Resisting the Bad Boy - Nice Girl to Love, Vol 1 (Can't Resist #1)(6)

“Uncle Connor? What are you doing home?”

Shit, Skylar. Had she caught the full frontal of Abby all slutted-up just now? With Abby being the closest thing to an aunt Skylar’s entire life—how the hell was he supposed to explain this without traumatizing the poor girl? Damn that woman for putting me in this situation.

“Why hello to you too, princess,” he tossed out casually. “I had a few hours free so I thought I’d hang out with you on your first day here.”

“Oh, cool.” She looked around. “Hey, where’d Abby go?”

Fan-frickin-tastic. “So you saw her here, huh? She wasn’t here long…she just stopped by to, uh—”

“She left?” A too-mature frown marred Skylar’s little face. “I told her to wait ‘til I brought back an umbrella for her.” Shaking out a butt-ugly yellow rain slicker, she pouted some more. “And she didn’t even take back her poncho!”

He did a double take. “What do you mean?”

“Abby lent it to me before we ran over here.”

Gulping, Connor felt cold hard shame starting to prickle his skin. “Abby ran all the way here in the rain with you?”

“Yeah, it started coming down right when I left school. She found me under a tree trying to stay dry.” Worried, Skylar surveyed the rapidly worsening weather. “Dad will totally kill me if she catches a cold this week with all her…wait a sec—” She swung a suspicious look his way. “Abby never leaves without saying bye. Did you say something to her?”

Smart girl.

Choosing to sidestep her question for the time being, he pulled out his smartphone and asked instead, “Do you spell Abby’s last name with two T’s or one at the end?”

“Two.” She raised a brow. “Why? Are you looking her up to apologize for something? If so, I have her cell number.”

He sighed. “I don’t think that’ll cut it. I think I need to send her a whole bunch of sorry-I-was-such-an-idiot flowers.”

“Holy moly, what did you say to her?”

Quickly texting a request for his assistant to order him the most extravagant floral arrangement she could find, he ignored his niece’s interrogation once again. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Abby lives would you?”

“Nope.” A slow smile hooked her lips. “But dad does.”

Silently, he unleashed a string of expletives and began estimating what the going rate was for bribing a kid nowadays.

It’d be worth it for the stay of execution by Brian’s hand.



“How the hell did you find out where I live?!”

Connor winced, but stood his ground atop Abby’s doorstep. Thankfully, the gigantic doorway-filling flower arrangement his assistant had purchased for him was allowing him to hide for a few precious seconds longer. Blindly shoving the flowers forward, he waited for Abby to take them.

But she didn’t. After a few moments of silence, he took a peek around them to see if she was even still there. She was.

And she was trying like hell not to laugh.

“Is this monstrosity for a funeral?”

Grateful for the buried humor he heard in her voice, he let out the breath he’d been holding and ventured with caution, “Depends. Are you going to kill me for what I said earlier?”

“Right after I maim your brother for giving you my address,” she promised sweetly, with just the hint of a smile.

He dropped the ridiculously heavy flowers onto the ground. “He didn’t. I asked one of my investigators at the firm to dig up your info. Brian doesn’t even know I’m here.”

“Afraid to tell him?” she prodded with little sympathy.

“Shouldn’t I be?”

Leaning against the doorframe, she took her sweet time answering, “Nah, Brian will probably just laugh his ass off.”

That’s what he was afraid of.

And clearly, the grinning imp darn well knew it, too.

Seeing her amusement at his expense ripen even more, he saw a brief opening and took a shot, “So are you going to put me out of my misery already and forgive me?”

“I don’t know. Did you apologize?” she countered.

Damn, she wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

“I’m…sorry, Abby. Truly.” The words were rusty and foreign in his mouth; they weren’t ones he used very often.

Suddenly, her smile dissolved into a look of remembered irritation. “Sorry for calling me a gold digging whore or for saying I was too fat to be in a trashy wet t-shirt contest?”

He reeled back as if bitch-slapped. “I didn’t call you fat! Good lord, you don’t really think that about yourself, do you?”

“Of course not,” she snapped.

“Good.” He wasn’t a fan of women who were constantly putting themselves down. “If you did, I’d tell you to go get some new glasses. Your body’s gorgeous.”

She bristled in disbelief. “I’m not some self-conscious girl in need of your validation, you big twerp. I laugh when my dress size stays in the double digits during holiday months; it means my friends and family put that much more love into their dishes that year. I don’t need false compliments by a guy who dates size zero models to feel good about myself.”