Free R Is for Rebel by Megan Mulry Page A

after some endless brunch at Dunlear? You owe me!”
    â€œOkay! Okay!” She laughed. “I guess I sort of do. Fine, I’ll do it. But what if people think we’re a couple?”
    Eliot felt his heart stop, as if someone had punched him hard in the chest. “Well…” Shit. Wasn’t that what he wanted people to think? “I mean, worse things could happen.”
    â€œOh my god! You’re taking me to meet your family! Are we going steady ? How cute!”
    Oh Jesus. “Abigail. It’s me, Eliot. How old are you? I’m inviting you to spend the weekend with me as my very dear friend”— with whom I am falling desperately in love —“and I know you don’t give a crap what other people think. Of course I love the idea of you meeting my parents because I think you’re really going to hit it off, not out of some weird desire to present you to them or something.”
    â€œTouchy, touchy. Okay. Fine. Yes. I already said yes. Don’t get so grumpy. I was just having a little fun with you. Where do you want to meet?”
    Eliot gave her the details of the airfield where his private plane would be at four o’clock that afternoon, and Abby made a crack about how much it was going to cost her to offset her carbon footprint if she started hanging out with him on a regular basis.
    Abby spent the entire day forcing herself to be cavalier. Bronte called to see if she wanted to meet up for a glass of wine that night and Abby tried to hedge.
    â€œSorry, can’t tonight, Bron.”
    â€œOkay. So, are you coming out to Dunlear tomorrow?” She sounded distracted, like she was just checking in to kill time.
    â€œProbably not. I’ve got plans.” Amateur mistake .
    Bronte’s voice turned laser-focused. “Really? What kind of plans ?”
    Abby silently cursed herself for playing right into Bronte’s hand.
    â€œDate plans.”
    â€œOooh! Date plans that involve an incredibly hot multimillionaire luxury goods magnate… or wait! Let me see… is he a billionaire yet? I can’t remember…” The clicks of Googling fingertips filled the background.
    â€œI hate you more than a little right now.”
    â€œOh, get over yourself. You’re such an easy mark. So. Are you going out with Eliot or what?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œYes? That’s all I’m going to get? One measly yes ?”
    â€œYes. That’s all you’re going to get.” Abby laughed and continued jamming clothes into her backpack. She was not about to start worrying about whether five black turtlenecks and a couple of pairs of jeans were the right thing to wear with a fashion magnate .
    â€œWell!” Bronte tried to sound affronted but she really just sounded pleased. “Okay.” Silence. “No!” Bronte cried. “It’s not okay!” She laughed at her own impatience. “Come on! Throw me a fucking bone here! Are you going to be here in London? Oh my god is he staying with you at Northrop House?”
    â€œOh, right! Wouldn’t Mother love that? She’d be posting banns by Monday.”
    Abby looked around the pretty room filled with antiques and draped in pale gray Italian silk that was her home when she stayed in London. It had always seemed silly to buy her own apartment in town, but now the Mayfair mansion seemed way too small for two grown, single women to share. Whatever happened between her and Eliot, this was a wake-up call it was time for Abby to get her own place.
    â€œThat she would! Well, okay. Be secretive if you like, but please have some fun, and kiss him already. He’s obviously crazy about you!”
    Abigail stopped packing. “You really think so?” Her emotions were all over the place; she wanted him desperately one minute and was swamped with insecurity the next.
    Bronte had sounded like she was getting distracted again, but her attention returned to Abby.