She recovered herself with a deep breath and walked on leaded feet down the hall, around the corner and down the stairs toward the sound of jazz (not new-age, gross jazz but old-age, fantastic bluesy-jazz).
By the time she made it down the stairs, Nina Simone had started singing, “Tell Me More and More and Then Some”.
She saw Cash was in the kitchen, a tumbler of Scotch in one hand, the other hand clenched in a fist that was on his hip. He was wearing a pair of dark brown suit trousers, a dress shirt the colour of which was an attractive blend between dandelion yellow and burnt orange that had a subtle sheen, it was unbuttoned at his throat and the cuffs were turned back.
His eyes were locked on her.
And he looked less happy than his voice sounded on her phone.
“Cash –” she started.
At the same time he demanded, “Where the f**k have you been?”
“There was an accident on the motorway and then –” she began.
He cut her off. “Do you have your mobile?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“Did it occur to you to phone to let me know it wasn’t you in a f**king accident on the motorway?”
Two things came to Abby at once.
First, the reminder that she knew exactly how it felt to learn someone you cared about had been in an accident on the highway.
Second was the shocking knowledge that Cash wasn’t angry because he was losing time with her, valuable time he’d paid dearly for. He was angry because he was worried about her.
She knew how she felt about the first, it tore at her soul every day. The second she didn’t know what to do with.
Cash didn’t give her time to figure it out.
“Abby, answer me,” he clipped.
“No,” she started and when his eyes narrowed dangerously, she hurried on, “I mean, yes, of course it did. But it’s illegal to talk on your mobile in the car.”
“Next time you’re going to be an hour late, darling, rest assured in the knowledge that I’ll pay the f**king fine if you get pulled over for talking on your goddamned phone,” he returned and Abby thought it was safe to say that Cash Fraser, International Hot Guy Extraordinaire, was pissed off.
“Cash –” she began again.
And again he cut her off by demanding, “Get over here.”
She gave a start. “What?”
“I said, get… over… here.”
This, Abby decided, was not going well.
She briefly considered running for her life.
She then figured Cash would catch her. His legs were longer and even though he was standing behind the counter and she couldn’t see it was unlikely he was wearing high heels.
So, with no other option open to her, she moved toward him and as she did so he leaned forward and set down his tumbler with an angry clunk.
When she got within arm’s reach, he snatched her purse from her and tossed it unceremoniously on the counter even though it was Coach and no one should treat Coach like that but she wasn’t going to share that morsel of knowledge with Cash at that moment.
When he was done with that, his fingers wrapped around her wrist, he gave it a sharp tug and she fell into him. Her hand came up to cushion her fall and it landed on his chest. He dropped her wrist; she tilted her head back and opened her mouth to say something to diffuse his anger when she saw his head descending.
Then he was kissing her, hard, hot, open-mouthed and hungry, his arms wrapping around her, crushing her to his solid body.
Her hand not trapped between them went to his shoulder, not in a loving embrace but to hold herself up as her knees had turned to mush.
She felt his kiss burn from her mouth, through to her br**sts, down passed her belly, straight between her legs and when he lifted his head, she was nigh on panting and her body was on fire.
“I don’t like waiting,” he growled low.
“So noted,” she breathed.
“You’re going to be late, I don’t give a f**k if it’s five minutes, you call,” he demanded.
She nodded. He glared at her.
She stood still and took it silently, not wanting to throw any fuel on the already scorching fire.
After awhile of standing in the kitchen crushed to Cash, his arms still holding her tight, she braved the wild beast.
“Do you want me to make dinner?”
“No, I don’t want you to make f**king dinner,” he shot back.
Obviously, she’d spoke too soon.
“We’re going out,” he announced.
“But, Aileen went out and bought –” she started.
His arms got tighter, interrupting her word flow by squeezing the breath out of her. “We’re going, f**king, out.”
“Okay,” she wheezed.
His arms loosened and he let her go, reached out, grabbed his whisky and threw it back in one gulp. Then down the glass went with another angry clunk, he seized her purse, tossed it to her and took her hand, dragging her to the chair where his suit jacket was. He snatched it from the chair then hauled her upstairs, hand still in hers.
They were at the front door, he’d put on his suit jacket and was shrugging on his overcoat and Abby was watching him.
His silence was flipping her out. So she broke it.
“You say ‘fuck’ a lot when you’re angry,” she informed him for lack of anything else to say.
His eyes sliced to her. “Abby, I’m not in the mood for you being cute.”
At his words, she felt the room pitch crazily.
“You think I’m cute?” she whispered.
His eyes skewered her to the spot and she decided not to speak again.
Then he opened the door, took her hand and marched her through.
* * * * *
Abby stood at Cash’s bathroom sink, hands curled around the edge of the basin, deep breathing to stop herself from hyperventilating.
It was time for bed. This was going to happen now.
She’d agreed to it. She was going to have to go through with it.
She wasn’t only near to hyperventilating because she was terrified.
She was also near-to hyperventilating because she was terrified about what it said about her because she, deep down, wanted it.
That night, after dinner, after walking the romantic streets of Bath with Cash, after they came back to his house and ate the leftover pears with cream and chocolate sauce, she’d rinsed and put the dishes in the dishwasher.
While she was doing this she realised if this was real, if he had asked her out and this was their third date, even though (before Ben, obviously) she had a strict six-dates-before-sex rule, she would be doing something just like this with Cash.