Heartstrings (17 page)

Jenny shrugged and stirred her coffee again. Her turn to play coy. “We’ve decided to give it another try.”

Abby, glad the focus was off her, smiled and sipped her water as the other women discussed the drummer’s attributes.

She considered her date with Seth on Saturday. She’d originally invited him to her home. What had she expected to happen after she’d serve him dinner? She set her water down. Damn, was she that desperate? She may as well serve herself up on a platter with a bow around her neck.

Seth wanted her. He couldn’t hide that fact, not after the kiss in the barn, or the many following it. But was she really ready to give herself to him?

She wasn’t sure she liked the answer anymore. Her heart and its lusty wants were winning the battle with her fleeting pragmatism and caution.

“Okay, enough about me.” Jenny Lynn pointed her spoon at her and speared her with a narrowed look. “You need to loosen up. Seth Kendall is sexy, rich, and obviously into you if he’s wining and dining you. So, hell, use him while you can! Then you can fill us lesser mortals in on what we’re missing.” She took a bite of chili.

Darlene pushed her half-eaten meal away and leaned over her folded arms. “Jen’s right–well, at least about this–you need a man in your life. I really don’t need to hear details of what you do with him. But honestly, I think he’d be a good influence on Emily.”

Her heart slammed into her ribs, and her blood froze in her veins. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Darlene shrugged and sipped her cola. “Just that we all know she wants to be a singer. I’m sure Seth has contacts and knows people who could make her dreams happen.”

Her heart shifted into place and tingling replaced the numbness in her fingers and toes. “Mike doesn’t want her to be a singer.”

“Who the hell cares what that asshole wants?” Jenny Lynn folded her arms over her chest. “He left you, Abby. You painted a pretty convincing picture, but I know what really happened. He cheated on you and left you for Tammy Jo McAllister.” She shifted forward and took her clammy hand. “I’ve seen the sparks. I know you’re attracted to Seth, and he couldn’t stop undressing you the other night at Gatlin’s. I say go for it. See what happens. You deserve to be happy.”

“You know I agree.” Abby lifted her glass of water and took a drink. “Now, let’s drop it, okay?”

They finished their meal, and after she hugged Darlene and Jenny Lynn, she headed into the ladies room and ran right into Glenda Marshall.

“I’m sorry,” Abby murmured as she stepped back.

The mayor’s wife wrinkled her nose and looked down at her suit as if Abby had soiled it from the light contact. “I’ve been meaning to call you.”

“Oh?” Nothing good could come out of that phone call.

Glenda continued to look down her pudgy nose at her. Quite a challenge, since Glenda was easily three inches shorter than her. “Yes. I wanted to discuss your daughter chasing my son.”

Emily chasing Trevor? She knew for a fact it was the other way around, especially after seeing the two together the other night at the movies. She stepped farther into the restroom. Her bladder was about to burst. “Emily and Trevor are just friends.”

“Is that so? Wasn’t that what you and Mike Ritter were? Just friends when you tricked him into marrying you by getting pregnant? And now that he finally cut you loose, you keep hanging on. Like some cancerous sore. But then, isn’t that true for all of your people?”

She took a deep breath.
Your people
. She’d heard it all over the years. About the life of leisure on the reservations. About Indians getting rich on casinos. About their laziness and living off welfare.

A life her mother ran away from when she was seventeen, only to find out she had no skills and no job. The only thing she had was her body, and she’d used what she had to keep from starving on the streets.

Glenda’s high heels clicked on the tile as she stepped in close behind her. “I won’t have my son ruin his life by associating with your daughter. Like mother, like daughter. Your mother was a whore who lured a man of God in with her debauchery. You destroyed Mike’s life. I won’t allow your daughter to trap Trevor in the same snare.”

She closed her eyes as Glenda’s heels disappeared out the door.

When would she stop being punished for her parents’ sins?

* * * *

Abby paced the living room floor with one recurring thought circling in her brain:
I have to be crazy
.

The chiming doorbell startled her.

Damn. She was used to working under pressure and stress, but the thought of going out with Seth made her as skittish as a mouse in a room full of hungry cats.

She sucked in a lungful of air and opened the door. When Seth’s hot gaze slowly moved over her, she looked down to make sure her sundress was not burned to ash.

She swallowed and moved away from the door. “Hi.”

“Good evening, Abigail.” He smiled and held out a large bouquet of deep red roses. “These are for you. I remembered how you’d come over to the Double K and tend Grandma’s old rose bushes just to pick the flowers.”

“H–how did you remember that?” Was that breathy voice really hers?

“I remember lots of things,” he said in that low, velvet voice for which he was famous. It made tingles go up her spine.

“Thank you.” With trembling hands, she took the roses and breathed in their sweet fragrance. “They’re beautiful.”

Mike had never given her roses. Not like this.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and gripped the stems with both of her sweaty hands. “I’d better get these in some water. Come in.”

His boots sounded hollow against the flooring as he followed her into the kitchen. The heat of his gaze warmed her while she busied herself with filling a vase, cutting the stems and arranging the blooms.

When she couldn’t avoid facing him any longer, she turned and set the vase in the middle of the table. He’d leaned against the edge of the counter, crossed his booted ankles and folded his arms over his wide chest to watch her, completely at ease in his own skin.

He wore a black bolo tie held with a silver and turquoise clasp at the neck of his white western shirt. She looked over his shirt to the big, silver belt buckle low on his waist, but before she could study that area of his anatomy too much, she let her gaze drift down. The black jeans fit his long legs like a second skin.

“I see you got another pair of black jeans.”

“Hopefully, I won’t have to retire these as quickly as the last pair.”

She felt her face get hot. How romantic. Reminding him about her puking all over him.

“You look good,” he said.

“Thanks. You do too. I recognize the tie clasp.” She cleared the sudden hoarseness from her throat. “It’s from Johnson’s Western in town. I bought the same one for Dad–I mean Frank–last year for Christmas.”

“I found it the other day and liked it.” He pushed away from the counter.

“The tie suits you.” She dragged her gaze from him and sniffed the roses again. “These really are lovely. But you shouldn’t have.”

“You always were so girly, but pretended to be a tomboy just to fit in with Mike and me. I think sometimes he forgot that you were a girl.” He drawled his words and pulled her in like a hapless fish on a line. “But I never did.”

“No, you didn’t.”

He twisted his black cowboy hat in his hands then set the Stetson on his head. “Well, our reservation for the Lakeside is at seven-thirty. If you’re ready, we’d better go.”

His lips curled in one of his devilish smiles. She glanced at the strong, big hand he held out to her. They locked gazes as his fingers closed around hers. The comfort she found in his warm grasp washed over her, leaving her soul raw with the loneliness of the past several years.

* * * *

Twenty minutes later, the hostess whisked Seth and Abby through the dining room of the Lakeside Grille. A single, linen-draped table waited for them on a private covered terrace, overlooking the attractive manmade lake.

He held a chair out for her, and her light, flowery scent enticed without overpowering his senses. The pale yellow sundress hugged her curves and exposed her tanned back and shoulders. He helped scoot in her chair after she sat down. Her gaze touched his and heated him through until she shifted away, breaking the connection.

He sat across from her.

She avoided meeting his eyes again and fiddled with the cloth napkin folded into some fancy shape. She refolded the linen into a simple square then cleared her throat and looked up at him.

“Nervous?” he asked.

“Of course not.” She smiled, but she didn’t fool him. Abby was as restless as a penned up wild mustang. “I’ve never eaten here. But I’ve heard they have a fantastic menu. You’re gonna spoil me.”

“You deserve to be spoiled.” He reached for the leather-bound menu, but didn’t look at it. “I wanted to thank you for the box of Emily’s stuff.”

She pulled her hair over one shoulder. “You’re welcome. I know it won’t make the years suddenly reappear, but I hoped you’d see how happy she’s been.”

“She reminded me a lot of you, but more outgoing.” He didn’t want to dwell on what he’d missed.

She leaned back in her chair. “I never thought she was like me at all. She always reminded me of you.”

He concentrated on not fisting his hand where it lay against his thigh. “When are we going to tell her the truth?”

“Seth, not now. Let’s enjoy tonight, okay?”

He’d let her have tonight. But he refused to be leashed forever. “All right.”

When the nervous waitress arrived, he playfully flirted with the young woman for a few minutes before ordering a bottle of champagne.

Abby smiled, but it never really reached her eyes. They were wary, as if she knew he wouldn’t be appeased for much longer. She looked at the menu. “I think I’ll try the shrimp scampi. I’ve heard great things about it.”

“I wish I could still eat shrimp.”

The yellow in her dress and the setting sun brought out the amber flecks hidden within her dark eyes. He tried to ignore the sudden tightening in his low belly without much luck.

The server returned, poured them each a glass of champagne and took their orders.

When the woman moved away, Abby raised a brow. “Champagne?”

He lifted his glass. “I thought we’d celebrate.”

She smiled brightly and lifted her glass. “What are we celebrating?”

“Emily.”

“To Emily.” Her eyes glistened as she touched her glass to his then took a sip. “Okay, why the heck can’t you eat shrimp? You loved it as a kid.”

He set his glass on the table. “Unfortunately, the last time I ate it, I almost died.”

“You almost died?” Her eyes widened and her kissable lips rounded. “Oh, no, have you become allergic to shrimp?”

He closed his hand around hers and rubbed his thumb over the soft skin. Her slight shiver had nothing to do with the sudden breeze. He definitely liked where the night was going. “About three years ago, I was at a Grammy party and had an allergic reaction after eating some shrimp. Good thing Amanda knew what was going on and got me to the hospital as quickly as she did. I ended up with anaphylaxis.”

“That’s scary.” She took another sip of champagne and set the glass down. “I seem to remember hearing about you being rushed to the hospital on the radio.” A frown puckered her brow, and she pulled her hand out of his. “Amanda? As in Amanda Lang?”

Damn, why had he mentioned the only woman whom he’d ever labeled as a girlfriend? “Yes, Amanda Lang. It’s no secret we’ve been dating off and on for years.”

“I know all about your dating her.” She tidied the already straight silverware. “I’m surprised you never married her.”

“And we would’ve ended up on that very long list of celebrities with really short marriages.” He sighed and leaned over the table. “I never loved her and she never loved me.”

Her eyes narrowed and her cheeks blossomed in a dark pink. “Oh, that’s right, you’re just friends–with benefits.”

He straightened and fought the urge to grit his teeth. “Yes, Amanda and I have been friends since we competed on
America’s Rising Star
. But our relationship didn’t turn into something more than platonic until after you were married and your husband made it quite clear I wasn’t wanted around here.”