Crossing Abby Road Page 6

  She exhaled a startled gasp as I pulled open the door and gently muscled us inside.

  Chapter Six

  “Just One of Those Things”

  Abby arched her back, just like that thing my two-year-old niece does when she’s trying to squirm away. But I kept one hand on her shoulder while my other pressed into her back. Maybe I was pushing more than guiding, but if I didn’t loan her the motivation to get inside Modica’s, she might’ve lost her nerve.

  Plus, there was my personal incentive of using any excuse to keep my hands on her. She had the softest skin, and her waist was so tiny, my hand could practically wrap halfway around it. And Abby hadn’t given one clue that my touching her wasn’t welcomed. In fact, so far, she’d been way more handsy than me, always touching my arm, even if just to give it a swat.

  Well, except for now, of course, when she was trying like hell to get away. And yeah, I wasn’t letting her. Maybe I had turned into her muscle.

  Bob glanced up when he saw me. Abby must have caught sight of him, too, because her back arch squirm went into overdrive, accompanied by some high-pitched squeaks that only dogs could hear.

  “Back already?” Bob said. “Your little helper’s called twice looking for you.”

  “Has he?” Huh. I must’ve shut my phone off after that message from Sophie. I kept a hand on Abby’s shoulder and reached into my pocket for my cell. Yep, three missed calls in the last ten minutes. Only one from Chandler, though. The others were from Jessica and an unknown number. One new voicemail. Shit, had time flown warp-speed fast and I missed my meeting with the bank? I checked the time. No, still on track.

  “I’m getting his lunch now,” I said as I maneuvered Abby toward the deli, positioning her before the meat displays. If she ordered something girly like a side salad, I might have to get physical. This woman was going to eat a meal before I was done with her.

  Bob washed his hands, moved behind the deli counter, and asked if Chandler wanted “the usual.” I had a “usual” at Modica’s, too. Not that I was a creature of habit—Bob just happened to make a kick-ass meatball sub, and being a small business owner myself, I knew how important it was to support local commerce. Besides that, it was comforting to walk into a place where I had friends.

  More and more, Seaside was becoming my first real home.

  While Bob shaved off slices of pastrami, he looked at me then shot a glance toward Abby, who had slid down to the cheese shelves, kind of blocking her face with one hand.

  “What is she doing here?” Bob asked.

  “Don’t start,” I said. “I don’t know what happened earlier, but I’m sure it wasn’t all her fault.”

  “She’s a troublemaker,” he said in a low voice. “Made little Tommy DuBois cry like a hurricane siren.”

  “We’ve all done that. The kid’s a spoiled brat.”

  Bob nodded. “Yeah, he is.” I couldn’t tell through his bushy brows, but he might have rolled his eyes. He speared a dill pickle slice with a toothpick to top off Chandler’s sandwich. “I don’t recognize her, your date. Who is she?”

  “It’s not really a date,” I said, ignoring the heat in my chest at the thought of being out with Abby, like officially. “I don’t date— I’m not dating right now.”

  I glanced at Abby. Her nose was an inch from the glass, staring into the cheese display. I’d never seen anyone look so…famished. I leaned a shoulder against the glass and watched. The notably tall block of holey Swiss cheese was what held her attention.

  Ah, she was a dairy girl. Images of hand-feeding her chocolates, right into her mouth, her sexy little pink tongue, filled my mind. Then my imagination went further, filling up other parts of my body.

  “Yeah, sure.” Bob chuckled. “Not a date. Whatever you say.”

  “It’s not, I…”

  Abby’s gaze slid to the thin slices of yellow Colby but returned to the tall brick of Swiss. She touched a finger to the glass, like she was trying to reach through.

  What would I do if she looked at me the way she was staring at the hunk of cheese? Maybe feeling my gaze, she tilted her chin and lifted her eyes to me. For just a moment, her intense gaze of food lust transferred from the cheese to me, sending hot, electric pulses racing through my bloodstream, seizing my muscles.

  “Hungry much?” I said, talking to the both of us while giving my body a second to cool down.

  “Starving.” At least she’d admitted it and hadn’t said she’d be happy with a piece of lettuce and a Tic Tac for lunch.

  “Good,” I replied. Bob was waiting for our order. I was about to ask for my usual, but made another quick mental calculation of the time. Maybe I didn’t have to prep that much for my meeting; I’d been going over the whole thing all week, and I knew I was prepared. That way, I’d have time to actually go with Abby somewhere and eat together. That was the right thing to do, not just hand her a bag of food and shove her out the door. Because hell knew who or what might be outside waiting for her.

  Okay, so yeah, I’d stay with her. And if we went somewhere more private—away from the lunch crowd—my “usual” wouldn’t be a smart idea. Part of what made Bob’s meatball subs so incredible was they literally fell apart in your hands. I’d never finished one while it had still been intact. Not exactly the most practical picnic food. Though it wasn’t my life’s ambition to impress Abby, I didn’t need to show her what an animal I could be when going mano a mano against my favorite sandwich.

  “Give me roast beef,” I said. “With mustard on wheat, no cheese.” Now for Abby’s lunch. “And how’s the tuna today?”

  “Best on the Gulf,” he recited, as per usual. “But we’re already out.”

  Snap. And I’d bragged about it. Abby looked disappointed, too, or maybe that was still hunger. I wasn’t great at telling the difference in women.

  “Hmmm.” I tapped my chin, recalling the way she’d had eye-sex with that cheese. While still looking at her but speaking to Bob, I said, “She’ll have smoked turkey with cheddar.” I caught the moment her eye twitched. Gotcha. “No, scratch that. Swiss cheese on a hard roll. Tomatoes, pickles, avocado, and sprouts.”

  Bob went to work, and I kept an eye on Abby, wondering how long it would take until she changed her order. Sophie hated when I’d so much as had an iced tea waiting for her if she was late for lunch.

  “And they say chivalry’s dead,” Abby said.

  “You didn’t mind that I ordered for you?”

  She thought for a second then shook her head. “How did you know, though?”

  “Know what?” We faced each other, both of us leaning a shoulder against the glass.

  “That I like Swiss cheese and sprouts.”

  Yeah. Like that hadn’t been obvious. Well, the cheese had been, but the sprouts, I’d taken a chance on that one, since she’d mentioned she lived in L.A. Or had she? She was making my mind all fuzzy.

  “I’d say you’re an open book, Abby, but I wouldn’t want to insult you.”

  Her smile broadened and her shoulders shook from a laugh. I’d never relished in making someone smile and laugh as much as I did with Abby. She had a killer smile, and when it was turned on me, it kind of made me feel like a superhero again, like I’d accomplished something very few mortals had. I wasn’t sure why, but I got the feeling she hadn’t smiled a lot lately. Or maybe no one had been around to make her smile. Or maybe that was a totally insane thing for me to feel, since I barely even knew her.

  But if I had one whole day with her, making her smile would’ve been my mission.

  I didn’t have a whole day, though. Or even half a day. I had one meal. One roast beef sandwich. The realization tied my stomach in an unexpected knot.

  My eyes ran across her profile, settling on her grinning mouth, the happiness I’d put there by simply doing what came naturally. I was smiling again, too. Suddenly, though, Abby’s smile was gone, and her bright eyes drooped as she stared at something directly across from us.

  It looked like a couple of
tweens, a boy and a girl. I didn’t recognize them or the woman who looked like their mother, and figured they were tourists. Abby waved at them, politely, which made the girl actually shriek, squeak out Abby’s name, and then break into giggles.

  Abby smiled back, but it didn’t touch her eyes. When it looked like the giggling girl was about to approach us, Abby shifted her stance, leaning forward on the balls of her feet like she was ready to take off at a sprint. Before she could, the woman with the kids ushered them away. Abby exhaled, shoulders slumping as she dropped her chin. It looked like she’d literally shrunk two inches in height in two seconds.

  She stared down at the floor for a long moment, and when she looked up, her cheeks were blotches of red. Not the cute blush like before. She seemed embarrassed, mortified.

  Why had the scene upset her? Nothing had happened. She’d waved and made a fangirl scream. Wasn’t she used to that?

  But it had upset her, a lot, which made me realize I had no idea what her life was like…living under a spotlight, in a fish bowl, always being watched and judged. The fact that the prospect of one fan made her want to run away was puzzling. I thought back to that news story I’d read about the mob scene in L.A. If I was remembering correctly, that had started out the same. She’d been signing an autograph—one autograph. Then it was two, three, and before she could get away, it was out of control.

  Yeah, no wonder she’d wanted to take off. Now I wanted to, too. I didn’t know what had brought her to Seaside today, but whatever it was, she was with me now, of her own free will, and deserved to be treated like a normal human, for hell’s sake.

  “Any sides?” Bob held out two bags and passed them across the counter to me. Abby was shaking her head in answer to his question, but I wasn’t letting her off the hook with just a turkey sandwich. The girl was getting a full-on spread. Plus, the more chow, the longer the meal.

  “We’re ordering more food, okay?” I said, keeping my voice low in case anyone was listening to us, feeling my first hint of paranoia of the general public. I dipped my chin to meet her eyes. “Because earlier, you seemed pretty, um, hungry.”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  It was hard to think of her as a celebrity, loved by millions, when she touched my arm and grinned at me like I was the only guy around.

  “Do you want salad or pasta?” Bob asked.

  “I think we’ll take both.” Why not give her options?

  “Dessert?”

  I didn’t bother consulting Abby for this. “One slice of key lime pie. Two forks.” Abby seemed taken aback by this, so I put a hand on her arm, wrapping my fingers around the inside of her elbow where her skin was the softest. “It’s delicious,” I said. “You’ll thank me later, I promise.”

  Heat passed between us, and I was pretty sure it came from her first, because she leaned into me, just a little, but enough that I could smell her shampoo again, reminding me of when she’d been in my arms. Abby’s cheeks were slowly turning pink. For all I knew, mine were, too.

  For a second, I thought about buying every piece of food in the damn place so our lunch together would last a week.

  “On the tab?” Bob asked, pulling me away from her again.

  “Uh, yeah, yeah.” I took both bags and added a couple bottles of water. “Thanks.”

  “It all looks amazing,” Abby said to him. “Thank you so much.”

  Bob glanced at her but didn’t reply for a moment. Then he smiled, captivated by her charm like the rest of us. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Come back and see us.”

  She beamed. “I will!”

  As we left the store, I noticed the bill of her ball cap wasn’t as low over her eyes as it had been before. I hoped this was a sign she was feeling more comfortable.

  “I have to take this to Chandler,” I said, holding up one bag. “Then we can bring ours to the beach, if that’s cool.”

  Abby smiled brightly up at me, but then a cloud passed across her face. “Um, like the public beach, or…”

  “Oh.” I had to think for a second, because I’d kind of forgotten our situation. I was automatically taking her to the beach behind the Watercolor development. It was kind of a hike, but that was all part of the plan. On second thought, though, that’d make her way too exposed. Plan B quickly formed.

  “Not public,” I said. “It’s in a residential area, a little more secluded, but not so isolated that no one will hear you scream for help.”

  It was a joke, obviously, but a look of shock bent Abby’s face.

  “No, sorry.” I laughed under my breath and put a hand over my heart. “I’m kidding. It’s private property, like an HOA. Plenty of people to hear you scream.”

  “How comforting,” she said, but she was smiling again. “So, do you eat at Modica’s a lot?”

  “I probably single-handedly keep him in business,” I replied as we crossed the circle lawn of the amphitheater.

  “Not a big cook?”

  I shrugged. “I get by. But I think it’s more fun to cook for someone else.”

  “Hmm.” She tapped a finger to her lips, and I really appreciated any excuse to look at her mouth. “Got any specialties I’d be interested in trying?”

  I laughed and shook my head, stepping so our shoulders bumped. “Damn, woman, anyone ever tell you that you ask the best questions?”

  “Nope, you’re the first.” She grinned. “So, what would you cook for me? Ya know, pretend we’re going on a date tonight or something.”

  “Ravioli con sugo di maiale alla Modicana,” I said, faster than if I’d had the answer ready. Abby stopped walking and blinked up at me with the expression I could only call “cheese lust.” “It’s pork ravioli,” I said. “My mother’s recipe from Sicily and I’ve spent a lot of time there.”

  “Ohhh.” She nodded a few times. “I was wondering about the accent.”

  “Mine? I thought it was pretty much faded.”

  “No, I noticed it right away. Subtle, though, like you’re a mafia Don undercover as a surfer boy.” She puckered her lips and blew out a breath. “Gotta say, that’s pretty hot.”

  “Yeah?” I arched an eyebrow, loving it a little too much that Abby thought I was hot. “Wanna hear what I’d make you for dessert? I have to roll my Rs a lot.”

  She laughed and shoved my arm. “There you go, making me all swoony again. I’ve never been to Sicily. I’d love to hear about it—” She cut herself off, and the flirty smile on her face faded as her eyes left me to stare forward. It was almost like the second half of her sentence was supposed to be “tomorrow” or “later.” And judging by the way that hadn’t made it out of her mouth, she definitely wasn’t going to be here tomorrow.

  Damn, I hated that. I hated this. I hated how I met an incredibly cool girl, and though, yeah, it’d only been two hours, I was seriously digging her. And maybe it was delusional or my overly healthy ego, but I felt like she was into me, too.

  But right now was all we had. This was it. And I knew damn well that way too soon, I’d be the one who had to leave. Even if I didn’t, she’d be gone tomorrow anyway.

  I winced when I felt that knot in my stomach tie tighter.

  We crossed 30A and I led us around the outskirts of the other shops instead of right across the middle of the courtyard. No reason to draw attention to her if we didn’t need to. I held open the door of my store. “After you. This’ll only take a second.”

  “No hurry,” she said, smiling again.

  Two customers were leaving, each carrying a large bag, and Chandler was behind the counter, still working on that pile of clothes from the new shipment. “What’s with the dang holdup, boss man? I’m starvin’ like Marvin!”

  “Minor detour first,” I said, about to hand over his bag of food, do a quick check of the receipts, then get the hell out of there. The clock was ticking.

  “Sorry, it was my fault.” Abby stepped out from behind me.

  Not that I was worried Chandler would shriek at Abby like the girl at Modica’s, or th
at he’d start tearing off her clothes like she was Usher—

  Tearing off her clothes.

  No, that was my job.

  I spun around, stopping Abby’s forward motion while also blocking Chandler’s view. “Are you sure you want him to see you here?” I said in a quiet rush, ready to haul ass out of there if she said the word. “I can just drop this off.” I lifted Chandler’s bag of food. “Just give me two seconds and we can leave. He doesn’t have to bother you.”

  As she lifted up on her toes to glance over my shoulder, the expression in her eyes was that same sharp, steely look she’d had while psyching herself up to go into Modica’s. “I hate being afraid,” she whispered between her teeth, barely audible. “Hate it.”

  I blinked and waited.

  A second later, her steely eyes returned to me, and she leaned forward like she was about to skirt past me. The polite comfort-zone etiquette would be for me to move back to give her space. But I didn’t, challenging her instead, wondering if being this close to me was one of the things she was afraid of.

  Her eyes pinned me in place, challenging me back. When she shifted toward me another inch, I was about to drop the food to free my hands so I could wrap my arms around her waist.

  “Earlier, you claimed you’re safer than an armored car,” Abby said in a whisper, taking the bag out of my hand. “Let’s see that muscle now, big guy. Prove it.”

  The girl kicked the breath out of me.

  “Oh. You’re good,” I said, knowing she’d have to be made of stone to not feel the electricity shooting between us like live wires. “Hey, Chandler,” I called out behind me, “want you to meet someone—”

  “Hold up.” The voice of my employee hit my spine and shook me awake. He’d come around to our side of the counter and was pointing at Abby. “Hey, you look exactly like—”

  “Chandler!” I barked.

  He jumped and dropped the shorts he’d been holding, but at least he was looking at me and not gawking at Abby. I kept my eyes on his for a long moment, giving both of us time to focus and assess.