Justice For Abby by Cate Beauman Read Free Book Online

the three-way mirror, studying the way the lines lay on her body. She backed up several steps and moved forward—head and back straight, arms at her sides, one foot crossing in front of the other, strolling down the improvised catwalk, constantly scrutinizing the black fabric clinging to her curves and the short denim slung low over her slim hips, stopping mid-thigh. The 2015 spring/summer line demanded fun and flirty. This number delivered both in spades.
    Turning, she stood hipshot, studying her profile from the side, checking for flow. The snug, black fabric stopped just above her belly button, exposing a sexy inch and a half of toned tummy, with dark denim and three-inch heels completing the look. The top would pair well with skinny jeans as well as numerous other options. Versatility was key. She turned again, walked back, and repeated her process, catching Jerrod’s eye in the mirror as he stood in charcoal-colored gym shorts and a white t-shirt, drinking a tall glass of water. She averted her gaze with a wince and glanced at the smooth oak floor, struggling with the embers of embarrassment after the way she’d behaved. She met his eyes in the mirror again, trying to gauge him as he took another long guzzle. “Good morning,” she tried.
    “Morning.”
    She cleared her throat in the heavy silence. “I thought you might sleep in since we’re not going anywhere until this afternoon.”
    He shrugged. “I slept plenty.”
    Nodding, she licked her lips, desperate to move past the awkwardness. “Jerrod, I’m sorry about last night…this morning…” She shook her head. “Whenever it was.” She turned from the mirror, facing him. “I’m really sorry for everything.”
    “You don’t have to apologize.” He set his glass on the white granite countertop. “I already told you that.”
    “Yes I do.” She walked to him, stopping almost toe-to-toe, taking his hand. “I trust you. I feel safe with you.” She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest, finding comfort nestled against his powerful body.
    He returned her embrace, hesitantly—like always—holding her to him gently. “Abigail, you don’t always have to be strong. You’ve been through hell. We both know it’s going to take some time to work through that.”
    “But I pushed you.” She eased back enough to look him in the eyes. “I shouldn’t have done that. You’re nothing like the others. I know that. I want you to know that I know that.”
    “I do.” He rubbed rough palms up and down her arms in a rare gesture then stepped away, reaching for his glass.
    Warmth hummed along her skin, and she took her own step in retreat, brushing her palms along the path his hands had just taken, attempting to banish the newly familiar sensations. She studied his steady blue eyes and the sexy scruff along his jaw, struggling to ignore the accompanying flutters in her belly.
    Jerrod paused with his glass halfway to his mouth. “What?”
    “What do you mean, ‘what’?”
    “You’re frowning.”
    She blinked, standing ramrod straight, realizing she was not only frowning but staring. “Oh. Huh. I don’t know.” She shook her head and took another step back, dismissing the whole thing as foolishness...or distracted thinking. She brightened as she realized that’s exactly what this was. If she was picking apart silly, made up sensations, she wasn’t focusing on Margret’s heartbreaking situation. Relaxed again, she uncrossed her arms.
    He shrugged and drained the last of his drink. “I think I should be the one apologizing. I didn’t realize installing the bar would be a trigger. We should’ve talked about it first.”
    “No. It’s not that big a deal. It’s just—I was…” She almost shared her horrors of being trapped in the hot, dark closet for days. She almost admitted that one experience alone was the reason she still couldn’t bear to close herself behind her bedroom or bathroom door, but she didn’t. Her scars,