30. Seth
30
SETH
T he wheel squeaks under my grip as I check my watch again. Seven minutes until I need to pick her up. My cologne fills the car's interior - maybe I overdid it. Fuck. And I'm early? What kind of schmuck am I?
"Keep it together, man." My mouth is dry. I drum my fingers against the leather, trying to distract myself from imagining how she'll look tonight.
I hear a text drop. Corey.
Everything good?
On schedule. Just waiting on our girl. The 'our' slips out, surprising me.
My girl , he corrects, but there's humor in his tone. Behave yourself.
Always do. The lies just keep coming.
Movement catches my eye - Abbie emerging from her building. Sweet Jesus. The dress she's wearing should be illegal. Black, fitted, showing just enough skin to drive a man crazy. I nearly choke on my tongue as she approaches.
"Hi Seth." Her smile lights up the night.
"You look gorgeous." My god, I sound ridiculous.
My feet move before my brain catches up, rushing around to open her door. The silk of her dress catches the streetlight as she slides into the passenger seat. The scent of her perfume hits me - something spicy that makes my mouth water.
"What a gentleman." Her laugh fills the car. "I'm not used to this kind of treatment."
"No?" I grip the wheel tighter, trying to look at anything but how that dress hugs her curves.
"My ex wouldn't even hold the door open if I was carrying groceries. Too busy playing video games or spending daddy's money."
"Sounds like a real winner." The bitterness in my voice surprises me. "What kind of idiot doesn't appreciate what he has right in front of him?"
A blush rises in her cheeks. "That's sweet of you to say."
"Just being honest." And I am. Too honest. The way she's looking at me right now - soft and vulnerable - is dangerous. Makes me want to pull over and show her exactly how a woman like her should be treated.
But she's Corey's. And I'm just the fucking chauffeur tonight.
I force my eyes back to the road, reminding myself to behave. It's going to be a long drive.
"Nervous about meeting Corey's son?" I break the silence, watching her fidget with her clutch.
"Should I be?"
"Nah. He's just..." My jaw tightens. "A younger version of his mother."
"Not a compliment, I take it?"
"Let's just say entitlement runs deep in that branch of the family tree."
She shifts in her seat, crossing those killer legs. "Unlike his father?"
"Corey's different. Self-made man. Everything he has, he earned. Too bad his son didn't take after him."
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Are you self-made too?"
She looks at me, eyes searching. There's something there - curiosity, maybe interest? My grip tightens on the wheel.
"Started with nothing. Built everything myself." I pause. "Though some would say I took the scenic route."
"Tell me more about this scenic route."
"Careful what you ask for, sweetheart. Those stories aren't for polite company."
"Who says I'm polite company?"
Christ. The way she says it - all innocence with an edge of sin. Is she flirting? Has to be my imagination. But then her hand brushes my arm as she reaches to adjust the AC.
"Getting hot?" The words slip out, awkward and clunky.
"Maybe a little." She licks her lips, and I swear she knows exactly what she's doing.
I need to get her alone tonight. Just five minutes to see if I'm reading this right. If she feels whatever this electric thing is between us too.
But first we have to survive dinner with Corey's spawn. God help us all.
"So tell me about these night classes. What's the endgame?" I look over at her, catching the way her eyes light up at the question.
"Clinical psychology. I want to help people work through their trauma, you know? Not just the surface stuff, but the deep-seated issues that shape who we become."
The passion in her voice hits me right in the chest. No rehearsed answer here - this is raw and real.
"And the bartending?"
"Perfect research, actually. People tell bartenders everything." She laughs, but there's wisdom there. "Plus, it helps pay for school. Can't exactly rely on daddy's money like some people."
The dig at her ex makes me smile. "Smart and savvy. I like it."
"I've got this dream of opening my own practice someday. Something intimate, where people feel safe. Not one of those sterile offices with the weird abstract art and tissues everywhere."
Jesus. Beauty, brains, and actual goals? Where the hell has this girl been hiding?
"You've really thought this through."
"Had to. Nobody else was going to create my future for me." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Probably sounds silly to someone like you though. I mean, you've already built your empire."
"Not silly at all." My fingers itch to touch her hand. "It's refreshing actually. Most people your age are still trying to decide what they want for breakfast."
"Speaking from experience with Corey's son?"
"Something like that." I shake my head, still baffled. "How did that ex of yours let someone like you get away?"
"Someone like me?"
"Driven. Focused. Actually giving a damn about making something of yourself." The words come out hotter than intended. "Plus, you know, the obvious."
"The obvious?"
"Don't play coy, sweetheart. You know exactly how gorgeous you are."
She smiles shyly and looks away. Christ, she really doesn't know, does she? How is that even possible?
Corey's house looms ahead, all sleek modern lines and dramatic lighting. I kill the engine but can't quite bring myself to move yet. Next to me, Abbie's breathing has gone shallow.
"We could make a run for it," I suggest, only half-joking. "I know this great little bar downtown."
She laughs, but it's tight. "Tempting. Very tempting."
"You okay?"
"Just... processing. Meeting the son, the whole formal dinner thing." She smooths her dress. "Plus, you know. After what happened with you and Corey that night..."
My grip tightens on the wheel. "We don't have to talk about that. Not right now, anyway."
"I know. It's just weird, right? All of us pretending everything's normal?"
"Welcome to high society, sweetheart. We excel at pretending."
Through the windshield, I spot movement - Corey's silhouette passing one of the front windows. Any minute now he'll wonder what's taking so long.
"Ready for the circus?" I ask.
"No." But she reaches for her clutch anyway. "You'll stay close?"
The vulnerability in her voice does something to me. "I've got your back."
I step out and circle around to open her door. As she rises, her hand finds my arm for balance. The touch sends electricity straight through me.
"My hero," she murmurs.
We stand there a moment too long, her hand still on my arm, before reality crashes back. I take a deep breath and gesture toward the house.
"After you."
She squares her shoulders, and starts up the path. I follow, trying not to stare at the way her dress moves.
The front door opens before we reach it. Corey fills the frame, all easy confidence and welcoming smiles.
"There you are! Was starting to think you'd gotten lost."
His eyes catch on where Abbie's hand just left my arm. If he notices anything, he doesn't show it.
"Come on in," he says. "Everyone’ll be here soon.”