Page 101 of Toxic Wishes
“What are you even doing here? Where’s Bodie?” She asks, starting to mix another drink.
“Troy called me, and getting out with the guys was somewhat of an emergency.”
“Oh, trouble in paradise already?” She says with a sly smirk.
I arch a brow at her. “No, Jenna is just being hormonal, and Troy is freaking out about how he is going to juggle being a husband and brand new father when football season starts again.”
She sets a napkin before a customer and places the drink she just made on top of it.
“I’m sure Jenna will hire a nanny, and it will all be just fine.” She says.
I forgot how Abigail is related to Jenna, and all those high-maintenance women in her family. Abigail was nothing like them. I didn’t know how she became such a hard worker, but it was a turn-on and made me want to help her.
“Look, if you need money.”
She turns around, marking a piece of paper.
“I’ll lend you whatever you need. Okay. I don’t want a smart girl like you ending up next door, taking her clothes off because she’s desperate or too proud to ask for help.”
She stops, slowly turning her eyes on me. Her gaze sharpens. Angry. And it looks like she wants to yell at me, but she doesn't
Shit, maybe the wrong word choice.
She whips around and barrels down the bar, through the partition, turning only quick enough to crook a finger at me before twirling back around and heading down the hallway.
My stomach sinks. I didn’t mean to piss her off. All the girls I’ve been with would jump at that offer.
What did I do wrong?
Veering through the crowd, I make my way down the empty hallway, finally coming to a back room. Entering through the open door, I see her standing with her hands on her hips and head cocked to the side.
“I would rather eat from a homeless person's asshole than take money from you,” she bites out.
I should shut up, but I can’t help myself. “Hate to burst your bubble, sweetheart, but you already do,” I tell her. “You live in a house where you pay no rent or utilities.”
“I cook and clean for you and buy groceries,” she shouts. But I doubt anyone can hear us back here and through the music. “I pay my way, you arrogant jock.”
“Alright, alright,” I growl, blinking long and hard. “You’re right, but Abigail, men will get ideas at this place. It’s not safe. They’ll think they have a free pass and can touch what doesn’t belong to them.”
Belongs to me.
“And think about your father.”
She laughs. “My father wouldn’t give two shits if he saw me in here. He would probably be glad he doesn’t have to loan me money. He doesn’t care.”
“Well, I care.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I freeze, almost too afraid to breathe. Shit, what did I just say?
Her mouth falls open a little, but she shuts up, probably shocked into silence by my outburst. Her eyes stay locked on mine. She blinks with a mixture of confusion and surprise written all over her pretty face. But instead of regret, my temper quickly rises again.
How the hell can her parents not care? Especially her dad? And why do I? Jesus. What was wrong with me? She’s a grown woman, and if her father doesn’t care, who am I to stake a claim in her decisions? It’s not my place.
I don’t want her body to be for everyone. I’ve seen women go down this path. Hell, I’ve fucked plenty of them to know. It’s a steep, dark road, and turning back is hard once you head in that direction.
“You’re special, Abigail.” I take a step closer. Her eyes start to glisten, her gaze falters, and she looks away.
God, does she know how incredible she is? Has no one in that shitty family of hers ever told her? Has anyone? I take in her smooth and glowing skin. And the curve of her waist in front of me is perfect for grabbing hold of.
“Don’t do things outside your nature because of money,” I tell her. “You’re perfect the way you are. Don’t change.”