The Ahern Brothers Collection - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,40
you read it?”
“Only the important stuff, not the dress code. It’s not like I’m going to go to the office dressed like a harlot.”
“Isn’t that term a little outdated?”
“Maybe.” She shrugs, opening the door wider. “Grandma used it all the time.”
I stop in front of her, leaning forward and giving her a peck on the lips.
“Good morning, Wes,” she smiles at me, giving me a deeper kiss. “I missed you last night.”
“How did you sleep?” I push her eye glass frames away from her nose and run my thumb along the big bags under her eyes.
“Okay, I guess. I might accept your offer to stay with me tonight.” She grins. “We could find new ways to tire me out—without counting.”
We can count how many orgasms you can have before you fall asleep, I want to offer, but instead, I take her into my arms and devour her.
I’m trying to make up for the time we missed. I owe her years of kisses.
“Let’s have breakfast. I have a conference call with Sterling.”
“Why aren’t you meeting him at the office?”
“He’s preoccupied with something important,” she says walking away from me.
“It’s smells great,” I catch her up, pulling her toward me and giving her a quick peck on the lips. “What did you make me?”
Abby’s an amazing cook. It was Mom who initially taught her. In their case, the student surpassed the teacher.
“Don’t get too excited.” She escapes my grip, rolling her eyes.
Damn woman, I just want to touch her and she keeps evading me.
“It’s a quiche. I bought it at Whole Foods,” she says as she grabs the oven mitts from the kitchen island.
Abby takes the dish out of the oven and sets it on top of the counter.
“I was talking about the coffee, but the quiche looks good too. Would you mind serving me a piece, please?” I waggle my eyebrows hoping she’ll serve me while I set up my computer and start working.
Abby points to the cupboards. “You know where the mugs and the plates are, Ahern. Pour some coffee for me too. I’m going upstairs to change and to send a suggestion to HR. They should make Mondays and Wednesdays casual too … think about it, Ahern. You’d be the most popular boss ever.”
I chuckle and shake my head. If my father knew about casual Fridays, he’d resurrect himself just to fire me. He liked the elegance of a suit. In the early two thousands, against his own beliefs, he changed the dress code to business casual. Switching that trend to casual every other day like Abby suggests would make him roll over in his grave.
I serve our coffee, preparing mine with cream and sugar. Abby takes her first cup of the day black. After setting them on the counter, I begin looking for a spatula to serve the quiche. I exhale, shuffling around the contents of the drawers. Abby’s pantry is neatly organized. Every box and can are put away by size and in alphabetical order. I bet she did this at night because she couldn’t sleep. Her silverware and kitchen tools, however, are every which way. There’s no logic or reasoning to why she does what she does. I’d hoped that since she just moved back it would have been different, but some habits never change.
“Finally,” I say as I snatch the utensil. “Do you need me to organize your kitchen, Lyons?”
“Are you going to start complaining about my drawers, Ahern?” She says as she’s walking down the stairs.
“I’d love to mess with your drawers, baby,” I say with a wide smirk.
“Wes, are you having dirty thoughts about your friend Abby?”
“Are we still friends?” I arch an eyebrow.
“I hope so,” she whispers. “Above everything, I never want to lose our friendship.”
“We won’t,” I promise. “Best friends can become lovers, though.”
I hold my breath for a few beats, waiting for her reaction. We haven’t talked about taking our relationship that far. In fact, I’m not sure if she’s ready at all. She dated a few times while in college, but the relationships never lasted too long. I don’t want to assume anything, but should I?
She closes her eyes, exhaling. “Look, you’re going to have to be super patient with me.”
Abby opens her eyes and gives me a pained look.
Sex, she mouths.
“I don’t have any experience in that arena for a reason, Wes,” she continues.
What happened to you, Abby? I don’t dare ask, instead I try to say something simpler, “Do you want to talk about it?”