Billy London Sweet Child of Mine (epub)

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.She kissed her son on both cheeks.His gaze moved from his mother to Abigail.“Hi, Abigail.” He looked sheepish, as if ashamed by what he’d said to her the night before.“’Sup?” she muttered, feeling like an irritated teenager.He cleared his throat.“I did want to say thank you for driving Leila back home yesterday.I know plenty of people who wouldn’t have bothered.”She shrugged.“Don’t worry about it.Where is she?”He jerked a thumb behind him.“Sitting in the car.We’re not friends at the moment.I’ve confiscated everything she ‘loves.’”“Good on you,” she praised.Awkwardly, she glanced at his mother, who was beaming at the two of them.Orna had her chin propped on her hands, gazing between her and Liam.“Liam, why don’t you give me the keys? Orna and I will wait by the car.Let Abigail close up.”Acquiescing, he handed over the keys and with exaggerated winks and goodbyes, the two women left.Abigail carried on clearing down the tables.“I’d like to be home before half eight,” she said.“I’m listening, but I do need this done.”He leaned over and took the cloth and table spray from her hands.“Hold on a moment.”His palms were warm and rough around her wrists.It made her freeze.Er.hello? Did she miss a conversation where this was all right? He gently tugged her in front of him, looking her directly in the eyes.“I’m sorry about Leila’s behaviour.And I do appreciate you being decent, rather than taking her to the police station.It’s what I would have done.I’m sorry for snapping at you.It was uncalled for.”She carefully pulled her wrists from his grasp and returned to cleaning down the tables.“Don’t worry about it.Nothing was broken.” The sigh that came from him forced her to look up.There was some truth in her mother’s words.The man was lonely.“Do you want to talk?”“To a professional?” he asked ruefully.She lifted one shoulder.“To me.I feel like you need to talk to someone who isn’t related to you or your vicar.”He wavered, rubbing a palm over his beard.“Are you sure?”No.“I’ve offered, so I’d hope so.”Bowing his head, he stared at his shoes for a moment.“I’ll drop Leila with my mother.Shall I meet you somewhere in half an hour?”“Just come back here,” she suggested.“Get a cab, come here.We’ll get on the wine I can’t serve until my licence kicks in.Get a cab home.”He grinned.“You said the magic word.Wine.My mum was right about you.I’ll see you in half an hour.”His mother was what? He disappeared, leaving her speechless, holding the cloth and cleaning spray like a doofus.Crap, did she have makeup in her bag? Hurriedly finishing the cleanup, she closed the café and rummaged through her bag to find a bit of blusher and lip-gloss.A little powder toned down the shine on her nose, but nothing was going to rescue the tired T-shirt printed with Books Are Friends or her torn jeans.She brushed a hand over her cropped hair—the cut that made her mother cry for two weeks straight.It did provide endless compliments as to how it emphasised her jawline and the shape of her eyes and drew attention to her mouth.Still, she looked boyish.Hell, Liam had more hair on his head than she did.What was she doing? Why was she getting overexcited about a grieving man?Just as she thought about how to tell him to keep his widowed arse at home, he strolled back into the café.“You should lock that,” he said, pulling one of her mismatched chairs from the table and sitting down.“Where’s this wine you promised?”“Aren’t we bossy?”“We,” he pointed his thumbs to his chest, “are in need of alcohol.A lot of.”She bolted the front door, picked up a bottle of Pinot and a corkscrew.“You open that.I’m getting some food.”He perked up.“Food? What do you have?”“Goat cheese tarts to start and chicken parmigiano.”His mouth parted for a moment before he burst out, “Jesus Christ, you fucking angel.”“Calm down.” She laughed.“Just open the wine and I’ll bring it out.”In five minutes, she brought out the warm tarts with onion marmalade.The smile in Liam’s eyes was enough to make her feel weak and all too aware of her femininity.“Before you say, this was all made fresh this morning.I just put it in the oven to reheat.”“This is such a luxury, I can’t tell you.” His praise was all in his groan of appreciation after his first mouthful.“I’m a cheese monster.”“Good for you,” she teased, taking a sip of wine.“Don’t you cook?”“I have to.But I’ve been cutting corners recently.Trying to feed a twelve-year-old who thinks you’re Satan out to ruin her life means food needs to be done in fifteen minutes or less.I used to bake.”Abigail choked on her tart.“You used to what?”“Bake,” he said, barely pausing in between forkfuls of tart and salad leaves.“Bread, cakes, quiches.We’d do it together.”Abigail tried not to tense, but the sensation invaded her shoulders.The image of his demon child and his perfect wife all laughing and giggling, throwing flour at each other, did not sit well in her stomach.“Why don’t you? Any more?”“No incentive.”“Come on.Having fresh bread is always an incentive.”“Nice idea,” he murmured, flicking his eyes up from the plate to rest on her [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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