Page 30 of The Fantasy League
“I had a good time tonight,” Abel said softly, finally breaking the suffocating silence between us.
Praise freaking God.
Another second longer and I would have internally combusted.
“Same, surprisingly,” I replied, although I couldn’t believe I was admitting it out loud. “Who knows, maybe if you had asked me on a date instead of me coming to work for you, we could’ve made a good couple.”
Shit shit shit.
I didn’t mean to say that out loud either.
Goddammit, Scarlett.
I knew I should’ve kept my mouth shut.
“You think so?” A frown line creased at the corner of Abel’s lips when he craned his neck to look at me as we pulled up to a red light. His eyebrows pulled together, but those burning eyes were directed right at me.
Analyzing. Watching.
Heat stormed through my veins under the weight of his stare. “Maybe… who knows.” I looked over and gave him a sheepish smile.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“Who knows…” He repeated my words back to himself and a muscle in his jaw flexed.
Abel parted his lips like he was going to say something else, but instead of saying what was on his mind, he flattened his lips into a straight line at the last second.
Our silence commenced once again.
I kept trying to sneak glances at him for the rest of the car ride, but his face remained unchanged. His dark brows stayed permanently knotted, and a pained expression told me he was either constipated or wrestling with a troubling thought.
My guess was the former.
“Thank you, by the way,” I whispered softly, deciding to segue from our earlier conversation as we pulled up to the neighborhood gates.
Just thinking about the donation that Abel made to the cervical cancer research foundation made tears prick the back of my throat.
How was it possible that the biggest asshole I’d ever met was also the person single-handedly responsible for the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me?
“You’re welcome, Red,” Abel spoke lowly, grabbing my hand from my lap and intertwining it with his. Only this time, when we touched, it wasn’t laced with the pretend affection that we used hours earlier to display our “relationship.”
It was just for us.
A silent olive branch that things weren’t going to go back to how they used to be between us which I was happy to accept.
Our hands stayed connected as he drove through the quiet neighborhood illuminated by streetlights.
It was right then that I felt ateeny tinybit of the resistance I had built up toward him begin to crack.
Maybe it was the wine or maybe it was because I was feeling a bit emotional about my mom, but I was starting to get the inkling that maybe,just maybe, Abel wasn’t an asshole after all.
* * *
Abel pulledhis SUV into Mae’s driveway, cut the engine, and rounded the hood before I could gather my shoes from the floorboard.
“You don’t have to—” I started as he opened the passenger door for me.
“I want to,” he cut me off while slipping a hand under the thickest part of my thighs and the other under my back and tugging me against his chest.
