She stared at his hand and glanced up at me. I brought my lips to her ear, “When someone introduces themselves, you usually shake hands.”
Her lips formed an O, and Godrick gave me a questioning look, lifting a perfectly groomed brow at me. She slid her hand into his finally. “Nice to meet you,” Abigail spoke slowly, the slowest I ever heard her. She must be really nervous with everyone around. I rubbed soothing circles on her back with my hand, hoping it calmed her.
“This is Mark—”
“Hiya doin,’” he said.
“—Sam, Doug, Matt, and Jacob.”
“—Hey.”
“—Nice to meet you, little lady.”
“—Can’t believe a pretty thing like you is with him.” I’d have to give Matt extra work for saying that.
“Hi, Abigail,” Jacob averted his eyes, not looking at her like the others did.
Smart man.
“Hi,” she said in a barely audible whisper and buried her head in my chest.
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and held her there. “Godrick, I was hoping Abigail here could be my intern. She’d report to me as her boss. It would be a great way for her to learn and get on her feet.”
The man might be my brother-in-law, but he was always a great businessman. He glanced at her again, a million questions in his eyes before he nodded. “Minimum wage and I want to talk to you later about it,” he said.
He wanted to know everything.
And everything he would get.
“Why don’t you go inside and make another pot of coffee for the guys, baby?”
All of them shook their heads no behind her, but she beamed at me, that large smile melting my damn heart. She had a tiny indent on her chin that I just now noticed, and I wanted to lean down and lick it, taste it, kiss it.
“And I like it a little stronger. Do you mind adding a few more scoops for me?”
She nodded eagerly and stepped on her tiptoes to give me a kiss.
Whew, hurt feelings were dodged this time.
I’d call it a win.
Chapter Twelve
Abigail
The snow was cold against my skin, and the sky was dark, with millions of stars. The air smelled clean, and even with my boots on, my toes were cold. My feet dragged against the ground as I swung on the porch swing. I loved being outside when it was cold. My cheeks tingled, and my lips would be chapped if it wasn’t for my Chapstick.
“Bell! Come inside. Dinner is ready,” my dad shouted from the kitchen window.
I inhaled, smelling the homemade pasta sauce and the garlic.
I loved the smell of garlic.
I got up from the swing, my boots crunching against the snow, when a twig snapped in the woods, vibrating the silence. I surveyed the backyard, trying my best to see into the trees, but I didn’t see a thing. I only heard the frogs croaking in the trees.
But then it happened again, another twig snapped
.