One heavy fist hits my arm, then a second when Andi shoots out of her chair and hits me.
“Are you stupid?” Soph growls. “Have you learned nothing with Laine? Why would you kick a chick if she’s already down?”
“She pressed my buttons, okay? She looks like a pound puppy, like she could do with a steak and a hug, and Jess tried to offer her an out. But this chick says how he’s bossy, but it’s okay. She said he’s her brother, which Jess bought like,” I smack the table, “that. Has Kane taught her nothing? She’s being hosed by the florist, and nobody seems inclined to check in on her.”
“So, as her only remaining guardian who believes maybe she’s being hurt, you figure instead of helping, you’d sink your boot in instead?” Soph smacks my arm again, then one more time. “You’re stupid!”
“Jess was so sure, okay! And Jess is usually pretty smart. They went about their business, and acted like the bossy brother was no big deal, so I followed them around for the afternoon. Abigail didn’t limp or cry, she didn’t grab her ribs or freak out when I accidentally touched her arm.”
“Accidentally?” Andi lifts a brow. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“Of course it wasn’t an accident!” I stand and point toward the door. “I don’t touch anybody by accident. I wanted to see what she’d do.”
“And what did she do?” Soph asks.
“Nothing! She gave me a filthy glare, shook herself free, told me to go away, since she’s so opposed to cussing and can’t find it in her churchy soul to say ‘fuck off,’ then she kept on working. What shedidn’tdo was cry out because where I grabbed her hurt. I grabbed her arm, around here,” I grab Soph’s bicep. “Which is kinda where any guy would grab if he’s trying to control her. She didn’t seem to be in pain, but she was too skinny.”
“So now, becauseyoufucked it up, you want me to make friends with her and save her from the big bad wolf?”
“Yes!”
“I feel like I know who the wolf is,” Andi grumbles. “And it ain’t this chick’s brother. I feel like maybe Spencer is intrigued and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.” She waggles her brows. “Was she pretty?”Yes. “Did you wanna pat her head… mere seconds before pushing her to her knees?”
“No!” Maybe.Fuck, yes.“No, you’re wrong. If I wanna fuck a girl, I tell her I wanna fuck. Then we fuck, because I know she wants it too. It wasn’t like that with this chick. She needs help.”
“So…” Soph snaps her laptop closed again. “Help her. Her name is Abigail, right? From the flower shop?”
“What about it?”
“She has five brothers. Her father is of Portuguese decent. Her brothers are dark, her mother is light. Maybe, justmaybe,” she lets the word drag out, “she was telling the truth, and you’re just pissed because you want her to be your damsel.”
“I don’t want a damsel! I don’t have time for that shit.”
“If you say so. But I think I can leave this case in your hands, big boy. You have it under control.” She claps my shoulder like she’s a man. “I have shit to do. If you think she’s truly in trouble, then you know what to do. If you don’t, then make a move or move away from her. But whatever you do, stop being a little bitch about it.”
The boardroom door swings open, then Jay pokes his head in with a smile. “Who’s a little bitch?”
“Spence.” Soph swings away from me and meets her man at the door. “I wanna run some stuff by you.”
“Okay. Hey, little bitch. You have a visitor.” He flips the blinds open and reveals the red-haired woman to his left, in her too-big clothes and strangling the straps of her handbag between her hands. “Said she needs to talk to a Mr. Serrano. Fuck if I knew who she was asking for.”
“Well, well, well.” Soph turns back to me with a wicked grin. “The tides seem to be shifting, Mr. Serrano. I see what’s happening. And…” She regards Abby with a lifted brow, then turns back to me and whispers, “Maybe you should YouTube some how-to tutorials for her or something. Have you seen the meme with the mouse eating that massive banana?”
“Sophia!”
“What? I’m not saying it ain’t legal. Whatever happens is totally lawful, because it’s not like I didn’t just check her birth date when I was looking her up. I know how old she is, but age doesn’t always translate to experience. So… you could probably benefit from giving her instructions.” She flashes a grin and waves with her fingers. “Toodaloo. Have fun with your damsel.”
“I’m leaving too.” Andi snatches her materials up into a messy pile. Sheets of paper fall to the floor, and loose pencils hit the table. She rushes out with Jay and Soph, but not before shoving Abby into the room and slamming the door shut so loud that Abby jumps.
She looks painfully similar to yesterday; skittish, tiny, pale, and completely stuck-up.
Maybe part of my problem with her is the way she makes me feel inferior.
“Um…” She wears a shirt buttoned right up to her chin, but instead of jeans today, she wears black pants and cute little kitten heels that give her just an inch or so of extra height. Her purse remains in front of her, as though she’s using it as a shield. Her knuckles are white, her cheeks a burning red. Her bright hair stands out against her pale skin, I’m sure I could see her in any crowd.
Which is a problem for the guy who has worn camouflage for thirty years.
“Mr. Serrano.” She swallows nervously, and studies the barren room.