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Damian hurried to the living room and spotted red curls flying in the wind as Abby marched down the driveway. He flung the door open. “Abby, where the hell do you think you’re going? Get back here!” To his irritation and disbelief, she didn’t acknowledge him. When was the last time anyone openly defied him? He’d forgotten what it was like to not have his own way.
Unwilling to let her get away, he stepped outside, shirtless and shoeless. The freezing wind and the flurry of snowflakes that hit his skin made him swear more than he’d ever sworn before. “Damn it!” Without much thought, he took off after her. The picture he made hopping over the snow-covered ground barefoot while cursing up a storm would probably give him a good chuckle later. For the time being, he was livid. She was teetering carefully down the driveway in her heels, so he was able to catch her before she reached the gate.
“What are you going to do, Abby, climb over the gate?” he asked. “You need me to open it.” She swung around to face him, unadulterated rage burning in her eyes. It was the fact that they also glistened with tears that got to him the most.
“Then open it,” she said.
“No. Get back inside.”
“You can only get away with dishing out orders in the bedroom, Amante. Try it in the real world, and you’ll get slapped.”
Despite freezing his ass off, Damian felt amusement flood him. Feisty, passionate, and comedic—that was Abby. In only a short time with her, he found it disheartening to imagine not being around her. Her either walking out of his life or being thrown out was inevitable. Right?
“Quit threatening me and get back inside so we can talk, Querida.”
“Don’t call me that,” she said. “I’m leaving. Open the goddamn gate or so help me …” Her surprised squeal probably disturbed the entire neighborhood, but he could care less, as he dipped and hoisted her over one shoulder.
“Put me down … What the hell, you ... you ... troglodyte.”
Damian let out a rumble of laughter. “Only you can insult me so creatively, Querida.”
Abby let out a growl but had no choice except to quit squirming and battering him with her purse until he made it inside and dumped her on the couch.
“I’m sorry for acting like a caveman,” he said, “but, in case you didn’t notice, I was standing in the snow without much on. I wasn’t going to risk frostbite just to stand there and argue with you.”
Abby scrambled to her feet. She straightened her coat and shoved her hair out of her face. “I hope your dick froze off. It would please me immensely.”
For the second time that morning, Damian found himself roaring. “How will I go back to my dull mornings without you, Abby?” He moved to block her path when she aimed for the door. He grasped her chin. “And don’t act like you wouldn’t miss that particular appendage if it froze off.”
She pulled out of his grasp and harrumphed, but her cheeks burned scarlet. “I hate you.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. What I said about not liking you …”
A bitter, humorless laugh interrupted. “You think I’m hurt because of that? Get over yourself, Damian. I’m hurt over the way you so callously brought up my dead father. You might have hated him, but he meant everything to me.” Her voice cracked, and her shoulders slumped. “I’ll never get to tell him how much ...” She trailed off and a stream of tears that he was sure she’d tried to keep at bay, ran down her cheek.
Damian took a step back as he had a flash of his teenage self, tears running down his face at his father’s funeral. He was sure he’d looked as forlorn, as lost and defeated as Abby did. He’d hated Caleb, but he didn’t hate his daughter—as much as he wanted to. Maybe he’d been a bit too cruel. Swallowing, he made an attempt to reach for her hand, but she pulled away.
“Open the damn gate so I can go home,” she said. “I’m not interested in any discussion right now.”
With a single nod, he suppressed his need to talk. “I’ll take you home.”
