Then Came Abby (Southern Love #4) Read online

  That made Abby angry. “If you weren’t such a dick, we would get along just fine.”

  Toby remained silent and stared at the TV. The tension in his jaw indicated his obvious annoyance.

  Abby crossed her arms over her chest then shook her knees. It moved the chair slightly and made a creaking noise. It continued for minutes.

  “Would you knock it off?” he snapped. “I’m trying to watch this.”

  She kept shaking her leg.

  He grabbed the remote and turned up the television.

  “That’s way too loud,” she yelled. She reached for the remote but he pulled it away. “Turn it down.”

  “No.” He kept it out of her reach. “Stop shaking the couch.”

  “I did.”

  “I don’t trust you.” His eyes were glued to the screen.

  She lunged at him and tried to grab the remote.

  “Fucking monkey!” He moved out of her way, keeping the remote from her grasping hands.

  She climbed on top of him then fell over, straddling his hips. He put the remote behind his head so she moved on top of him, trying to get it. Her breasts were in his face but she didn’t care.

  “You’re such a brat!” he yelled.

  She grabbed his arm then yanked it down, reaching the remote. When she grasped it, he stood up and carried her with him. Then he laid her on the couch and pinned her down with his massive size. Under his strength, she could hardly move. Toby yanked the remote from her hand then returned to his chair.

  Abby stared at him.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he warned.

  She jumped on him and grabbed the remote. It dangled in her hand then felt to the floor. The back compartment popped off and the batteries rolled across the floor.

  “Great,” he snapped. He grabbed the pieces and put it back together. When he hit the buttons, nothing happened. “You broke it, monkey.”

  “You should have just turned it down.”

  “You know, as a prosecutor, I’ve had to deal with some pretty stupid, annoying, and shady people, but I’ve never been more irritated with anyone but you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Here we go again.” She mimicked him. “I’m a lawyer. I’m awesome. I save the world. Look at my Rolex. Blah blah.”

  He clenched his jaw and shook his head. “Never hit a woman,” he said under his breath.

  “Hit me if you want to so bad.”

  Toby looked away. “Never.”

  She stood up then turned down the television from the screen. When the volume was reasonable, she returned to her spot on the opposite side of the sofa. “I won’t shake my leg.”

  “I’m glad we had to go through all of that just to accomplish that,” he spat. He grabbed his beer and downed the whole thing.

  Abby watched him from the corner of her eye. “I hope Paul comes back soon.”

  “Stay away from him.”

  “No,” she said. “He needs me.”

  “You’re just making him feel worse. I know you’re only around him because he makes you feel better, not the other way around.”

  “Well, you’re wrong.”

  “No, I’m not,” he snapped. “I can see it all over your face. You’re clearly damaged goods.”

  “Damaged goods?” she asked.

  “You have a bunch of emotional issues and you’re unable to function normally. Why else would you have slapped me?”

  Abby felt the sting of his comment. The fact that he was right made it hurt even more.

  “You’re just a weak woman that needs someone to take care of her. If you wanted to have a quality life, you should have done something with your time.”

  “I went to Brown,” she said quietly.

  “Like I believe that.”

  “I did.” The fight in her was gone.

  “And what do you now?”

  “I’m an assistant to an artist in the city.”

  He rolled his eyes. “So admirable. You’re just a dumb secretary. What a failure.”

  Abby never showed emotion in front of other people, but Toby continued to hit the nerves that were already damaged. He knew she was damaged and broken, could see it all over her face. He knew she was beaten, scared for her life. And he could see her every weakness. She always tried to push her darkest thoughts away, but he strung them out in the open. She was a failure. Unable to stop herself, the tears bubbled to the surface. An involuntary sniff escaped her nose and she turned her face away. Toby heard the sound and turned toward her.

  Abby grabbed her purse then bolted to the door. Toby said nothing as he watched her go. Just as she reached the door, Paul opened it.

  “Abby, what’s wrong?”

  The dam had been opened, and the flood was pouring. She maneuvered out of his way then reached the hallway. She ran to the stairs and took them two at a time. She didn’t stop running until she reached her apartment. After she closed all the windows, she sat in the corner and cried.

  Chapter Nine

  Abby was on the phone for an hour trying to verify Fernan’s schedule for next week. International calls were always the worst, especially the language barrier. She wished Fernan would make these calls himself since he was fluent in French and Italian. But she wasn’t going to complain. She needed to pay rent.

  When she finally got his itinerary, she hung up and wrote everything down. Fernan came downstairs and into the parlor. His paintings hung on all the walls. A select few were purchases he made from other artists. He considered it an honor to have them in his own gallery.

  He approached her desk and put his hands in the pockets of his slacks, his customary position. “How’s it going?” he asked.

  She sighed. “Good. Just a lot of boring stuff.”

  He studied her features, noticing the faint bags under her eyes and the slight frown. “Abby, is everything alright?”

  No, it wasn’t. She spent hours crying at home. And she wasn’t even sure why she was so emotional about what Toby said. She shouldn’t let it bother her. Unfortunately, it did. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She kept her eyes glued to the paper.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Because you haven’t looked at me once.”

  She took a deep breath then met his gaze. It was easier for her to pretend everything was okay when she didn’t look someone in the eye. But when their gazes were locked, she couldn’t hide anything. “I know what you look like, Fernan.”

  He examined her face. “Let’s call it an early night and get a drink.”

  “No, it’s okay,” she said quickly. “There’s too much to do around here.”

  He grabbed the paper she was writing on and turned it over. “It can wait.”

  “I’m not pleasant company right now…”

  “Are you ever?” he teased.

  A slight smile formed on her lips.

  “Beautiful.” He grabbed his coat from the rack and put it on. “Let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  “There’s a bar just up the road.”

  She turned off her computer and grabbed her purse. “Since you’re making me…”

  “It’s one of the perks of being a boss.”

  After they locked the shop, they walked to the bar and sat in the corner. The room was dark and there was hardly anyone inside, which was very rare for the city. Fernan ordered two glasses of wine then placed them on the table.

  She grabbed hers and sipped it.

  Fernan sat perfectly straight in his chair, always elegant and refined. He eyed her blatantly from across the table, watching her every move.

  “You stare a lot.”

  “I’m an artist,” he said simply. “I like to look at beautiful things.”

  “What a line…” She smiled even though she didn’t want to.

  “Real men don’t need lines.” He drank from his glass then stirred the wine before he took another sip.

  “You don’t have any moves?” she asked.

  “I’m a
lways myself—so I guess that’s what my moves are.”

  “Aren’t you lucky?” She smiled then sipped from her glass.

  “You’re doing it again.” He stared into her face.

  “Doing what?” she asked.

  “Pretending you’re something you’re not. You don’t have to do that around me. Believe me, I understand. My parents were always concerned about my behavior. Instead of playing with the neighbors outside, I’d rather draw a picture. Instead of trying to make friends at school, I would stare at the graffiti on the side of a wall and call it art. I was always below their standards, and they always thought something was wrong with me, that I was depressed or upset. But I never was. I just enjoy being alone. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “I don’t want to be alone…”

  “But you’re pretending that you’re happy when you clearly aren’t.”

  “Are you an artist or a shrink?”

  He chuckled. “When you observe the world more than you participate in it, you notice things better than the average person. I can just watch your body language and know how you’re feeling. And I can tell something is really bothering you. I sincerely hope it isn’t me.”

  “No,” she said immediately. “It’s not you.” Automatically, she rested her hand on top of his.

  He eyed her hand then moved his fingers between hers. “Good.”

  Abby realized they were showing pubic affection, but she didn’t want to end the touch. It was nice being cared for, not ridiculed or judged.

  “Tell me what’s bothering you,” he said quietly.

  “Please stop asking me that.” She pulled her hand away but he wouldn’t let her.

  “Can I ask one thing?”

  “I may not answer.”

  He nodded. “Are you in trouble?”

  “Trouble?” she asked.

  “With the law, money, stalkers…something like that?”

  “Oh,” she said. “No, nothing like that.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.” He picked up his wine and drank it. “Since our topics are limited, what would you like to discuss?”

  She thought for a moment. “My sister is getting married.”

  “That’s exciting,” he said with a smile. “When?”

  “In the summer.”

  “I’m sure it will be lovely.”

  “Well, I’m the maid of honor,” Abby said. “So it might not be that great.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do fine. You’re very artistic. I can tell just by looking at your desk. You have an interesting way of organizing your things.”

  “It’s called a mess,” she said with a laugh.

  “Some may,” he said. “Do you like the partner she’s chosen?”

  Abby nodded. “He’s great. I don’t have any complaints.”

  He eyed her features. “Why do I feel like there’s more to this story?”

  “Well, she was with another guy I really liked, I still like, and it’s unfortunate their relationship didn’t work out. Because he is a great guy.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” he said. “But sometimes love pulls you in another way. While we don’t want to hurt the ones who have shown us love, we have to do what’s best for ourselves. Your sister is brave for picking the one she really wants.”

  “Yeah, she is.”

  “So, there’s no one like that in your life?” he asked.

  “Like what?”

  “Someone you love.”

  “This topic isn’t up for discussion.”

  He nodded. “Okay. I apologize.” He took out his wallet then placed the cash on the table. “Let me know when you’re ready for an intimate conversation.”

  “Are you going?” she blurted.

  “Unless you want me to stay.” He stood up then adjusted his tie.

  “No…”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night.” He left the bar and walked past the windows. Abby sat alone in the bar, her drink half empty. She stared at the cash he left on the table, noting the ridiculous tip he left.

  When she was with Fernan, she felt a little better about herself. He was easy to talk to, not judgmental. And being with him, intimately, made her feel a million times better. She left the bar then turned down the sidewalk, searching for him. He was standing at the curve, clearly waiting for his driver to arrive.

  “Fernan?”

  He turned to her. “Darling?”

  She approached him then stood close to him. “Do you have any plans tonight?”

  “Not a singe one.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat.

  “Would you like to come over for dinner?”

  She nodded.

  Fernan hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. His face was next to hers, and his breath fell on her nose. The embrace was exactly what she needed. His arms felt like a steel cage that kept the world out. When Fernan was there, nothing bad could happen.

  The limo arrived and Fernan helped her get inside. When they were in the backseat, he placed his arm over the back of the chair, slightly touching her neck and shoulders. She stared out the window and snuggled next to him. He stared at her the entire way, and Abby felt the heat of his gaze. She turned to him. “What?”

  “Nothing.” He kept staring.

  When they returned to his apartment, he poured two glasses of wine and started preparing dinner.

  “You cook your own food?” she asked.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” He sliced the chicken into perfect chunks.

  “I figured you would pay someone.”

  “No,” he said simply. “I enjoy it. It clears my head.” He washed the asparagus and started cooking everything on the stove.

  “Can I help?” she asked.

  He smiled. “I have a feeling you don’t know the difference between a whisk and a spatula.”

  “What’s a whisk?”

  He laughed. “I got it, Abby.”

  When he was finished, he placed the dishes on the table. It was grilled chicken with lemon, and mashed potatoes and asparagus.

  “Wow,” she said.

  “I can do more than paint.”

  “And rock my world,” she added.

  His cheeks reddened. “I hope you like it.”

  She took a bite of the asparagus. “Holy shit.”

  “Is there something wrong?” he asked in alarm.

  “No, this is awesome.” She ate the rest of her food quickly.

  He smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Where did you learn?” she asked.

  “My mother taught me. And she’s an awesome chef.”

  “I’ll say.” She devoured everything then downed her wine. “You probably hate eating out when you can cook yourself.”

  “I only go out if I have good company, which doesn’t happen very often.”

  “You don’t have any friends?” she blurted.

  “No, I do,” he said. “But only a few.”

  She took their empty plates to the sink.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Washing the dishes.” She rolled her eyes. “What did you think I was doing?”

  “You’re my guest.” He came behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “And you don’t clean.”

  She dried her hands and turned around. “Well, thank you for dinner.”

  “You’re very welcome.” He stood close to her, pushing her back against the counter. His chest was in her face, and she stared at it for a moment, remembering how it looked when they had sex the other day. Just being near him made her aroused.

  Fernan leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers. It immediately ignited a spark, and a moan escaped her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened their kiss. Fernan moved his hands to her hips then lifted her on the counter. When they were at the same height, she cupped his face and devoured his mouth. The slight taste of Italian dressing came onto her tongue when she kissed him. His tongue moved acro
ss hers gently, not overbearing her mouth. He knew how to use it in just the right away, not giving too much or too little. Fernan was perfect at everything.

  Abby unbuttoned his shirt then pulled it off his shoulders. When it fell to the ground, she rubbed his chest and his stomach. She broke the kiss just to stare at him, admiring every line and groove. His pressed his face against hers, watching her stare. Then he moved his lips to her neck and sucked the skin gently. He pressed his chest against her, making her feel warm.

  Abby reached her hands down and undid his trousers. When they were loose, she pulled them down, taking the boxers too. He stood in front of her naked, every aspect of his body for her private viewing. His cock was hard and long, and it pressed against her knee. Abby enjoyed the sight, examining the muscles in his arms.

  Fernan pulled her to him then lifted her from the counter. He placed her on the rug in his living room, the one directly against the large windows that showed the skyline of the city. Central Park could be seen by the view.

  She lay on her back and looked up at him. “I wish that painting was here.”

  He chuckled quietly. “Bring it over and we’ll make love in front of the fireplace.” He unzipped her skirt and pulled it off, taking the underwear with it. Then he removed her top and bra. “The windows are tinted.” He sucked each nipple while his hand moved between her legs.

  She writhed on the rug, loving everything he was doing to her. “I couldn’t care less if someone saw us.”

  “So classy,” he whispered. He kissed her gently before he moved his mouth to her entrance. When his tongue moved across her folds, Abby felt her body clench tightly. She hadn’t felt the intimate touch in so long, she couldn’t recall when.

  Fernan kissed her gently then moved his tongue inside. She moved on the rug, rolling her hips and shaking under the touch. She gripped his hair and closed her eyes, loving the intrusion of his gentle tongue.

  His ministrations made the pleasure form deep inside her. It stretched outward, burning every inch of her skin. When it moved down to her stomach, she knew she was almost there.

  “Fernan…”

  He pulled his mouth away.

  “No,” she said with a moan.

  He moved over her then pressed his face close to hers. “I want you to come when I’m inside you.” He opened the drawer of the coffee table and pulled out a packet. She realized he kept them all over the house, just in case. He rolled it onto his length then leaned over her.