Someone Like You (22 page)

“Good morning,” Charles grunted, looking over his son's body with disdain. All the tattoos bothered the hell out of the old man. That wasn't why Pierce had gotten them, but it was a nice little side bonus. “I came to see Tess.”

“She's not here,” Pierce said. “She spent yesterday with the kids and slept over at Charles's place. She'll be back around one, maybe sooner.”

Charles II checked his watch. “Well, it's already eleven thirty. I'll just wait, then.” He moved past Pierce and walked into the house.

Abby's in the kitchen wearing nothing but my T-shirt and her panties
. “You have to wait here?” Pierce said, a little too loudly in hopes that Abby would hear him and know someone else was now in the house. “Can't you walk back to the mansion and come back later?”

With a derisive snort, Charles said over his shoulder, “If she'll be home soon, why bother?” He kept going until he lowered himself with a soft grunt onto Tess's plush living-room couch. Then he crossed one leg over the other and shot an annoyed glance at his youngest. “Don't worry, I'm not here to hassle you. I can occupy myself.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and stared down at it, basically dismissing him.

Pierce scowled, but strode past him through the living room and back to the kitchen. From the table, holding her glass of water, Abby looked up at him and asked, “Someone's here?”

“Yeah. My father.”

The color drained from her face. “Oh God.” She looked down at herself and touched her hair, still damp from the shower. “But I'm not—”

“I know, babe. Tess'll be back soon. I'll keep him out there, you go up the back stairs. He'll never see you.”

The words were no sooner out of his mouth when Charles entered the kitchen, saying, “I'm just going to get myself a drink while—” He stopped in his tracks, his gray eyes like a hawk's as they narrowed on Abby. “Sorry. Didn't know you were entertaining a guest.”

Pierce cringed inside. This was so not how he wanted Abby to have to meet his father for the first time. Fuck, damn, bloody hell. “Well, actually, Dad, she's not just some guest. This is my girlfriend.” He swept a hand proudly in her direction. Wide-eyed, Abby looked like a deer in the headlights.
Fuck.
“Charles Harrison the second, this is Abby McCord. Abby, my father.”

Abby gave a shy smile and said, “It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Harrison.”

Charles stared for a long beat, then crossed the room to her, extending a hand. “The pleasure is mine, Ms. McCord.”

“Oh, call me Abby,” she blurted. She cleared her throat. “Really. Just Abby.”

“Okay, just Abby.” His father actually grinned at her. “I seem to have interrupted some alone time. Sorry about that.” His head cocked to the side as he studied her. “So. Girlfriend, eh? Pierce hasn't had many of those.”

Abby's eyes flicked to him and Pierce ached for her. “Ignore him, Abby.”

Charles turned his head to his son. “You sure work fast. You've been back, what, a few weeks?”

Pierce hissed out a breath. “Jesus. You know—”

With a dismissive wave of his hand, he turned back to her and asked, “Where are you from, Abby?”

“Edgewater,” she replied. “I grew up there.”

“I see. And how did you meet my fine young son here?”

The edge on the words
fine young son
grated on Pierce's nerves. He wanted to grab the old man by his shirt collar and drag him away from her.

But he looked at Abby again and realized she seemed fine. The blush had gone down. If anything, it was almost like seeing Pierce on edge had steeled her resolve or something. Her voice had locked down, the light nervous tone gone as she said, “We coach the soccer team together.”

Charles II stared down at her for a few heavy seconds before he said, “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Among other things she does, Abby volunteer coaches one of the kids' teams in the Edgewater Soccer League,” Pierce said, crossing the room to stand beside her. He put his hand gently on her back, both as a gesture of support for her and to ground himself. “It's a bit of a long story, but the short version is, I volunteered to help with the league and they paired me with her.”

Charles looked at his son as if he were insane. “
That's
what you're doing with your time?”

“You don't have to worry about how I spend my time,” Pierce bit out.

“I don't, believe me. I'm just surprised. I thought you were just hanging out here during the day and going out to bars at night.” He looked down at Abby again. “Truthfully, I'm surprised that he volunteered for something. He doesn't usually think of anyone but himself, you see. Consider yourself warned.”

Behind her back, Pierce gripped the top of the chair until he was white-knuckled. “Go wait in the living room and leave us alone,” he growled.

Charles flickered a hollow grin at Abby. “Nice to meet you, Abby. Good luck.” Charles's eyes went to his son for a moment, gleaming with undisguised malice. Then he sauntered over to the refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of water, and went back into the living room.

“I'm sorry,” Pierce said the second he was gone. He raked his hands through his hair as she stood. “He knows how to bait me, yeah, but he was rude to you. And I—”

Abby silenced him with a kiss, both hands on his face. She kissed him again and again until he softened, until his arms went around her and his muscles relaxed. Then she pulled back, looked into his eyes, and said, “Let's get dressed and get out of here.”

He nodded gratefully, took her by the hand, and pulled her to the stairway that went from the back of the kitchen to the second floor. His heart still pounded with anger and embarrassment, but the feel of her hand in his kept him quiet and kept him moving, instead of going into the living room to tear into that vicious bastard he had to call his father.

Chapter Twenty

Abby looked at the papers spread out on her bed. One stack was graded spelling tests, one was graded math homework, plus her plans for the following week lay loosely on the side, needing to be transcribed into her planner. Her laptop was at the foot of the bed, her Spotify playlist of coffeehouse tunes playing softly. She had so much work to do.

And all she could think about was Pierce. He was deliciously distracting, but still distracting, and she forced herself to get back to work.

Her cell phone rang beside her, and she smiled as she glanced at the screen. “That's funny, I was just thinking about you.”

“Oh yeah?” Pierce's deep voice was like a caress. “Good thoughts, I hope. Sweaty, sexy ones, maybe?”

“Maybe,” she said, her smile widening. She leaned back into her fluffy pillows and stretched out, careful not to hit all the papers.

“What are you doing?”

“Schoolwork. Up to my neck in it. What are you doing?”

“Besides thinking about you? I'm about to go look at a few apartments. Tess is going with me.”

“Really?” Abby's gaze moved to the window, to the slowly darkening sky outside. “I know you decided to stay on the island, but I thought you were still undecided whether you wanted to buy a condo or a house.”

“I'll get an apartment for now, because I'm still not really settled in a lot of ways, you know? That way, if I end up wanting to go somewhere else, I'll sell it. No big deal.”

“Oh. Okay. Well . . . have fun. Good luck.” Something about his words tripped a wire in her mind, unleashing a nagging feeling of unease . . . but she mentally swatted it away. “I'll see you tomorrow night at practice.”

“Thanks, babe. Listen, about the party on Saturday night . . . I'll pick you up at eight, not seven. All right?”

“Sure. But why? Just curious.”

“I just . . .” Pierce huffed out a frustrated breath. “I want the party to already be in full swing when we get there. I don't want to stand around in an empty room making small talk, you know?”

She understood. His father had insisted on throwing a party to celebrate Dane and Julia's marriage. Charles II was still a little sour that they'd eloped, but planned a fête that would rival any typical wedding reception. There would be over three hundred guests at the Harrison estate. While Abby was nervous about being introduced to the rest of his family, she knew Pierce was dreading it a thousand times more. He loved a good party, but not a stiff black-tie formal affair like this, much less in his father's home.

He'd come through for her with the Fall Festival. She very much wanted to reciprocate and be there for him now.

“Pierce, honey,” Abby said soothingly. “Whatever you want to do is fine.”

He sighed. “What I
want
to do is whisk you away to a foreign country and make passionate, raunchy love to you all weekend.”

“Sounds great,” she conceded, “but you have to go to this. And I'll be there with you, and so will Tess. You're doing this for Dane. Isn't that what you told me?”

“Absolutely. But ugh.”

Abby could hear Bubbles in the background, barking loudly. Pierce said hello to someone and asked them to give him a minute. Then he said to her, “Hey, Coach, I gotta go. The real estate agent is here. I'll text you later tonight, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Good luck,” she said.

“Thanks.” His voice softened. “Missing you. Have a good night, beautiful.”

Pleasure rolled through her in a gentle wave. “You too,” she said.

After the call, she continued to stare out the window, watching the leaves on the big oak tree sway in the evening breeze. They were delicately pretty against the soft, deep blue of the sky beyond.

Pierce was staying on Long Island and renting an apartment. All,
yeah, I'll buy whatever, and if I don't like it, I'll find a new one somewhere else.
Was that the kind of laissez-faire attitude only the rich and powerful had? Because he could buy and sell things without blinking an eye at his bank account? Or was it something else, something like . . . . if he decided not to stay, he could easily pick up and move on? He hadn't wanted to commit to anything personal until very recently. Maybe he wanted to keep as few ties as possible in case he changed his mind. In any case, there was still something transient about his attitude, and it bothered her.

That, and . . . okay, she had to admit it to herself. Yes, they'd only been together for a month now, but why hadn't he discussed it with her at all? She felt . . . left out of his loop. Had he thought she wouldn't be interested? Did he not value her opinion? Or did he not want to discuss it with her because it was something he only saw for himself?

Worse: Was she being a little childish and insecure and possessive?

Or, even worse than that: Was it all of the above?

It all nagged at her, spinning in circles in her head. She didn't know why it bothered her so much. The truth was it was his life, and his decision, and she shouldn't have put herself anywhere in that equation. Willfully, she forced the thoughts out of her mind, blew out a huff of frustration, and made herself get back to work.

* * *

Pierce felt tension humming through his body. He'd taken a nap that afternoon after the soccer game, then gone for a long run, then a long, hot shower . . . still tense. He so did not want to go to this party tonight.

Picking up on his mood, Abby was quieter than usual too. She held his hand in the car, both of them content to let the music play softly instead of making conversation. Her fingers stroked the top of his hand, meant to soothe.

As they drove up the long path to the mansion, he turned at the last second and pulled into Tess's driveway instead. He cut the ignition and the car went silent.

“Are you okay?” Abby asked gently.

“Yeah. Just don't wanna be here.” He turned his head to look up the small hill toward the mansion. Lights shone through all the windows, casting a magical glow in the night. There were cars and valets rushing around and people . . .

He turned back to her. She was still, watching him, a tiny pucker between her brows that indicated concern. He shot her a small smile and murmured, “You look so beautiful tonight. You really do.” His fingers trailed along her arm. She'd chosen a long black velvet dress with a high tank neck. It left her bare shoulders and arms exposed, but that was it. Nothing flashy for Abby, no way. The only jewelry she wore were diamond studs in her ears and a diamond tennis bracelet around one wrist. His girl was a class act. “You look elegant and stunning and I can't wait to show you off.”

Pleasure lifted her mouth into a sweet smile as she thanked him. She reached for the sheer black shawl, wrapped it around her shoulders, and grasped her tiny black clutch bag. “Let's go have a nice time.”

Pierce got out of the car and made his way around fast enough to open her door for her. She slipped her hand into his and he helped her out. Her heels must have been high, because her face was closer than it usually was. He couldn't resist kissing her luscious mouth, even though it was covered in glossy color. She wiped it off his lips with her thumb and grinned, then reached for his hand and intertwined her fingers with his. Her hand felt warm and soft, reassuring, and he gave it a gentle squeeze before they made their way up the long, narrow stone path that connected Tess's house to the mansion's front door.

Walking inside was like being blasted with a wall of sound and light. The cacophony of hundreds of voices buzzed along with the bouncy beat of the live swing band hired to play. The ten-piece band was set up in the ballroom, but Pierce and Abby could hear the music from the foyer, along with the buzz from the crowd. They moved farther into the house, the large rooms opening up on both sides of the hallway. Waiters and waitresses holding silver trays of drinks and hors d'oeuvres whisked in between hundreds of guests, all of them dressed in their finest gowns and tuxedos.

Pierce glanced down at Abby. Her eyes were wide as she took in the scene.

He looked around and tried to see it from her perspective, that of someone who'd never been in the Harrison mansion before, and hadn't been raised with this kind of money. Marble floors, expensive furnishings, priceless art on the walls in rooms with high ceilings and sculptures and grand fixtures . . . glossy people all dressed to the nines . . . it was likely overwhelming to take in.

He raised her hand to his lips, kissed the back of it, and said in her ear, “Welcome to the circus.”

Her eyes flew to his. “Pierce . . .” She leaned in closer, so only he would hear. “You were right. This place is like a museum, not a home. Jeez . . .”

“You're impressed,” he guessed in a dry tone.

“Well, yeah, but . . .” She touched his cheek tenderly. “The stories you've told me about growing up here . . . I just . . .” She stared deep into his eyes, then leaned in to touch her lips to his. Her hand was gentle on his face as their eyes locked, and she shook her head faintly. “Seeing this place, it's different. I really get it now. And it breaks my heart for you. You as a kid, I mean. I wish I could go back in time and hug you then.”

Something in his chest bloomed and warmth rushed through his entire body. It was empathy, that kiss. Not pity, but empathy. Compassion. She understood. She saw that this house wasn't a place for kids, that it wasn't warm or welcoming, that it was grand and striking but ice cold. Between seeing this place for herself, and having seen how he and his father interacted, she knew instinctively why he'd hated it here and wanted to comfort him.

He hadn't had a lot of comforting as a kid. Abby was a born nurturer. And she cared about him deeply, he could see it in her eyes, feel it in her touch.

Emotions swirled inside him, overwhelming him, making his blood pulse and race.
I love you
.

Then he jolted, stunned at his own thought. He'd never been in love and he hadn't really cared. But the feelings rushing through him now . . . Christ, he loved her. He'd fallen, he was in all the way, because she was sweet and sexy and challenging and compassionate and high strung and smart and fucking naturally beautiful, inside and out. He cleared his dry throat. “Abby . . .”

“There you are!” Tess rushed up to them with a bright smile. “I was beginning to worry you'd changed your mind about coming,” she confessed to her brother.

“If Abby wasn't with me, I'd likely be halfway out to the Hamptons by now,” Pierce muttered.

“Then thank you, Abby. And oh, you look gorgeous!” Tess said to her, stepping back to give her a full once-over. “I love your dress. I'm glad you're here.”

“Thanks,” Abby said, smiling. “You look stunning. Absolutely stunning.”

Pierce added, “She's right, Tessie.” His sister liked to wear heels to parties, and tower over some of the men. She must have been six-foot-one in those shoes, because she was looking him in the eye. He grinned, knowing she got a little thrill from that. Her long, willowy frame was poured into a shimmery sapphire dress that brought out her eyes, and her long, dark curls tumbled freely over her shoulders and down her back. “Hope you're not outshining the bride,” he joked. “Though I guess it can't be helped.”

“You're both sweet,” Tess said. “But no, Julia is the belle of this ball, believe me. Come on, let's go find her and Dane. He's been asking for you, you know.”

“Hold on,” Pierce said, and stopped a passing waiter to pluck two flutes of champagne from his tray. He gave them to Abby and Tess, then took one for himself. “Cheers,” he said, and knocked his drink back in a few long gulps. Placing the empty glass on a nearby table, he linked one arm into Abby's elbow and one into Tess's. “I'm with the two most beautiful women in this place,” he said. “Let's go have some fun.”

They made their way farther into the mansion, following the increasing volume to the ballroom in the back left wing. Pierce caught the moment when Abby's eyes flew wide as she looked around. The crystal chandeliers, the marble floor, the tall, wide windows . . . “Yes,” he said into her ear to be heard above the music and noise. “There's a fucking ballroom in my house. If that's not pretentious, I don't know what is.”

She shot him a look and bit down on her bottom lip. “It's . . . different.”

“Always so tactful. That's my girl.”

“They're over there,” Tess said, gesturing to the far corner, and the three of them walked to where Dane and Julia were holding court.

* * *

Abby could not believe the grandeur she'd walked into. This party-that-wasn't-a-wedding-reception was fancier than any wedding she'd ever been to, much less any event or party she'd
ever
been to. This was such a different world. Pierce's world, whether he liked it or not. And boy, he hadn't. He'd been tense and rigid all night. As the three of them walked over to the guests of honor, Pierce grabbed a waiter's elbow and asked for a glass of whiskey. She had no doubt he needed it.

She knew the man in the black three-piece tux had to be Dane as soon as they got close; he looked so much like Pierce and Tess, it was uncanny. His hair was a little curlier than Pierce's—more like Tess's—and his shoulders and chest were broader. But the features were so familiar, and as devastatingly handsome.

“You're finally here!” he cried, grasping Pierce in a bear hug and slapping him on the back. “I was beginning to think you blew this off. Thank you for coming.”

“I had to pick up Abby,” Pierce said, knowing Dane saw right through his lie but didn't let it bother him. He turned to look at her. “Abby McCord, my brother Dane. He's the charming one in the family. Dane, this is my girlfriend, Abby.”