“All because you’d prefer I had bigger breasts, rather than accept me for who I am?”
“No.” I lift a hand and run it through my short hair. “Not because of your… Because if you ever find yourself in an abusive relationship or a dangerous situation, I’d really like for your legs to be strong enough to carry you away.”
Well, fuck. You were supposed to stop!
“My legs?” Her voice shakes again, as though I hit another sore spot. “You think my legs are hideous too?”
“Well, no, I’ve never seen them. But I feel like if they’re proportionate, then they’re probably thin. I’d like for you to weigh a little more than a hundred pounds when soaking wet. The heavier you are, the more fight you might have when you need it most.”
For the first time ever in my presence, her cherry red lips curl up into a small grin. “I’ve heard that before. My brothers are always on me about eating more.”
“That dude from yesterday…?”
“Is truly my brother,” she finishes. “He’s the next oldest above me, and he’s really invested in my caloric intake, too. He’s not an abusive boyfriend, Spencer. Just a pesky brother who likes to be up in my business all the time.”
“Spence.”
Her brows lift. “Hm?”
“Nobody really calls me Spencer. Or Mr. Serrano, for that matter. You could just call me Spence.”
She tilts her head to the side with curiosity. “Do you like your mother, Spencer? Do you have a good relationship?”
“Um…” I want nothing more right now than to strip this woman down. Not to fuck, but just to see her. I want to know what’s going on beneath the surface, because I just know she’s like a duck on water. Smooth, serene, and graceful to the eye, but beneath that, she’s racing hard. “Yes. My mother has passed now, but yes, I had a very good relationship with her. She was amazing.”
Abby’s eyes soften a little. With sympathy, with sadness. “I’m so sorry she’s passed. But don’t you think… if she wanted you to be called Spence, she would have named you Spence?”
When I remain quiet, she smiles again. “I’ll call you Spencer, if that doesn’t bother you. It’s the name your mother gave you. The name she wanted you to have.”
“Do you have a good relationship with your mother?”Who the fuck am I? Who cares if she likes her mother? “Is she still alive?”
“Yes.” Abigail grins. “And yes. I have a wonderful relationship with my family. I was the baby, the youngest of six, and the only girl, so I’m not sure anyone has realized I’ve grown yet. But I adore them all the same. Momma and Daddy are alive and well, and they’re in Portugal right now.”
“Portugal?”
“Mm. They’re finally taking a minute for themselves, after a life of working themselves to the bone. My mom can be a little overbearing, but in the best way. But while they’re away, my brothers have taken it upon themselves to sit on my shoulder and watch what I’m doing every minute of every day.”
I consider her with narrowed eyes. “Do they know you’re here?”
“No.” Her face transforms from innocent to something else. Something much more daring. “I feel like I’m finally going through a teenage-rebellion stage. I never got that. I never rebelled. But I had dinner with my brothers last night, and I didn’t tell them I would come looking for you today. I feel like I’ve snuck out in the dead of night.”
“But it’s the middle of the morning.”
She grins. “I know.”
“The sun is out.”
“I know that too.”
“And you’re in the middle of town, there’s decent foot traffic outside, and plenty of people here to make sure you remain safe.”
She snickers. “I know. That should give you an idea of how sheltered my life has been. Walking a few blocks from my workplace to yours in the middle of the morning is rebellious to me.”
She’s so foreign to me. She’s like a pretty little puppy I’d like to pet, which is all wrong, because the women I’m drawn to are never cute, nor do they command my protective side. If Abigail were six inches taller, three cup sizes bigger, and at all confident in any sense of the word, we’d already be fucking against the glass. But she’s none of those things, and yet, I haven’t brushed her off and walked away.
Why do I stay?Why do I care what she thinks of me?
“You know I don’t work here, right?” I look around the boardroom. To the blinds covering the wall that leads to the office. To Soph’s eyes, while she sits at a desk and stares right into my fucking soul while she stuffs food into her mouth. “The Bishops own this place. I’m not employed by them, I just hang out here a lot.”