Emotions swelled up out of her chest. Every day in every way Connor just kept getting more irresistible. “You promised me the one month, Connor. I want it.”
The look in his eyes switched from desire to determination as he walked over to her and held out his hand. “Come outside with me for a bit.”
Abby looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “What? Now?”
“Please. I want to show you something.”
Curiosity overruling her stubbornness, Abby took his outstretched hand and followed him out to the garage. When he led her over to the second garage door, not the one where he parked his Lexus, she hesitated. “You’re not going to show me some sex dungeon or something in there are you?”
He chuckled. “No. Nothing like that.”
Feeling a buzz of excitement unfurl in her stomach over the unfamiliar, almost childlike joy she saw in his eyes, she turned quickly to see what was behind the mystery door. The slow hum of the garage door motor resounded like a drumroll.
“You’re kidding me.”
Beaming proudly, he circled the gunpowder black car, trailing his hand along the hood. “It’s a 1971 Dodge Charger.”
Looking at its iconic design, she asked the first thing that popped in her mind. “Like the
Dukes of Hazzard
car?”
Another chuckle. “Similar. That was a ’69. This one was the first of the third generation Chargers. A class of its own.” He took another lap around the car before patting the top of it as if to say, ‘good boy.’
She realized she was still gaping a bit but seeing Connor petting and talking so affectionately about this gritty muscle car was making her brain do cartwheels.
“Do you like it?”
The question came out casually, but she could hear the current of emotion filtering around it. This was important to him. A test of sorts. Realizing this, she took a step back and gave his car an honest look.
Along with a classic, streamlined shape, the car had one of those rugged vented hoods—not quite
Fast and the Furious
but close. It had character. Quietly powerful. Nostalgically masculine. And sexy as hell with Connor leaning against it.
Taking a deep breath, she ventured, “Actually, I do like it. I mean I don’t know a lot about cars but I do have memories of my dad and uncle working on this sixties convertible on the weekends when I was a kid. Clearly, they were really bad at it because it was still barely running when they ‘finished’ a few years later. But I remember playing inside it a lot while they were tinkering with the engine.” She smiled and peeked at the interior. “This car reminds me of that one. And though I can’t explain why, it sort of reminds me of you, too.”
She must’ve answered right, because he rewarded her with a slow smile so radiant, she froze and simply watched it play across his face. Afraid any sudden movements would scare it away.
“I wasn’t nearly as ambitious as your dad and uncle. I had this professionally restored.”
The way his voice changed, warmed when he talked about the car made an emotional lump grow in her throat. She’d never heard him speak this way about anyone or anything until now. This was a glimpse at a side of Connor she knew very few—if any—got to see.
“Tell me about your car, Connor.” Her voice sounded hoarse to her own ears.
“I got it a few months ago when I made equity partner.”
“Interesting midlife car choice,” she teased gently.
He barked out a laugh. “See, this is why you could never be ‘just one my other women.’ Not one of them would ever call me old. At least not until after I’d ended things with them.”
“Just imagine what I’ll say when things are over between us.” She’d meant it as a joke but immediately regretted it when some of the light left Connor’s eyes. “Hey, I was kidding.”
Instead of responding, he asked simply, “You want to go for a ride?”
Desperately wanting to repair things, she tried again for humor, “Can I drive?”
Thankfully, his smile returned. “On the way back, I promise.”
Before he could head over to the driver’s side, she caught his arm. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier.”
“Don’t be.” He looked into her eyes and said softly, “It wasn’t what you said; it was the reminder that our days are numbered. I get sad thinking about it is all.”
That was the exact moment Abby knew…she wasn’t in danger of just getting her heart broken by Connor, but losing her heart to him completely.
They were headed north with the windows down and the engine rumbling loud and low. All the while, Abby couldn’t stop staring at Connor; he’d never looked so free, so happy. So content.
By the time he pulled over on a deserted gravel road near Cactus Creek, he was a different man. Just a man. No longer a big time corporate attorney.
“No one even knows I have this car.”
“Really? Why not? This is kind of a chick magnet.”
Even his laughter sounded different. More alive. “Not to any of the women I usually date.”
“Maybe if you showed them the interior…” she suggested, running an appreciative hand along the buttery soft seat that was specifically designed to look, but not be vintage…with the added perk of letting her slide all the way over to Connor if she so desired.
“A woman after my own heart. The bench seats were a custom install.” He flashed her a wicked grin. “Unlike the original ones, however, these do this—” He reached on his side of the seat and she let out a yelp. The entire front bench seat reclined down flat, lining up with the back seat and in effect, turning the car into a giant bed on wheels.
She unbuckled her seatbelt and rolled over to him, laughing. “This is so awesomely cheesy. You’ve really never brought a woman riding in this?”
“Nope. I usually just drive it out here and take a short nap in whatever shade I can find. Some weeks, it’s the most restful sleep I get.”
“Because you’re free.”
He looked startled. “Is it that obvious?”
She put her head on his chest. “Only because of the goofy look on your face.”
His arm came around her and she closed her eyes, listened to the silence of the desert forest surrounding them.
“It’s funny how you and I have lived such polar opposite lives. You see me as a bad boy now but growing up, I was the perfect kid. No bad habits to speak of, 4.3 gpa, and a spot-free room to boot.”
“And you’re related to Brian how again?”
He chuckled. “I envied him when we were younger. Not his messy room, of course, but his way of life. He always seemed to go through life with such ease, good at everything but never wanting for anything. All of our father’s expectations for him slid right off him like a magnet on its back. Brian was going to be what he was going to be, period.”
Abby smiled. “He’s still like that.”
“I’m glad. Unlike my father, I never wanted Brian to lose that.”
“Why do you two hate him so much?” Her eyes popped open. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”
“No, it’s okay. Our father is a relative stranger to us both. I don’t know if Brian hates him so much as disrespects him as a father. After he had Skylar, that feeling multiplied infinitely.
I
, on the other hand, do hate him. I have since the fourth grade, since the day I saw him sucking face with some woman who wasn’t my mother, and then making her feel small for no reason at all later that night. Before that day, I used to work really hard in school to try and gain his approval, get him to just stop and notice me. For once. He ever did. Brian, my mother, and I simply didn’t register on his radar. We were merely an obligation. If even that. The only thing he cared about was his work, and all those other women he was screwing around with.”
Abby couldn’t imagine anyone being so callous to their own family.
“After the fourth grade, I kept on getting good grades, but for myself, not for him anymore. By the time I was in high school, my motivation to do well shifted to one goal: going away to a school on the east coast without having to ask my father for a penny.”
“Hence, Columbia.”
“Yep. And since I wasn’t the athlete Brian was, I had to rely on academics to get me a scholarship. It’s funny because that was the one and only time I remember my father sounding even remotely proud of me. The day I’d gotten my full ride there.”
“That must’ve felt good.”
“You’d think. But then he immediately started mapping out my whole life for me—law school at Stanford and eventually a partnership in his firm so I could be the second Sullivan listed on the door. As always, it was still all about him. I know it sounds petty but I remember so vividly telling him there was no chance in hell I wasn’t majoring in pre-law or going to law school. I almost fell over in shock when I saw him actually display an emotion. A little one or annoyance. Of course, ten seconds later, he just dismissed me completely, shoved me back to the completely invisible status I shared with my mother and brother.”
He practically spat the words out. Said them with such contempt that Abby was momentarily too shocked to ask how in the world his life ended up taking the road he’d swore it never would—Stanford Law and senior partner at Caldwell, Sullivan & Phillips. Then she did the math. He was three years older than Brian; he’d been a senior at Columbia when Brian found out Beth was pregnant. “You went to law school for Brian,” she said quietly.
He stiffened.
She pulled back and looked at his shuttered eyes. “Does he know?”
“No, and you can’t tell him. He thinks I always wanted to go to law school.”
She remained silent, giving him the chance to get it all out. Undoubtedly for the first time ever.
“Brian was planning on quitting college. I couldn’t let him do that. Unlike me, he’d always known what he wanted to do. My major was basically ‘anything but law’ while his had always been business. He has a natural knack for business that in many ways surpasses mine. If he’d been the one to get a dual JD/MBA from Stanford, he’d probably be a major CEO by now.”
“But that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to be a dad. So we sat and discussed his future, weighed his options. Since teaching was another thing he’d always been interested in, he applied for the teaching program at ASU and majored in business and economics.”
So how did Connor’s going to law school fit in all this?
“The biggest obstacle he faced was money,” he explained as if reading her mind. “When he told my parents about the pregnancy, my mother simply drank herself into oblivion as she always did, and took her usual pretending-it-wasn’t-happening method of handling it to save face at the club. My father, however, was much more direct. He offered to pay for a one-way trip for them to go live in a different state. As if his son becoming a father as a freshman in college was the most shameful thing for
him
. After that, Brian refused not just my father’s insulting offer but his tuition money as well.”
Abby didn’t blame him.
“So, I made a decision. I cashed out my entire savings, along with the trust fund from my grandfather that I’d just gotten control over after turning twenty-one, and bought Brian a house. I told him it was a property investment that I wanted him to live in and take care of while I was away. But that still left the issue of Brian’s tuition. With a baby on the way, I didn’t want them to be buried in student loans when he had a perfectly good trust fund just like mine to cover his tuition and incidentals. So, I went to my father and asked him to invoke his power as trustee to release the funds to my brother even though it was three years premature. He, of course, refused. Held it hostage.”
“Until you made a deal with him,” Abby guessed. What a bastard.
“The agreement was that I’d follow through with all the plans he set forth for my future in exchange for that one piece of paper.”
She couldn’t believe it. Connor basically bargained away his entire life for his brother.
“You’re incredible, you know that?”
A wary cloud passed over his expression. “Abby, I told you not to do that. Don’t build me up to be someone I’m not.”
Tears prickled in her eyes. Why couldn’t he see how wonderful he was?
Frowning, he stroked her cheek. “Stop, honey. Don’t cry over—”
Not wanting to hear him dismiss his actions or himself yet again, she stubbornly fused her mouth over his and just let go, allowed herself to sink into a kiss that held everything she was feeling but wouldn’t dare say, everything she knew to be true about him that he simply wouldn’t accept. Emotions tangled, soul ripped bare, she started taking as much as she gave, until eventually, he was kissing her back just as desperately, threading his hands through her hair, and transforming this all into so much more than a kiss.
Gasping, she sat back. When had she ended up on his lap? No matter. It was one less step for her to take. She flung off her shirt and reached for the hem of his. Skin and heat, and muscles that were tensing just from the touch of her fingers—she needed to feel it all. Now.
Two large hands trapped hers, and held her tight against his stomach, stopped her from dragging his shirt up, moving any higher. So she moved lower instead.
“
God, Abby. Not like this.
”