Page 3 of A Dream for Daphne

It was then she noticed that he had some nice biceps in his fitted black T-shirt. Her eyes traveled down to his tan shorts and his calves had some excellent tone to them too.

Abe was clearly a man who worked out or had a job that helped build up his body.

Right up her alley.

She liked a guy who took care of himself.

“Ready to move on from me, huh?” she asked with her head angled. She had to be lonelier than she thought. Or maybe it wasnice to play someone who was more confident than she normally felt.

“Just need to get some more tokens,” he said. “Don’t leave.”

“Or I can call it a night too and be happy I’m in the positive.” She hit the button on her last game, lost, and stood up too.

She hadn’t realized how tall he was until she was next to him. She’d put him a few inches over six feet. She was barely five foot four.

“Positive works for me too,” Abe said, looking at his watch. A big sturdy working man’s watch. “Where to? The bar, another floor to play some more games...or a private room?”

She hesitated a few seconds. “A private room meaning with a bed?”

“I’m not highbrow enough for any other kind of private room here,” he said, laughing.

Her brother would kill her if he knew what she was about to do, but she also had to do something for herself and said, “Lead the way.”

He put his hand on her lower back, her body erupting with tiny fingers full of arousal like never before.

She might regret this later, but for now, she’d never had anticipation this great.

1

SHE VANISHED

One Week Later

“What are you cooking?”Abe yelled to his cousin Easton the following Monday when he got out of his truck after a twelve-hour day.

Easton turned from the grill on the back deck of his girlfriend, Laurel’s, house. “Burgers. Are you hungry? I’ve got plenty.”

“If you’re cooking and offering, I’m not saying no. But I’ve got a layer of grime to get off of me.”

Sweat, sunscreen, and dirt were baked into his skin and would take him at least ten minutes of scrubbing to remove.

He was used to it.

He was doing what he loved in life and not many could say that.

“Food isn’t going anywhere. Laurel is on her way.”

Abe nodded and went into the house. His three-year-old Red Wings were unlaced and kicked off on the mat like he’d been trained to do by his mother for years.

Scuffed and slightly faded, the color of walnut, they reminded him of the pair his father wore too.

It still brought an ache to his heart at times to think of the man he looked up to and hoped he was doing him proud.

His socks were sticking to his feet from sweat, and his jeans were probably leaving a path of dust in his wake on the hardwood floors as he walked through the kitchen. If not from his pants, then from the hair on his arms that the sunlight was catching rays on. Little whitecaps on the strands that weren’t pristine snowflakes but rather concrete dust.

He climbed the stairs and took his hat off, then ran his hand through his hair, his fingers coming back damp.

He was used to this daily routine, but it’d been hard to find a woman who was okay with it.

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