Then she heard him say, low and deep, “Fuck.”
She froze, gooey spoon in hand, and turned to see him staring at the crock pot.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“What is that?” he asked in return.
Abby looked down at the crock pot then back to Cash, worry filling her at his reaction and she answered, “Irish stew. Um,” she hesitated then went on, “don’t you like Irish stew?”
His eyes went from the pot to Abby and she held her breath.
“You know how you feel about cashmere?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered.
His lips turned up slightly at the ends. “I feel that way about Irish stew.”
A weird, intense, happy warmth spread through her at this news.
Then it occurred to her that she’d said she wanted to roll around in cashmere and it was on the tip of her tongue to tease him but she stopped herself.
Ben, she would have teased.
Jenny and Kieran, she still could tease.
She could even tease Mrs. Truman (probably).
Cash wasn’t hers to tease.
She went back to her task and muttered, “That’s good.”
She felt him get close and then she felt him casually kiss the side of her head as she was at her business with the dumplings.
At his kiss, the happy warmth was joined with a short, strong, lovely shiver.
He was back to seeing to her martini before she had a chance to shrug off this reaction. It took effort but she had herself firmly in hand by the time she finished the dumplings, cleaned her hands, pulled the crock out of the heating unit and slid it in the oven to bake the dumplings.
She was closing the oven door when she heard, “Abby, we have a problem.”
She looked up to see Cash close the refrigerator and turn to her, his face was grave.
She felt her heart start beating faster.
“What problem?” she asked.
He walked to her as she flicked the oven mitts off her hands and onto the counter but he didn’t answer.
“What is it?” she prompted when he didn’t speak.
He got close and put both hands on her neck.
“Darling,” he said solemnly but there was a strange, magnetic light in his eyes, “we don’t have any olives.”
Then she saw his mouth twitch.
Her belly dipped and her heart lurched.
But she didn’t speak.
Cash was teasing her.
She could likely protect her heart from domineering, sexy, charismatic Cash but loving, kiss-on-the-side-of-the-head, teasing Cash?
Impossible!
He squeezed her neck, “Do you think you could do without the olives?”
Abby considered this. Then she bit the side of her lip.
Because the answer was no, she could absolutely not drink a martini without the olives.
Cash’s eyes dropped to her mouth then he gave a shout of rich laughter and his arms came around her, pulling her to him.
“I take it that’s a no,” he said over her head and she could tell by his voice (not to mention the laugh) that he found this highly amusing.
“That’s a no,” Abby admitted to his chest.
He kissed the top of her head and then murmured there, “I’ll drink the martini and make you an amaretto.”
She nodded then he moved away.
She had nothing to do but wait for the dumplings to bake. Therefore Abby was at odds with how to proceed seeing as they were moving around his kitchen like an old married couple and she shouldn’t be thinking about how lovely it was to move around Cash’s kitchen, with Cash, like they were an old married couple.
She decided to stand, hip against the counter and watch him make her drink.
“Did you have a good day?” she asked, thinking that sounded lame.
“No,” he replied.
“No?” she repeated, watching him work, noticing that the ingredients for her favourite drink were all ready at hand. Obviously Cash (or Moira) had a conversation with Aileen and the kitchen had been stocked with her preferences.
That gave her a warm feeling too.
He continued as Abby fought valiantly against the warm feeling. “I have to go to Germany tomorrow.”
Abby watched him move to the fridge for the ice and enquired, “When will you be home?”
“Saturday.”
Abby’s breath caught.
Her first thought was that she wouldn’t see Cash for three days.
She’d been with him every day for over a week. She was used to being with him. She was used to having dinner with him. She was used to sleeping in his bed. She was used to sleeping with him in his bed. She was used to doing other things with him in his bed too.
She didn’t like the idea of not seeing him.
Maybe for a day but three?
Then Abby’s emotional warrior reared up and mentally kicked her in the shin.
This reminded her that she and Cash didn’t exist in that joyful time where everything about their relationship was shiny and new. They weren’t caught in those early days of discovery where you spent every moment you weren’t together thinking about being together and every moment you were together thinking life was bliss. It wasn’t the beginning of something that you knew, you just knew was going to be something magical.
They were nothing of the sort (even though it felt like they were).
Three days was a godsend. Three days meant she could shore up her defences and have her head screwed on properly. Three days was a miracle.
Her miracle lasted two seconds because Cash went on. “I want you with me.”
Abby’s body jerked at his words.
“In Germany?” she breathed.
He dumped the ice in a tea towel but turned his head to her and she saw he was smiling. “No, darling, I thought you could go to Capri. We’ll meet back here.”
Even though he was amusing, Abby didn’t laugh. She was busy searching blindly for a way out.
Germany meant all Cash and nothing but Cash except when Cash was working, which would be time she was alone, without workmen, paint pots, Jenny, Mrs. Truman and her spaniels, which would be time she’d be doing nothing but thinking about Cash which meant zero time to get her head on straight.
She came up with a solution.
“What’ll I do with Zee?” she tried.
His brows went up. “Zee?”
“My cat.”
“You named your cat Zee?”
“His name is Beelzebub but that’s hard to say all the time, especially when you’re yelling at him,” Abby explained.
Cash stared at her then asked, “You’re telling me you essentially named your cat Satan?”