Wrapped Up in You - Talia Hibbert Page 0,16

horrified, and she’d lose all claim to dignity.

“Will,” she said. “What the fuck?” Her body felt too tight, too brittle, swallowed up by a sudden storm of emotion. She usually kept these feelings wrapped up safe and hidden, but his words had them surging like a hurricane. The coil twisting in her belly, the heat racing across her skin, the way she craved his warmth like he was the antidote to life’s frost—

Stop. This was only a crush, that was all. It couldn’t be anything different. She’d told herself that for years, because the alternative was too depressing to contemplate and too huge to control.

Abbie needed control.

What she didn’t need was Will stirring up things he didn’t understand by flirting, by saying soft shit to her, by giving her chained-up urges enough hope to break loose. But before she could make that fact clear (or, alternatively, throw her hot chocolate in Will’s lap to distract him before climbing out of the window and running to Edinburgh), Grandma burst into the room.

Will and Abbie both jolted, their impossible bubble popped, their attention diverted—for now. “Gravy!” Grandma said from the doorway, still wearing her silk headscarf and frilled nightdress.

Will, of course, rose to his feet at once. “Is she having the babies?” He looked like a concerned husband being informed his wife’s water had broken. Abbie couldn’t even tell her heart off for squeezing. Calm would be a thousand times more difficult to maintain now that Will was running around claiming to like her.

Not that like meant anything. It might, if they were strangers, or if Abbie was ordinary. But she wasn’t ordinary. Abbie was the sort of person who, on hearing that an old friend had developed some belated attraction toward her, stepped into what should be the puddle of her responding affection to find that it was in fact a well, a hidden lagoon, a leagues-deep ocean. Abbie was a heart that beat too hard and usually ended up bruised.

Don’t panic. This will pass. Everything will go back to normal.

For him it would, anyway.

“No, no,” Grandma was saying, waving away Will’s concern. “Although she did just wake me up, trying to break out of the window when she knows she’s not allowed outside.” A despairing shake of the head, and Grandma moved swiftly on. “I got up to close the curtains properly, and I saw the snow! Which reminded me—the blizzard! It’s coming—”

Abbie squinted out at the barely-there snow, opened her mouth to argue, then thought better of it.

“—and we’ve got nothing for Christmas dinner yet. Chicken, rice, gravy, roasties, those giant Yorkshire puddings you love, William…”

Abbie could hear Will’s stomach grumble at that. He downed the rest of his protein shake and said, “Hm. Yeah. I do love those Yorkshires. Me and Abbie best get to the shop.”

This sentence had a similar effect on Abbie as a short round of electrocution. “The shop?” she squeaked, when what she really wanted to say was, “Me and you? Alone? For a sustained period of time? After that? I think the fuck not.”

“Exactly,” Grandma agreed, apparently relieved beyond measure. “I already wrote you a list.” She hurried into the room, slapped a sheet of scrawled-upon paper down in front of them, and left before Abbie could ask, “Didn’t you say you’d just woken up?”

* * *

The car ride was a tad awkward.

Grandma’s local Asda—she’d insisted on Asda—was an hour away. She usually got the shopping delivered, but apparently, she’d forgotten to organise that because she was so busy massaging Gravy’s pregnant paws or whatever the hell she got up to. Abbie supposed she should count herself lucky that Will had at least gotten changed for the trip; if she’d had to spend an hour watching his golden hair–dusted thighs flex every time he changed gears, she might’ve lost her mind.

Fortunately, he was wearing jeans and another heinously festive jumper, which was as interesting as his neon sportswear and bare muscles, but far easier to ignore. They spent a solid forty-five minutes in blessed, relieving silence, silence so complete and pure that she almost believed he might have already gotten over his temporary attraction to her.

Then he ruined everything by asking, “So. About that thing I said before…”

She tossed him a what now? look of exasperation and dug the fingers of her left hand into her seat, where he couldn’t see. “Yes?” Please don’t bring it up. Please don’t bring it up. This is the perfect moment for us both to silently agree