Page 39 of Just My Luck

I scurried into the driver’s seat and waited as Abel climbed into the passenger side. “Where to?” I asked.

Abel’s brown eyes burned into me as my pulse skyrocketed under his assessment. “Let’s go home.”

FIFTEEN

ABEL

WatchingSloane embrace my father while his hand grazed the top of her ass drove my fury to an all-time high. I’d lived with him waffling between absent and overbearing my entire life, but the minute his hand was on her, I settled intoenraged. I didn’t care that the rest of our small town saw him as a benevolent benefactor or savvy businessman.

He touched her, and I didn’t fucking like it.

I tightened my crossed arms and focused on the road from the passenger seat of Sloane’s car.

“Are you okay?” Sloane asked from the driver’s seat.

I shifted and willed myself to relax despite the bubbles of anger rising from my gut. “Fine.”

“Is it... am I a bad driver?” She gestured between her and the steering wheel.

Yes.

My molars ground together. “No.”

It wasn’t her shitty driving that was making me uncomfortable. How was I supposed to explain the complexities of the King family dynamic and that the mere brush of his fingertips across the top of her ass sent me reeling? I wanted to snap his fingers and tear apart his office—but I’m not stupidenough to bite the hand that feeds me. No one crossed Russell King and survived it.

Maybe not even my mother.

The thought darkened my mood further, and I stayed quiet the rest of the ride back to my house. Sloane gave me space to brood, and by the time she pulled down my tree-lined driveway, I had finally relaxed.

She parked, and I exhaled before turning toward Sloane. “I’m sorry I’m... in a mood.”

Sloane smiled softly. “You’re allowed to have emotions, Abel.” My chest pinched and she unbuckled.

That was precisely the problem—I was having far too many emotions where she was concerned. Ridiculous emotions like possessiveness and contentment. When I couldn’t find the words to respond, Sloane offered a soft smile and disappeared into the house.

I found myself twitchy with pent-up energy and had no idea what to do with myself.

Do I follow her inside? Head to the brewery and give her space?

In less than a week living with Sloane, I’d lost all sense of autonomy and felt like one of those ridiculous dolls with peg legs just aimlessly teetering around.

My phone buzzed and I slipped it from my pocket.

Sylvie

Bug did a thing . . . don’t be mad.

I didn’t need to know what thisthingwas to know it was definitely going to piss me off.

Well, what is it?

Three dots popped up and disappeared, then popped up again. I was pretty certain my sister was attempting to find the right words to soften the blow of whatever scheme my aunt had cooked up. Before Sylvie could reply, my phone rang.

I closed my eyes in frustration as I answered. “Hey, Bug. What’s up?”

“Abel. How are you, dear?” I knew her too well to know she dropped her hard-ass exterior only when she needed something.

“Fine. You?” My tone was unnecessarily clipped.