Choosing the Right Man - Nice Girl to Love, Vol 3 (Can't Resist #3)(5)

There weren’t many things sexier than watching...that.

He couldn’t even think the words in his brain without torturing his self-control. Worse, Abby had done it with such reckless abandon. Every whimper, every moan had been an intoxicating narcotic in his bloodstream that had taken over his senses, stolen most every civil thought in his brain.

For three heart-thudding seconds, his legs had simply refused to move.

And the resulting image he’d caught of Abby sliding her hands over her own body was burned into his brain.

With a frustrated groan, he grabbed his keys and headed for his car. There was no way he could stay in Abby’s house a second longer. He was well past the cold shower stage. Hell, he was past the hot shower stage.

He checked the time on his dashboard. It was too late to get a drink, not that he was in the right mind place to do so. The irony that he couldn’t ask either of his two usual drinking partners to join him tonight just made his foot press down on the accelerator a little harder, made his destination that much more obscure.

For a half hour, he drove around aimlessly, wanting so desperately to believe that she’d been dreaming about him, that he’d been the one turning her on that much in her dreams.

He didn’t want to even consider the alternative.




“Dad, telephone!”

Groaning, Brian stretched up off the couch to reach for his phone...and ended up muttering hello into the TV remote.

“No, my phone.” Skylar handed him her blinged out purple cell. “Grandma said she’s been calling yours but it’s been going straight to voicemail. Where is your phone, anyway?”

Right, his phone. It was probably still on the floor of his passenger seat where he’d thrown it after reading the missed text message from Connor that had come in some time between dinner and the movie.

>> I didn’t know, man. I just listened to your voicemail.

Brian saw that a missed call from Connor’s number was recorded in his log shortly after, followed by another text.

>> We really need to talk. Call me in the morning.

No further explanation, not even an apology.

That latter fact had set Brian off, detonated the shrapnel of jagged emotions he’d been keeping at bay all night. Because it meant that not only was Connor not sorry, he had no intention of stopping, or undoing what he’d done by barging back in to Abby’s life yesterday.

Brian’s phone had paid the price for that discovery.

“Hey mom, what do you need?” he groused tiredly.

“Well someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

The reminder that he hadn’t spent the night in Abby’s bed last night did nothing to improve his mood. “Sorry, I just haven’t had my morning coffee yet. Did you need something?”

“Actually, I was calling to invite you three to breakfast.”

Seeing Abby groggily stumble out of her room, looking as tired as he felt, he quickly opted to get them out of going as politely as he could, “Do you think we could we do it some other time? Skylar has a ton of homework to get done before her sleepover tonight and plus, I don’t even know what Abby has planned today.”

At the sound of her name, Abby looked up and gave him a sleep-fuzzy, adorably rumpled smile that sucked half the air out of his lungs. God, he loved her. If he could wake up to that sight every morning for the rest of his life, he’d have led a charmed life.

“Interesting,” continued Helen into his ear, “because I already talked to Skylar and not only is her homework slightly less taxing than she’s apparently led you to believe, she informed me that Abby was planning on spending the morning with you two.” She paused for a pointed second while he silently tried to smother himself with the pillow. “So I’ll see you all in a half hour, dear.”

“Mom—” Criminy, ever since she’d stopped drinking and turned her life around, she’d gotten to become a much bigger, much more motherly force to reckon with.

“I want to hear all about Abby’s defense, Brian, is that so terrible? And it’s been so long since I’ve seen Skylar.” A suspiciously vulnerable crack in her voice came then with a tapered off, “But if you can’t even schedule in a few hours for me…”

Well this was a new and unnervingly effective tune she’d added to her repertoire—it sounded like Guilt the Son in B-minor.

He sighed. “We’ll be there at eight.”

At eight on the dot, Brian pulled up the back driveway of his childhood home.

“Hey, Uncle Connor is here!” Skylar unbuckled and hopped out, running excitedly past the parked black Lexus and up to the front door.

Brian glanced at Abby. “I think we’ve been set-up.”

Though she looked far paler than she had a minute ago, she managed to give him a weak chuckle. “That Helen is a wily one.”

“If you’d rather I take you home…”

“No, it’s okay. Might as well face the music now.”

He wanted to hold her hand, put his arm around her, something to stake his claim before he walked into that house. But he didn’t. Abby’s expression looked like she was steeling herself for an unknown attack. And that same guilt he’d seen in her eyes yesterday was back.

“Just in time!” his mother called out cheerfully from the kitchen, where she appeared to actually be cooking. Yikes. “Congratulations, Abby. Come here and give me a hug. I’m so proud of you.”