Finding Abigail (10 page)

We cleaned up
the table and then the dishes. When the kitchen was spotless, we moved to the
living room, to relax on the couch with another glass of wine.

“By the way,
those roses are for you.” he said, gesturing to the bouquet on the table. “I
was too preoccupied by how good you looked to tell you when you first got
here.”

Again, I was
flustered by his words. Would I ever get used to his sweet compliments? “Thank
you.”

The music
changed to a slow one, a soft guitar with horn. Nick stood up and held out his
hand. I took it and let him pull me against him. We moved slowly, his warmth
seeping into me, spreading heat through my body. I tightened my grip on him,
leaning my head on his shoulder. His musky scent hovered in the air, making me
lightheaded. I could hear his breathing go from steady to ragged. His hands
gripped the back of my top, forcing me closer, almost molding me to his body.

When I felt him
kiss the top of my head, I looked up at him. His eyes were stormy seas. “I want
you, Abby,” he whispered.

And honestly, I
felt the same way. I hadn’t wanted anything as much as I did him, at that
moment. Something about him stoked the fires within me. I had never felt so
alive. My body was like a live wire, ready to spark. All I could do was nod.
But it didn’t matter; speech was not necessary.

He pulled me
into his room, and with one quick move he removed my top. I didn’t have time to
feel vulnerable or nervous standing in front of him, with only my silk bra. His
lips were on my neck, collar bone, my ear lobe, making my skin hum. His hands
roamed my back as his lips worked their magic. It had been so long since I’d
been touched this way, my insides came alive.

I moaned as the
sensations overtook me, and I couldn’t just stand there, I needed to touch. I
pulled back and lifted his shirt off, ran my hands along his skin, his chest
hair making my skin tingle. His moan was deep, almost a growl, as my hands
moved down. He drew back, taking off his pants and then mine. His eyes were
smoldering, his expression anxious. He rushed, tossing clothes onto the floor,
and then guided me down onto the bed.

Afterward, I lay
in his arms, feeling content and happy as he rubbed circles over my shoulder;
his soft touch was so soothing that I felt myself drift off to sleep.

Something pulled me awake. I opened my eyes
and glanced around. The room was dark and unfamiliar, until the memory of my
night with Nick came back to me. I smiled and started to close my eyes again,
when I felt movement behind me. I turned around to see that Nick was leaning up
on his elbow staring at me. “What are you doing?” I asked. My voice was raspy.

“Watching you
sleep.”

I blinked a few
times. “Why?”

He shrugged.
“Because you’re beautiful.”
Was that really a reason?

I was still so
sleepy, and not exactly fully awake, I felt my heavy eyelids close. Just as I
was drifting off again, I heard him say, “You’re mine, Abby.”

My sleepy brain
couldn’t decide if that was sweet or incredibly creepy.

The smell of bacon
woke me, and I sat up looking around Nick’s room. It was relatively neat; the
only thing out of place was our clothes that we had thrown on the floor last
night. There were a few trophies on a shelf, two books, and one picture of an
older couple that must be his parents. His room was a little on the bare side.
There was nothing in particular that expressed who he was, unless this was it.
I shook off that thought. I knew there was more to him. He had layers. I just
had to find them all.

The navy blue
curtains were open exposing a dull, gray day. I stared out the window at the
dark clouds. It wasn’t raining yet, but it would be before long. Our brief
relief from the wet weather was obviously over.

I heard movement
outside the door and turned to see him walk through it with a tray of food. He
was bringing me breakfast in bed. Ahh...how sweet.

“I hope you like
bacon and cheese omelets?”

“Doesn’t bacon
make everything better?” I asked with a grin as I slipped my shirt over my head
and stuffed my arms through it. I had felt exposed without it.

His eyes
narrowed. “A girl after my heart,” he said as he sat the tray over my lap and
climbed in beside me. He leaned over to give me a quick kiss. “Let’s dig in,
because I have plans for you after.” He wiggled his eyes suggestively.

Laughing, I
picked up my fork and did what he said—dug in.

After a few
bites, I stretched out against the pillow I had turned up against the
headboard. “I’m not sure I believe that you’re not a good cook. Everything I’ve
tasted so far is quite tasty.”

He grinned.
“Breakfast is easy.”

I stabbed
another bite of the omelet. The orange cheese strung from the plate to the
fork. “If you say so.” I took the bite and swallowed.

“What are your
plans today?” he asked, taking a drink of orange juice.

Was he about to
ask me to leave? Tell me he had to work? I was so comfortable I didn’t want to
go yet. All I wanted to do right now was finish my breakfast and curl up on his
comfy bed and relax. “Not much. If I have time I might finish off the first
Little Miss book.

“I don’t work
until three.” He tilted his head and winked. “Do you want to stick around here
for a while?”

I wanted nothing
more, but I didn’t want to show my excitement. “Sure, sounds good.”

He finished off
his omelet in maybe three bites and then placed the empty plate on his
nightstand. “You were amazing last night.”

I choked on the
food in my mouth. “Are you fishing for a compliment?” I asked once I was able
to swallow.

“No, I’ m
telling you how much I enjoyed myself.” He bent down to nuzzle my neck. “And
I’m ready for more.” he whispered.

“I’m not
finished with breakfast,” I gasped.

His lips moved
over my skin softly. “You are now.” He grabbed my plate and tossed it onto his.
The dishes made a clanging sound, and the silverware thumped onto the wood
floor.

We spent the
morning and early afternoon in bed, exploring each other, sleeping, and
talking. It was so amazing; I didn’t want it to end.

Family

The next couple
of months were wonderful. Nick and I spent every day we were free together. I
wasn’t working on my writing as much as I usually did, but that was okay. I had
finished the Little Miss series, and Debbie was in the process of getting them
published. The next book could wait awhile. I had never taken time off before,
so it was time. Nick took me out at least once a week, and on the nights he was
off work, we’d spend the evenings curled up on the sofa at my apartment,
watching a movie or some sports game that was playing.

Two months after
we first met, Nick invited me to his parents’ for dinner. At first, I rejected
the idea. I was nervous, and it didn’t help that Rob and Heather would be
there. For some reason she still acted distant around me. But after a lot of
persuasion, Nick finally talked me into it.

His parents
lived in an older middle-class neighborhood. The houses were a little faded,
but most were a good size. The neighborhood reminded me slightly of my
mother’s, where I had grown up, only this area seemed to be lacking the
abundance of children. Where my old neighborhood held a park in the center that
was usually crawling with kids, here, I only spotted a few on the front lawns
of houses.

Nick pulled
into the driveway of a red brick two-story with a white porch in front. We both
got out of the car and walked up the steps. Bobby was sprawled out on a swing,
playing a pink Nintendo-DS. “Hey, champ. How were the playoffs?” Nick asked,
ruffling the top of her hair with his hand.

“We won,” she
mumbled, not looking up from her game. Nick glanced at me and laughed. Taking
my hand, he pulled me into the house. The smell of garlic and tomatoes
assaulted my senses.

To the right
was the living room where the sound of a basketball game playing on the TV was
mixed with the jumbled voices of men arguing. He pulled me past the door into
the kitchen, where an older woman with thick, black, curly hair was leaning
over a pot, tasting what looked and smelled like tomato sauce. She was wearing
a flowered silk blouse and navy-blue skirt. She was a smidge on the pudgy size,
but if they ate food that smelled as good as the sauce she was stirring every
day, I understood why. “Hey, Mom,” Nick called, walking over to give her a kiss
on the cheek.

The corners of
her eyes crinkled when she smiled, and her cheeks were flushed from the steam
floating out of the pot. I was suddenly wrapped into a very tight hug; she
smelled of baby powder. After a kiss on my cheek she pulled back. “I am so
happy to finally meet the girl who has made my boy so happy.”

Nick chuckled.
“Mom, this is Abby. Abby, this is my mother, Sofia.”

“It’s nice to
meet you,” I said, taking a step back. “Thank you for inviting me to your home.
Dinner smells wonderful. Nick said you were an amazing cook.” I was prepared
for another bear hug. But it didn’t come; instead, she touched my cheek.

“Thank you. I’m
so glad you could make it.” She turned to Nick, letting me go. “I made
manicotti, your favorite.”

His face lit
up. “With cheesy garlic bread?”

“Of course. Now
get out of my kitchen so I can finish. Tina and Paul are late again, but Robert
and Heather are in the living room with your father.” Just as Nick started for
the doorway, Sofia smacked his shoulder. “Get your girl a glass of wine first.”
She winked at me before turning back to the stove.

Nick
sidestepped to the fridge and pulled out a beer for himself and a bottle of
white wine for me. Once he poured some into a glass, he handed it to me and
then led me into the living room.

“I told you the
Lakers would take it tonight!” Rob yelled at a man that must be his father.

Their father’s
dark brown hair held a touch of gray around the sideburns. His face was
wrinkled and his chocolate brown eyes narrowed at his son as he reached into
his back pocket and then slapped a twenty into Rob’s waiting hand. “This is the
thanks I get for putting a roof over your head until you were twenty-two years
old,” he growled at his son.

Rob took the
money with a smile and slid it into the front of his jeans. He glanced up and
saw us as we stepped into the room. “Hey, Nick, it’s about time you got here.
Dad’s about to disown me for taking all his money.” He stood up, turning to me.
“Abby, you look great. Thank God you’re still taking pity on my brother. I was
getting tired of seeing him so lonely.”

Nick punched
him in the gut and was about to pull his head into a headlock when their father
yelled, “Will you two knock it off. This lovely young lady will think I raised
a couple of animals.” He stood up and took my hand, pulling it up to his lips
to kiss my fingers. “You must be Abby. I’m this loudmouth’s father, Carlo.” He
dropped my hand and gestured to Nick.

“Back off, Dad,
she’s mine and you’re too old,” Nick teased, taking a seat onto the plush
burgundy sofa and patting the cushion next to him for me to sit down.

Carlo settled
back into his Barcalounger facing the large TV. “So Rob, how’s the Brown case
coming? Any leads?”

Rob started to
go into detail about a murder case he was working on, leaving out names. Nick
and his dad, who was captain at Rob’s precinct, tossed around ideas.

I turned to
Heather, who was extremely quiet, sitting across from me knitting. “That’s
pretty. Is it going to be a sweater?” I asked about the small pink knitted
garment. Just the bottom was finished.

“Yes, my sister
is pregnant. It’s a girl.” Even though she barely smiled when I saw her, the
mention of her sister and future niece brought a light to her eyes.

I leaned over
to touch the soft yarn. “It’s so soft. My niece had a sweater this color with a
matching bonnet. My mother made it.”

She nodded and
stopped knitting, laying the full needles in her lap. “The bonnet is finished,
and I’ll be done with this in a couple of days. She’s due next week.” I could
see how much her sister meant to her.

“That’s nice.
Is this her first baby?”

She smiled.
“Yes. She just got married a year ago. She’s the baby in the family.” Her face
darkened as she shot a quick glance to her husband. “But I don’t see her that
much anymore.” She returned to her knitting, looking away from me down at the
needles.

I felt a change
in her like the flip of a switch, and wondered if I’d ever be able to figure
her out. “She means a lot to you, I can tell. And I understand, my sister is
one of my best friends.”

The men’s
voices got louder as they stopped talking about work and focused on the game
again. Heather winced as Rob yelled at the ref, who apparently didn’t know a
good play from his ass. I tried to start up a conversation with her again, but
I could tell her good mood toward me was over. She was back to the quiet,
distant girl I had gotten to know the few times we doubled over the last few
months.