And no one even acknowledged that Abby had asked a question. “Lance, how much was the pizza?” She didn’t bother to disguise the frustrated edge to her question.
Lance finally looked at her, gracing her with a charming smile. “Don’t worry about it.”
Not charmed, because dammit, she was going to pay for his dinner if nothing else, she pulled some cash from her wallet and held it out to him. “Here’s ten dollars. Will that cover it?”
Lance caught her wrist and reeled her in, dipping his head to kiss her again. This one was softer, longer, tender. “I said don’t worry about it,” he told her softly, the gold flecks glinting in his eyes.
Lowering her brows, she shook her head, unwilling to let this go. She didn’t want his pity or his charity. Letting him fix her car was just smart, because she really couldn’t afford to have it towed to a shop. And he’d already refused payment for that. But she could at least buy the man dinner. “You’re going to be fixing my car. I want to pay you for the pizza. I only let you get it because you insisted it was on your way.”
“It was on my way.” He hit her with that dazzling smile again. “Tell you what, you can make me breakfast tomorrow.”
“Ha ha,” she said, rolling her eyes. She pulled back her free hand to lightly smack him on the chest, but he captured that one too, and she was trapped. “I’m being serious.”
He pulled her tighter against him, letting go of her wrists and wrapping his arms around her. “So am I.” His voice rumbled in his chest, and his eyes held heat and promise. He kissed her again. Not the quick kiss of greeting or the tender touch of lips from earlier. He kissed her slow and deep, making good on the promise in his eyes.
“Get a room, you two.”
Abby jumped at the sound of Megan’s voice, pushing away from Lance like she’d touched a hot stove. Lance gave her a wicked grin, humor dancing in his eyes at the fiery glow of her cheeks and the way she wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes.
Megan didn’t care about who paid for the pizza and plopped down on the couch with a slice on her plate. “Help yourselves,” she said around a bite, strings of mozzarella still connecting her mouth to the pizza. “I’m not your waitress.”
With a chuckle, Lance threaded his fingers through Abby’s and led her to the counter where Megan had left paper plates and napkins for them. “I’m serious, Abby. I don’t mind picking up pizza. You can get the next one, okay?”
Abby held his eyes for a long moment before finally nodding, recognizing defeat when it came up and slapped her in the face. Or kissed her to distraction, in this case. “Fine,” she sighed, prompting another low laugh from Lance.
After they ate, Abby took Lance out to her car. “It just went click-click-click when I turned the key yesterday. It didn’t even sound like it was trying to start.”
Nodding, Lance held out his hand for the keys. He slid into the driver’s seat and tried the ignition, getting the same clicking sounds she had. “Did you leave a light on maybe?”
Abby shook her head. “I don’t think so. The last time I drove was during the day, and it has automatic headlights anyway.”
Lance reached up and checked the dome light to make sure it wasn’t switched on. “Hmm. When was the last time you drove it?”
“I went to the grocery store on Saturday morning. I walked to work all week, and I didn’t need to drive anywhere until yesterday.”
“Did you try jumping it yesterday?”
Abby shook her head. “No. I was just trying to get to my mom. All I could think was that I needed a ride since my car wouldn’t start. I didn’t even think about trying to get someone to jump it for me.”
Lance pulled the hood release, then went around and lifted the hood. “Let’s try that first to see what happens.”
He brought his car around to the empty spot next to Abby’s. She moved out of the way, claiming a spot with a view. If she were going to have a hot guy working on her car for a while, she might as well enjoy the show. The muscles in his arms bunched and flexed as he lifted the hood, and she couldn’t help licking her lips when he bent down to connect the jumper cables and his shorts pulled tight across his ass. She’d noticed his ass that first night they met. Round and firm and perfect.
When he stood back up, he caught her ogling him and gave her another panty-melting smile as he swung into the driver’s seat of his car to start it.
After a couple minutes, he slid back into the driver’s seat of her Kia. It coughed and sputtered at first, but started on the second try. That was a good sign. Maybe it was just a dead battery. Lance left the running cars connected for a few minutes before disconnecting the jumper cables and turning off his car.
He came over and sat on the ground next to her, bumping her with his shoulder. “We should let it run for a bit so the battery can charge.”
Abby nodded. “Okay. Should we take it for a drive or just let it run here?”
“Let’s just let it run here.” He leaned back on his arms, one hand behind her so she could lean into his body. “I want to try the lights in a few minutes and see what happens.”
“Uh oh.” Maybe the car starting wasn’t quite the auspicious omen she’d first thought. “What do you think is going to happen?”
He shrugged. “I’m hoping the lights will come on, and it’ll just keep running. But if the car dies, we’ll know that the battery’s not charging properly, which could just mean the battery’s bad, but it could also mean the alternator’s bad.”
Shit. Reaching up, Abby tugged at her lower lip, contemplating her bank account. But she’d just checked it that afternoon, and the paltry sum of her net worth was burned into her brain. This is the last thing I need right now. Forcing her hand back to her side, she tried to keep her face neutral and not let the worry show through. But given the sympathy flashing on Lance’s face, she wasn’t doing a very good job of it.
He put his arm around her and pulled her close, kissing her temple. “Don’t worry so much. I can fix it either way.”
Abby relaxed into him, but didn’t stop worrying. Her job paid her just enough to cover her bills. She didn’t have any room in her budget for expensive car repairs, even if it was just parts. Lance’s willingness to fix it would help, but it wouldn’t make a new battery and a new alternator free.
Abby pulled away from Lance after a few minutes, sweaty and sticky where skin touched skin. “It’s hot out today. I’m going to go get a drink. You want something?”
Lance shook his head, staring at her car. “I’m good. Go hang out inside and cool off. I’ll come in when I’m done out here, and we’ll figure out what we need to do next.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lance turned on the headlights, and the car died immediately. “Shit.”
It had been running for almost half an hour since he jumped it. He had been worried this might happen. Abby’s car needed a new alternator.
He snagged the keys out of the ignition and walked back to her apartment, debating over the best way to break the news. She was obviously worried about affording it, even though she kept insisting on trying to pay him. For the work, for the parts, by buying the pizza. Something. But he didn’t want her money. He wanted nothing more than to spend time with her. Get to know her. Break through her walls once and for all.
She stood leaning back against the kitchen counter between the fridge and the sink. The hopeful look on her face fell when she saw his expression. “Bad news, huh?”
He took the glass of water she held out for him and drank half of it before answering, glad at least that she was expecting the bad news. It would feel less like he was breaking her that way. “It looks like the alternator needs to be replaced.”
Abby grunted and looked away. After helping her with her mom, he could better read her distress. The way she shut down, turned away, rolled her lower lip between her thumb and finger. He hated it. Every last shred of distress she showed him, and the deeper well he knew hid beneath the shallow streams that reached the surfac
e. Reaching out, he took her hand, holding it until she looked at him again. “I can take care of it, Abby.” He put every ounce of comfort and reassurance into his voice, hoping it would be enough to convince her to let him help. “I know my way around a car.” He paired his reassuring tone with a reassuring smile. She gave him a pained smile in return and pulled her hand away from him to mess with her lower lip some more.
He looked over to the couch where Megan sat watching them, hoping for help. A clue. Her to interject and tell Abby that she would be crazy to turn down free help since she was obviously worried about money. She’d mentioned that she didn’t have a lot of extra funds at dinner last night. This was something he could do for her. That he wanted to do for her. But would she let him?
Megan’s eyes widened when he made eye contact, and she buried her face in the magazine on her lap. So much for getting help from her.
Abby spoke, and he snapped his head around to give her his undivided attention. She needed him, even if she wouldn’t admit it, and he was going to be there for her, at least with this. Maybe every guy she’d ever encountered before left when it counted, but he wouldn’t. Not while he was here, anyway. “Let me know how much the parts cost or where to order them from, okay?” Her voice held the same dull quality it did yesterday when she gave him directions to her mom’s house. He wanted to erase that, get back to her sass and hard-won smiles.
“I’ll get the parts, don’t worry about it.” He pulled her towards him, intending to wrap his arms around her in a comforting hug, but she pushed him away. Worry morphing into anger.
“No.” She slashed her hand through the air. “I’ll let you fix my car, but I’m at least paying for parts.”
He studied her face. Some of the worry had seeped back in to mix with her anger. He opened his mouth, then closed it again and just nodded.
Relief at his agreement suffused her face, which made him feel better. A little. He wanted to help her, but he also didn’t want to make her mad or push her away with his insistence. But her worry quickly came back, and he had to swallow down his renewed insistence that he’d handle everything. At least she wasn’t going to fight him on the labor.
“How long will it take to fix it?”
“I can do it this weekend if we get the parts tomorrow.” She nodded in response, staring at a point over his shoulder and tugging at her lower lip again. Catching her wrist once more, he pulled her hand away from her mouth. He wanted her to let him comfort her. Let him help her. Look at him so he could talk to her and show her that he was here for her.
Her other hand rose to mess with her lip some more. She didn’t seem to realize she was doing it. When he pulled that hand away from her mouth, she finally brought her eyes to his after looking at his fingers circling her wrists, confusion drawing her brows together.
“If you need a ride anywhere between now and when I get your car fixed I can take you, okay?” He tried to keep his voice calm and reassuring. She didn’t need to see his frustration. It wasn’t her fault that she wasn’t used to relying on anyone else. If he wanted to get her to trust him, he needed to be patient.
She stared at him for a moment, her hands trapped at her sides, not fighting his hold. “Okay. If Megan’s not available, I’ll call you.”
He glanced at Megan. She had lifted her magazine up in front of her face and held it there, studiously ignoring them. He turned back to Abby and brushed his lips across hers, then across her forehead. “Even if Megan’s available, I want you to call me.”
Abby narrowed her eyes at him and took a breath. Her nostrils flared, and she opened her mouth to say something, but he kissed her again. He didn’t want to argue about it, and he knew that she was going to if he didn’t stop her.
She struggled against his grip on her wrists, and he broke off the kiss. “You can’t just—” He hooked his arm around her back and pulled her close for another kiss.
This time she yanked her head back, pushing on his chest before his lips could settle on hers. “Lance! Stop it!”
Letting her go, he stepped back and and ran his hands through his hair, suppressing a growl of frustration. Why wouldn’t she just cooperate? He wasn’t trying to be an asshole. He was trying to help her. Why couldn’t she see that?
He took her hand in both of his and looked her in the eyes, wanting to force her to let him in. “Abby. I just want to help you. Why won’t you let me?”
She took in a deep breath, but let it out without saying anything, then tightened her hand around one of his and led him to her bedroom.
Lance couldn’t help but smirk when he saw the inside of Abby’s room for the first time, momentarily distracted from his mission. Clothes and shoes littered the floor in front of her open closet, and a laundry basket with more clothes piled in it sat off to the side. And she’d given him shit about not using a hamper. She didn’t seem to be able to manage to even use her dresser, except as a flat surface to pile things on.
Her room wasn’t dirty, it was just cluttered. It was a small room, so there wasn’t much floor space. The twin bed against one wall, a small desk, and a dresser next to the door left only a narrow strip of open floor, with a small path from the door to the bed and desk chair through the clothes.
“What’s that look?” Irritation colored Abby’s voice, and Lance was sure it wasn’t just because of the look on his face.
With a shrug, he gestured at her room with his free hand, unwilling to relinquish the hold she had on his other one. She so rarely initiated any contact that he wouldn’t give up what she gave him unless he had to. “I was just thinking about how you gave me crap about tossing my clothes on the floor. And look, you do the same thing.” He gestured with his free hand, encompassing her closet and its current state. “Plus, I at least use my dresser and put my clean clothes away. I just don’t bother to use a hamper for the dirty ones.”
Her nostrils flared again before she answered, her jaw clenched, and her voice tight with irritation. “I do use my dresser. Just not for clothes.”
Lance wasn’t sure if her annoyance stemmed more from his commentary about the state of her room, him kissing her to stop her from arguing, or the distraction from the subject at hand. Maybe all three.
Raising an eyebrow, in silent question, he waited for her explanation. She huffed and dropped his hand, making him regret pushing the issue because he hated letting go of her. The fact that they were in close quarters and she had to bump up against him to get to the dresser, helped, though, and he made no move to give her more space. Why, when all he really wanted was her pressed against him?
She opened the second drawer to display a tidy row of books inside, arranged spine out. A library in a drawer. “I don’t have room for a bookshelf, so I just use the dresser.”
He stared at the dresser, then back at her, not sure how to respond to that revelation. He had a lot of books, and understood not always having room for all of them. But he never would’ve thought to use his dresser to store books.
He opened his mouth, wanting to ask so many questions. Why didn’t she just replace the dresser with a bookshelf? And why not hang up her clothes? Or store them in bins under her bed? Or … but she waved her hand in dismissal before he even got the first question out. “That’s not important right now.” Turning to face him, she took a deep breath, looking him over as she gathered her thoughts again. “Look, Lance. I pay my own way. I’m not looking for a handout or someone to take care of me. And you don’t get to kiss me to shut me up when you don’t like what I’m saying.” Her voice rising in anger, she poked him in the sternum to punctuate each sentence. Actually poked him! When she hit the same exact spot a third time, it smarted. And he’d had enough.
She didn’t like him kissing her to shut her up? Fine. He could admit it wasn’t his best idea, but it was all he could think of at the time. It’d worked once or twice before, but he could tell he was pushing his luck doing it so many times in a row like that.
But he didn’t like getting jabbed in
the chest over and over again. Or getting yelled at for trying to help her out.
Grabbing her finger, he held it a few inches away from him, forcing her to stop. She tried to wrench her hand out of his grip, but he wouldn’t let go. “Fine,” he ground out, all his frustration rushing back into his voice, “I won’t kiss you to shut you up any more if you quit poking me.”
She stopped struggling long enough to make an annoyed sound of agreement, and he let go of her hand.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked him over. “I’m serious about the rest of it too, Lance. I don’t need you to buy me dinner all the time or pay for my car to get fixed. I’m not a charity case.”
Lance sighed, a deep sound of defeat and frustration at her stubbornness. Didn’t she realize he didn’t see her that way? Shouldn’t what they’d shared already be enough to illustrate that he cared about her? That he wanted to help her just because?
When he placed his hands on her upper arms, she stiffened under his grip, but he didn’t let go. He gave her arms a gentle squeeze, bending down so they were eye to eye, hoping that would convey his sincerity. “I know you’re not a charity case.” He enunciated each word clearly. “That’s not why I buy you dinner. I like taking you out. I like getting you things. I want to fix your car because I know how to do it, and I’m good at it. I would be really insulted if you insisted on taking it somewhere. Stop getting mad at me for wanting to be good to you.” He squeezed her arms once for emphasis and then pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her. After a moment she relaxed into him, and he felt her nod against his chest.
She pushed away from him and searched his face, her eyes still troubled. “I just don’t get why.”
Lance compressed his lips. So they were back to why. The thing was, he didn’t really know why. He’d never felt this protective, this possessive of anyone before. His sisters brought out a little bit of his protective instincts, but not like Abby. Maybe because he knew they could kick ass in their own right—their dad made sure of that—but also because he wasn’t the only one looking out for them. The only person Abby had was Megan. And while he liked Megan well enough, she’d also ditched Abby at the party where she’d bumped into him. That had worked out well for him in the end, but it wasn’t like Megan was a rock that Abby could rely on no matter what. He wanted to be that for her. He couldn’t put into words why, exactly, he just knew he needed to do it. “Because I want to,” he said at last, “and I can. Quit trying to analyze it so much. Just go with it. You can trust me, Abby.”
Players of Marycliff University Box Set, Books 1–3 Page 15