See Me (8 page)

“Abigail, focus!” Ron was ready to go home and take care of his guy. His frustration for the chatty little kitten was running out.

“Hey, why don’t you guys go on? I can take her home.” Sean wanted to swallow his own tongue for making the suggestion. He’d sat in the booth, silent, while the three of them carried on about work and the other things that friends went on about. It felt like forever since he and Stan had sat on the tailgate of his truck, talking about Stan’s kids or laughing about how slow Fat Boy Sanders was moving on the job site.

“You sure?” Ron asked. “She’s pretty fucked-up.”

Sean admired how protective Ron was over Abigail, but for some ungodly reason, he wanted to be the one with that job. “Yeah, she’ll be fine. I’ll drop her off.”

“You can’t do that. You have to make sure she gets upstairs and locked in her apartment. She has this thing about the dark and locking her doors. She’s too messed up to do it. She’ll freak out if you don’t turn on the lights and lock the door.”

“I can do that. She freaks out?” How bad could she really freak out? She could barely hold her head up.

“Hellooo…I’m right here,” Abigail said. “I can hear everything you guys are saying. I don’t freak out. Well, I might freak out, but this one time when I was nine…I think I was nine, anyways, I went into my parent’s wine cellar and—”

“Oh my God, Sean,” Ron interrupted. “Get her home in one piece.”

“No problem.”

Sean shook Ron’s hand first, then Eric’s. They treated him as if he was their equal. They shook his hand without examining his tattoo-covered forearm or squinting to see the scar on his chin. They were easygoing and easy to be around. He appreciated it more than they could ever know.

Ron leaned over and gave Abigail a quick peck on her head. “Be good. I’m glad you came out tonight.”

“Um, okay. Are you sure you have to go?” Sean noticed her gaze shift from Ron to him. “I mean, I want to hear another song. Then we could go. I promise. One more song?”

Sean fought the urge to crack the table in half. She didn’t trust him.

“You’re going to be fine. Sean’s going to take you home. He won’t let anything happen to you. He’s a tough guy.”

Her eyes fluttered closed. “Yes, my tough guy.”

My tough guy?
Why did that sound like music to his ears? They both watched Eric and Ron walk hand in hand out of the bar.

Abigail played with the straw in her almost empty glass. “I…I guess you have to take me home. I’m sorry. I don’t normally do this.”

“Do what?” Sean rolled the bottom of his empty bottle on the table. He’d had four root beers already.

“This, go out, drink. I mean I have wine in my fridge. Penelope and I sit and have pizza and a glass, but that’s about it. That’s on Friday nights.”

“Penelope?”

“My dog.”

Sean had a dog once. Well, his second foster family did. German shepherd. He’d been the only one who the dog didn’t try to eat for lunch. “Friday nights, huh?”

There, finally, the electric blue irises peered up at him. “Yeah, she likes to sit by the tub while I take a bath. She has these big ears and always looks like she’s smiling. It’s really funny. My sister has a dog too. Well, the kids do. Nathan said he wanted a dog that was kid-friendly, so they got a golden retriever. They bring Skipper to the lake house every year for the Fourth. I have to make deviled eggs for the party. Do you like deviled eggs?”

Sean tried his best to follow the erratic thoughts that flowed out of her pretty mouth. At least she was a happy drunk. “Sure. Where’s the lake house?”

“Upstate New York. That’s where I’m from. Well, where my parents moved to when I was nine. We were originally from Mississippi. My parents have a big shindig every year. It’s the only time everyone can get together anymore. I mean, the waves are great in California and Hawaii, so Jenny travels with the weather. She loves fish. Sandra, well… She works around PTA meetings and shit like that. And my Dougie, he has art openings throughout the year.”

She had a big family. It sounded so strange to hear her list name after name. Sean listed one name—his own. The other two names weren’t worth much. Mommy and Daddy dearest could burn in hell. Abigail was working the tip of her pink tongue to lick a strand of pineapple on her lip. He leaned in and gently slid his thumb over the soft flesh. Her eyes melted closed as she let him sink the tip into her warm mouth. The rough edge of her tongue cleaned his finger. God, his jeans were too fucking tight. He adjusted in the seat. As he started to pull free from her wet mouth, he felt the slight pull. She was sucking his thumb.

Jesus Christ!
“Fuck, Abigail.”

She popped his thumb out of her mouth and fluttered her eyes open. “Huh?”

He licked the pad of his thumb, tasting pineapple and rum. “You taste good.”

“I do? Well, it’s the drink. I mean, I brushed my teeth, but the drink’s really fruity. How come you didn’t get one?”

He leaned onto his elbows. She mimicked the gesture, only a bit clumsier. “I don’t drink.”

“Oh, that’s good.” A cute hiccup made her shoulders bounce. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Ron didn’t tell me you were coming tonight.”

She pushed the now empty glass aside. “Me either. I knew I was coming. I mean, I didn’t know you were coming.”

God, what did he say to a fantasy? “You look really pretty.”
Great for a seventh grader, dumbass.

She looked down at her tank top. He followed her gaze, only his eyes were taking in the deep V between her tits. “You too. Look nice, I mean. I was going to wear the black dress, but I couldn’t decide. I haven’t been out in public like this in a long time. I didn’t know what women wore to a place like this.” She leaned over the table to trace the letters on the front of his T-shirt. “T. K. O.”

It might have only been a fingertip, but the sensation of her finger pressing against his chest made his balls creep up into his body. Fuck, she was tempting every nerve he’d worked so hard to keep under wraps. “It’s the after-school program I volunteer for. Time, knowledge, overcome, that’s what the letters stand for. The program is for boys who’ve been in trouble or don’t have guidance at home. Some of the kids are staying in foster homes. We teach boxing, wrestling, working out. It’s a way for them to work through their frustrations.”

She sank back onto the bench. What would she think? Why did he care? Then she leaned in again. This time, she cradled his face between her smooth palms. “You, Sean Drennan, are a good man.” And then she planted a fat kiss right on his lips, nothing lustful, nothing sexy about it at all. It was full of pent-up emotion. Maybe he was all right in her book.

When she fell back into her side of the booth, he reached over the table and hauled her back. Her surprised grunt was swallowed by his mouth. His kiss wasn’t meant as a friendly gesture. His lips burned to be on her, to eat her up and make love to her. He did with his tongue. Back and forth, their tongues sparred in and out. God, he could fuck her mouth forever. When he finally broke the kiss, her eyes were still closed and her head still tilted at the slight angle he’d put it in.

The blush that painted her rosy cheeks was worth a million dollars. He’d made her smile. He alone had made another person that happy. He could get addicted to the feeling of making her laugh and smile—and moan.

“Let’s get out of here.”

“Oh, one more song?” she pleaded.

What the hell?
His dick was ready to punch through his jeans, and she wanted to listen to another song. “I think we really need to go. Come on. I promise you won’t regret it.”

“Oh, okay. Let me grab my purse. Did you know I got this purse from eBay for fifteen dollars! Can you believe it?”

Sean slid out of the booth and reached down to help her from tumbling off the bench. She was lit. Now his dick wondered if it was really a good idea to take advantage of a drunk woman. It decided
hell yes
; however, his conscience decided quite differently. “No, fifteen, really?” He slid his arm around her waist, pretending it was to keep her from falling. The warm curves nestled against his side, fitting perfectly. He knew she would. All soft woman against his hard body.

“Yup, fifteen. And…” she said while riffling through the gold bag. “Where’s my damn keys?”

“No keys, baby.”
Don’t call her that
. “I’m taking you home. You can’t drive.”

“But, my Bug. I parked outside. I can drive you home. Thomas said I can maybe get a new car next year.”

The name of another man on her lips made him want to punch something. “Thomas?”

Their feet crunched the gravel in the parking lot. “Uh-huh, he’s my accountant. He drives an old Mercedes, and I’m still driving my Bug. Doesn’t that sound fishy to you? Fish like in Jenny’s tank! That fishy surfer went to Aruba this year! Seanathan, it’s scary when you don’t know business. I know sex, porn, but numbers and tiles…I mean, columns, nope. I’m so stupid!”

Sean tugged her closer while he unlocked his truck. “You’re not stupid. Account analysis can be confusing if you don’t know what you’re looking at.”

“You could help me! You can fuck for me
and
look at my books.”

“Fuck for you?” He helped her step up into the cab. He didn’t mean for her to go in knees first, but the maneuver put her ass right at his crotch, and he couldn’t fight the urge to grab her hips. The full flesh fit perfectly in his grip as he pulled her against the front of his jeans.

“Oh! Oh…that’s feels really good. Do it again.”

He leaned down to cover her back with his chest. Her ass cradled farther into his waist.

“Do you want me to fuck for you, Abigail?” He pushed against her ass. “Do you?” What the fuck was he doing? Women came on to him, not the other way around.

“Yes, oh Sean, yes. I want you to fuck for me.”

He leaned down and nestled his nose in the side of her neck. “God, baby, you smell so good.”

“S-Sean, yes. I dream about you. I-I…you help me fall asleep.”

Fall asleep?
That didn’t sound like the turn-on he was hoping for. “Come on. Hop the rest of the way in.” He gave her a gentle shove, and she crawled the rest of the way into the cab. He tugged the seat belt over her breasts and buckled her in. As his hand slid back, she grabbed it and cupped her breasts. Surprised by the gesture, he couldn’t resist and copped a quick feel.

“Do you like ’em?”

She was being serious. There was no fake, sexy moan, no pornographic words to try to tempt him, just blatant honesty. God, he liked this woman. “Yes.”

Her sweet smile lit up the dim parking lot. “I like your muscles.”

That made him smile. “Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.”

He climbed into the driver’s side of the cab. Before he pulled out of the small parking lot, he could hear the gentle snores coming from the passenger seat. He had a hard time focusing on the road as he slipped his hand over the small hand resting on the worn seat. The truck passed from one shadowed street lamp to the next. Abigail slept hard. He glanced over time and time again to watch her angelic face snoozing beside him. She was truly beautiful. He reached over to run his thumb along her soft cheek. She didn’t budge. Forcing his thoughts back to the road, he let her sleep off the rest of the booze as he drove to the warehouse.

Chapter Six

Abigail flinched when she heard her apartment door shut. Her head felt fuzzy, and her mouth had apparently been stuffed with cotton. “I’m home?”

“Yes.” The deep voice drifted through her ears. It was a warm blanket, a safe nook in her world. She wrapped her arms around her waist to pretend the arms were his, her tough guy’s.

She spun around. Bad idea—the room swirled with her. “The lights are on.”

“Ron told me to turn them on before you walked in. I locked the door too. I’ll help you get into bed and then go.”

“No!” She turned again and bumped into a wall of muscle, her purse clattering to the floor. A bark came from the bedroom, followed by the scratching patter of tiny nails.

“It’s okay, Penelope! It’s Mommy. I’m home.”

The strong hands holding her steady didn’t let go; they pulled her in tighter. She didn’t want them to ever let her go again. The small dog nestled her way between their legs and stood guard. Abigail got the point. Her dog wasn’t at all happy that she’d brought a man home. It was a first for them both.

“Okay, girl, let’s get you a snack, and we’ll go to bed.” She bent to gather the scattered items from her purse.

“You can go.” She looked over her shoulder at Sean. “I’m still a little tipsy, but I can manage from here. Thanks for bringing me home.”

“I promised Ron I’d put you to bed. Where’s your dog’s treats? I’ll get that taken care of while you get ready for bed.”

She plopped down on the floor next to her purse. The thought of having someone go through her cabinets, even if it was Penelope’s snack cabinet, made her stomach ache. “I can get them.”

She started to get up when Sean slid his arms under her own and lifted her up. He waited until she stopped wobbling before letting her go. “Go get ready for bed.” He started toward the kitchen. “Are they in here?”

What the hell?
The guy walked around her apartment like he’d been there a million times before. She scampered to reach the kitchen before he did. “Really, it’s okay. I can manage.” Penelope trotted over to Sean.
Traitor!

He knelt, emphasizing the size of his strong thighs. His hands looked huge next to her furry little face. The dog nuzzled his palm. If she’d been a damn cat, she’d have purred. “She’s nice,” he said and gave her back a rough scratch. Penelope flopped over.

“Um, get up! Penelope, come here.” Abigail patted her thighs. “Come on, girl. Let’s get you a treat.”

The dog ignored her as Sean scratched at the white hair on her belly. “Looks like she thinks my plan’s better. Are we going to stay in the living room all night, or are you going to get ready for bed?”

What in the hell had gotten into her damn dog? “Fine, treats are in the cabinet by the fridge. She gets two bones. No more. I don’t want her to get too fat.”