Page 34 of The Fantasy League
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy seeing his rock-hard abs clinging tightly to his shirt.
“You making cookies?” he inquired with a grin that matched my own.
“Yeah, they’ll be done in a few minutes.”
I could do this.
I could ask Abel to hang out with me.
The worst he could say was no, right?
“Soooo, I was wondering if you wanted to, I don’t know… hang out this weekend? Maybe we could go to dinner or watch a movie or something.” The grin on his face rose higher as my senseless babbling continued. “But only if you’re free! If you’re not free, we can do it another time. Or, um, if you don’t want to, that's cool… no pressure.”
“I’ll make time for you, Red,” he said, leaning back against the countertop across from me and crossing his arms over his chest. “My buddy Carlo owns an Italian restaurant downtown, Mafiosa’s, best in the city. They’re closed on Sundays, but we could do dinner together tomorrow.” A cocky smirk pulled at his lips as he spoke his next words with eyes locked to mine. “That is, only if you’re free. Or,um, if you don’t want to that’s cool… no pressure.”
He was mocking me.
Abel Abbott was mocking me.
And holy shit, that snarky emphasis on the “um” was sexy as hell.
My cheeks flooded with embarrassment and I did my best to pretend I was scratching the back of my head to hide the reality that I was twirling my ring with my thumb.
“O-okay, sounds good. Does seven work?”
He nodded with a devilish grin while I couldn’t grab my purse fast enough. Scurrying toward the door, I gave a wave and threw a sheepish smile back at him. I was too frazzled to know for certain, but I could’ve sworn I heard him say, “It’s a date,” just before the front door closed behind me.
I didn’t know what was worse, the fact that I’d bolted out of Abel’s house, leaving him to deal with the burning cookies in the oven or the fact that a spark lit in my chest at the idea of him thinking it was a date.
* * *
I finally broughtout the little black dress that had been sitting untouched in my closet for months on end. I didn’t know if there would be cameras around or not, but either way, I wanted to wow the public for my debut in the tabloids.
If I was going to be forced into the spotlight, the least I could do was look devastating.
A knock on the door startled me. I peered over at the clock… seven sharp, just like last time. I opened the door and Abel’s eyes widened. I thought I heard him vaguely mutter, “Fuck,” under his breath, but it’s possible I was just trying to fuel my own ego.
“No green today?”
I liked that he picked up on the fact that I wore something green every single day. It had been my mom’s favorite color and wearing it was always a little reminder that she was with me.
I stuck out one of my stilettos to show him my shoes. “They look darker in this light, but the website said they were green.” He unashamedly raked his eyes from my shoes and up my body until our eyes met. “Is it okay? Should I change?”
I hated that I felt so self-aware whenever he was around.
Every time he entered a room, I suddenly felt how tight my clothes were or how short a dress was. He never said anything about my appearance to make me feel that way, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t curb the uncomfortable feeling. Especially now that he was openly giving me a once-over.
“It’s more than okay.”
“You clean up nice,” I said in a silky voice, turning the attention away from myself.
He looked better than nice.
I didn’t say that out loud though.
Well, at least I hoped I hadn’t.
Abel was draped head to toe in black and was the epitome of sex appeal and sophistication, which was so unlike his usual post-workout sweatpants and T-shirt ensemble.
