Free R Is for Rebel by Megan Mulry Page B

“Do you want to meet up for a quick coffee? Seriously. If you’re asking me if he’s crazy about you, I’m not sure what other glaring facts you’re missing. You get that he stares at you all the time when he thinks you’re not looking, right? You get that he only listens to you when you start talking—even if he happens to be in the middle of a conversation with an ambitious advertising agent who is literally begging for his business—”
    Abigail laughed and resumed packing, tucking the phone between her ear and shoulder. “Okay! Okay! I get a bit of that. But… why me?” Her stomach got a little wobbly when she thought about Eliot really liking her with all that drive and attention. All that emotion.
    â€œAre you fishing for compliments? Because you’re you , of course. You are just… oh, look, I’m not going to sit here and tell you how great you are if you’re not even going to tell me where he’s taking you for dinner.”
    â€œIowa.”
    â€œWhat? I thought you said Iowa . You mean, Ee-Wah? That new Asian place over by Camden Lock? I’ve heard they have the best—”
    â€œBron! I’m going to Iowa… America.”
    â€œOh my god.” Bronte burst out laughing so hard she couldn’t catch her breath. “You say it like… Papua… New Guinea… Iowa… America… Oh, Eliot is a fucking genius.” She sputtered and caught her breath after laughing harder at Abby’s expense.
    Pulling the zipper around the oversized backpack and setting it on the floor, Abby said, “Go ahead and have your fun. He invited me to go to his grandmother’s ninetieth birthday party. It’s hardly a steamy seduction in Paris.”
    â€œMm-hmm. Whatever you say, Abs.” She was taking a sip of something.
    â€œYou know what, Bronte? You’re a serious pain in the arse. But I love you.”
    â€œI love you too, sweetie. Have the best time. Seriously.”
    â€œI think I shall. I’ll speak with you next week.”
    â€œOkay.”
    The phone went dead and Abby put the handset back in the cradle next to her bed. She looked around the room one more time and wondered what in the world she was doing going to Iowa, America, with her very good friend Eliot Cranbrook.
    Abigail took the Tube to Docklands then got the Light Railway out to City Airport. She followed Eliot’s directions to the private section of the terminal and caught a glimpse of him through the plate glass before he saw her. He was waiting outside and he looked like something out of an old-fashioned cologne commercial, camel hair coat billowing in the January wind, his gold-brown hair slightly tousled and shining in the reflection of the setting sun. There’s no way he could have heard her through the wind and the glass and the distance, but he turned when her breath caught, and when he saw her, damn if his smile didn’t burn a hole right through her center.
    He pulled open the door and strode toward her across the private waiting room.
    â€œYou came.” He pulled her into a hug and Abby thought she hadn’t felt nearly so content since he’d deposited her back at her villa in the middle of the Caribbean nearly a week ago. He set her away from him.
    â€œOf course I came!” She smiled up at him and shook her hair in some weird effort to shake off the intensity of his look. “You invited me and I owe you one, remember?”
    His smile faded. “I hope that’s not the only reason.” He had one arm loosely around her shoulders and was guiding her toward the exit. He opened the door out to the tarmac and pointed to a plane with the tail fin marked EC3714.
    â€œEC for Eliot Cranbrook?” Abby asked with a mischievous grin.
    â€œLook, I’m still a guy. What can I say? I have an ego.”
    They walked up the few steps and into the luxurious interior of the private