Page 11 of Don't You Dare Marry Me

“I won’t if you won’t.”

“Then where does the revenge come into play?” Abagail slid her finger against Nicola’s nipple again, glad when she saw her lips part and heard the gasp.

“Just knowing that we did it,” Nicola said, leaning in closer. “And I think you’d like it.”

“I don’t believethat’sthe problem.” Abagail pulled away and waved the waitress over. “Close out my tab.”

Nicola sat back sharply, confused. “Wait, so no revenge fuck?”

Abagail’s lips quirked up, but she said nothing as she stood up and deliberately moved her gaze down Nicola’s body, lingering on her breasts, her crotch, her hips, and then back up the same way she’d come, stopping to leave her gaze on Nicola’s lips long enough that she knew she was going to make Nicola squirm.

“You’re cute.”

“Cute!” Nicola stood up sharply. “Aunt Abagail!”

Abagail pressed her lips together hard and raised an eyebrow at Nicola. “This is my place of business, Nicola. Treat it as such.”

She didn’t wait for a response as she pulled her jacket over her shoulders and walked out of the bar. She needed to get her head back on straight, and she needed to walk away from that temptation. Nothing good would come from that.

five

The fucking car wouldn’t start.

Again.

Nicola fisted her hands and pounded them into the steering wheel, growling, crying, screaming before she wrapped her fingers around it and tried to shake the immovable object. Why couldn’t just one thing go right in her life?

“Get out.”

Nicola jerked with a start. When had the door opened? When had Abagail popped her head into the driver’s side of her car? When had the world started to spin so much? Maybe it was a damn good thing that her car wouldn’t start. Then again, she probably could just sleep in it right here.

Abagail’s gaze dropped to Nicola’s breasts, over her small body in the driver’s seat and then flicked to the passenger seat with the stacks of non-perishable food that Nicola had stashed there to the back where all the blankets and her clothes were stored.

“I saidget out,” Abagail repeated. “Now.”

“I don’t...”

“Now, Nicola.” Abagail straightened her back and pursed her lips, holding the driver’s side door open.

Stumbling, Nicola pulled herself out of the car. “You can’t order me around.”

Abagail snorted. “Try me and I’ll call the police on you, not only for attempting to drive while intoxicated but for living in your car.”

Nicola’s jaw dropped. “You have no right?—”

“Try me.” Abagail reached forward and snagged Nicola’s arm, just above her elbow. Her grip was tight, bruising almost. Abagail pushed Nicola back into the side of the car, their bodies pressed together. Nicola gulped, a string of fear embracing her before she realized it was because Abagail had lost her footing and stumbled.

Moving her hands up, Nicola pressed her fingers around Abagail’s back and held onto her tightly. Her heart raced. Abagail never got close to anyone. She rarely touched her family. Nicola had noticed that. Not that Warren and Estelle touched all that frequently—there was always an odd, estranged distance between them that didn’t seem familial in the least. But Abagail always maintained a bubble around her.

“Aunt Abagail,” Nicola murmured, pulling Abagail in tighter against her. “You’re going to topple over.”

Abagail hummed, her free hand now finding its way to Nicola’s waist. She pressed her fingers in tightly, holding onto her. “You won’t be driving anywhere.”

“My car’s dead,” Nicola stated. “So no, I’m not going anywhere.”

Abagail pressed her nose against Nicola’s neck and breathed in deeply. Nicola’s heart raced. The tension in the bar had bounced between sexual and frustrated anger, and she’d done everything in her power to just simply keep up with what was happening.

“What are you doing?” Nicola asked.

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