through one of the side windows. Knowing how much Abigail worried over things like the electric bill—even though the shop was doing well—he knew leaving a light on had to have been an oversight.
He entered the shop through the front door, first unlocking it with his keys and then pausing to punch in the security code for the alarm. Except the alarm hadn’t been set.
Suddenly on alert, he carefully shoved his keys back inside his pocket to keep them from making noise. It was after 2:00 a.m. and there was no reason for anyone to be in the shop. He always made sure to stay until the last customer of the evening had gone, not wanting to leave a stranger and Abigail alone together. Even if she’d stayed to finish paperwork, she should have been long gone.
Jed crept along the hallway to the offices in the back, sure the light that’d been left on came from Abigail’s. He winced, realizing moving with stealth on a tiled floor while wearing cowboy boots was near to impossible.
A thump sounded, followed by a muffled curse and he gave up on stealth, opting for speed as he sprinted for the closed door that had light flooding from beneath it. He threw open the door with no concern for what he might face on the other side. If someone was stealing from Abigail or, worse, hurting her, he’d knock them the fuck out and ask questions later.
What he found in her office drew him up short. He stood, hand clenched around the old, brass doorknob, his jaw slack.
“Abigail?” The word sounded choked.
He fought his laughter and confusion and tried again.
“Abigail? What’re you doing on the floor, sweetheart?”
Chocolate-brown hair hung over her shoulders in big, loopy curls, covering her face and brushing her thighs. Her head slowly tilted up until red-rimmed eyes were visible through all that amazing hair. She squinted. “Jed? Why you here? Don’t want you seeing me like this.”
The half-empty bottle of Jack clutched between her hands accounted for the slurred speech. He’d never seen her drunk before. As far as he knew, a beer once or twice a week was her limit. A half-bottle of Jack meant she’d wanted to get obliterated, most likely in response to the phone call she’d received earlier.
Jed shook his head.
The woman couldn’t be more than five and a half feet tall. She wasn’t as thin as some women—she had the perfect amount of ripe curves—but still, she’d consumed an amazing amount of alcohol for her size.
He moved forward until he stood close enough to see the worry lines etched between her brow, as if even in a drunken stupor she couldn’t avoid whatever was bothering her. He looked down at her once-again bowed head and sprawled legs, then dropped to his knees in front of her. His hands seemed to act on their own, one tucking a lock of silken hair behind an ear while the other made gentle circles on her back. “Ah, sweetheart. What am I gonna do with you?”
* * * * *
Jed managed to lock up the shop, get Abigail into his truck and all the way to the generations-old farmhouse he’d inherited from his grandfather—six miles outside town—without her being sick. He might have taken her to her apartment in town, but he couldn’t locate her keys and she’d passed out before he could get her to tell him where she’d hidden them.
He downshifted, slowing as his tires crunched over the long, dirt and gravel drive leading to the house. His headlights reflected off a few curious animals’ eyes as he drove past the fenced pastures on either side of the drive. The scent of fresh-cut hay drifted in through the open windows and he took a deep breath, enjoying the calming scent.
When he parked and shut off the truck, Abigail was slumped forward in her seat, held up by the seat belt he’d strapped over her chest and waist.
“This is so not a good idea,” he mumbled, trekking around the front of the truck, batting away a few mosquitoes as he made his way to the passenger side. Having Abigail in his
He entered the shop through the front door, first unlocking it with his keys and then pausing to punch in the security code for the alarm. Except the alarm hadn’t been set.
Suddenly on alert, he carefully shoved his keys back inside his pocket to keep them from making noise. It was after 2:00 a.m. and there was no reason for anyone to be in the shop. He always made sure to stay until the last customer of the evening had gone, not wanting to leave a stranger and Abigail alone together. Even if she’d stayed to finish paperwork, she should have been long gone.
Jed crept along the hallway to the offices in the back, sure the light that’d been left on came from Abigail’s. He winced, realizing moving with stealth on a tiled floor while wearing cowboy boots was near to impossible.
A thump sounded, followed by a muffled curse and he gave up on stealth, opting for speed as he sprinted for the closed door that had light flooding from beneath it. He threw open the door with no concern for what he might face on the other side. If someone was stealing from Abigail or, worse, hurting her, he’d knock them the fuck out and ask questions later.
What he found in her office drew him up short. He stood, hand clenched around the old, brass doorknob, his jaw slack.
“Abigail?” The word sounded choked.
He fought his laughter and confusion and tried again.
“Abigail? What’re you doing on the floor, sweetheart?”
Chocolate-brown hair hung over her shoulders in big, loopy curls, covering her face and brushing her thighs. Her head slowly tilted up until red-rimmed eyes were visible through all that amazing hair. She squinted. “Jed? Why you here? Don’t want you seeing me like this.”
The half-empty bottle of Jack clutched between her hands accounted for the slurred speech. He’d never seen her drunk before. As far as he knew, a beer once or twice a week was her limit. A half-bottle of Jack meant she’d wanted to get obliterated, most likely in response to the phone call she’d received earlier.
Jed shook his head.
The woman couldn’t be more than five and a half feet tall. She wasn’t as thin as some women—she had the perfect amount of ripe curves—but still, she’d consumed an amazing amount of alcohol for her size.
He moved forward until he stood close enough to see the worry lines etched between her brow, as if even in a drunken stupor she couldn’t avoid whatever was bothering her. He looked down at her once-again bowed head and sprawled legs, then dropped to his knees in front of her. His hands seemed to act on their own, one tucking a lock of silken hair behind an ear while the other made gentle circles on her back. “Ah, sweetheart. What am I gonna do with you?”
* * * * *
Jed managed to lock up the shop, get Abigail into his truck and all the way to the generations-old farmhouse he’d inherited from his grandfather—six miles outside town—without her being sick. He might have taken her to her apartment in town, but he couldn’t locate her keys and she’d passed out before he could get her to tell him where she’d hidden them.
He downshifted, slowing as his tires crunched over the long, dirt and gravel drive leading to the house. His headlights reflected off a few curious animals’ eyes as he drove past the fenced pastures on either side of the drive. The scent of fresh-cut hay drifted in through the open windows and he took a deep breath, enjoying the calming scent.
When he parked and shut off the truck, Abigail was slumped forward in her seat, held up by the seat belt he’d strapped over her chest and waist.
“This is so not a good idea,” he mumbled, trekking around the front of the truck, batting away a few mosquitoes as he made his way to the passenger side. Having Abigail in his
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