Page 54 of Before You Say I Do
This time, Jordan let her.
“I’m not a bad person, Jordan.”
Jordan’s heart boomed. “I know,” she replied.
“I just want to kiss you. Is that so bad?” Abby tilted her head, her eyes sad, her lips inviting.
Jordan’s body flushed with want.
She stepped back and held out a hand to Abby, who took it, staring at their connection.
Jordan wasn’t going to let her dwell. She pulled Abby up.
“Come on. Let’s get you back on your wine stool before they send out a search party.”
Chapter 20
Abby wokewith a start and squeezed her eyes tight shut. Dammit, her head hurt. She put her palm to her forehead, and pressed down, as if that would make it feel better.
It didn’t. Abby let out a sigh and grabbed her phone from where she’d abandoned it on the covers beside her. It was 2.30am. She’d drunk far too much yesterday. Day drinking was never a good idea. You could dress it up as a wine tour, a cultural activity, but it was still what it was. An excuse to get a little tipsy. Not that she’d been complaining at the time. It was just now, hours later when she’d woken up gagging for water, that she was questioning her choices.
She rolled off the bed, wobbled, then grabbed a T-shirt and denim shorts. Her wine-stained T-shirt was draped across a chair.
Oh god. Wine stain. The toilets with Jordan. She vaguely recalled it, but she couldn’t quite remember what she’d said. She just remembered there had been a lot of touching from her. Of Jordan’s face, Jordan’s hair.
Fuck.
She closed her eyes as nausea rose in her.
A glass of water would make her feel better. Perhaps two.
Abby slipped on her flip-flops and walked to the kitchen in the dark, trying to make as little noise as possible. She wasn’t sure she succeeded as she felt her way along the walls. She hit the kitchen spotlights over the dining table, and decided that was enough to illuminate the kitchen. She didn’t want too much light, and she was only getting a glass of water.
The detritus of their night was still covering the surfaces: glasses, empty wine bottles, some crisps and nuts still left in bowls. Abby’s stomach growled. They’d had a big dinner cooked for them by a visiting chef, but she could still eat. She opened the fridge and spied some fancy potatoes - were they called hasselbacks? Or was that the bloke who used to be in Baywatch? No, that was Hasselhoff. Were they Hasselhoff potatoes?
She shook her head, smiling at herself, and shoved a potato in her mouth. While she chomped, she opened a few cupboards, locating the glasses on the third try. She didn’t know where anything was in here. Princess Abby. She’d been waited on hand and foot all weekend. By her whole crew, ably led by Captain Jordan.
Those two words conjured up an image of Jordan in a sailor suit, all tight belts and pressed white fabric. Abby gulped. She focused on glugging the water. If she wasn’t so taken with Jordan, she might not have got so drunk. Then again, this was what a bride-to-be was meant to do on her hen weekend, wasn’t it? She was just following protocol. Just as she would have done if Jordan was in front of her in uniform and doling out the orders.
When she looked up, her heart caught in her chest and she almost stopped breathing. Jordan was standing in the kitchen doorway, although thankfully, not in a sailor suit. That would have been a little too much to handle. Instead, an orange singlet top and navy shorts adorned her sleepy form.
“What are you doing up?” Abby glanced at the clock. “It’s the middle of the night.” If anything, she looked even more appealing in the semi-darkness. As Abby walked towards her, she spied a sleep crease indented on Jordan’s cheek. Her skin was probably still hot to the touch.
“I’m aware.” Jordan went straight to the right cupboard. “Water,” she said, filling a glass. She drank some, before settling herself on the other side of the large white kitchen island.
A safe distance away.
“How’s your head?” Jordan squinted at Abby.
“It’s been better. Good thing I drank a lot of water when we got home, or I’d be way worse.”
“Like Delta and Nikita?” Jordan offered. She found a cloth and wiped something from the island.
Abby smiled. “Yes, like them.” She paused. “Did they go to their separate rooms?” They’d always been each other’s fallback at university, although they hadn’t slept together for a couple of years as far as Abby could remember.
“I’d be surprised if they did.”
Abby smiled. At least someone had got lucky on her hen weekend. Good for them. “Meanwhile, I woke up thinking what a fool I made of myself in the toilet with you at the vineyard. After I spilt the wine.” Her stomach flipped as her gaze connected with Jordan’s. Abby stilled as everything at the edges of her vision went into soft focus. Now, all she could hear was the tick of the kitchen clock, along with the thud of her heart in her stomach.
