Page 13 of Guilty As Charged
Spencer places a glass of orange juice in front of me. “So ask,” he says patiently.
“You’re very direct.” I shift in my seat, and I can already feel my cheeks heating. I like that he’s bold.
“It works for me.” Probably because he’s honest and good. He waits a beat before raising an eyebrow. “So?”
“How have you never cuddled someone?” I blurt it out.
His smile is big, like he’s not at all shocked by the question. “I was a dork in high school.”
“But not in college?” He would have been past those awkward years at that point.
“I suppose I’m a romantic. I didn’t love the attention I got from women after I got more attractive. It didn’t sit well for me for someone to want me because of how I looked.”
“I hope you don’t think I?—”
“No, Abbie,” he says softly, cutting me off. “You’re different.”
“Different?” I’ve heard that on more than one occasion.
“Different in the best way possible.”
Oh, well no one ever said it like that before. I kind of love it.
Chapter Eight
SPENCER
There’s a small farmers market in town, and after we have breakfast, I ask Abbie if she wants to go. From everything she’s told me, she’s been isolated in that small apartment for months, and I had a feeling she might enjoy the sunshine.
I could tell her first reaction was to say no, but I stayed quiet and gave her a moment to think it over. That’s when I saw her expression change to excitement, and she said she’d love to. Maybe it was knowing I’d be with her the whole time or that we’re safe out here away from the city. Either way, I loved seeing her eyes light up.
This area upstate is mostly farmland, but the community comes together once a week to sell or trade. When I’m staying at the house, I like to come to the market and get stuff to make dinner.
“Ohh, should we get some honey?” Abbie sees the table covered in amber jars of liquid gold and bounces on her toes.
“As much as you want.” I’ve probably got a few jars at the house, but I would buy the whole table if it kept her this happy.
The beekeeper tells us about the different flavors and lets Abbie try a few samples. While she’s talking to him, I watch her, and it’s a thing of beauty. She uses her hands to express herself, and at one point, she even snorts a laugh. I have no idea what they’re talking about, but my god, I could watch this all day.
Once she’s filled a box with who knows how many jars, I pay the beekeeper and heft the box in my arms.
“I’m sorry it’s so heavy,” Abbie whispers as we walk away. “They were all so good, and he was so nice.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m your muscle for the day.” I wink at her, and she blushes. God, I love when she does that. I want to reach out and hold her, but this box is making that difficult. “Let me go put these in the car so I’ve got free hands.”
“Ooooh, snowcones.” Her eyes widen as she turns in the opposite direction of the car.
“Abbie,” I say, and she waves me off.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Car. Got it. See you in a few.” She walks toward the snowcones, and I laugh to myself. I guess she really likes them.
It takes me a few minutes to get to the car and put the honey in the trunk. The box is an odd shape, and I have to bend the sides to get it to fit. We had my driver bring us to the house yesterday, but since I’ve got a car that I keep at the house, he took the SUV back to the city. This little car isn’t meant to hold much, but it’s fun to drive around town.
Once it’s loaded, I go back to the farmers market in search of Abbie. On the way, I see people milling around, and most of them I recognize. A few even wave at me, and I remind myself that even though I don’t come often, the town is small enough that they remember who I am.
There’s a table on the far side of the market that’s selling flowers, and it catches my attention. I’m still walking as I crane my neck to check it for daisies. I’ve already made up my mind to tell Abbie to steer clear of the table just in case when I see someone beyond it.
A man in a dark shirt and sunglasses is standing there, completely still and staring in my direction. His stillness is what makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Everyone here seems to be in motion, myself included. By the time my brain registers what I’m seeing, something hits my arm.
