Chapter Twenty
Jacob
Family could be a royal pain in the ass. I have no idea who let it slip about Abigail—had to be either Tate or Rachel—but that afternoon, they arrived on my doorstep en masse.
My brother, Holden, and my cousins, Vance and Tate, were more than welcome. I stuck them in the kitchen to make coffee while I dealt with the more complicated of my arrivals—my older brother, Aiden, and William Davis.
William had been best friends with all of our parents since college. In the case of our fathers, they'd been friends practically since birth. He'd been like a second father to me most of my life, and I loved him like family.
But much like my older brother, he thought his main purpose in life was to tell the rest of us what to do and how to do it. I hadn't liked it when I was a kid, and now that I was in my 30s, it was unacceptable.
Part of me wanted to throw them all out. I was tempted, but they were my family, and I hadn't seen them much since Abigail had come to live with me. Since I've never had a woman living in my house before, I'm sure Tate found the gossip irresistible.
He probably kept it from Aiden but told Holden. Those two were almost the same age. They'd literally shared a cradle, and I think they were constitutionally incapable of keeping secrets from each other, especially one as juicy as Abigail Jordan living with me.
It was easier to deal with whatever they wanted and send them on their way than try to kick them out now that I'd let them in the door.
I was grateful Abigail was safely asleep down the hall in my bedroom. She'd put up a fight about sharing my room, but as I'd hoped, she'd given in. I was mostly certain she wanted to be there.
Mostly.
Aiden and William followed me into my office and took the chairs opposite my desk, both of them making themselves comfortable. They'd been there often enough in the past to feel at home.
"Jacob, what is this I hear about Abigail Jordan living in your home?" William asked, spearing me with his most paternal gaze.
I looked at Aiden, whose face was completely neutral, before I answered.
"I don't know," I deflected. "What did you hear? And from whom?"
William ignored me. "So it's true then?" He shook his head, giving me his best disappointed father look. "Jacob, I know that she's a beautiful woman, but this is completely inappropriate."
I couldn't help but smile at the way his words and tone mimicked Abigail herself. I was getting the impression William wanted her out of my house, so he probably wouldn't be amused to know he reminded me of her.
Knowing it would irritate him, I shrugged and shoved my hands in my pockets.
"Maybe," I said. "Right now, very few people know she's here. I'd like to keep it that way until her situation stabilizes."
"And then?" Aiden asked, cutting in. His dark eyes betrayed nothing of his feelings on the matter of Abigail and myself.
Aiden was tricky like that. William gave everything away from the start, but Aiden would let me hang myself before he'd tell me what he planned to do with me. Usually, a one-on-one confrontation with Aiden put me on edge.
I love my brother, and I've never doubted for a moment that he loves me, but that didn't mean he was easy.
I wasn't going to hide my intentions for Abigail. Meeting his eyes, I said, "Once her situation stabilizes, I hope I can convince her to stay on a more permanent basis."
"And you think that's wise?" Aiden asked. "Taking on the Jordans is no joke. You've already been shot at. Is she worth it?"
"Of course she's not," William said, impatient. "She's damaged goods. Maybe if you'd gotten to her before the Jordans. Maybe. Your grandfather was friends with hers, and her mother was a good woman before she got sick. But even before John Jordan ruined her, her father became a disgrace."
"It's not common knowledge," I protested.
"Common enough among the people who matter.
She's tainted. She was tainted before she married John Jordan, and she's lucky a single person received her afterward.
The ones who did so did it out of respect for her mother and her grandparents, but she's hardly an appropriate match for a Winters, Jacob. Be realistic."
I crossed my arms over my chest and scowled at William.
Sometimes, he sounded like his own father, stuck in the past, nattering over bloodlines and who people’s people were.
That kind of thing was less important than it used to be, and not at all important to me. I heard what he was getting at.
He was worried I planned to marry Abigail. I could end this whole aggravating conversation by telling him the truth about our arrangement.
I opened my mouth, then shut it.
I couldn't do it.
I would never humiliate Abigail that way, for one thing. And for another, at this point, I didn't know exactly what my arrangement with Abigail was.
I still planned to keep her safe and take care of her mother, but the idea of keeping her as a pet had gone out the window. How had I ever thought that was a good idea?
Abigail was no man's pet.
She was a woman. A smart, beautiful, passionate, intriguing woman.
William was wrong. There was nothing damaged about Abigail. Just the idea that her association with her father and her husband somehow made her less worthy pissed me off.
Her father's choices were not her fault. If he were still alive, I might be tempted to kill him for the situation he'd left his wife and daughter in.
Marrying John Jordan had been a mistake. I wouldn't argue with William about that. But she'd been young, frightened, and in a terrible position. She'd done the best she could.
No one should fault her for that. The more I thought about what William had said, the angrier I became.
Reading my face and sensing my temper nearing the breaking point, Aiden cut into my thoughts.
In a level, almost disinterested tone, he asked, "Is she a potential match, Jacob? Is that what this is? Or are you just helping out a friend?"
Was Aiden giving me an out? I could go through door number two, claim I was just being a good guy, and shut the whole conversation down.
Why wasn't there a choice in between? Why did Abigail have to be either a future mate of a Winters male, or just a friend?
I already knew the answer. Because Abigail, despite William's claim that she was damaged goods, was not a woman you fucked around with.
This wasn't the 1800s. Plenty of respectable women had affairs. But Abigail Jordan had never been that kind of woman, and neither had her mother.
I knew more about Abigail than she'd like. Cooper had conducted a thorough investigation in the name of finding out everything that might help us keep her safe from Big John.
No serious boyfriends before her marriage. A 3.8 GPA in college. A few newspaper mentions in high school related to charity events her mother had sponsored.
She joined a sorority in college, but based on her GPA, I didn't think she'd done much partying. I had no doubt she'd been a virgin on her wedding night.
Abigail was a throwback. That was part of the allure of trapping her here, of having the elusive Abigail Jordan all to myself.
Now that I had her, it turned out I was the one who was trapped.
Aiden studied my face, patiently waiting for a response, while William tapped his foot on the carpet and shook his head at me as if I were a recalcitrant schoolboy who owed him an apology.
I would not apologize for Abigail. Not for having her here, and not for her circumstances. Neither of us had anything to be ashamed of.
"Frankly, it's none of your business," I said to both of them. A copout, but I didn't know the answer myself. This was far more than helping out a friend. Abigail was not my friend.
Did I want to marry her? I hadn't thought about marrying anyone. Not seriously. I didn't need a wife.
Between Rachel and my housekeeper, my life was well organized. I never had trouble finding a companion for social events.
Ditto for sex. If I'd been disinclined to have a girlfriend because of the demands on my time and attention, a wife . . . a wife was a girlfriend times ten. Or worse.
Why would I want that?
That sneaky voice in the back of my brain woke up again and whispered, But what if that wife were Abigail? What if she were here every day? What if all of that loyalty and devotion and passion were yours forever?
Unbidden, an image of what that might be like sprang into my head fully-formed. Both of us coming home from work, discussing our days over dinner, and Abigail eating naked because I'd teased her into it.
I shook my head as if to chase the picture away. I'd only just gotten her to agree to sleep in my bedroom, and that was under protest.
Until we dealt with Big John, she couldn't even leave home safely. We could worry about the future later.
Suddenly annoyed at being put on the spot like a child, I said, "This discussion is over. Abigail isn't going anywhere. If we make any decisions that impact the family, we'll be sure to let you know. Until then, you can both butt out."
William surged to his feet, his eyes hard, voice approaching a yell.
"Jacob Winters, stop acting like a horny teenager.
There are more important things at stake here than your cock.
Find some other woman. Abigail Jordan is already reflecting on this family.
People are talking, and it's unacceptable—"
As if the rise in William's tone didn't bother him in the slightest, Aiden leaned back in his chair and studied the older man with deceptive calm.
His voice, however, held an edge when he said, "William. That's enough."
William spun to face him. "Aiden, you should know better. After the debacle with Elizabeth—"
Aiden's face went cold. We didn't talk about his brief marriage or his former wife. No one mentioned Elizabeth, ever. When we ran into her socially, we were polite, but that was it.