I break. “Who are you, the FBI?”
She lets out a laugh. “You’ve got to get better at not cracking. I didn’t even say anything.” I huff a breath because she is right. I’m not a liar by nature. I always feel bad when I do it, which is a good thing. I’m guessing it’s bad when you don’t have any remorse about it.
“I hate lying.”
“Then don’t. Mr. Weathers isn’t going to throw you out for talking to your own brother even if he is…” She trails off, not finishing what she wants to say. I can’t even be mad at her. She is lying for me too.
“He’s been different. I have to give him a chance.”
“You know I’m on your side,” she reminds me.
“Suuuure.” Now it’s me that laughs. She might be taking me, but if I let Layla pick she’d tell me to ditch my brother. She’s made her thoughts about him crystal clear on numerous occasions.
“I try to stay out of your business, but rescheduling your appointment to meet him? That’s not like you.”
“I told you I didn’t.” She gives me a knowing look. She knows me too well from all the years she’s been at my side. “Okay, but I’m not getting you a breadstick.” I open the car door before she can. I’m already running late and I hate being late. Still, Layla beats me to the door of the restaurant, opening it for me.