“Just be still, Abby. Let Cash have a good look at you,” Nicola cajoled softly.
Abby’s eyes went from Nicola to Cash who was wrapping her arm in a towel. On the way there she caught Alistair staring daggers at her from his place behind the couch.
It was then Abby realised that she was going to have to be clever.
This was not good. At the best of times, Abby was far from clever.
However, clever at that moment included not informing them she’d just seen an actual ghost, much less been viciously shoved into a mirror by one.
“I’m sure I’m all right,” she told Alistair.
“You’re not going to sue me are you?” Alistair demanded to know and Nicola gasped.
Then she snapped, “Alistair! What’s the matter with you?”
His eyes moved to his wife. “She’s American. They sue.”
“I’m not going to sue you,” Abby assured him and pushed up on her free elbow. “I’m really all right. I just slipped on some water and fell.”
Cash’s eyes pinned her and he commanded, “Lay back.”
“Really, I’m fine. I just feel a little silly, that’s all,” she told Cash.
“Abby, lay back,” Cash repeated.
“Cash –” Abby started.
“Abby, f**king… lay… back,” Cash clipped, eyes narrowing and since he was using the f-word in that way, Abby felt it prudent to do as he commanded.
She laid back.
“Here’s the water,” Honor arrived with a glass bowl of soapy water and a tea towel, Trevor at her heels. She laid the bowl on the table by the sofa and Cash turned to it immediately.
“Do you need me to call the ambulance, sir?” Trevor asked Alistair.
“No!” Abby cried. An ambulance might take forever and she needed to get out of there before the black-haired phantom came back, dragged her up the nearest steep stairwell only to send her plunging back down to her grisly death. “I’m fine. Honestly.”
“Call the ambulance,” Cash ordered Trevor.
“Cash, I said I’m fine,” Abby butted in as Trevor left the room.
Cash’s eyes came to her. “You lost consciousness.”
“I know but –”
“I want them to look at you,” he went on.
“Well, I understand that, but I can tell you I’m –”
“Abby, this isn’t up for discussion,” he finished and the way he spoke those words said plainly he was finished.
“Oh all right,” she muttered but she didn’t even attempt to do it with good grace.
At that, Cash’s face changed, went soft, his black eyes grew warm and he murmured, “Now I’m beginning to think you’re fine.”
Abby jumped at her chance. “Good, then can we –?”
“No,” he cut her off shortly.
She gave him a glare.
He accepted it calmly then turned back to the water.
“Here’s the ice!” Fenella, for some reason, shrieked upon entry and rushed forward.
Nicola took the ice and sat on the arm of the sofa, holding it lightly to Abby’s forehead while Cash deftly but cautiously cleansed her arm.
Abby rolled her eyes up and looked at Nicola. “I’m so sorry I ruined your lovely evening.”
“Hush, dear. This didn’t ruin anything. Let’s just get you seen to,” Nicola replied kindly and Abby went silent and decided to spend her time not thinking about her imminent death at the hands of a see-through spectre, but instead, contemplating her evening.
Abby liked Nicola, she would be hard not to like; Nicola was lovely.
Abby also thought she might like Fenella and Honor. They were both a little unusual but in entirely different ways. Fenella was kind of cute, in a drama queen, slightly grating way. Honor was harder to read but Abby got the weird sensation that her prickly demeanour was a defence mechanism, against what, Abby didn’t know.
Alistair was a contradiction. Instinctively upon meeting him, Abby didn’t like him. His eyes were strange, definitely calculating and almost cruel. But his manner was welcoming and friendly. Abby didn’t buy it and she had the feeling Cash didn’t either.
On the other hand, Abby disliked Suzanne intensely. The woman was not nice in any way and she was also rude. How Suzanne could be borne of Nicola’s loins was beyond Abby.
And lastly, there was Cash.
And that evening she’d been given yet something else to worry about.
Because, stupidly (as usual) she’d not thought about the time when circumstances would necessitate Cash playing the devoted, adoring boyfriend back to Abby’s devoted, adoring girlfriend. The thought hadn’t cross her mind.
Therefore, she’d been unprepared to experience Cash acting like her loving boyfriend.
Even though she knew it was pretend. Even after what he’d done at her house. Even after she’d insanely almost forgiven him for his callous behaviour in her bedroom when he’d been so sweet to her in the car. Even after all that, she hadn’t been ready.
She hadn’t toughened herself against how it would feel to have him do such things as casually hold her hand, kiss the side of her head and call her “exquisite”, a compliment, said in Cash’s rough, deep burr, that far exceeded any Abby had ever received.
But it was fake.
It wasn’t real.
It wasn’t what she had with Ben.
It wasn’t what her mind told her it was, which was that it was something far, far better than what she had with Ben.
That would be an impossibility.
For what she had with Ben was real and it was wonderful.
And what she had with Cash was make-believe even if it felt fantasy-land remarkable.
And she had to remember that.
This was a job, her job, but Cash also had to play his part.
And it was clear that in the meantime he fully intended to enjoy that for which he’d paid handsomely.
And it was also clear that he wouldn’t allow Abby to stand in the way of him getting that. He’d taught her that lesson earlier. He was quite content to live his part of the pretence as long as Abby lived hers.
If Abby stepped out of the role for which she was paid she would be punished.
And therefore she renewed her oath to keep her head screwed on straight and remember, always, always, always, this was a job. Just a job. And one day soon, he’d walk away and she’d get on with her life.
Firm (she told herself even though she didn’t believe herself) in her resolve she watched Cash place the bloodied towel in the bowl, he wrapped her arm in a clean, dry towel and when he was done his eyes came to her.