A Kiss Like This (Kiss and Make Up #3)(31)

Stephan and Weston yell at each other in the middle of the living room floor, fingers pointed in each other faces, chests posturing. Molly’s in on the action, arms flapping up and down and she’s yelling, too.

Cubby, clearly entertained, sits on the couch in the seats we just abandoned, stuffing his face with more chips. It looks like he’s watching a movie.

“What just happened?” Abby asks softly, her back pressing into my front, the loose strands from her braid blowing in the slight breeze.

“Truthfully? This kind of thing always happens.”

“Why would Stephan pick a fight with Weston if he’s mad at his girlfriend? I don’t get it.”

I consider this. “Because he needs someone to blame for his problems? He’s a hot head.”

“Oh, is that why he has no teeth?” she jokes.

I almost give her an all-out grin, but stop myself. “Yeah, that’s why he has no teeth.” I pick a fallen branch off the wooden patio railing, peel the bark back, then toss it into the darkness to the woods beyond the cabin. “He’s tried instigating shit with me in the past, but so far, I’ve managed to avoid it.”

“Not a fan of conflict, are you?” she asks curiously, turning her head to study me.

“No. Not this kind of conflict. It gets too… ugly.” I pause. “I don’t mind a brawl on the ice, but that swagger bullshit going on inside? No thank you.”

Another breeze kicks up, and Abby visibly shivers. Crap, how could I have forgotten that she’s wearing next to nothing while I stand here in shorts and sweatshirt?

Instinctively, I close the space between us, pulling her into me and folding my long arms around her. Briefly stiffening, a few seconds pass before Abby lets her body relax in my arms. “Shit, sorry,” I mutter the apology into her hair, relaxing my grip on her waist. “I just thought you’d be cold. Sorry for dragging you out here, but that whole argument was heading south.”

She grabs my hands then, holding them steady about her trim waist. “No! I mean, I don’t mind. My body is actually on fire. Wait, that’s not what I meant. I meant that I’m not cold.” She covers her face with her hands and groans through the fingers over her mouth. “Oh my god, I’m so bad at this.” Even without seeing her face, I know she’s blushing furiously. “I’m so out of practice.”

“Thank god,” I let out a laugh. “Seriously. I’m so bad at this I’m probably going to start chasing you around the woods and pulling your hair.”

Abby’s light giggle makes my stomach flutter, giving me the courage to keep talking. “You’re so pretty I hardly know how to act around you.” I look off into the yard, making light of my ardent confession. “You scare me shitless.”

She spins to face me, her large blue expression gazing at me in wonder. The dim light from the porch casts a shadow on us both, and only her lips are visible in the dark. My hands, which now hover near her ass, just above the waistband of her lacy boxer shorts, itch to inch lower.

“I scare you shitless? Abby scares Caleb.” Surprise etches itself across her face from this novel information, and I can see her clever brain processing the data, turning it around and around, the play of emotions evident on her pretty face. Unlike most girls, who would take my confession and use it to their advantage, the idea that I’m vulnerable seems to make Abby uncomfortable. “How is that even possible?”

“Believe me, Walk of Shame, it is,” I tease.

Abby smacks my bicep and tries to give me a sullen pout, lip jutted out. “Why did you have to go and bring that horrible nickname up?”

“Because I have no concept of what’s appropriate?”

An owl hoots somewhere in the woods, its creepy low melancholy bellow echoing through the crisp night air. It might be spring, but the last of the snow just melted, leaving behind chilly, autumn-like temperatures.

“We should probably go back inside. It looks like they’re done bitching at each other.” I nod toward the large sliding glass door to the living room, where our friends are dispersing, the fun having come to an abrupt halt.

“Do you, um…” She clears her throat nervously.

“Do you want to watch a different movie or something,” I ask, at at the same time she says, “Are you up for another movie?”

Abby laughs nervously as we walk to the sliding patio door, and I watch as she begins twisting a finger on her right hand, presumably the spot in which she normally wears her ring. Reaching around her, I slide the door along its track just wide enough to squeeze through, and we both shiver again as we step over the threshold into the warm, cozy living room.

Abby runs her hands up and down her bare arms. “Brrr, I didn’t realize how cold I was until we came back inside. I’m kind of glad they built a fire.”

“Here, grab a blanket,” I say, grabbing a fuzzy blanket from the couch and holding it open.

“Thanks,” she says somewhat breathlessly and beams up at me with her beautiful, smiling blue eyes, before stepping into my open arms—into the blanket. My heart swells with pride, because I’ve finally done something right.

My arms fold around her, encasing her in the thick wool, and linger on her shoulders before she eases herself away and down onto the couch.

“Do you want anything from the, uh, kitchen?” Self-consciously, I stuff my hands inside my hoodie. Abby’s eyes go to the pocket, then back up to my face.