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“How about Friday?”
She nodded as if hypnotized.
“Friday night, then,” he said, and he stepped back so she could close the door and pull out of the driveway.
She saw him standing outside the huge, black SUV he’d ordered, watching her. She waved and smiled and immediately regretted doing so. She felt like an idiot.
She could sense his eyes on her as she drove away, and she gripped the steering wheel with both hands, convinced she was going to get into a wreck.
When she pulled into her driveway and parked the car, she could finally let out the scream she’d been holding. She dropped her head against the steering wheel and resisted the urge to beat her forehead against it repeatedly.
Six
Rafe didn’t call that night. Or the next day. Or the next. By Thursday she didn’t expect him to anymore.
In a way, she was glad, or at least that’s what she kept telling herself. Every time she thought about what happened between them, how he’d basically touched her for thirty seconds and gave her the most intense orgasm of her entire life, she was flooded with a feeling that was close to panic. She felt like she couldn’t bear to be in her own skin. If she was sitting, she’d have to stand. If she was walking, she would feel like she had to run.
She couldn’t get away from it, either. As hard as she tried to put the whole thing out of her head, images of his mouth on her breast, or the way his cock felt hot and heavy in her hand, would flash through her mind at the most awkward times, like when she was cleaning the kennels or adding hashtags to a social media post, and she would actually gasp out loud and have to put a hand on her heart to keep it from leaping out of her. She looked like a Victorian grandma clutching her pearls.
And what was even worse than that—try as she might to touch herself the way he had, she just couldn’t get the same angle, or find the same rhythm that was almost too fast and almost too hard but neither, and therefore perfect. How did he know how to touch her better than she did? It was infuriating. No guy had ever gotten her off that quickly or that easily, and Rafe had done it while she was almost fully clothed, no less. He’d basically pressed a button and she was screaming. It was humiliating. A part of her wanted him to call just so she could tell him that she was normally much harder to please than that, but she knew it would only inflate his ego even more.
But he hadn’t called. And she had to accept the fact that he probably wasn’t going to at this point.
“Abbe?” Steven said.
She snapped herself out of it. “What?” Looking over at him, she noticed that both Steven and Maria were staring at her.
“Do you want us to stay any longer?” Maria asked carefully, like she was repeating herself. “It’s just we—” she looked over at Steven and the two of them broke into a laugh and then they both started talking at once.
“They show old movies every Thursday night,” Steven began.
“And we both like old movies,” Maria added, a blush creeping up her dark, golden cheeks.
“And we figured, since we’re both going there anyway… right?” Steven said, his ears turning red as he deferred to Maria.
“Right! I mean,I’mgoing,” she said breathlessly.
“Go! Both of you,” Abbe said, finally getting it. She’d thought she’d noticed something growing between the two of them, but it had been subtle and easy to overlook. She was happy for them.
“I can stay all day Saturday,” Maria said in a guilty rush.
“Me too,” Steven put in. “We both can. You don’t have to come in at all. We only have that one adoption appointment anyway.”
“Thanks, you guys, but really, it’s okay. Get out of here.”
She watched the two teenagers grab their things and scurry out, giddy and newly uncomfortable with each other after months of being perfectly comfortable, because now there was somethingelsepotentially there between them. And they were both such good kids. Abbe hoped it worked out for them.
When all the animals were in their kennels, she went into her office to check her inbox one last time before going home. She found two emails. One was from Henry, the veterinarian, confirming his visit the next afternoon, and the second was from her bank and the title was,Recent Activity: Urgent.
She felt a surge of dread and knew before she even opened it that there was going to be a problem. Reading through the bad news quickly, her bank was very sorry to inform her that the account allotted to Furry Faces LLC was frozen again and that several account withdrawals that had been made over the last few days had been retroactively denied. They requested she transfer funds to her account immediately or risk a penalty fee.
Furious, and more than a little bit terrified, Abbe called the bank, but of course, they were already closed for the evening. Not for the first time, Abbe wondered why banking hours were so short compared to business hours when most businesses required banking in some way.
Resolved to fix the problem first thing in the morning, Abbe called the bank as soon as she returned to the shelter on Friday, but no matter how many times she asked for an explanation the only thing they told her was that the account was frozen and there was a balance outstanding that she would be responsible for.
“How long before I have to pay?” Abbe asked, at her wit’s end.
“You have until the end of the month,” came the unfeeling reply.
