Wrecked (16 page)

“A PTO thing?” His brows came together over his eyes. “Somebody is paying you to cater a PTO thing? Parents are supposed to bake the cookies and cakes and pies themselves.”

She sighed. “It’s some kind of meeting with the school board. The lady who contacted me is a friend and she told me, and I quote . . . ‘
I want them in a good mood and if I don’t provide the desserts, they’ll be coming for my blood
.’ So I’m doing the desserts. We worked out a trade, though. Her husband handles my landscaping and I need some more work done so she said she’d talk him into cutting me a deal if I’d help her out.”

“Pushover.” He dipped his head and nipped her lower lip. “Now . . . what were you thinking about? It sure as hell wasn’t cookies. You can do cookies and just about everything else blindfolded.” Then he flexed his hand and grimaced. “Although I don’t recommend it. Kitchen accidents are hazardous to your health.”

She squirmed and tried to wiggle away from him but he just leaned his hips against hers.

Oh . . . her lids dropped and a sigh shuddered out of her. That just felt so very right. Like almost nothing else ever had. “You did hear the part about me having a lot of work to do, right?” she asked. She pretended not to hear the way her breath hitched in her throat.

“Yes . . . and if you want to get to it, you should answer.” He slid a hand down her hip and toyed with the hem of the skirt she wore. “Otherwise, I’m going to think of something else to distract myself with. Hey . . . I know.”

She jabbed him in the ribs. “You’re such a juvenile.”

“Hmmm . . .” He cupped his hands over her hips and rocked against her. “And you’re so female. So do I start looking for distractions?”

From under her lashes, she stared at him and then sighed. “Zach . . . you know how your mom is. If we go there on a date sort of thing, as you call it, she’s going to get her hopes all worked up. And when this thing ends . . .”

He stroked a hand up her side, along her collarbone, and up her neck until he could rest his fingertip on her lips. “Why are you in such a rush to talk about everything ending, Abby? We just got started.”

“Ah . . .” She had an answer for that.

Really.

But even as she tried to figure out what it was, his mouth replaced his finger and she couldn’t possibly think when Zach Barnes was kissing her.

His arms hooked over her shoulders, his body caging her in, the kiss should have been greedy and demanding . . . and she could have met that, could have handled that. Hell, a quickie in the kitchen sounded like it would go hand in hand with a torrid affair, right?

Although she should really move it out of there while she worked . . .

But it wasn’t a greedy, demanding kiss.

His lips, light as an angel’s touch, brushed over hers and even when she opened for him, he didn’t take it deeper. Instead, he skimmed his lips up along her cheekbone to brush along her temple, then he rubbed his cheek against hers. “You thinking to call it quits already, Abs?”

“Call . . .” She had to force the word out through a tight throat. It had just been a kiss. Just a simple kiss. “Call it . . .”

Her brain processed what he’d said and it was like somebody had sucked the air out of the room, the light out of the world. “Call it quits?”

Jerking her head back, she stared at up at him. Was he—

He skimmed a hand through her hair and said softly, “I was barely getting warmed up and it seems like you’re already planning my good-bye party.”

“No, I’m not.” Okay . . . he’d been talking about something else. She wasn’t exactly sure what, but there you go. That was Zach for you. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

“I ask you for a date and you’re over there talking about things ending and my mom being heartbroken.” He slid his hands down her arms and caught hers, twining their fingers together. “I’m kind of happy with how things are going, but it seems like you’re already looking at the finish line. Is that what you’re doing?”

The finish line . . .

Blowing out a sigh, she shifted her attention to a point past his shoulder. The silvery reflection of her refrigerator was nowhere as appealing to look at as he was, but when she looked at him, her brain had developed this annoying habit of just not functioning the right way. “Well . . . I’m not exactly looking at a finish line, but we never really did set out for this to be . . . be . . .” The word lodged in her throat. Shit. Shit, she couldn’t say that to Zach. They were having an affair. It was amazing, and wonderful, and she loved it, but that was all it was.
That’s not all you want anymore, though . . .

“A relationship,” he finished.

Jerking her gaze back to his, she swallowed. Damn it, that knot was choking her now. Hesitantly, she nodded. “It was just supposed to be . . .”

The dark fan of his lashes swept down, shielding his eyes from her as he blew out a sigh. He dipped his head and pressed his brow to hers while one hand came around her waist, tangling in the gauzy material of the shirt she’d pulled on over a camisole-styled tank that morning. “You planned on a torrid affair, Abby. That doesn’t mean it can’t be something more.”

Her heart jumped into her throat and a hope she hadn’t even realized she’d been harboring started to rise inside her, growing so fast, so strong . . .

Zach’s lids lifted and she found herself caught in the intense blue of his eyes. “If you want more . . . if I want more, who says we can’t have more?”

“Is that what you want?”

Something flashed in his eyes. There, then gone.

That look, whatever it was, left her head reeling, spinning . . .

Sucking in a breath, she almost couldn’t hear his words over the roar of blood in her ears. Almost. “Abby . . . you have no idea just how much more I want from you.”

Chapter Thirteen

“So . . . you’re here with Zach . . .”

Pulling the lasagna out of the oven, Abigale braced herself for the next inquisition. She recognized the low, smooth sound of Sebastian’s voice without even turning around and she already knew how to handle this one.

Over the past few hours, she’d handled the curious questions from the twins, seen the odd gleam in Ron’s eyes, and almost went head-to-head with Keelie, although she really didn’t know why Keelie despised her so much.

The easiest person, by far, had been Denise and
that
had been a shock. Denise, Zach’s mom, was the one person Abigale had been sort of dreading to face over this and she hated that, because she
adored
Denise. Because she adored Denise, because she knew and loved the woman, she knew what Denise wanted most was to see her kids all happy.

Denise didn’t necessarily equate
happy
with
married
, but more than a few late-night conversations had cemented one certainty in Abigale’s head.

Denise suspected her second-oldest son was lonely.

Not crying-in-his-beer lonely, Denise had told her once. But he was looking for something.

Abigale hadn’t ever seen it, and that bothered her because she was his best friend, but Denise had told her that there were some things a mom just knew. Maybe so. It wasn’t like Abigale had the best mom to really judge things by.

But Denise had been easy.

Sebastian was the other person she’d been dreading having to face over this.
Might as well get it over with
, she told herself as she reached for a towel and turned around to look at him.

They were alone in the kitchen, although that wouldn’t last long, she knew.

Denise had been bustling in and out of the kitchen for most of the afternoon and in a few minutes, Abigale knew she’d be pulled out there to enjoy the party as well. Pretty little Chinese lanterns strung throughout the back swayed in the breeze and people were laughing, calling out to each other. All in all, everybody seemed to be having a good time, even Trey, although every now and then, he’d get a far-off look in his eyes and Abigale knew he was thinking about his wife. Cara had only been twenty-three when she died. Too young, Abigale thought. Far too young.

Blowing out a breath, she surveyed everything around her. She was pretty much done. It was a buffet-style meal and she wasn’t feeding an army. A party for thirty people was easy for her. Somebody else was handling the cake and everything so she was almost at the point that she could take a few minutes, but she’d rather take those minutes with Zach. Playing twenty questions with Sebastian wasn’t her idea of fun.

It was going to happen, though.

“I’m often at places with Zach,” she pointed out, giving Sebastian an easy smile. They were friends . . . usually, and got along well enough, when Zach wasn’t in the picture.

But the two of them lived very much in two different worlds.

“You probably don’t remember a lot of it, but Zach and I have often been in the very same place for more than twenty years.” She winked at him and added, “There were even a few times when I was there while
you
were there . . . in diapers.”

Sebastian was twenty-two and the youngest of the crew. He was also the prettiest, prettier even than Zach, and it seemed he was determined to chase after the career Zach had walked away from. He still lived in LA and he was doing pretty well lately . . . a few small parts on a TV show and there was talk that his character was going to become a regular next season.

He looked up to his older brother with something that was near adulation, she knew. Zach could do no wrong. He was almost fiercely protective of him. But Sebastian had tunnel vision. He was almost
certain
that Zach’s main issue in life was that he just hadn’t found the right venue back into Hollywood.

Sometimes she wondered if Sebastian and Roger had been drinking the same Kool-Aid.

“So I hear your show is going well,” she said, shifting his focus from Zach to his other love in life.

Or trying to.

She failed.

He shrugged and said, “It’s going well. But you know how it goes.” Shrewd eyes, just a shade darker than Zach’s, studied her face. “You know, if Zach ever decides to come back, my agent is there to help him . . . and I know you’re done with it. How are you going to feel if he does it?”

Instead of pointing out that Zach had said
a hundred times
that he didn’t want to go back, she reached for the knife and started slicing up the last loaf of bread. “Zach’s life is his own, Seb. I can’t control it.” She shot him a look and then went back to the chore in front of her, hoping he’d take the point.
See . . . look at me, I’m busy, busy, busy.

He laughed a little. “Yeah, that’s what you think.”

The undercurrent in his voice got to her, rubbing her so very, very wrong. Carefully, she put the knife down. Because she didn’t want to get pissed off here, and pissed off at Sebastian, she took a minute to reach for her wine. It was more to give herself a minute to think through anything she might say, to puzzle through just
what
that might mean. But she had no stunning revelations in the thirty seconds it took to drink the yummy ratafia that Zach always managed to keep on hand for her. It came from a winery in Albuquerque and she was tempted to toss the entire glass back and then pour another.

But she doubted it would do a damn thing to lessen her irritation.

So instead, she lowered the glass back down and lifted her gaze to study Sebastian. “Okay. So you think I can control Zach’s life. Exactly how do I do that?”

“You got him to move away from LA.” Sebastian’s eyes narrowed on her face and although his voice never once raised, she heard the resentment there.

And it was strong. Damn it, where in the hell had
that
come from?

“
I
got him to move?” she asked, pushing away from the counter. “Exactly how did I do that? We’ve been seeing each other for exactly two weeks. He moved to Tucson years ago.”

The door opened, but neither of them paid it much attention.

“He’s spent more than half of his life doing exactly what
you
wanted him to do, Abby,” Sebastian said, his voice icy, full of disgust. “Are you ever going to—”

“Sebastian.”

He cut a look over his shoulder at Zane. “Back off,” he snapped. “This is between me and Abby.”

“There shouldn’t be a damn thing between you and Abby,” Zane said.

Abigale glanced over at Zane and the look on his face was one of apology, but she ignored it, looking back at Sebastian. “Am I ever going to what?” she demanded.

“Sebastian, if you don’t shut the fuck up,” Zane warned. “I’m going to—”

Whipping her head around, Abigale glared at Zane. He’d been like the big brother she never had, teasing her, protecting her, needling her. And right now, he was pissing her off.

“Zane,
you
shut the fuck up, or I’m going to punch you,” she said.

She was vaguely aware the door had opened again, vaguely aware that more people had trickled into the kitchen, but she didn’t give a damn. Sebastian was still glaring at her, although when he shot the people around them a look, a muscle pulsed in his jaw.

“We’ll discuss it some other time,” he said quietly.

“Oh, the hell we will.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared at him. “You started this here. We finish this here. I want to know just how in the hell I’m controlling Zach. I want to know how I’m stopping him from chasing after a life back in California . . . even though he
sure as hell doesn’t want it
.”

“How would you know?” Sebastian snapped. He shoved a hand through his hair and advanced on her, bending down to snarl in her face. “You don’t know
shit
about what he wants, because the one thing he does want? You’ve never even—”

His eyes shot over her shoulder and Abigale watched as he slowly straightened. His jaw clenched and that pretty face of his went hard as stone. “Zach.”

A hand came up and curled over Abigale’s shoulder. Abruptly, the rush of anger cleared from her head and she felt a little sick as she looked around. Almost the entire family had gathered in there. Not just Denise and Ron. Not just Zach’s brothers and their dates. But cousins, kids, friends. Nearly thirty people had managed to squeeze their way inside the brightly lit kitchen and they were now watching the entire thing.

Pressing a hand to her belly, she blew out a breath and then shifted her attention over to Denise and the twins. The hell if she apologized to Sebastian, the jackass. But Denise, the twins . . . it was their day. “Denise, guys, I am so sorry,” she whispered.

Denise’s eyes snapped and burned, but she smiled at her. “Abby, I don’t think you’re the one who needs to apologize.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed as he slid his mother a look.

Then he looked back at Abigale and like he was chewing off ragged bits of rusty metal, he bit out, “Sorry.”

Without looking at anybody else, he turned to go.

Zach, until that moment, hadn’t said a word. But then, after a gentle squeeze on her shoulder, he eased around her. “Sebastian, kid . . . you and me need to have a word.”

Abigale groaned. She knew that tone.

Passing a hand over her face, she said, “Zach, just let it go.”

But it was like he didn’t even hear her, and before she could try to go after him, Zane barred her way. “Leave the two of them alone,” he advised.

“They don’t need to be fighting at the twins’ party—there are kids here. They don’t want to fight around the kids.”

A grin split his face. Thick brown hair tumbled into his eyes as he caught her in a hug and pulled her close. “Oh, now come on, Abby. Since when have we ever managed to have a single party or even a cookout without one of us getting mad about something?”

She scowled and wiggled away from him. “Just because you
always
do it doesn’t mean you have to
keep
doing it.” Shoving her hair back from her face, she looked around and figured she could take another break, since nothing was in the oven, and all the food was outside except the next round of bread. “Look, I’m—”

Most of the family had started to trickle out, but Denise was still there and Abigale felt the blood start to crawl up her neck under the weight of that gentle, watchful gaze. “I’m just going to talk to Zach,” she finished lamely.

A shout came from somewhere off in the depths of the house.

“Abby.”

As she untied her apron, she put a lot more focus on the task than she knew she really needed to. “I’ll just be a few minutes, Denise. I—”

“You’re so stubborn.” Denise slid an arm around her shoulders. Then she hugged her. “Leave the boys alone. They’ll work it out. Sebastian has words he has to say. He’s wrong. He needs to figure that out. And Zach probably has a few words of his own, and after that scene? He’s more than entitled.” She reached up and brushed Abigale’s hair back. It was such a gentle, familiar,
loving
gesture, it left an ache in Abigale’s throat. “Leave them be for now, okay, sweetie?”

Another shout rose, this one followed by a string of curses.

Denise winced. “If they were a few years younger, I’d have to dig out the bar of soap over that one.”

Abigale closed her eyes. “I knew this was going to turn out bad.”

“Oh, hush.” The older woman kissed Abigale on the cheek and then stepped back. “Come on. Let’s get the bread out there and eat so we can dig in to the cake. I tried that new lady you recommended and it looks divine.”

* * *

Zach pressed a knee into Sebastian’s back. If the
idiot kid didn’t stop jerking around, he was going to get really mad and hurt him. Just then, he was trying to remember that Sebastian
was
still pretty damn young, and like the typical youngest sibling, he was spoiled as hell. He was also headstrong, thought he could do no wrong, and thought he knew everything.

Zach was tempted to disabuse him of all that in a painful way, but he figured it wouldn’t help things if he broke his baby brother’s nose when the jackass was supposed to be back at work in a few days. “Kid, if you don’t stop it, that pretty face you’re so proud of isn’t going to be so fucking pretty. I’m going to do some rearranging and you’ll have a lot of fun explaining
that
to the agent you’re always trying to ram down my throat.”

Sebastian grunted and tried once more to dislodge Zach and when he couldn’t, he swore. “Look, man. The reason you’re so pissed is because you know I’m
right
. I’m fucking
right
.”

He slammed Sebastian’s head against the floor. “The reason I’m so pissed is because you’re interfering . . . right when I finally get things where I want them and you’re trying to fuck it up for me.” Anger blistered through him and he knew he had to move before he did something he regretted.

Swearing, he surged up off Sebastian and stormed across the room. Distance. Needed to get some distance. Because the longer he thought about what he’d just walked in on, the madder he got.