Crossing Abby Road Page 5

  “Do you kayak, too?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said, pulling out my best Southern drawl—which sucked. “But he’s not hitting the water today. I’m forcing him to stay indoors, making sure he works extra shifts to earn college tuition.” I hoped Chandler was keeping an eye on things and not screwing around, wearing beach towels on his head like a nun’s habit. “I really should grab him lunch. Think you could sneak back to Modica’s and snag a pastrami on rye?”

  “I only steal jam from children.” She huffed playfully and nudged me with an elbow. “I thought that was clear.”

  There she went again, making me want to kiss her.

  Abby stopped mid-step. So did I, thinking I’d just said that aloud about the kissing. Would she be into it? But she wasn’t looking at me. “Are you okay?” I asked, catching something off in her expression.

  “I don’t know, I…”

  I followed her gaze to a man off to the side of the footpath. He held a camera with a long lens. For a moment, it was pointing straight in our direction. Was he paparazzi? A second later, the camera swung to the left, and it now looked more like the guy was taking pictures of the town square. Abby and I exhaled at the same time.

  “Sorry,” she said, tugging at the ends of her hair.

  “So, I have to ask. It seems a little…unusual that you’re alone.”

  “Are you seriously asking if I’m single? Just like that?”

  I smiled and rubbed my jaw. “Uh, no. I meant, you’ve got no bodyguard with you. No, um, muscle.”

  “Oh.” She exhaled again and squinted into the sun. “Well, that’s kind of a long story, but suffice it to say, against the advice of practically everyone in Los Angeles, yes, I’m all on my own today, totally alone by personal choice.”

  It took a second for her words to sink in, and by the way she was looking directly at me, they finally hit me, crystal clear. Can’t say that didn’t kick my ego in the ass just a little.

  “Right,” I said, running a hand up the back of my head. “Got it.” I took a step back. “I thought you wanted… Never mind. I’ll leave you alone now, and—”

  Abby’s gray eyes flew open, wider than when I’d frightened her earlier. “No!” Her hands clutched my forearm, fingers pressing into my skin. “No, I didn’t mean that, either. Sorry. I meant I don’t want to think about, um, work or be around work people, especially my bodyguard. I’m trying to be inconspicuous, and being very blatantly shadowed by a six-foot-five, three-hundred-pound ex–Special Ops dude dressed all in black isn’t my idea of blending in at the beach.” She looked down at her hands still gripping my arm, then quickly removed them and hid them behind her back. “Um, sorry about that.”

  I wasn’t—what guy didn’t love being grabbed by a hot girl? But damn, this girl was strong.

  “So yeah, my security team has the summer off. Well, I thought it would be the summer, but I don’t know.” She sighed and looked away, her hair blowing in the breeze. “There’s a lot going on back in L.A., so it’s more like just one day now, which sucks, but whatever.”

  “You’re leaving after today?” I asked.

  Abby pressed her lips together like she had to think about the answer, then slowly, she nodded.

  Only one day. And today of all days. Yeah, that did suck, pretty epically.

  “Anyway.” She shrugged, but it seemed more regretful than casual. “I planned on being on my own today, but things have a way of changing…sometimes out of the blue.”

  They sure did.

  When I saw a movement, I looked past her shoulder, catching a glimpse of that same guy with the camera. It was pointing our way again.

  “Let’s keep moving,” I said, touching Abby’s elbow.

  She glanced over her shoulder first, then lurched forward, obviously spotting the guy, too. At a pretty fast clip, we walked in silence for a few minutes, until Abby started to laugh.

  “What’s funny?”

  “You asked me earlier why I wasn’t with my bodyguard or muscle.”

  “Yeah?”

  She smiled at me, then glanced at my arm that was still urging her forward. “I might be without a bodyguard, but you’ve definitely got the muscle part covered.”

  This girl could compliment me all day.

  “Wait, where are we?” She stopped walking again.

  I looked past her, knowing exactly where we were: a block from my house. Was I subconsciously leading us there? What the hell did I think would happen once I got her home? Only about a million ideas came to mind.

  “My sister’s bike. I parked it in front of Modica’s and it’s just sitting there. Someone might ride off with it.” Abby whirled around and headed back the way we’d just come.

  I wasn’t sure what to do, so I stayed put. After all, she hadn’t invited me to follow, and though the compliment had gone straight to my head, I wasn’t really her muscle. Besides, I needed to prep for my meeting with the bank, and even though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I should probably call Sophie back. Spending any more time with Abby wasn’t good for the struggling adult in me who was trying to be responsible today.

  Across the street, a group of six guys a little younger than Chandler turned our way. They carried bodyboards and surf leashes, and one of them stared straight at Abby as she was walking away from me.

  “Definitely her,” I heard him say. They were elbowing each other now. “I don’t see anyone else. Let’s get her autograph, and if no one’s around, I’ll have her sign my…” He grabbed his junk like he was Michael Jackson, making them all cackle. “Come on.”

  The instant they made a move, I stepped off the footpath and walked toward them, stopping in the middle of the street. “Can I help you?” I said, not even raising my voice above conversation volume—no reason for Abby to hear. I crossed my arms, making sure to hold eye contact with each of them. Three were locals—I recognized them immediately. And I knew they recognized me.

  They froze in place. Evidently they’d been so focused on Abby—and the prospect of getting her to sign their tiny, prepubescent, hairless balls—that they hadn’t noticed me. But they sure as hell did now.

  Judging by the looks in their eyes, I knew I didn’t have to say anything else. To them I was big and scary because they’d probably heard exaggerated rumors that the guy who owned the surf shop was a Navy SEAL who once killed a man with his bare hands, while sandstorm-blind and with three broken ribs. Only part of that story was true. And not the Navy SEAL part. But it never made me feel like a hero or some asshole movie star, especially when the memory shook me awake in the middle of the night.

  The boys scurried off, pale-faced and sufficiently terrified. I made sure they were completely out of sight before I turned on my heels, ready to run and catch up with Abby, expecting she’d be halfway down the footpath by now. But she was only a few steps away, a breeze moving the bottom of her hair around her shoulders, a great big smile on her face.

  She was waiting for me.

  Oh, damn. I liked her.

  I felt my cell in my pocket, reminding me of those voicemails from Sophie, of the conversation with my father, and of today’s schedule. It was probably around eleven, so I did have some time to spare. I cleared my throat and marched forward, making my second major deviation in today’s plan.

  “If you’re heading back to the square, I’ll go with you and grab Chandler a sandwich.” No reason to tell her she needed an escort. “Have you ever eaten at Modica’s?”

  “Not for ages. And I might never again, at least not while under threat of being scowled to death by a five-year-old.”

  “Your words paint pictures, Abby,” I said, noting more things I liked about her besides bright eyes and full lips. “Modica’s got great tuna. I don’t eat it, but some people call it ambrosia.”

  “Why don’t you eat it, then?”

  “No fish unless I catch it myself. A rule I have.”

  “Tough guy,” she said, tipping her chin to eye me.

  “So�
� Do you want some lunch?”

  I think I’d just asked out Abigail Kelly.

  Chapter Five

  “How Little We Know”

  Waiting to follow a girl’s lead had never been my MO. I had way too much confidence—or overconfidence, if you asked my sisters—for that. But with Abby, I’d already done it more than once.

  “Food?” Abby said, like it was a word in a foreign language she didn’t know.

  Her unintentional humor made me laugh; she was just plain Abby again. “That’s how it usually works when I ask someone if she wants to eat lunch with me.”

  Yep, I’d totally thrown it out there.

  She seemed to be contemplating her answer for a long time, making me wonder if she wasn’t single and shouldn’t be having lunch alone with another guy, or if she was on some kind of special rock star diet and was deciding if she should cheat on it. She should definitely cheat.

  “I haven’t had tuna in a long time,” she finally said, getting the same starry look in her eyes as Jessica did when anyone mentioned beignets from Café Du Monde. “Ambrosia, you say?”

  “That’s what I hear, and it’s my treat, whatever you want. It’s the least I can do for our town’s inexcusably bad treatment of a”—I waited an intentional beat—“special visitor.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of Abby’s mouth, then it took over her whole damn face. If I’d had any fear that she’d morph into a diva, it was completely washed away. From everything I’d seen, she was as normal as they came.

  Or maybe I was comparing her to Sophie…which was probably natural but not even a little bit fair to either of them. Sophie didn’t wear baseball caps and would never be caught dead snorting huge laughs in the middle of a public sidewalk. Hadn’t I sworn that Sophie and I were compatible at one time? And I’d been massively wrong about that, screwing us both up in the process.

  Another convenient reminder that any girl—this gray-eyed honey, included—was off-limits.

  “Lunch sounds great, actually,” Abby said. “Where to?” Her smile was so warm and grateful that I temporarily forgot what I’d just convinced myself of doing.

  “Modica’s,” I said.

  Her sunny smile dropped. “Are you shitting me? I’m not going back in there. Evil Santa will call the cops, you heard him.”

  “Who?”

  “Evil Santa.”

  Ohhh. The bushy beard and red apron. Maybe that scene with the sobbing kid had really shaken her up. I gave a slow, full body shrug like they do in Italy, letting her know it was no big deal. “Nah, Bob likes to bark, but I’m sure he’s forgotten the whole red currant scandal by now, trust me. Plus, I’m a very loyal customer. So, what do you say?”

  She narrowed her eyes. I couldn’t tell if it was playful, or if she was truly worried about going back there. Although, frankly, besides my store, Modica’s might’ve been the safest place for her if she was alone. “Well…okay.”

  With that new decision behind us both, Abby adjusted her ball cap by pulling the bill down an inch, then moved to my side, a graceful skip to her step. We passed by an older couple holding hands. I couldn’t help noticing how Abby looked at them while trying to make it seem like she wasn’t looking at them. “Can I ask you a question?” she said to me.

  “Sure.”

  “Can it be about anything?”

  Well, obviously not. She wasn’t my priest, I wasn’t hooked up to a lie detector, and like most people who asked about my job in the Marines, she probably didn’t want to hear the truth.

  Then again, the wistful look in her eyes made me really curious about what she was thinking right now. “No subject off-limits,” I said.

  “Tell me why your last relationship ended.”

  “That’s your question? Huh. You don’t mess around, do you?”

  She laughed. Man, she had a great laugh; it almost sounded like singing. “You asked for it, Mr. I-Catch-My-Own-Tuna.”

  A girl who put me in my place. What was not to dig?

  I laughed under my breath, considering the irony of her question. I’d been in love with Sophie, but at the end, we weren’t even friends, maybe because we hadn’t been friends to start with. Our breakup left me with a determination to never make that mistake again, never go for something unless it was what I really wanted. And never, ever settle.

  “Um, okay,” I finally said. “Well, there were a number of reasons why it ended. How elaborate should I be?”

  “Spare me anything I can use against you in court.”

  I didn’t want to be a bastard about Sophie, but there was no reason not to be honest. “She was a safe bet. I was into safe bets at the time, but recently I promised myself…well, let’s just say I don’t take safe bets anymore.”

  Abby slowed her pace. We were barely walking now. “Why?”

  How to explain this? I ran a hand up the back of my neck. I wanted Abby to know, or maybe I just needed to say it out loud so someone would know. So I zeroed in on those gray eyes and let the honesty fly.

  “What I want now in a relationship, Abby— No.” I cut myself off. “Forget what I want. What I know I have to have is a woman who takes my breath away.”

  Abby flinched like I’d startled her again, but a slight nod of her head told me to keep going.

  “Not just the figure of speech, but truly takes my breath away, right? And then I hold her and we’re free falling together, a deadfall drop speed. Spinning circles, completely out of our minds. Figuratively, of course,” I added, then took a beat. “I’m not so naïve to expect intense chemistry like that to last forever, but I think we all deserve to occasionally be knocked breathless by the one we love most, don’t you?”

  My question was rhetorical, and when I looked at Abby, at her slightly parted lips, my mind flew to one place.

  “Think of a first kiss.” I dropped my voice, then dropped my gaze to her mouth. “That moment immediately before lips touch, that hitch in your breath. Comfortable nervousness, butterflies in your stomach, Christmas Eve as a kid. That’s how I want to feel when I’m with her. The purest kind of bliss.”

  That was me in a nutshell, everything I expected when it came to chemistry—a woman I couldn’t wait to hang out with all day, and couldn’t wait to ravage in bed at night. And I’d just spilled it all to the most famous singer in the world.

  “Basically, Abby, we broke up because we didn’t love each other anymore.” I was about to continue, but noticed she’d gone marbley red in the cheeks and throat, had a kind of dazed-out, goofy expression in her eyes, and was tugging at the neck of her tank top, giving me an accidental glimpse of the strap of her purple bra. Good hell, was she trying to kill me? “I‘d go on, but I think I’ve said enough.”

  She glanced down, realizing what she was doing to her clothes.

  “You seem a little distracted,” I continued, seeing if I could get her to blush again.

  “No. I’m…” She cleared her throat. “What you just said made me a little, um…”

  I couldn’t help laughing. This girl was so easy to throw off balance, and how could I not congratulate myself at how I’d broken her concentration by talking about kissing?

  “Just…shut up,” she said, giving my shoulder a shove then crossing the street ahead of me. I was two steps behind.

  Modica’s was a few stores away now. Abby had mentioned her sister’s bike. About 50 percent of the population of Seaside rode bikes. Most of the tourists did, too. There were several beach cruisers propped against the market’s glass windows.

  Abby walked straight toward a red bike like she was ready to climb aboard and ride out of sight, but I steered her toward the front door, almost mowing over her when she stopped dead in front of the entrance.

  “Nope. Changed my mind. Can’t go in there.” Her voice was high and tight.

  Of course I wouldn’t make her if she was really stressing about it. She could wait for me at one of the café tables under the awning. The store didn’t look crowded; it would take me a coupl
e of minutes. In and out.

  I nodded at the door, trying not to laugh. “Come on. Let’s just go in.”

  She looked at me, then back at the door, her eyes narrowing, like she didn’t want to be scared, didn’t want anything hanging over her head. She wrung her hands then shook them at her sides and blew out a long breath. This girl might’ve been freaked by guys in surf shops and small children after her jam, but she was a fighter.

  Though I didn’t know much about her life, she probably had to be a fighter.

  She wasn’t in the middle of a fight right now, however. The only reason I was still with her was to make sure that didn’t happen. Well, obviously there were other reasons, which, of course, had nothing to do with the purple bra she was wearing…

  She was still staring over my shoulder into the store, intermittently shaking her hands and wringing them, though the determination in her eyes hadn’t lessened. Maybe she needed a little ass-kicking persuasion. My drill sergeant had been aces at that, but with Abby, I decided to go the opposite way.

  I placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay,” I said, bending to her ear. “You’re with me this time, and I swear to you, I’m safer than an armored car, and you’ll have nothing to worry about as long as I’m around.”

  Her head was lowered, halfway shaded by the brim of her baseball cap.

  “First, though, you have to promise to do something for me before we go inside,” I added, right as she lifted her eyes to look at me.

  “What?” she asked in a whisper.

  My gaze slid from her eyes, past her nose, and lingered on her mouth. It’d be so easy to stop with the games and just go for it. I placed my other hand on her other shoulder. In perfect response, Abby tipped her chin up.

  I was near enough to hear her breaths quicken and shallow. Being this close to me was doing something to her. It was doing something to me, too—something unexpected. My heart was suddenly beating fast, and my muscles tensed, warning me of the dangerous move I was two seconds away from making.

  So I pulled back to give myself space, gripped her shoulders, and spun her around in a tight about-face. “Don’t trip on your way in,” I said. “You’ll embarrass me.”