by Dawn McClure
Misty cocked her head and raised a brow.
To hell with it. No matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise, Misty knew the deal. She always had. “Jennifer’s a slut, what can I say?” Actually, she wasn’t at all. Had Jennifer been clamoring after any guy other than Matt, they’d probably be pretty tight friends. They liked to do the same things—namely barrel race. And where Jennifer’s personality was the equivalent of a used dry eraser, her heart was triple the size of most people. Essentially Jennifer was a mix between the Scarecrow and the Tin Man. If she only had a brain…
Misty gave Abby a look that made her skin crawl. A shot of understanding mixed with a heavy dose of sympathy. Had it come from anyone else Abby might have slapped them.
“Have you ever told Matt how you feel?” Misty asked softly.
And get handed a rejection that would make her and Matt’s relationship awkward as hell? Never. It wasn’t as though he’d ever asked her on a date or made a move on her. Not when they’d hung out in high school, not when they’d partied in college—not even the several times she’d fallen asleep in his dorm room while watching movies. He just wasn’t into her that way. They were friends. Pals. Buddies.
She didn’t need to point that out to his sister.
Abby needed to move on from the bubbly and slip into the hard stuff. “Um, no. And before you go on and on about being a strong woman who could simply ask him out, just realize that I’m a chicken shit when it comes to him and I have no plans on pulling a Hallmark ending with your brother. Let’s just pretend you didn’t see my disgust for Matt’s sometimes booty call and move on.” Please drop it and let me get clumsy drunk so I don’t have to see Matt and Jennifer leave together.
Her chest tightened just thinking about it. How many times had she gone home completely numb, knowing those two were hanging out? And by hanging out she meant bumping uglies. At this point Abby was surprised she wasn’t on pills. The kind that made you happy despite the fact that you were watching your house burn down.
She downed the rest of her drink and her eyes misted instantly. At least now she could hit up the bar for some whiskey. She raised her empty glass. “So, you’re married now. Are you going to start popping out grandbabies for your mom? I’m sure that would cheer her up.”
Misty’s family had lost their house in a tornado last spring. Mrs. Evans had been beside herself, but she was slowly coming to terms with their loss and acting more and more like herself.
Misty shrugged. “She’s working with Shane to build her dream house, so all wasn’t lost.” Misty smiled and leaned toward her. “Speaking of Shane, he was totally checking you out earlier.”
Abby barely kept from scoffing. Shane checked everyone out. Literally every woman who was beyond puberty and still had a heartbeat, he’d give the once-over as though he were checking for their expiration date. He was only twenty-four, but she’d bet her next paycheck that he’d already checked out the forty-somethings who were running around in their snug dresses, fake tans and short, spiked hair. The same women who did Beachbody and constantly posted that shit on Instagram.
He owned the contracting business in town. Big guy, only a year older than them, though you wouldn’t know it by talking to him. For all his womanizing ways, he was actually quite mature and had already made it to the top. She had to admit; he’d be a great catch. He was hot as hell, rode bulls for fun, had a Harley and a fat bank account. Not to mention all the other toys he owned: RV, fishing boat, pontoon, jet skis, and snowmobiles. Yeah, he was loaded—especially for their age—but he’d never quite caught her eye that way. Besides that, he flirted with everyone. He’d flirted with her so many times she couldn’t keep count.
Her gaze drifted over to Matt, like it usually did. He was twirling his mom around the dance floor, laughing as he guided her. He’d taken off his tux jacket and unbuttoned his white shirt just enough to show a little tanned skin. Because he was a dirty-blond, his chest was pretty void of hair. She hated men with a bunch of chest hair.
Speaking of, Shane had a damned rug on his chest. Naw. She didn’t want to date Shane.
Matt suddenly looked to where she was standing. Flustered, she turned to say something to Misty, but Misty had turned to talk to one of the guests, making Abby look like she’d just been staring at Matt, which she had been. She closed her eyes, let the pathetic feelings wash over her, and took a healthy lungful of air. Damn. She hated when that happened. Just for full disclosure, it happened much too often.
She sighed and started to head to the bar. Might as well drink away the millionth time he’d caught her staring at him.
Misty caught her by the arm before she could take two steps and leaned down to whisper, “Just ask him on a date. Like a real date. I know you two go out to the movies and go riding together, but make sure he knows you’re meaning a real date. I’m telling you, I see the way he looks at you, and it’s more than just a friendly glance.”
Abby had heard the song and dance routine before. Misty had good intentions, and they’d always secretly wished that Abby would marry Matt so they’d be sisters. Such a childish thing, and yet she’d never quite grown out of it.
Misty squeezed her arm and straightened just as Matt came jogging up.
God he was sexy. The dork had put on his ball cap, even while wearing what was left of his tux, and somehow he made it work.
“Come on, let’s dance,” he said, grabbing her by the hand. He took her champagne glass and set it on a nearby table as they passed it. She let him drag her out on the make-shift dance floor as she considered Misty’s words. She glanced back at Misty. Her best friend was smiling at her like a goofball and making that ‘see what I’m talking about’ gesture.
Yeah. Abby called it mixed signals. Matt was good at that.
The country song that was playing wasn’t slow or fast, so they ambled along and said nothing in the comfortable silence that stretched between them. Having gone from kindergarten to senior year in college together, they didn’t need to say much. There wasn’t a whole lot they didn’t know about each other.
Except, of course, her undying and unbreakable love for him.
Well, that wasn’t exactly true. There was something else he didn’t know. Hell, no one knew. She hadn’t wanted to think about it herself. But with him being so close, she just wanted to reach out and maybe feel slightly better for getting it off her chest. She’d never tell Misty this, but talking to Matt about her problems had always felt better than when she shared her problems with her best friend—as though he really were her other half.
This particular bit of news had been sitting in her gut for too long. “So, uh, my parents are getting divorced.”
He came to a dead stop and she bumped into his chest. “What?”
“Matt, people are starting to stare.” Becky Mae Sorenson, for one. The plump old woman stared at them as though she’d never seen two people standing on a dance floor before.
“I don’t give a shit, let them stare.” He moved to block her view of Becky Mae, forcing her to look up at him. “When did this happen? Are they just fighting and you’re making a big deal about it? I just saw them sitting together in the church. I’m pretty sure they were holding hands.”
She could understand his disbelief. Her parents hadn’t fought a day in their lives, let alone given any indication whatsoever that they were headed for divorce. Her dad had probably taken her mother’s hand because he was still in love with her.
Unfortunately, her mom didn’t feel the same anymore.
She bet it was all her mother could do back at the church not to snatch her hand out of her husband’s grasp. Poor Dad. “Nope. She wants a divorce. She even called a lawyer a few weeks ago. They’re not exactly talking about it, but it’s not a secret, either. I think my dad is trying to talk her out of it.”
Matt started to move to the music again. She went with him. “I’m sorry to hear that. Guess it’s better that you’re older. You remember how Shane reacted to his parents’
divorce when he was in the eighth grade?”
Shane had stolen a whiskey bottle from his parents’ liquor cabinet and the P.E. teacher had found him passed out in the locker room at school. He’d grown up fast and hard after that, and he’d never quite been the same. “Yeah.”
He squeezed her hand. “If you need to talk, just drop by my place. Stay overnight if you want. David moved out of the guesthouse into the new place he bought with Misty. It’s just me there now.”
God he was so accessible, but so far out of reach. “Will do,” she said, her throat tight. He pulled her a little closer to comfort her in a completely platonic way. The friend-zone sucked. Being this close to him, smelling the cologne he usually didn’t wear, sent her hormones flying in every direction. Like a pop can that had been shaken and then opened, the explosion of desire and want and need was so intense it made her dizzy.
“Just ask him on a date. Like a real date.”
Maybe she should. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Now that she thought about it, her attraction to him couldn’t be very obvious considering she’d lived most of her life hiding her feelings for him. Practice made perfect. Perhaps Misty was right, and he felt something more than friendship for her as well, but didn’t want to cross that line because he feared their relationship would change and deteriorate. Even now, the way he’d held her tighter after hearing about her parents, she’d always felt his need to offer her comfort when she needed it.
But then there was Jennifer. The greedy little tick that had burrowed into Matt’s skin and was damn near impossible to remove.
Then again, if Matt was really into Jennifer, he’d have asked her to be his girlfriend by now. He’d be dancing with her—his almost girlfriend—and not Abby, one of his closest friends. Right?
Abby took a deep breath. She was twenty-two years old for Christ’s sake. A grown woman. A strong woman, capable of running a ranch and a school room full of second graders. She had a good job, just purchased a nice house…she could ask him out. The absolute worst that could happen was he could say no. He wouldn’t laugh at her. He’d never do that. Might get a little awkward though.
Coward. Just ask him, ask him, ask him— “So, uh…”
“Oh, before I forget,” he said, interrupting her. “Can you watch Max next weekend? David and Misty will still be in the Bahamas, and Jenn’s been bugging the ever-loving hell out of me to take her camping. I figure next weekend is the last weekend we can go, what with the cold snap likely on its way. I have to winterize my parents’ cabin, so I’m tryin’ to kill two birds with one stone. But I don’t want to take Max. He gets in too much shit out at the lake and I won’t be able to keep an eye on him.”
The words she’d held back all her life died in her throat. God she felt so stupid. An image of Jennifer lounging around the cabin in Matt’s T-shirt, long tanned legs kicked out while she relaxed on the back porch, hit Abby out of nowhere. Jenn laying out in the sand by the lake in her bikini. Laughing with Matt while they soaked in the hot tub. All that alone-time together.
And Matt wanted Abby to stay behind and take care of his new puppy.
Made sense. Friend-zone. Stay in your lane. Road work ahead. “Yeah, sure.”
He pulled back to look down at her. “If you want me to call the trip off, I will. Just say the word.”
She cleared her throat, realizing she’d forgotten to school her features. She’d probably looked something in the realm of devastated for him to consider calling off a weekend with his booty call. “What for? That’s silly,” she laughed, dismissing the pain tugging at her chest.
He shrugged. “To be around if you need me. I know you’re not a child, but I know your parents divorcing isn’t a trip in the park either. If you want me to stick around, I will. We can watch The Godfather, chow down on Pizza, and throw back enough beers to make you forget you even have parents.”
She laughed, because it was usually impossible not to when he said shit like that, then looked away and shook her head. Brush it off, like you always do. He was an amazing friend, but that was all. She knew damn well that if she and Jennifer were drowning in Garner Lake, and Matt could only save one of them, he’d bypass Jennifer without so much as a thought, and then save Abby. If Abby needed a new kidney to live, he’d give her one of his, no questions asked. But their relationship didn’t go beyond a hug or pat on the back.
“No. I’m a big girl.” You mean a big baby. “I can handle it.”
He kissed her on the side of the head in a completely platonic, teeth-grinding way, when the music changed. “Guess I better dance with my sister. She’s standing to the side with the photographer staring at us. We’re supposed to dance so he can get some pictures of us.”
Abby smiled and nodded, watching him walk away. When he reached his sister, Misty yanked his ball cap off and tossed it over her shoulder. Matt tried to get around her to get to his hat, but Misty grabbed his arm and led him to the dance floor.
Watch his dog. Damn. Abby turned and headed straight for the open bar. She ordered a whiskey sour, heavy on the whiskey, and stood off to the side of the festivities to sip it. Ha. Sip it. Right. She was going to down this bitch.
So, David and Misty were headed on their honeymoon tomorrow, Matt and Jennifer were going to go camping next weekend, and she was going to spend that time working on lesson plans and binge-watching Netflix or worse—the Hallmark Channel—while Matt’s puppy piddled on her carpet.
She was a sad case indeed, figuring how excited she was now that the Hallmark Channel was playing Christmas movies. It wasn’t even Halloween yet.
And Max, Matt’s Golden Retriever puppy, was cute. She could take him on walks, since they were having an Indian summer. Pet him while crying on his furry little shoulder.
With a sigh and another chug of her drink—which was ridiculously strong—she decided she was done pining over Matthew Evans—this time for real. She doubted he’d end up with Jennifer, but Abby was dead-ass certain he wasn’t going to end up with her, so why did it matter which girl he was with right now?
She needed to start dating. Needed to put herself out there and meet new people, because constantly hanging out with Matt wasn’t doing anything but making her delusional and pathetic. She hadn’t changed since high school. Not one bit. Their five-year high school reunion was coming up next summer, and she’d likely go as Matt’s cute little sidekick. Not good enough to date, but boy could she make him laugh.
Who needed a new year to make a resolution? She glanced around the room, but she recognized every single available male. Small town problems.
Tucker Montgomery—a big knucklehead that hadn’t matured since they’d been in the fourth grade. She’d rather hang her underwear from the flag pole in front of the Legion Hall than date him. Her gaze skimmed the crowd until she saw Chris Taylor. An early thirty-something that had just graduated med school. Cute and obviously driven, but moving to Wisconsin next month. Since she wouldn’t live in the city to save her ass, he was off the list.
Shane Taggert. Hot bull rider who rode his Harley on the weekends and lived down the road from her. They were friends. Maybe they could add with benefits to the end of that? Hell, anything was better than standing there pining over a guy who was looking forward to a weekend away with his side chick.
She tossed back the rest of her whiskey sour and headed toward Shane.
Matt cheesed it for the camera, twirling his sister around the dance floor instead of heading to the bar with Abby like he wanted to do. She was a tough country woman. Not much tended to ruffle her chaps, but she was also a daddy’s girl. She hung on every word that left Roger’s mouth, and Matt had always been sure to stay on that man’s good side. It had always proved to make Abby happy. Her dad could do no wrong in her eyes. Matt wondered just how much this was all bothering her.
He glanced her way again. Looked like Abby had traded her champagne for something a little harder. He wished he could join her. He’d noticed something had been different a
bout her these past few months, but he’d have never guessed that her parents were getting divorced.
“Matt? Can I tell you something that you’ll either take to your grave or act upon it with every ounce of determination you have?”
There wasn’t much Misty could say to surprise him, being her twin brother and all, so Matt just nodded and didn’t get riled up at her dramatics. She was always making too much out of nothing, and he was pretty sure she’d said that same spiel to him a dozen times just in the last month. “Sure,” he said, still looking at Abby over Misty’s shoulder. She looked so…depressed.
“Matt, I’m serious. Abby would kill me.”
Now that got his attention. He looked down at Misty. “What is it?”
Misty quickly shook her head, clearly chickening out of telling him whatever it was she was going to say. “Never mind.”
For a second he’d have given his left nut to know something that Abby was keeping from him, but then he remembered her confession. Guess it made sense that Abby had told Misty what was happening with her parents before she’d told him. Abby and Misty had been spending so much time together, planning the wedding and all, they’d probably talked about it often. “I already know. She told me on the dance floor just a few minutes ago. I honestly can’t believe it.”
He looked at Abby again, feeling a strong urge to end the dance with Misty and make sure Abby was okay. The photographer had to have gotten his shot by now.
While looking at her, Abby glanced his way and he smiled, hoping to make her feel like she wasn’t alone. Instead of smiling back at him, she quickly looked away and took a sip of her drink. He frowned.
Misty hit him in the shoulder. “Well? What did you say?” She looked to where Abby was standing and then back to him, her face a mask of overly-dramatic girl shock. “Oh, God, you didn’t crush her, did you? She’s been holding this in for so long.”
“Well, I didn’t give her any false hope. Why would I?” People divorced all the time. Everything would eventually work out, but there’d probably be a few rough patches in the process. He’d be there for her as much as he could.