Candy Crumble

by Shannyn Leah

  Abby held the towel of ice toward him and he took it, sending her a humourless look that was intended to ward her off.

  She ignored him.

  “Why were you waking me up anyway?” She leaned her palms on the counter, tightly gripping the edge so her hands wouldn’t reach out for him.

  His nose looked tender as he pressed the towel against it and she flinched.

  He did not.

  “Because you were howling like a wild dog in your sleep.”

  Howling like a wild dog?

  Why did everything he say make her smile, even when it came out sounding like Oscar the Grouch? At the moment, she presumed it had to do with his grumpy tone pushing through the towel while comparing her to a wild dog. A wild dog. Why did that suit her so well?

  It had been the same dream again disrupting her sleep. The same one she’d had over and over and over, like a scratched disc that she wanted to throw across the room every time it stopped before the good part. No matter how much Abby tried, she could not shake this dream—more like a nightmare. The nights Abby succumbed to sleep so deeply she found herself in the same dust-filled attic facing Gran, her grandmother. Gran’s floral kitchen apron was tied around her waist and the remembrance of the kind smile that lit her eyes behind the wire rimmed glasses transported Abby back nine months ago, before Gran died. The feeling of her presence in her dreams was so strong it was as though Gran was baking up a storm in the kitchen below them. Right as Abby was starting to believe it was all good, once more, Gran would vanish, leaving her alone...again.

  “I’m sorry I woke you. I can go home where my howling won’t bother anyone.”

  She was only half serious. Abby did not want to go home, but now she was wide awake.

  For a quick moment she wondered what the hour was, but then she knew...it would be three. Gran had been an early morning riser, awake at three o’clock, before the sun even peeked up from the east. It was the same time Abby woke up each morning, like clockwork, since the day Gran died.

  That morning, nine months ago, when fall was spreading its array of red and orange foliage throughout the town of Willow Valley, Abby had dragged her heavy feet and worried nerves out of bed earlier than usual. The strong smell of roasting coffee and frying bacon or the background noise of clanging mixing bowls and baking sheets had been yet to slowly welcome another day. Abby had found the kitchen empty, everything cold and no sign of Gran or her morning routine. She could still sum up the fear of that morning in her heart as her reluctant bare feet made their way down the short hallway of the two-bedroom bungalow, her worry assuming the worst, which was what she found: Gran wrapped in her handmade quilt like a cocoon, unmoving, unresponsive, and already gone.

  It was unfathomable that Gran had left this world when she was still so full of life. She was always early to bed, early to rise and never taking for granted any moment in between.

  Still, some mornings, over two-thousand and seventy-days later (yes, Abby had every day that went by timed in her cell phone) Abby awoke and for a split second each day her mind was set back before Gran’s death. She found herself believing she would walk into the kitchen and find Gran. Abby could swear some mornings she could even inhale the smell of freshly baked pie before her eyes opened.

  Of course, it never happened and those were the hardest days, the ones where she woke up in her own bed, with the comfort of a life now gone, teasing her morning fog until the reality sprinkled down, souring it. Trudging through those hard days, forcing smiles so everyone thought she was fine and dandy, exhausted her. When night fell, leaving her alone, the sad thoughts caught up to her and she usually ended up knocking at Riley’s door. Like tonight. And now she’d woken him up and hit him in the nose.

  Riley took the towel off his face and tossed it in the sink, the ice crashing loudly against the stainless steel, making her jump.

  “What’s the point in that? We’re both awake now,” he growled. Growled like a wild dog. She grinned at the thought.

  Abby remembered the first time she met Riley a couple years back. Mrs. Calvert had given no warning of the newest resident moving to Willow Valley. One day, when Abby and Gran were delivering Mrs. Calvert’s pie order, this random guy was pouring coffee behind the counter. He was tall, mysterious, hiding behind a beard and over-grown hair—fresh meat in Willow Valley and not just some tourist simply passing through.

  Abby’s curiosity had exploded with questions, startling the bejeezus out of him. He hadn’t said one word, simply staring at her like she was a mad person.

  They’d been easy questions: Who are you? Where are you from? Why are you here? Do you have a girlfriend? The last question was because he looked like the kind of trouble she wanted to toss her around in the sheets...or have him toss her around.

  Mrs. Calvert, being the angel of privacy, had swooped in after Abby ignored Gran’s elbow in her side followed by a glare and Mrs. Calvert sidestepped all the questions Abby had laid out for him. Mrs. Calvert had a way of doing that. She wasn’t a nosy person like the majority of locals in town and didn’t butt into other people’s business like the old cartel of ladies who occupied three tables at the bakery every morning from ten to eleven, tapping the sap of people’s lives from passing customers. Mrs. Calvert’s business was her own and Abby still didn’t have any of the answers about Riley and his past.

  Except in regards to a girlfriend. Riley did not have a girlfriend. Was not looking for one and he did not want to toss around in the sheets...well, not with Abby anyway.

  After he cleared that up in a regular Riley snappy, aggressive tone that only made Abby wrinkle her nose at him, Riley had turned out to be the friend she needed most after Gran passed. It had been a surprise and a blessing, almost like Gran had pushed them together. Kind of like fate.

  Fate. Abby didn’t really believe in fate. She believed she planted her own path in life. However, when Abby’s life went through the cultivator it was as though the teeth of that tool had pierced her emotions and her head had spiraled, unsure how to deal with the loss, Riley had stepped in when she saw nothing but a future of being dragged through the dirt and he held her hand silently, comforting and helping her in a way no one else had been able to. He was still just as cranky as that first day they met, only she soon discovered his crankiness wasn’t as serious as he let on.

  “What are we going to do then?” she asked now in her chirpy cheerful voice...even at the early hour.

  What Abby should do was head over to The Old Town Soap Co. and finish the line of soaps she was working on. But her sense of inspiration seemed to have vanished along with Gran.

  Normally Abby would eat. Sneaking down into Mrs. Calvert’s bakery with Riley’s key had become a daily early morning routine for her. She always left the exact change for all the sweets and tea she enjoyed in the peaceful darkness and would retreat back to the solitude of Riley’s apartment before Mrs. Calvert walked through the door at five. But Riley never went down with her and although he put her goodies in the cash drawer in the morning, he didn’t really like her sneaking inside while the bakery was closed. So she didn’t suggest that, but the idea made her tummy rumble for food.

  “The question is what are you going to sucker me into doing?” See, there was his crankiness underlying the sweetness he thought he was a pro at hiding.

  Riley was convinced he was a big selfish jerk, but she knew better. No selfish jerk could ever handle her.

  Lakeshore Candy Excerpt Chapter Two

  RILEY BOYD’S SHOES hit the sand fast, trying to keep up with Abby. She was like lightening on her feet.

  It figured that they couldn’t just do something normal like watch a movie or read a book. No, she had to go running along the beach...at three in the morning.

  Who did that?

  And if he hadn’t offered his presence the foolish woman would have gone running alone. That was wild, carefree Abby.

  Going outside in the early hours of morning was dangerous, especially for a woman, es
pecially during tourist season in Willow Valley when the population tripled.

  Riley had once been that wild, carefree person taking risks at every crossroad, and he could almost relate to her drive. But he’d had to pay a price for being groundless and he understood now the importance of being cautious. Abby didn’t.

  The morning breeze cooled the sweat he was producing as they ran along the local beach and onto the private sands of the expensive cottages along the cliff.

  Abby was ahead of him, only because his fast jog was at a steady pace while she would get a puff of energy and sprint in front only to turn around and backtrack...just like she was doing right now.

  “Come on!” she hollered. “Pick up your pace Boyd!”

  He glared at her, but she only laughed it off and circled around him. Laughed it off. No one just laughed off his glares...except Abby.

  Right from the first time she’d stepped into the bakery and introduced herself, she’d ignored the fierce looks that had kept everyone else from asking him personal questions, bringing up small talk, or trying to be friendly. Lord, this town was friendly and nosy and he wasn’t looking for either. Everyone caught on quickly...everyone except Abby McAdams.

  Moving in front of him now, she jogged backwards, her large round umber eyes wired with energy. No wonder she was so tiny. She ran whenever the mood struck her and her moods blew hot and cold like the weather—one was never one-hundred percent accurate when a storm might hit.

  Abby might be tiny as a toothpick, but damn she was sexy in all the right places. Her curvy hips, her rounded rear end, plus her never-ending, long, trim running legs.

  Riley shook his head. You have to stop doing that, acknowledging her gorgeous body. It seemed almost impossible, especially at this late...or was it early...hour. It is bad enough her ridiculous jokes made him laugh when he didn’t deserve it, or the sweet compliments she gave chipped away at the stone wall he’d built around his emotions. He shouldn’t feel happy, joy, or pleasure because he didn’t deserve any of them.

  “Doesn’t this feel great?” Her excited holler followed her into yet another sprint ten feet away, flaring her arms in the air like she won a marathon.

  Just watching her exhausted him. She was like the Energizer Bunny twenty-four-seven. Some nights she barely got a wink of sleep and moved through her day on a high—no doubt a sugar high. Her morning routine consisted of pouring half a cup of sugar into her coffee or tea—maybe that was an exaggeration—but who knew exactly the amount when she tipped the shaker letting the sweetness pour out until satisfied with the concoction. But she also ate candy like a child loose in a candy store and she hid candy like a squirrel hiding nuts in a tree. There were stashes of candy throughout his apartment: in the cupboards, under the couch and behind the television. Behind the television? Let a logical person explain that one, he certainly couldn’t figure it out. He could only imagine the Easter egg hunt through her own house.

  “You should come running with me every morning.”

  Riley used to run. There were a lot of things he used to do.

  Abby was back in front of him, jogging backwards again. The messy bun she had tied at the top of her head flopping with each bounce. That wasn’t the only thing bouncing around. Had his eyes really just trailed down the front of the t-shirt she was wearing? It was another one of her twin brother Avery’s band t-shirts with the logo across the front that she’d taken scissors to, cutting away the sleeves and slicing slits across the sides. It wasn’t the cuts or slits holding his attention.

  When Abby stopped running suddenly, not paying attention to him or noticing he was too busy staring at her chest to notice, he crashed straight into her.

  Damn it.

  Abby screamed at the impact, her hands latching onto his shoulder, digging her long painted black nails through his shirt and into his skin as they lost balance.

  Damn it.

  They fell backwards. He fell on top of her small body, but he managed to wrap an arm around her waist and protect her back from slamming into the ground, while the palm of his other hand hit the sand slowing the impact.

  Damn it.

  Damn it he liked her body against his.

  Lying underneath him, Abby’s eyes stared up at him, startled at first, then a slow smirk found her lips and she craned her neck back laughing like he hadn’t nearly just crushed her.

  It was kind of funny. But there was no way he was going to laugh.

  Abby gasped, seeing the humor he hadn’t caught creeping across his face. “You’re smiling!”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’re a klutz.”

  “Whatever. You ran into me,” she accused.

  “You stopped running without warning.”

  Abby sighed and a smile followed. She owned particular smiles for each of her reactions to everything. This smile was by far his favorite. He’d learned the one that reached midway to her eyes, showing off her straight white teeth and lighting her eyes in a content manner, was her real smile.

  It shifted to that mischievous, brave smile and he braced himself for a smart remark to follow.

  “If you hadn’t been staring at my breasts you might have noticed I stopped.”

  Busted. Shit.

  She’d noticed the direction of his eyes and found amusement in it, but he didn’t find the action amusing. Lately he found himself struggling more each day not to notice things like that about Abby. He was a man after all and she was a woman, and an attractive one at that, but he wasn’t looking for a woman. Not now...not ever.

  Tell that to the bulge in your pants. Damn it.

  Abby laughed, pulling him from his thoughts. “Oh relax, Riley. You’re a guy and I’m a girl...”

  That was his reasoning exactly. Although when she said it, the words made it sound like he had no self control. He needed to get his self control in check.

  “You’re going to notice these things. Don’t get those cute black boxers of yours in a twist.”

  Cute black boxers? She’d noticed that was all he was wearing in the kitchen? She seemed as observant over him as he was over her. He’d noticed the jersey short shorts riding high up her thigh and the way her buttocks peeked out the back when she jogged in front of him on their way to the beach.

  “Maybe if you got off of me you wouldn’t be struggling not to notice.”

  He was still on top of her? Shit.

  How did he not notice her full breasts pushed against his chest until just now, or that she was latched to him like a slug, holding her own weight against the entire length of his body?

  As she relaxed, he noticed how perfect their bodies mashed together. At that thought, only leading its way down a road of trouble, he let her go, dropping her the two inches onto the sand.

  “Ouch! Riley! Dammit!” she cried, as if it hurt.

  Riley climbed to his feet, trying to maintain his composure and trying not jump away from her like she was too hot to touch. He was the one on fire and he didn’t want to burn her. She would get burned. What woman in his life hadn’t been burned?

  Abby stayed on the ground all coiled up from her overreaction and directed her pursed lips twisted to one side at him. These were the looks that were chipping away at his wall and inviting feelings back into his body.

  “Way to let a woman down.” These witty comments from Abby were a bulldozer crashing down the wall around his heart.

  Riley Why didn’t this woman ask to go back home to bed? Like to sleep. Not in his bed. offered his hand and her tiny fingers tightly gripped his as she jumped to her feet and dusted the back of her legs and high-rise ass that he couldn’t not notice.

  She finished by slapping her hands together. “Before you tried to mount me on the sand...” She paused to wait for a reaction, which he wasn’t about to give her, she continued with a shrug, “...I was going to suggest racing up Blake’s beach stairs.”

  That image wasn’t hard to form.

  “I’m not racing up Blake’s stairs.”

  Abby t
ugged his hand and he tried to ignore the heat that friendly touch sent through his body. She managed to drag him to the bottom of the stairs that weaved up the cliff, without him noticing.

  “Come on. I have a meeting with my sisters in the morning and I need to let off some steam.”

  Riley didn’t need to ask why a meeting with her sisters required burning off steam. The little chatterbox had already informed him all about the gift show in September they were setting up for to wholesale their all-natural product lines to other businesses.

  Abby continued on anyway. “I wanted to hand-make my product and personally sell it to people. My sisters want to mass produce it and ship it out across the country,” she complained, like it was a bad thing. They were going to be making a shit load of money. They were setting up at the trade show to get their product out and sell to small businesses, but their intention was to find wholesalers in order to ship the product out by the skid rather than by the box. He could relate to their desire to become established. He’d quickly made his mark in the independent label recording industry long before the night that changed everything. He’d had the desire, the drive, and the passion to succeed until everything had changed. It wasn’t about the money with Abby though. It was almost like she didn’t care about money at all.

  “Let’s go.”

  He clenched his jaw. She didn’t listen to no. “Alright. But if I win we are going back home.”

  Mischief glimmered in her playful eyes. “And if I win we are going swimming.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Skinny dipping.”

  Skinny dipping?

  Lord almighty, he better run.

  ~End of Sneak Peek~

  To continue reading, pick up the next McAdams Sisters release:

  LAKESHORE CANDY, The McAdams Sisters, book #4

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