anything in a skirt. Not that she wore a skirt. Too cold for that. But he probably flirted with grocery store cashiers, phlebotomists and anyone he came in contact with—including lonely, pathetic neighbors.
“And women I want to kiss.”
Abigail blinked. “You want to kiss me?”
He brought her hand to his mouth, brushing a kiss on the back of it. His whiskey breath fanned her skin, causing heat to shimmer in her stomach. “Another time, pretty Abigail.”
Abigail stared at the hand he released before snapping out of the trance he’d put her in. “Oh.”
“Night.”
“Good night, Leif. Thank you.”
He picked up the bottle and lifted a hand as he walked down the steps. “My pleasure.”
Then he left her with a smile...and a hunger she knew would keep her awake long into the night.
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