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Chapter 5
Abbie swings the door open and smiles softly. “Welcome home,” she says, taking the piles of client files from where they’re balanced on one arm. “I see you brought the essentials.”
“They won’t be clogging up space for too long; I’ll take them into the office tomorrow.”
“What happened?”
“Dad invited Nick to my family birthday dinner.” Abbie’s eyes bug. “I don’t know how much more of his interfering I can take.” He means well, I know he means well, but I wish he would just listen to me. See me. Understand me. I show her my wrist. “Nick got me this.”
She winces. “I’ve cleared the spare room.”
“Your office.” I pout. “No, I’ll just crash on the couch.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Where will you do all your paperwork?”
“It’s fine, I have space at the florist. Wine?”
I exhale my yes as I follow her to the small kitchen, dropping my bags on the floor before dropping my arse to one of the barstools on the other side of the counter. I remove the bracelet and put it in the fruit bowl with a pile of oranges as Abbie gets glasses and a new bottle, opening and pouring.
“Thank you,” I say, accepting a glass. “For this and for putting me up.”
“Stop it. I already told you there’s a bed for you.”
“I didn’t want to hurt Mum’s feelings. I think she likes having me around. Or liked.”
Abbie leans on the counter. “How was she?”
“Upset.”
“And your dad?”
I laugh under my breath. “Sulking, I expect.” He’ll do what Dad does. Go quiet. Mull things over. Conclude he’s right. “It didn’t help that Mum confessed she felt like she’d missed out after helping at the florist today.”
Abbie laughs. “Corey said she’s a natural.”
I smile. “Don’t tell my dad.” I take my first sip of wine and hum. “Nice.”
“It’s a new one.” Abbie turns the bottle towards me. “This month’s case is all French, and it’s not helping my urge to escape to Paris.”
“Maybe you can, now you have a new apprentice.” I smirk over the rim of my glass. “Shit, this really is good.”
Scooting around the counter, Abbie heads for the two-seater in front of the TV and drops down. “Now, let us talk about something more interesting than your father’s ancient values.”
“Like?” I ask, joining her.
“Like the stinking-hot businessman at Arlington Hall today.”
I bite at my lip, restraining my grin. “I didn’t think he could look any hotter than in a suit.” More wine. “Then I saw him virtually naked.”
Abbie throws her head back, laughing. “I’ve never seen you flustered before. That alone means youhaveto go to dinner with him.”
“That may be so, but Mr. Stinking Hot didn’t divulge his name, so I have no way to contact him and retract my decline of his invitation. Not that I should. Or would.” My stomach flips.
“He’s worth breaking your cardinal rule for.”
“What rule?”