Wrapped Up in You - Talia Hibbert Page 0,37

had when it came to holding her attention. He had the vague idea that he should be ashamed of himself, but he was too busy trying to subtly flex.

“Right,” Abbie said, her gaze sliding completely away from him and landing on the floor—which was a good sign. Unless it was a terrible sign. He had no idea. This was why he had to get better at the whole talking thing.

With that in mind, he said, “Listen, I’ve been wanting to tell you—”

“Um,” she interrupted, “maybe you should get dressed first.”

He couldn’t help himself. He grinned. “Should I?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Am I making you uncomfortable?”

She rolled her eyes and pushed her glasses further up on her nose. “You wish, Reid.”

“I do, Abbie-girl.”

She looked at him then, a little spark of surprise in her gaze, followed by … a sweet smile on her berry-coloured lips. “Has anyone ever told you that you are an outrageous flirt?”

“No,” he said honestly. He didn’t think he’d ever flirted with anyone but her. He’d never really felt inspired to bother.

“Perhaps I’m just especially susceptible, then,” she muttered, but by the time his scattered brain remembered what susceptible meant and started to feel pleased, she’d already stepped back and moved on. “Seriously, go and get dressed. I can’t concentrate when your delts are staring at me.”

“Delts, really?” he asked. “I would’ve gone with nipples. Much more eye-like.”

She made a strangled sound of disbelief. “Are you really comparing nipples to eyeballs right now?”

“Are you really comparing delts to eyeballs? Be honest, do you actually know what delts are?”

“This is a ridiculous conversation,” she sniffed.

“So no, then,” he said, and she grinned, and God, he’d talk about literally anything if it made her smile like that. He was about to say as much when the door at the very far end of the hall slammed open, and Ms Tricia appeared in the doorway looking like the terrorised heroine of a vintage horror film.

Her brown skin had taken on a greyish tinge, her mouth was a perfect O, and her hands were panicked claws wrapped around a half-price Ted Baker gift set. “Gravy!” she wailed.

Abbie blinked over at her. “Er … don’t worry, Grandma. We got a ton of cornflour when you sent us to—”

“No! Gravy!” Ms Tricia dropped the gift set and rushed down the hall, sweeping past them both. “I just saw her through the window! She’s out in the blizzard! At the edge of the woods! How did she get out? William, get some clothes on. Jason!” she hollered as she all but sprinted down the stairs. “Jason, Gravy has escaped!”

Will stared after her. “Shit.”

Then Abbie said, clearly confused, “The blizzard?”

Eight

Yes, as it turned out: the blizzard.

Will threw on some clothes and came downstairs in time to meet Jase at the door. He looked like someone had dumped icing sugar over his head, then stuck him in a freezer. Icy winds howled through the open door behind him, and Will squinted out in shock at the snowstorm that had, apparently, popped into existence while he was busy wondering if Abbie preferred men who shaved their chests. (He was glad he’d left the situation alone, after her stare-a-thon out in the hallway.)

“I couldn’t see her,” Jase said as he slammed the door shut.

“What?” Ms Tricia squawked. “That creature is pregnant as hell. I don’t know what she thinks she’s doing, going out in this!”

“Don’t worry, Grandma.” Abbie rubbed soothing circles over Ms Tricia’s back. “We’ll find her. We’ll all go out and search.”

“Good. Let’s split into pairs and look for her.”

Jase and Abbie exchanged significant glances. “Erm,” Jase said, “maybe you could wait here in case she comes back?”

Ms Tricia speared him with a glare. “Shut up, boy. Fetch my boots. You can pair with me.”

Which is how Will found himself out in the blizzard he’d barely believed in, standing on the edge of the woods that bordered the south of Ms Tricia’s property, holding hands with Abbie Farrell. They both wore thick gloves, but he imagined he could feel her warmth anyway. She held him tight, so tight it reminded him of last night’s hazy, confusing bliss, when her touch and her voice had been the things keeping him steady. Of course, she was only touching him now because her glasses were a snowy mess, and without his guidance, she might fall into a well. But still.

“Grandma said she likes bushes,” Abbie shouted over the wind. “Let’s start over there.” With her free hand, she pointed at a thick,