by Debbie Mason
It was Hunter. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, “He might be the best piper you’ve got, but he’s also chief of police and best friends with my aunt. Do you really want to risk letting him in on the Outlander event?”
She shivered, but it wasn’t in reaction to his reminder; it was in response to his body crowding hers and the brush of his warm lips against her ear. Which went to show just how easily he messed with her head and how—thanks to stress and lack of sleep—she wasn’t thinking clearly to begin with, because he was absolutely right.
“Thanks, but now what am I supposed to do? Look at him.” The chief’s gaze moved from her to Hunter, and his silver handlebar mustache twitched in what appeared to be a smug smile. He must’ve heard the other pipers practicing this week. Imagining his reaction to learning he wasn’t her top pick, she almost groaned out loud. The last thing she wanted was Owen Campbell mad at her.
“Hey, that’s not fair. The chief can’t horn in at the end. He’s not one of the contenders.”
Thank goodness for Dylan, she thought. “I’m really sorry, Chief, but Dylan’s right.” Owen tried to hide it, but Abby sensed his disappointment. From what she’d heard, he was having a difficult time adjusting to the idea of retiring so she felt twice as bad for disappointing him.
Think, Abby, think. “Wait,” she called to Owen when he went to walk away. “We’ve been trying to come up with a special way to welcome the bachelorette party to Highland Falls, and I think you’d be absolutely perfect, Chief. You could wait for us on the flower bridge and start playing as soon as we pass the town’s sign.”
“I’ll check my schedule, but I think I can manage that,” he said with another twitch of his mustache, and this time there was no doubt he was smiling.
“Okay, so I’m sure you’re all anxious to know who—” Abby began, only to be cut off by Hunter again.
“Why don’t you guys go into the kitchen and help yourselves to the cupcakes and doughnuts while Abby’s sisters make their final decision? There’s some lemonade in the fridge.”
Abby’s mouth opened and closed as the men trooped past them, some of them ducking around Hunter to say hi to her sisters and put in a good word for themselves.
“Hunter!” she said as the door banged closed behind the last of the men. “Those are for the bachelorette party. Now I’ll have to stay up half the night making more.” At the thought, she felt like crying.
His eyes narrowed, then his mouth flattened, and he took his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. “You’re not staying up all night, and as soon as you get rid of these guys, you’re going to take it easy.” He tapped out a number and brought the phone to his ear. “You’re beat, and don’t bother denying it. Hey, Bliss, it’s Hunter. I need to place an order for pickup later today. Yeah. Hang on a sec. What do you need?”
She reached up and covered the phone, whispering in case her sisters were able to hear, “I’m a little short on cash, Hunter. Sadie and I have—”
“I’m the one who told them to go eat, so I’m the one who’s paying.”
“No, you’re right. I absolutely should’ve fed them. It’s not like they’re being paid—” Hunter cut her off with a finger on her lips as he placed an order that would cover them for the entire weekend and then some.
“Thank you,” she said when he ended the call. “I’ll pay you—What are you doing?”
He reached for the phone attached to her hat. “Finding out how to take down the video of me.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The truck’s high beams cut a swath across the meadow as Hunter pulled up to the farmhouse later that same night. He blinked, positive he was imagining things. He leaned against the steering wheel to get a better look. He wasn’t imagining things. The tents he’d lent to Abby had been painted: one soft pink, one butter yellow, and one baby blue. They’d also been decorated with flowers, rainbows, and what looked like a unicorn. So not only had Abby ruined three perfectly good tents, she’d also broken her promise that she’d take it easy in exchange for him not taking down the video.
The video hadn’t been as bad as he’d expected. Other than a few people around here, no one would recognize him from his back or the back of his head. Most important, it didn’t show his carving. It just looked like a guy chopping logs. So while he didn’t care if she left it up, he’d needed the leverage. Not that it had done him any good.
If he hadn’t been at Owen’s surprise retirement party at Highland Brew, he would’ve seen to it that she did what he’d asked. He’d done his best to avoid spending one-on-one time with her over the past ten days, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know what she’d been up to. Except when it came to her online adventures. As he’d come to learn, she’d been as busy on there as she’d been here.
With the comings and goings of what at times had seemed like half the male population of Highland Falls, Hunter had been impressed he hadn’t lost his ever-loving mind. He was close to losing it now and thought it might be best if he stored the cupcakes and muffins in the barn until morning.
These feelings, his desire for her, his need to protect her, were exactly why he’d kept his distance from her. He glanced at the farmhouse. But instead of his feelings for her diminishing, they’d only increased. He got out of the truck, leaning in to pile the bakery boxes in his arms. He shut the door with his foot. He didn’t have to worry about waking her up. Nearly every damn light in the farmhouse was on.
He heard her talking to the rat through the screen door off the porch. “I’m sorry, Boo. I’m too tired to make us something to eat.”
“Because you were too busy ruining my tents,” he said as he walked inside.
“They’re not ruined. I used water paint.” Her voice came from behind the open fridge and freezer doors. “Thank you for the cupcakes and muffins. I hope you didn’t have to leave Owen’s party on my account.”
He winced and put the boxes on the counter before crouching to pet Bella, who was dancing at his feet. “I thought it was just the guys, Abby. I’m sorry. I would’ve taken you had I known it was open to everyone.”
“Everyone as in friends and neighbors. No one thinks of me that way, so I wouldn’t have been invited anyway.”
She tried to sound flip but he knew she was hurt. “That’s not true. Quite a few people asked for you, including Owen. If it makes you feel better, he gave me crap and so did my aunt.” And half a dozen other people, including the mayor and his brother and Eden.
“That’s nice.”
He only heard the smile in her voice because she was still hiding behind the freezer and refrigerator doors, and the only reason he could think of for that was…“Are you naked?” His stomach muscles contracted as his gaze traveled from her cherry-red toenails to her bare legs.
“No, I’m not naked. I’m wearing pjs. I’m just…hot.”
She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know, but he doubted she was referring to her looks. He walked over, and she let the freezer door go to duck her head into the almost empty refrigerator. And while she might not be naked, her pjs consisted of hot-pink silky shorts and a matching camisole.
“What’s going on, Abby?”
“Nothing. Thanks again for the cupcakes and muffins. Enjoy your fishing trip.” She waved her hand behind her.
“Good try. I’m not going anywhere so you might as well show me whatever it is you’re trying to hide.”
“I don’t know what the big deal is. You didn’t want anything to do with me for the past ten days.”
He reached in, wrapped an arm around her waist, and placed a hand on the back of her damp hair to pull her out of the fridge.
“You’re so annoying!” she said as he turned her in his arms. “If you yell at—”
“What the hell happened to you?” The left side of her face looked like someone had knocked her around. When she went to pull away, he tightened his hold on her. “Just tell me. I won’t yell.”
She sighed. “I was glamming up th
e tents, and the air mattresses didn’t fit my vision, so I decided to bring out one of the mattresses—”
“You carried a queen-size mattress down the stairs by yourself?”
“Umm, yeah, and let me tell you, that’s not easy to do, which is probably why…” She grimaced as she brought her hand to the side of her face.
“Keep going.” He reached around her to open the freezer door and take out a tray of ice cubes. Instead, he grabbed a bag of frozen peas that looked like they’d been in there for a year and handed them to her.
“I sort of fell down the stairs, and I, um, messed up your paint job too. I’m really sor—”
“Abby, go upstairs, lie down, and ice your face.”
“You’re mad at me.”
“Yeah, I am. So unless you want me to yell at you, go upstairs.”
“You know what, yell at me. I don’t care. I’m hungry, and Bella is too, so go away.” She sounded close to tears, and she went to turn away. “I’m sorry, that was rude, and you’ve been so good to me. I’m just really tired.”
“I know you are, and that’s why I made you promise to take it easy for the rest of the night.” He twisted a long, damp curl around his finger and gave it a gentle tug. “A promise you broke.”
She’d used Liz’s shampoo and smelled like honey and lavender, and she looked good enough to eat standing there in pjs that left little to the imagination. And he’d spent a lot of time imagining her in even less than what she had on. “Go upstairs, Abby. I’ll make you something to eat.”
Thirty minutes later, he joined her on the bed to finish up the last of the omelet she offered to him, declaring she was too full to eat the rest.
“Thank you. It was exactly what Bella and I needed.” She leaned up to look over the side of the bed. “She’s already out.”
“You should be too.” He went to get up, but she laid a hand on his arm.
“Don’t go. I’m not tired yet, and if you leave, I’ll think of something else I need to do.”
“Abby.”
She smiled and mimicked him saying her name before agreeing to his request. “I promise. No more glamming up the tents.”
He placed the now-empty plate on the bedside table and noticed Liz’s journal. He picked it up. “What number is this?”
“Two. I’m a slow reader.”
“Do you mind?” he asked.
“No, not at all.”
He missed his old friend. It would be nice to hear her voice again if only through her written words. As he opened the book, Abby snuggled in beside him, resting her cheek on his shoulder so she could see.
“Could you read out loud?” she asked.
He remembered her telling him she’d had to relearn to read and that even now it was difficult for her. His chest tightened with an emotion he almost didn’t recognize, and his internal warning system went crazy.
He didn’t need to be warned he was in danger; he’d known from the very first day he met her. But he was tired, tired of making excuses to keep his distance, tired of lying to himself. He wanted Abby, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she wanted him. So maybe they should just give in to their desire. It wasn’t like she planned to stick around or wanted a ring on her finger.
Abby interrupted his thoughts. “Do you think Liz was gay? Is that why her father sent her away?”
“I don’t know. She never married, and Owen kept asking up until the day she died. She loved him, but I don’t think the same way he loved her. She used to say we can’t choose who we love.”
“That would be so hard to love someone who didn’t love you back, or who didn’t love you as much as you loved them.” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, then looked at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You and Sloane. You’re still in love—”
“I’m not in love with Sloane.”
“You might be. Once you move past the anger, the guilt, and the grief.”
“Trust me, I’ve moved beyond the anger, Abby. It’s been more than two years.”
“What about the guilt and the grief?”
“The grief will always be there. But it eases as the years pass.” He knew where she’d go next and changed the subject. Plus, he wanted to know the answer. “What about you? Are you still in love with your ex?”
“Well, no, but that’s not the same. You and Sloane had something special. You had one of those grand love affairs that you only see on the big screen. Everyone says so.”
He laughed, something he’d never thought he’d do when it came to him and Sloane and their breakup. But Abby’s assurance a couple weeks back that Sloane didn’t hate him or blame him for Danny’s death had gone a ways to helping him heal. He hadn’t realized it until now.
“We were just like any other couple, Abby.” He thought back over the years. “That’s not quite true. We weren’t ever just a couple. Danny was always with us. I honestly can’t remember asking Sloane to marry me. It was just assumed we’d marry so we went along with it.” Until that night at the pub when he’d told her about buying the land and shared his plan for their future. He didn’t think he even noticed it then, but looking back, it was obvious his vision and Sloane’s weren’t the same.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I am. Better than okay,” he said, and put the book aside to kiss her. He feathered his fingers over her bruised cheek. “But you’re not.”
“No, I’m really good. Better than good. Or I will be,” she said, pressing her body against his side.
He kissed her. “Hold that thought. I’ll be back. I’m just going to pick up Wolf and lock up for the night.”
Hunter made it back in record time, stripping off his clothes as he took the stairs to the bedroom two at a time. He hoped Abby had left hers on. He wanted to strip them off her himself. He walked into the room to discover that wasn’t something he had to worry about. Abby was sprawled comatose on the bed.
Hunter sighed and crawled in beside her, casting her a hopeful glance when he nudged her over and she released a small sigh. Instead of waking up, she snuggled in beside him. And if he thought he was in trouble before, it had nothing on how he felt now when merely sleeping with Abby put a contented smile on his face.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Apart from the pink headband decorated with white fluff and two penises that Granny MacLeod wore on her head, she was dressed in the Highland Tours uniform: a white shirt, a kilt in the MacLeod plaid (yellow with horizontal and vertical black stripes and thin red lines), and kick-butt boots, the same as Abby and Sadie.
Unlike Abby and Sadie, she was holding a microphone in her red-gloved hand and entertaining the bachelorette tour party they’d picked up an hour and half ago at the Asheville airport. Abby was behind the wheel of the tour bus while Sadie sat in the seat behind her, filming. No doubt inwardly cringing as her grandmother continued with her repertoire of penis jokes. It had been clear when Sadie picked up Abby earlier that morning, that her grandmother was a surprise addition to the tour, and not a welcome one in her granddaughter’s eyes.
“How many knees do men have?” Granny MacLeod asked, looking for a target. Her gaze landed on Mallory, who sat looking pained beneath the penis headband.
Harry Maitland’s widow of a year had already been the butt of several of her niece-by-marriage’s jokes. Abby got the feeling this was nothing new. Harry’s beloved Blair made it painfully obvious how she felt about Mallory, who was as nice in person as she’d been on Skype.
The only reason Abby could see for Blair to dislike her aunt as much as she clearly did was jealousy. Mallory, with her sun-kissed blond hair, golden complexion, and blue eyes, was as head-turningly beautiful as Abby’s sisters. She also appeared to be the same age as Blair and her six bridesmaids.
“Enough with the penis jokes, Granny,” Sadie said, coming to Mallory’s rescue.
“No, we love her penis jokes,” Blair called from the back of the bus with a Sou
thern Belle accent. “Come on, Mallory. Don’t be a poor sport, give it a go. I’m sure you were acquainted with a few men and their penises before you married Uncle Harry.”
Then, in a whisper clearly meant to be heard, Blair shared with her giggling friends that Harry had been rendered not only sterile but impotent from his cancer treatments before he and Mallory married, and not even a little blue pill had helped. Abby could almost see the thought bubbles appearing above the bridal party’s heads with the words Gold Digger aimed at Mallory. Which was no doubt exactly what Blair had intended.
Abby glanced at Mallory, who’d turned her head to look out the window—her cheeks a bright, fiery red.
The dark-haired bride-to-be with her debutante hair and fake violet eyes reminded Abby of every mean girl in high school and the Bel Air Bs combined. So instead of swerving to avoid the large pothole up the road, she pressed on the gas and hit it head-on. The bus sailed through the air before landing with a hard bounce.
At the screams coming from the back of the bus, Abby glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled as several of the women bounced so high that they bumped their heads on the ceiling, and Blair fell off the seat.
But Abby’s pleasure was short lived when the women helped Blair off the floor and Bridezilla met her gaze in the rearview mirror in such a way that suggested she knew exactly what Abby was up to, and she would get even.
You idiot, Abby berated herself. Once again, she’d acted without thinking of the consequences, and this time the blowback wouldn’t hit just her. She’d put Highland Tours and the bus at risk, not to mention video for her YouTube channel. The entire bridal party, including Mallory, had signed waivers that video and photos from the weekend could be used for promotional purposes, including on Abby’s YouTube channel.
“I’m so sorry,” she called to Blair and her posse. “This is exactly the reason I’ve started a petition for seat belts on buses. I promise, I’ll make it up to you when we get to town. We’ll stop at Highland Brew before we hit the Village Green for the Fourth of July celebrations. Drinks are on me.”