Crossing Abby Road (10 page)

But because of Abby, I was suddenly thinking about things differently. What was really important. And I needed a clear head for that.

“The good spies are usually smaller, like Tom Cruise,” I said, lifting my head while letting go of her shoulders. “Guys my size tend to stick out in a crowd.”

Abby pulled back another smile. “I can see that—oops!” A gust of wind picked up the napkin from her lap.

“Stay here, I’ll grab it,” I said, leaping to my feet, needing a reason to give my body and brain a break from her for a minute. Our sexual tension was awesome, but I really wasn’t a superhero.

I jogged along the shore, chasing after the flyaway napkin like a boy chasing a kite. Today’s forecast had shown wind, but I hadn’t noticed while we’d been inside our Stonehenge. Finally, I caught up to the damn thing and swiped it before it got away. As I was walking back, I noticed Abby was sitting up on one of the rocks now, and she was on her phone. I stopped, not wanting to interrupt her if she was talking to work people, like Max. Yeah, I still got a bad feeling about that guy.

When Abby saw that I’d stopped, she lifted her free hand and waved me over. I waved back, feeling my own cell vibrate in my pocket. I pulled it out and checked the face, expecting to see another reminder text from Chandler.

It was a text, but from my father.

Should we pop the champagne?

I closed my eyes and clenched my jaw. For the first time, I wished I’d kept Dad out of this. No, that wasn’t what was running through my head. It was all the things I hadn’t considered carefully enough, everything I’d be giving up in order to expand my store, open another Todd’s Tackle, strive to be as successful a businessman as my father.

Was that important to me? More important than never wanting to feel the same kind of stress I’d had in the Marines? That hadn’t made me happy, and I’d never craved it or thrived because of it, like some of my buddies. War was over and I was home.

My priorities were different—or they should’ve been. I didn’t need that kind of pressure or drama anymore, no matter what form it presented itself.

Abby waved again, stealing my focus. When I waved back, she smiled so widely that I could see her teeth. The pull to her was almost magnetic. But it wasn’t just that I wished I could blow off my meeting at the bank to spend this one day with her. It was what that meeting meant. What I’d be signing up for once I signed on the dotted line.

And it wasn’t what I wanted.

Chapter Nine

“The Tender Trap”

I stared down at my phone, at my father’s text still on the screen. He thought it was already a done deal, that I’d been to the bank, signed the loan papers, and was ready to party. Pulling out of the meeting would be easy; it would take one phone call.

But telling my dad…

At that thought, the pain in my chest slid to my gut.

“Hey!” Abby was waving both hands above her head now, calling me over. I laughed and waved back with a quick salute. It wasn’t like I was about to run off down the beach away from her. Though if I’d been following my original plan for today, I should’ve been on my way to the bank.

But I wasn’t.

I pushed the air from my lungs and gazed out at the breaking waves, at the boats dotting the horizon. I couldn’t make the decision either way right now. And since I did still have a couple of hours until my official appointment, the best I could do was stall. So I slid my hands into my pockets and strolled back over to Abby. “You summoned?”

“Heard you have a cute butt,” she said, her chin tipped to smile up at me, eyes all squinty.

I chuckled and looked away. “Is that the gossip going around?”

“Oh, yeah. All of Seaside’s talking about it.”

“Can’t believe you’d degrade me to a sexual object.”

She pushed out her bottom lip. “Poor you.” She slid from the rock and back down to the sand. “Sit.” She already had the key lime pie and one fork out.

Even though I shouldn’t have, the picture was way too tempting, so I blocked out everything else and watched Abby eat pie. And damn, it was totally worth it.

For the next hour, we got the
riveting
topic of our early educations out of the way. After a while, neither of us was talking, as we lounged on our backs, halfway shaded by Stonehenge, halfway soaking up the sun. Abby’s breathing wasn’t regular, so I knew I hadn’t bored her to sleep.

The sand under my cell vibrated, and I pulled it out of my pocket an inch, hoping to hell it wasn’t Dad again. But it was an unknown number calling. Maybe the same one that had left the voicemail earlier. It wasn’t family or work, and I had all of the bank’s numbers programmed into my phone. Who was calling me?

The only logical answer was Sophie.

I knew I owed her a return call.

The girl lying next to me made a sound and rolled to her side toward me, forcing all other thoughts in my head to evaporate like morning fog. Even over the salty air, I could smell that shampoo of hers coming off the top of her head. Another sound, and she scooted closer, her bare foot brushing my leg.

Did the temperature just shoot up to a hundred degrees? She was close enough now that I could easily put an arm around her and pull her to my side. These thoughts were interrupted by a Beatles song. That cheesy one about the octopus.

Still on her back, Abby made another sound, one of irritation, as she dug into her pocket, grumbling under her breath. “It’s Hal,” she said, pulling out her phone.

I shaded my eyes and rolled my head to face her. “Richardson?” Yes, I knew who she was talking about. In fact, a few weeks ago, I’d read a story about him on Yahoo! News. He played guitar in Mustang Sally, the band Abby fronted.

“Should I answer?” She was asking me, though I wasn’t sure why my opinion should matter. “I get a lot of calls when we’re split up like this. Such a pain.”

“Take the call,” I said. “Do you want some privacy?”

“For Hal?” She snorted and pointed for me to stay put. I knew better than to disobey a direct order from a superior. She slapped the phone to her ear. “What?”

Her exasperated tone made me laugh.

The story I’d read was about a charity benefit Hal Richardson had organized, but it also talked about their band. Mustang Sally was a four-member group: three guys, one girl, a cross between No Doubt and Paramore.

“Hal, seriously. You’re gonna need so much therapy after that.” She held the phone away from her ear, looked at me and mouthed, “bad first date.”

I smiled and nodded my sympathy. Huh, even rock stars could have crappy luck with women.

The new article said the bandmates were close. And I could tell from Abby’s indulgent/irritated replies to Hal that they were friends, good friends. But not
that
good, not
involved
.

Yeah, I needed to get to the bottom of the question of her relationship status sooner rather than later. Especially now, while Abby was sprawled across the sand, her tank top raising up just enough to show a slice of her flat stomach. I stared at those three inches of skin, wanting to touch her.

“Well, don’t resort to Match.com yet,” she said. “Now I gotta go, you’re totally interrupting my— ” She sighed when she got cut off. “Um yeah, but whatever, Hal.”

From Abby’s annoyed sighs, short answers, and laughs, it sounded like how I talked with Nikki and Jessica—like siblings. The sound of the waves and wind wasn’t too loud while closer to the ground like this, so I couldn’t help eavesdropping by default. Plus, also like Nikki, this Hal guy’s voice needed its own volume control.

“Maybe he is,” Abby said, then shot me a quick glance, a pink flush sweeping across her cheeks.

Ahh, no wonder the short replies—they were talking about me now. I propped my head up on one elbow and looked down at her long body stretched across the sand. Her eyes were blocked by one arm thrown over her face.

“Lemme talk to him, duchess,” I heard pretty clearly through the phone.

Duchess. Was that a nickname? Cute, with a hint of that sibling condescension.

Abby moved her arm an inch and her eyes slid to me. Probably from my grin, she knew I’d heard. “Not happening, Hal,” she said.

I wasn’t dying to talk to some guitarist I didn’t know who probably had protective big brother issues. Then again, maybe he’d been worried about Abby being out here alone just like I’d been. Hell, he was probably
more
concerned, since he’d known her longer than four hours.

“Duchess…” he said.

Abby closed her eyes and grimaced. Yes, she knew I’d heard that, too.

Okay, it wasn’t a big deal, and talking to a crazy rock star might actually be entertaining, so I shrugged a casual “why the hell not.” She eyed me first then said to Hal, “Do
not
be a moron.” I couldn’t help laughing as I waited for her to pass me her phone. “Sorry,” she said. “He’ll keep bugging me.”

“It’s fine.” I nodded then did a quick throat clear. “Hello?”

“Is Abby okay?” The volume of his voice was much lower now. No way Abby heard the question.

I glanced at her. Yeah, she was okay, though she was wrapping a strand of hair around one finger tighter than a tourniquet, another nervous tell. “Yes,” I answered.

“Okay, then.” Hal exhaled but didn’t speak. Were we supposed to be having a silence standoff that I didn’t know about? “So, you’re the guy?” he finally said.

The guy? What did that mean?

“Well…yeah,” I answered, as it seemed I was the only guy around.

Abby stared at me, her fingers going all grabby like she wanted to snatch the phone and save me. No girl had ever wanted to save me before. I glanced away, because her worried expression made me want to laugh, but when I wasn’t looking at her, the thought of it made me want to kiss her.

“I’m Hal. I know you know who I am, and I know who you are, too.” I seriously doubted that but didn’t speak up. “Don’t bother asking how I know, I have my ways. Just listen. Abby’s my best friend and she’s a good girl, a
very
good girl. And she’s special.”

I couldn’t help laughing under my breath. “Yes, I know.”

“She’s more important to me than anything, more than my favorite Gibson signed by Slash. You get me?” This was probably high praise for a professional guitarist. “She deserves to have a good time today, more than anyone, and if you’re
the
guy or whatever, then you better make sure she has fun—but safely, safe fun, because like I said, she deserves it and she’s special, but she’s just one girl and she can’t do it all, no matter what she says. Know what I mean?”

I didn’t reply because the question seemed rhetorical. Of course I knew she was just one girl. I glanced at Abby. She was biting a nail now, about to come out of her skin. It wasn’t like Hal was intimidating to me. I’d seen a photo of him. He looked about five-foot-five and a buck fifty soaking wet. I could squish him with my thumb. Maybe Abby’s concern was about something else.

All day, I’d been worried that I’d do something to scare her away from me. Was she afraid something would scare me away from her?

Not a chance.

“Yes, I understand,” I said to Hal. “And I know…she is. Very.”

“Okay, because if anything happens to her, anything at all, I know people from, like, Sicily.”

I wonder if he knew
my
people from Sicily. If a skinny white kid was playing the
Godfather
card, this must’ve been important.

“You got it,” I said.

“Okay then, just, I don’t know, make her laugh—she needs lots of laughs, laughs until she cries, those are her favorites. Feed her, too, even if she says she’s not hungry. And, uh, if you can, keep her away from Max, confiscate her damn phone if you can.” This gave me a chill, and I was about to ask a follow-up when Hal added, “But fun, she needs fun—bottom line. And if you mess with her, I’ll, ya know, kick your ass to Jupiter.”

I did laugh at that, but moved the phone so he wouldn’t hear. “Okay. Well, don’t worry.” Abby was pawing me for her phone now. “It was nice talking to you, bye.”

“Yeah, see ya—even though I
won’t
ever see you.”

Wow. Quite a piece of work for such a little guy.

By the time I passed her the phone, Abby’s face was beet red. What did she think we’d been talking about to make her so embarrassed? “Sorry,” she said. “Hal’s the product of what happens when cousins marry.”

“He’s pretty protective of you.”

She narrowed her eyes, the embarrassment gone. “What did that ingrate say?”

“Something about breaking my face if anything happens today.”

“Happens? What does that mean?”

Why was she asking me? Though, a few ideas had crossed my mind, none of which would be Hal approved. But that shouldn’t bother me. Abby was old enough to make her own decisions.

If I put an arm around her right now, would that constitute something “happening”? If I took her face in my hands and kissed her, was that a “something happening”? And what if I kissed her again? And again…

I cleared my throat and dropped my eyes to the sand. “He’s
your
crazy friend, not mine.”

“He
is
crazy.” Abby giggled, her voice and face growing light again. We moved up to sit on the rocks where it was a little breezier. With her toes, she dug two deep holes to bury her feet in the sand.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

I exhaled. “Yep.”

She opened her mouth to go on, but then looked at me and hesitated. “Wait. Did you just sigh at me?”

“That’s your question?”

“No, I’m deviating. But you did just sigh. Does answering my questions annoy you?”

I laughed under my breath. “Not at all, Abby. Hell, I just feel like I’ve been talking about myself all day. When is it your turn?”

She pressed her lips together, then wet them with her tongue, like she was getting ready to make a speech. “I don’t like talking about myself,” she finally said. “And I’m not great at it. That might sound weird considering…you know…” Her voice trailed off and she looked away. “Anyway, I’m not all that interesting.”

“I highly doubt that,” I said, watching a tiny drop of sweat trail down the side of her neck, over the hump of her collarbone, disappearing between her— “But I’d love the chance to be bored stiff by you.”

Her glance slid to me then she rolled her eyes, a silent laugh rocking her shoulders.

“So, you were about to ask something.” I nodded. “Hit me up.”

“I was just wondering. This beach is really nice, and there’re hardly any people around. How do you know about it if it’s private property?”

“Oh.” I scratched my jaw. Sticking to the story seemed less complicated, because if I did take her home that would make it even more complicated when she’d inevitably leave. The wisest tactic was to decide which level of complication I wanted. “Um, I know a guy who lives over there,” I said, nodding in a vague direction down the beach. Which was true, I did know my neighbors.

She made a noncommittal sound of acceptance, then wiggled on her rock to bury her feet deeper. As the sun got higher in the sky, the air started to heat up, or maybe I was getting hotter each time Abby scooted closer to me. She was halfway on her rock and halfway on mine.

If she wanted to sit on my lap, all she had to do was ask.

Most of her face was blocked by the floppy brim of her hat. I wanted to see her expression, see if I could read what was going on behind her eyes as we talked. She unburied her foot and tapped mine. The playful, nonverbal communication was unclear, but I could read plenty into a game of footsy.

She tilted her head, exposing her face, those eyes I could stare into for hours if she’d let me. Curiously, my gaze slid to her mouth, making Abby’s breath hitch in the same way I’d described when talking about the perfect first kiss.

I hadn’t had a quintessential first kiss with a girl since Sophie. I’d considered ours a successful kiss at the time, but Sophie and I hadn’t had chemistry like this. Being close to Abby was like sitting on a powder keg.

What would happen if I lit it? Would it explode in my face?