Chapter 6
POV: Abby?
I went to bed thinking of him—as any woman does who knows that a man is far from good for her but wants him anyway.
And I wanted Cole bad.
I knew that he wanted me, too—by the way he looked at me—by the way he was protective—by the way he went out of his way to help me. And by the way there was something unspoken between us that neither of us could seem to shake.
But it wasn’t just that—I could tell by the physical notions, too—by the way corded muscle rippled across every inch of his body and tensed whenever I was near—by the way he undressed me with steady,
cold eyes—by the way his touch sent electric sparks across my body—by the way I wondered what it would feel like to have him inside me.
I let out a groan as I threw a pillow over my head and half-yelled into it.
I had to be quiet or my dad would hear me.
But I’m 22. I’m naive. I’m sex crazed.
And I would be lying if I said I wasn’t dying to have sex with Cole.
I might be acting a bit extreme with emotions and thoughts and behaviors but fuck it.
I wanted to feel like this—I needed to allow myself to feel like this.
I looked over at my alarm clock, realizing that it was 3 am.
Eventually, I drifted back to sleep.
By the time I rolled around in the morning, I threw my eye mask onto my bedside table and glanced at my alarm clock—11:00 am.
Shit, I was going to be late, really fucking late to opening for today’s lunch shift. I guess I sat up thinking about Cole for much longer than I should have.
I showered, grabbed a cinnamon raisin bagel, filled up my insulated coffee mug and made a beeline for the door.
As I was just about to open the door and slam it behind me, I saw my dad eyeing me from the kitchen table. “Abs,” he called out, causing me to back peddle to meet his gaze halfway.
“Yes, dad?” I asked.
“Come here, please.”
I walked backwards until our gazes met fully. “I’m sorry I’m running late for the opening shift. I promise it won’t happen again.”
“That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said, straight faced.
“What? Did I forget to flush the toilet or something?” I laughed, jokingily.
“No, Abs, just sit down with me for a second,” he waved over the seat across from him.
I slumped into the seat. “God, dad you’re making it sound like this is some principal’s office visit and I’m about to get detention.”
“Abs, I’m just worried about you.”
“What’s there to be worried about, dad?” I laughed.
“Cole Tanner.”
Who knew that two simple words could ignite a fire inside of me.
I tried to act cool, calm, collected but after hearing his name from my father’s mouth I felt like anything but.
“What—what about him?” I stuttered.
He let out a heavy sigh, as if he expected this from me. “Abs, you’re an adult I know, and a beautiful, intelligent woman so it pains me to play protective father right now, but I feel like something needs to be said.”
I scoffed. “What would possibly need to be said, dad? Like you said, I’m a grown and intelligent woman.”
He let out another sigh, heavier than the last. “He’s a lot older than you, Abigail.”
Oh, full name, he’s really trying to deter me now. “Nothing is going on between us, dad.”
“Well that’s good to hear but I’m certain if the both of you continue like you have over these last few days then something is bound to happen.”
“You don’t know that, dad.”
He shook his head as he tapped his fingers on the table. “I know men like Cole. He’s older than you, by a lot, and he’s a cowboy, and nothing good comes from cowboys, Abby.”
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t know Cole.”
“And I don’t think you do either, Abby.”
That much was true, but I wanted to.
“I’m not a little girl, dad.” I paused. “I’m 22 years old and I can make my own decisions.”
That was a bit harsh. I let out a sigh, shaking my head.
“Thank you for looking out for me but I promise, I can make and own up to my decisions. Now, I really have to get going, dad. Works’ calling!”
I ran over and planted a kiss on the top of his head.
He smiled, even though it still held the same concern as it had before.
And the entire time I drove to work, I thought about him.
Not about my dad’s warnings and not about the concerns I had of my own but about commitment, or if this would even work, or if this would be a one time fling if we did end up having sex—but the fact remained—that I couldn’t seem to get him out of my head.
I was too old to believe in fairytales.
I knew that I wouldn’t meet my prince at a ball, or ride away with him on a magic carpet, or have him save me from an evil queen.
I knew that my prince was someone more…realistic.
And maybe my prince happened to be a 36 year old cowboy, who had a rough and dominant streak.