“I don’t know,” I mutter, putting my laptop case on my desk. “I didn’t know the name Frankie until last night. I just knew Abbi wanted a little more confidence in”—fuck—“with dating and stuff. I offered to help.”
“You’re hoping she’ll catch feelings,” Stella says, hands on her hips. “Admit it.”
I shrug. I can’t deny it. This morning when she asked if she could cook for me tonight, I gave Abbi a key to my place so she wouldn’t have to wait around until I got home. Warning bells clanged in my brain, telling me the key wasn’t just about convenience but about what I want our relationship to be. I did the same thing with Amy months ago, but neither woman used the gesture to crack into my psyche—for better or worse. “Am I supposed to apologize for that?”
My little sister can be fierce, and I brace myself for her lecture. Instead, she sighs and shakes her head. “No. I don’t want you apologizing. I’m just afraid you’ll end up hurt.”
Nodding, I study my shoes. “I’ve thought about that, but I think . . .” I swallow hard. “I think there might be a chance for us.”
“Have you told her how you feel?”
I shake my head. I can’t go into this with Stella. The things Abbi said the night of her twenty-first would hurt Stella as badly as they hurt me, and I don’t see any reason to do that to my sister. “She knows it’s not just a game to me.” The worry on her face makes me want to crawl under a rock. “Please don’t look at me like that.”
“You know, I like Abbi. She’s sweet and fun, but she can also be . . .” She swallows. “I tried to talk to Kace about her last night—”
“You did what?” I stiffen.
“I didn’t tell him anything. I just asked why she doesn’t date more, and he said she’s been hurt. That asshole she dated in college—the one who hit on me that summer?—he really did a number on her.”
I sink into my office chair and lean my head back. “I know.”
“So sometimes when people have been hurt, it can make them put up defenses. Nasty ones.”
“I know what I’m dealing with.” I don’t love Stella talking about Abbi like she’s some wounded animal, but I can’t deny that I need Abbi to trust me a little more. Need her to believe she can trust me.
“And when will you tell Kace?” Stella asks.
“As soon as Abbi is okay with it. This isn’t just my secret.”
She stares at me so long that I feel like I’m ten again and in the principal’s office for putting gum in Meredith Ralston’s hair. “What?”
“You know why I didn’t like you with Amy,” she says.
I scoff. “Yeah.”
“This is different. With Amy, you were up against her selfishness and her . . . loose relationship with the truth.”
I arch a brow. Most people would’ve just gone with lies, but Stella is trying so hard to have a decent relationship with Kace’s ex. I’ve gotta respect the amount of maturity she’s showing with the whole thing.
“With Abbi, though,” she continues, “you’re up against some pretty thick walls she’s built around herself.”
I squeeze the back of my neck. “I do renovations for a living. Taking down walls is a specialty of mine.”
“I hope so.” She hoists her purse onto her shoulder and heads for the door. She stops in the doorframe and turns back to me. “I should probably also tell you that Dad—”
“Stop.”
She heaves an exasperated sigh. “Dean, I’m headed over there tomorrow. He’s—”
“No.” The word snaps in the air. A warning shot. “You know how I feel.”
“Okay.” She nods. “But I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.”
* * *
When I get home from work on Monday night, my house smells amazing. Like garlic and onion and . . . I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath.
Chocolate and Abbi.
I follow my nose to the kitchen and find Abbi at the stove, stirring whatever deliciousness she has going on the burner as she shakes her hips to a beat I can’t hear. She’s wearing jeans and a loose T-shirt, and her hair is pulled up into a sloppy bun. Her phone is sticking out of her back pocket, and she has in earbuds.
Folding my arms, I lean against the opposite counter and watch her, knowing she’ll stop dancing the second she realizes I’m here. Sexed-up Abbi is sweet and cute and seductive in a way I never expected. If I need to take it upon myself to keep her this way for a very long time, I’m game.
When she opens the oven, the smell of rich chocolate fills the kitchen. My mouth waters, but I honestly don’t know if it’s because of the brownies or the sight of the woman bending over in front of me. Dear Lord. That ass.