Crossing Abby Road Read online

  Making the surf shop more profitable, planting roots, dating again: these were the future. Part one of my plan—Todd’s Tackle—was in the forefront of my mind because of my meeting at the bank today to sign the loan paperwork. Opening another store was a big-time decision. But just because it was nerve-wracking didn’t mean it wasn’t right. If I wanted to stay on plan and keep the ball rolling, I had to make my move.

  Abby shifted her weight, leaning both elbows on the counter, wearing a searching expression as her eyes focused on me. Her mere presence damn near made my heart stop. Experiencing off-the-charts chemistry with a celebrity was definitely not part of my plan.

  “I have a list of things I want to do in my life,” I continued. “Some are here, some are far away, and I add to my list every day. But…I’ve got all the time in the world, and I’m very patient.”

  I had to be patient. But I sucked at being patient.

  A cement-like determination solidified in my chest. It felt good to have my head back in the game. Abby was watching me, so I gave her a nod and walked to the hat wall, needing to return to the real world, a world where I was happily single and could think straight.

  Yes, sir. I was indeed one free-flying, unfettered, idiot hawk.

  The phone rang, and I made an appointment to take a family of four kayaking on Friday.

  “I’m gonna head out now,” Abby said. My hand was still on the receiver. “But I’ll be back for the dolphin.” She raised a palm like she was swearing in court. “I promise.”

  Shit. I didn’t want her to go, but if she wasn’t afraid to go outside anymore, it wasn’t like there was any reason for her to hang around. Because, hell, she was a famous singer, and I was just a…

  “Come any time,” I said, stopping my train of thought dead in its tracks. I had plenty of faults, but self-deprecation wasn’t one of them. “I’m here most days, but you might want to wait ‘til I’m open next time,” I added, as we walked to the door.

  “Your store’s not open yet?”

  “Not until ten. It’s early in the season, but I do have paying customers.”

  Her eyebrows mashed together. “Why wasn’t the front door locked?”

  I recalled that sound when I’d been on the phone with Nik and Jess. “It was, but you barged in. I heard the floor lock snap. Sure, it’s a little rusty.” I paused to sweep my eyes across her body, her smooth, defined arms. “You must be stronger than you look.”

  “Oh, damn.” She slapped a hand over her mouth, laughing between her fingers. “Sorry. I was pretty desperate to take cover.”

  With her mouth obscured, I was drawn to her eyes again, that steely, smoky color. The lyrics to Frank Sinatra’s “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” popped into my mind, probably because I’d pulled up that old-school Rat Pack playlist while talking to my sisters.

  My grandpa was a huge Sinatra fan, and I could thank him for my throwback tastes. That was another thing Sophie never got about me. Or maybe she did, but she didn’t care enough to take an interest. Unfettered hawk, bro…

  I pulled my gaze away from Abby and held open the door. “Be careful out there, ’cause you know what Sinatra always said.”

  There you go, being a lame-ass again.

  She leaned forward to peek out the open door. I’d already checked—it was relatively clear of passersby. No gang of teens ready to jump out. At least as far as I could see…

  “Yeah? What did he say?” Her gaze was still pointed outside while she gnawed her bottom lip, maybe contemplating her next move, though her breaths were coming fast again, like when I’d accidentally snuck up on her when she was examining the dolphin.

  Maybe she was back to worrying about being mobbed. There was no parking outside my section of the town square, so she was obviously on foot. Suddenly, a mob scene was a pretty real concern for me, too. Should I tell her it’s cool if she wants to stay, hang out for a while?

  “Everything okay?” I asked, close enough now that I could see the pulse at the side of her neck. It was racing, and her inhales were choppy.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’m cool.”

  Okay. So if she wasn’t worried about fans now, what was with the heavy breathing while she was looking up at me?

  Come on, dude. Catch up…

  Oh.

  I swallowed hard. “Here. Don’t forget your disguise.”

  Abby blinked and dropped her gaze from mine to the baseball cap I held out. Was it me, or did she seem disappointed? “Um, thanks,” she said. “And since you asked, I do happen to know what Frank Sinatra always says.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

  “Hell, yeah.” A corner of her mouth twitched, fighting a smile. “I’m classically trained…in everything.”

  Okay, she was definitely flirting. Or was she deflecting? I had no damn idea. “All right, what did he say, Abby?” I folded my arms and shot back my own smile.

  For a moment she broke eye contact, but when she looked at me again, her pupils were doing this dilating thing, and they’d grown wider and a deeper gray somehow. Her lips peeled apart, and the slow, deliberate movement mesmerized me, made my body temperature take a hard spike. I could see the tip of her tongue behind her teeth, another temptation to pull me in.

  I almost didn’t notice when she reached out to take the baseball cap I was holding, but I sure as hell noticed when her fingers brushed my hand, then my arm, then slid behind her neck, under her hair. Before I could recover from that, she flipped her hair and shot me a smile so sexy, I felt another spike of heat push through my body, settling deep in my stomach.

  If the girl wanted me to kiss her, she didn’t have to throw out any clearer signals.

  Even though it was a really horrible, terrible, massively moronic idea, I was two seconds away from rushing forward and taking care of business.

  Before I could, Abby stepped back and said, “Later, if you’re lucky, Todd’s Tackle, I’ll tell you exactly what Sinatra said. But you’re going to have to track me down and beg.”

  Talk about a line.

  With me too stunned to move, she curved an eyebrow and walked out the door.

  I wanted to burst out laughing and look for the hidden cameras. No, I wanted to chase her down and start in on that begging right damn now. But all I did was stand with one hand propping the glass door open as I watched her long legs strut down the sidewalk away from me.

  “That might’ve been the greatest moment of my life,” I said under my breath, not caring if I was overheard. “One I’ll never forget.” A minute later, I dropped my chin and exhaled a dark chuckle. “But I’m also not an idiot; there’ll never be a another moment.”

  Chapter Three

  “Nice ‘n’ Easy”

  Once alone, I forced myself into autopilot, flipped the Gone Fishin’ sign on the window to Come On In! and hauled a rack of brightly colored sarongs onto the sidewalk.

  A couple of middle school guys came in. I’d seen them around and knew they were here to check out the bodyboards and talk surfing. A few minutes later, a dark-haired woman walked directly to the rack of oversized shirts Abby had been browsing through. How long ago had that been?

  I rubbed a fist across my forehead and stared at the scene, my mind boggling at how surreal it now seemed. Surreal and daydreaming and that kind of bullshit was so not my thing. When I went behind the counter, I noticed my cell was blinking with missed calls. Before I could check the call log, it rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Camford, hey. Just got your email.” It was Rex, Corporal Ron Rexton, the guy who’d saved my ass more times than I could count.

  I sighed, disappointment churning in my gut, though I wasn’t sure who the hell I’d been expecting to be on the other end of the phone. I ran a hand over my face, trying to scrub away the surreal. “Hey, man. What’s up?”

  “My schedule changed,” Rex said. “Up for a visit?”

  “Sure.” I bent forward and propped an elbow on the counter. “Whatcha got?”


  “How about tomorrow?”

  “Yeah?” I said, keeping half an eye on the two guys, making sure they weren’t shoplifting.

  “I’m supposed to be in San Diego for training but it got pushed.” Rex laughed. “My sister has a barbeque tomorrow and she’s been trying to hook me up with someone she works with or something. I don’t know, it’s a bad scene and I’d rather not let her know I’m suddenly free. I know you’ve got your store so you can’t up and take off, but I don’t know, I could just hang out there, check out the local bikini talent, know what I mean?”

  I dropped my hand and straightened, my gaze shooting across the store to the open doorway…where I’d last seen Abby.

  Rex was a hard-core, ruthless player—if all the stories he told were true. If he was here and got one whiff that a gorgeous starlet was in town, he’d be on the prowl in two snaps. Which was none of my business, but…

  “Uh, tomorrow might not be good,” I said, feeling an irrational wave of protection over a girl I’d met less than an hour ago.

  “No, really?” Rex sounded disappointed, and I felt like an asshole.

  “Yeah, it’s uh, it might be kind of busy. I’ve got meetings and this…this other thing.”

  Jeez, I was a suckier liar than Abby.

  “That’s cool,” Rex said. “Guess I should do this favor for my sister anyway, right?”

  I chuckled too loudly. “Family first!” What the…? “Seriously, dude, any other time and it’s cool. I’ve just got tons on my plate right now.”

  “I hear ya. I’ll let ya go then. But me and Ricco are coming for the Fourth. That still set?”

  “Carved in stone, man.”

  “Sweet. I’ll check in later.”

  “Yeah, see ya.” I lowered my cell and stared down at it, baffled by the words that had spewed out of my mouth.

  “Hey, boss.”

  I jerked up to see Chandler on the other side of the counter, the strap of his backpack hanging off a shoulder.

  “Hey.” I bent forward to prop both elbows on the register, resting my face in my palms and letting out a long moan. I couldn’t believe I’d just done that—lied to one of my closest buddies to protect some girl I hardly knew from something hypothetical at best. Where was my loyalty? Where was my brain?

  I knew where it was. That was the problem. It was following that strutting girl down the sidewalk, wondering what would’ve happened if I’d followed her.

  “Issues?” Chandler said. I heard him toss his backpack in the back office.

  Issues? Where should I begin?

  Instead, I dropped my hands and straightened. “No issues.” Bad form to look like a pouting tween in front of an employee, especially since he wasn’t that much younger than me. “We got a shipment last night. It’s too early for the red, white, and blue, but you can always add them to the database and slap on the tags.”

  “I’m all over it.” Chandler was in his typical work gear: long, wrinkled board shorts, Roxy/OP/Hurley/Rip Curl/Billabong/Quick Silver logo T-shirt, disgusting old flip-flops. I couldn’t complain, since he spent most of his pay on stuff from my store. If he hadn’t already been accepted to the JC in Pensacola, I might’ve worried he’d become a bona fide surf bum.

  I rang up two shirts and a cake of surfboard Sex Wax for the lady customer.

  “Dude, what’s up with that?” Chandler asked, hauling out an armful of red T-shirts and dumping them on the counter.

  “Huh?”

  “She was totally chatting you up. That hottie.”

  “Who?”

  Chandler puckered and pointed his lips toward the woman with dark hair leaving.

  “Was she? I didn’t notice.”

  “You feelin’ okay?”

  “Can’t focus,” I muttered, raking my fingers up the back of my head. “I need a day off.”

  “So go. Shouldn’t be that busy and I’ll take care of the new stuff.”

  I completely trusted Chandler and I’d left him in charge a dozen times before, but if I bailed, what would I do? It was too early to go home and way too early for a beer in public. A hard workout sounded good. I could head to the beach, dive in and swim against the currents until my brain switched to autopilot. Maybe tomorrow I’d tell my sisters about meeting Abigail Kelly. They’d be all over that.

  Or maybe I wouldn’t tell anybody.

  What was I thinking? Today might be the worst day in the history of days for me to just take off like I had zero responsibilities. The last thing I needed was for anyone who had to do with securing my loan to spot me tooling around like a slacker. I was in no way a seasoned business owner, basically still a kid, a huge financial risk. For the past six months, luck had been on my side, and I wasn’t about to screw that up.

  “If you leave now, I’ll even let you buy me lunch,” Chandler said with a hopeful grin, eyebrows dancing.

  I laughed under my breath. “It’s ten a.m. and you want lunch?”

  “I haven’t eaten for, like, two hours.”

  “Okay,” I said, figuring a short walk might actually help. “I’ll pick up something from Modica’s. Your usual?”

  “Yes, please.” He spread the T-shirts out on the counter. “And if anyone asks, you’re the gnarliest boss evah.”

  “And you’re a terrible ass-kiss.” I grabbed my phone and made sure I had my wallet—which made me picture Abby, standing right where I was, digging through her pocket for a five-dollar bill.

  Do you have a layaway plan? she’d said. Damn it, she was funny. And had a sexy smile, and her ass—

  “What are you grinning at?” Chandler asked.

  “Nothing. Just…I’ll be right back.”

  Outside, I slid on my sunglasses and took a deep breath, allowing the salty sea air to fill my lungs. Another deep breath to brush away the cobwebs and refocus. Today was too important to not stay single-minded.

  I jogged across the two lanes of 30A, the only major-ish thoroughfare in Seaside, passed the food trucks parked in front of the amphitheater—all wide open for business—then cut across the circle lawn toward Modica’s, the one and only grocery store in town.

  My cell vibrated against my hip. I pulled it out and checked the number. “Hey, Dad,” I said, moving off to the side of the footpath.

  “Hi, son. Today’s the day?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Are you ready?”

  I grinned. “As I’ll ever be.”

  “Good man.”

  It was exceptionally cool how my father wanted to be involved in this new business venture I was tackling. We’d always been close—having to stick together as the only males in a family of three very Italian females—but joining mental forces to expand my surf shop was almost like our first adult partnership. In addition to his climbing the Army ranks, Dad was a savvy businessman with a finger in everything from real estate to Mom’s olive oil assets in Sicily. I was grateful for his advice.

  “What time is your appointment at the bank?”

  “Four, but Mike said I can come in anytime.”

  “That’s a good sign. He trusts you.”

  “He should,” I said. “I pulled his ass out of a riptide last month.”

  Dad laughed, making me laugh.

  Despite the early hour, it was warm outside, and there was already a line at the Italian shave ice stand.

  “You might think about going over there earlier than four o’clock,” Dad said. “Shows initiative.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. Other than reviewing what I plan to say, I’ve got a pretty light day.”

  “I wouldn’t call prepping for a meeting as important as this a ‘light day.’ Just keep your head in the game and it’ll all work out.”

  I smiled. “Yes, sir.”

  On the other side of the food trucks, I stopped to check on a dog that someone had tied to a tree. I made sure he had water in his dish and scratched him behind the ears. This got me thinking about my dog at home. Maybe I’d take Sammy with me to the beach a
fter my meeting. She was due for a hardy swim, too. I’d been working a lot and leaving her cooped up at home. A big yard and dog run were crap substitutes for the great outdoors.

  “You’ve got all your forms and references? Bring hard copies.”

  “I’ve already emailed everything over,” I said. “We’re green in Florida.”

  “Okay.” Dad chuckled again. “So you’ll officially get the loan today, which means you can pay the seller in full and free up your optioned deposit. How much was it?”

  “Ten percent.”

  Dad whistled. “That’s pretty steep.”

  I shrugged to myself. “He thinks I’m a high risk. My age, I guess.”

  “Yes, but he doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. We Camford men pride ourselves on discipline, follow through, and business success, don’t we?”

  For some reason, this made me think of the dream I’d had last night. Though, technically, it would probably have been classified as a night terror. I’d woken up with the typical cold sweats, pounding heart, absolute terror ripping through my mind, but only a vague recollection of whatever I’d been dreaming about—though it usually had to do with protecting someone. It varied from my squad, my family, Sophie, or whoever I was sleeping next to at the time.

  It was the after-the-dream that jumped out now. While trying to fall back to sleep, my brain wouldn’t shut up about today’s meeting. Somehow, in my half-asleep limbo, I was getting the pressure I’d felt as a Marine all mixed up with the pressure that involved expanding my surf shop, when the two things really had nothing in common.

  But I never second-guessed myself. Another thing they beat out of me in sniper training—absolutely no room for a second guess. You set your rifle scope then wait it out.

  “Yes, we do,” I replied.

  “You’re wearing a suit to the meeting?”

  “This is a beach town. The mayor wears a sarong and the undertaker doesn’t own any black. No one does suits.” As I said this, I spotted Mayor DuBois and her little son crossing the circle lawn. True to form, she was in a long blue sarong with her black dreadlocks in a hair wrap.