“Agreed.” Todd smiled. “I was hardly like Ollie, unfortunately.” He formed his fingers into a gun, firing imaginary shots at a flock of low-flying seagulls. “After boot camp and officer’s training, I spent a lot of time in the grunts, doing my job. Nothing glamorous.”
But very noble, I mentally added. And then my overly imaginative mind found it difficult not to picture him in desert-blasted digicams. Gun on his shoulder, sand goggles, American flag on his sleeve, defender of the free world. Macho hot stuff.
“Do you ever miss it?” I asked, holding the water bottle up to my cheek, trying to cool down surreptitiously.
Before answering, Todd looked puzzled; maybe he was thrown by such a nosy question. “I’ve never considered that,” he replied after a moment. “I suppose I do, though, in a way.” A corner of his mouth pulled back. “But I get my fix every now and then. I secretly love killing my father and sisters at paintball.” He took a long drink of his water and looked out at the Gulf, smiling reminiscently.
“I was three semesters away from getting my degree,” I said.
Todd handed me my turkey sandwich.
I sat it unopened on my lap, suddenly worried about what he’d think. He had his master’s degree and probably military medals, and I was basically a dropout.
“You went to college?” he asked. The left side his mouth was full of roast beef.
“You sound surprised again.”
Todd took another bite of his sandwich, mustard squirting out the other end. He chewed for a moment and then stopped. “Before either of us says anything more, will you do me a favor?” he asked. “Eat.” His eyes pointed to the untouched sandwich on my leg.
I unwrapped it and took one bite just to satisfy him. Oh, buddy, it was delicious. The bread was the perfect combination of chewy and hard, the veggies were garden fresh, and the avocado was like edible velvet. Where had this food been all my life?
“Enjoying yourself?” Todd asked.
I laughed, careful not to blow bits of half-chewed bread out of my mouth.
After I wolfed down half the sandwich, Todd went back to his own. “So, your college days?” he prompted at the exact moment when my mouth was completely full.
I’d been asked that question before in interviews, and it always made me uncomfortable. But Todd’s curious expression was neither mocking nor probing, which made me willing to share. “Yeah,” I said, still chewing. “I enjoyed it at the time, my classes and labs. I was going for a degree in fine arts, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with it, painting or drawing. Maybe teaching.” I sighed. “Math was my strong subject, though. Those long algebraic equations came really easily.”
“I’m not surprised,” Todd said after wiping his mouth with a napkin.
“Why?”
He lifted a smile. “I saw your photographic memory in action firsthand earlier, how you rattled off Danish like that.” He shook his head. “That’s crazy impressive.” The way he was looking at me was almost like admiration. He was the one with the MBA.
“It was never my intention,” I said, my voice low, “dropping out like I did. I guess I really didn’t have a choice; the music stuff happened so fast.” I looked out toward the water. “I wonder sometimes if that was a mistake.”
Todd rested an elbow on his knee. “You make it sound like your life is over. How old are you? Twenty-four?”
I nodded.
“Well, I’ve got you by four years, and I’m still making decisions I regret. That’s life.” He balled his napkin in his fist then tapped his chin thoughtfully. “If this helps at all, at the end of my deployment in Iraq, I didn’t know whether to continue in the military or go back to school. I was stuck at a crossroads with absolutely no plan.”
“Really?”
“Totally vacillating. I considered the FBI for a time, went as far as applying.”
“Did you get in?”
He only smiled, still chewing, at my question.
“Ah. Of course you got in.”
He took a long swig of water. He was so cute; it took everything in me not to dive over and pin those big shoulders to the sand.
“So the CIA didn’t interest you?” I joked.
“Not for long.”
I froze mid-chew. “You approached the CIA?”
“Actually they approached me.” He slowly leaned forward, looked over his shoulder, and then back at me. “But the rest of that story is classified. If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” He reached out and grabbed me by the arms. “Then eat you.”
We stared at each other. The touch of his fingers made my skin tingle.
“You’re so . . . full of it,” I whispered, breaking the silence. “They probably wouldn’t take you because of all your dirty little secrets, right?”
Todd let go of my arms and sat back. “Not a chance.” He looked down at the spread of food between us. “I’m rather squeaky clean, I’m afraid.”
I couldn’t stop smiling, tickled that this big, tough, sexy guy was apologizing to me for being abnormally normal.
He leaned back on one hand. “Seriously, though, I think the Feds were mostly interested in my sniper background.” A different kind of smile sat on his lips now; something in it made the little hairs on my arms stand up.
Sniper shooting? In Iraq? Gosh.
“I seemed to have inherited a kind of . . .” He shrugged. “Unique hand-to-eye coordination. But in the end, I decided to go the civilian route, which made my mother very happy.” He handed me a fork so we could share the key lime pie. “Most of my heavy-duty assault rifles are locked up.” He sliced into our dessert. “For the time being, anyway.”
I rolled onto my side. Todd was on his back. For the moment, neither of us was speaking. The sun felt so warm, mirroring the feeling in my soul. I sighed lightly as I watched him stretched out on the sand next to me, and I wondered what would happen if I accidentally tucked myself into the crook of his arm . . .
Saved by the bell, “Octopus’s Garden” started singing from my pocket.
Todd rolled his head to look at me. “It’s Hal,” I explained.
“Richardson?” he asked, sitting up. Todd knew the last name of our guitarist. Yep, we were that famous.
I nodded. “Should I answer?” I wondered aloud, asking both of us. “I get a lot of calls when we’re split up like this. Such a pain.”
“Take the call,” Todd said. “I don’t mind. Would you like some privacy?”
“For Hal?” I scoffed, pushing the button to accept the call. “Stay right where you are.” I slapped the phone to my ear. “What?”
“Molly called.” Hal’s voice was low, monotone, all business. “Said you met some dude.”
I sighed impatiently, draping my free arm over my eyes. “And?”
“Are you too busy vegging on the beach to talk to me, or what? Is the dude right there with you?” Hal cackled.
I could practically feel Todd at my side. I tried hard not to grin. “Maybe he is.”
Silence. “Lemme talk to him, duchess.”
I moved my arm off my eyes to see Todd looking down at me. He’d heard the request—Hal’s voice was always very loud through the phone.
“Ha-ha.” I scoffed. “Not happening, Hal.”
“Duchess . . .”
I rolled my eyes and sat up. Todd shrugged and nodded simultaneously, then extended his open hand.
“Hal, do not be a moron,” I warned.
But Hal only chuckled like he was up to something.
“Sorry,” I whispered to Todd as I passed him my cell. “He’ll keep bugging me.”
“Hello?” Todd spoke, his gaze moving to the sky. “Yes. Well . . . yes.” He looked confused first, and then he chuckled. “Yes, I know.” He looked at me, listening hard. “She is, and I will.” He laughed again before saying good-bye.
“Sorry.” I shook my head. “Hal’s the product of what happens when cousins marry.”
“I didn’t realize he was a gangsta.”
; “He’s not.” I snickered. “I think he was trying out his tough-guy persona on you.”
“Scary.” Todd smiled as he handed back my cell. “He’s awfully protective of you, isn’t he?”
My brows wrinkled as I slipped the phone into my pocket. “What did that ingrate say to you?”
“Something about breaking my face if anything happens today.”
“Happens?” I repeated. “What does that mean?”
Todd shrugged. “He’s your crazy friend, not mine.”
I laughed, trying to picture scrawny, skater-boy Hal breaking anything on Todd. “He is crazy,” I confirmed.
I looked past Todd’s shoulder, out to the water, remembering that just over a year ago, I sat across the room from Hal and the other two guys of Mustang Sally on the day Max announced that “Satellite” was going to be the first single off the new album. Hal had winked at me inconspicuously and wrinkled his nose. He’d been hiding it, but I knew him, and he was disappointed.
“When you kids become more established,” Max had said, “you can record your own songs.”
I’d wondered what could be “more established” than four multi-platinum albums and four sold-out world tours in a little under four years.
“So,” I said to Todd, eager to get back to the last bit of our earlier conversation. “You were telling me about when you lived in New York.” From the details he’d allotted so far, I was beginning to piece together his story.
Todd was in the middle of two sisters who both lived in New York City. His mother was from Sicily, a full-blooded Italian; his father was third-generation Marine Corps. Todd’s evident yet nondescript accent was a direct result of his family’s travels through his schooling years.
“Right,” Todd said. He reclined onto the sand.
I did, too.
“After grad school, I landed as a financial analyst on Wall Street.”
(Cue scenes of Todd in a dark suit, power tie, hair combed back, briefcase, black town car. Very “Mr. Big.”)
“For how long?”
“Less than a year. I didn’t really need the job at the time, but that wasn’t why I left. I realized pretty quickly that it wasn’t what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.”
Todd’s family was obviously loaded. Though he didn’t flaunt it like some of the other Richie Riches I knew, it was plain to see the evidence of old money. He simply had that way about him. Classy.
A few years ago, before I witnessed on more than one occasion actors hooking up with their makeup artists and debutantes running away with their chauffeurs, I would have considered Todd unequivocally out of my league. Celebrity or no celebrity, he totally outranked me.
“Then what?” I asked. “Like, what were you doing a year ago?”
Todd leaned forward. “What were you doing a year ago, Abby?”
“One year ago I was on my way to England,” I began without having to think, “five shows in five days in five cities. Then Europe. Then Asia.” I folded my arms. “Top that.”
“I was climbing Everest.”
“Oh,” I sputtered and then swallowed, recalling a blurb I’d read on the back of a pamphlet once: Mount Everest is 29,035 feet. One hundred and twenty corpses are still stuck up there, frozen in the ice, until I don’t know, global warming sets them free? And it cost upward of $65,000 even to attempt the climb.
I carefully regarded the man at my side—he was like a sexy Jack Bauer. “Did you make it all the way?” I asked.
“To the summit?”
I nodded eagerly.
He chuckled. “Of course not.”
“How high?”
“Camp One, twenty thousand, fifteen feet. Then my buddies and I literally crawled back down the mountain to base camp.” He paused and scratched his chin. “I spent the next week puking my guts out, crying for the stuffed dog I had when I was four.” He ran one hand through his hair and grinned at me. “Admit it, Abby. You’re totally turned on right now, aren’t you?”
{chapter 8}
“IF I FELL”
To catch more of the cooling wind, Todd and I moved up to a twin pair of the bleached-out rocks a few feet from the breaking waves. Little tidal pools dappled the sand here and there, and I dug my feet into the cool, wet grains. Todd looked straight ahead at the water, his fingers laced behind his head, hair and clothes moving in the breeze. I wished I knew how to use my camera phone so that in months to come I could remember how he looked. I snapped a mental picture before turning back toward the water.
The waves were calm and smooth, making the grand Gulf look more like a sleeping lake. A tiny sand crab inched its way near my feet as I kept perfectly still. With its white, almost translucent shell, it looked like a phantom against the pale sand. It crawled over my buried toes then continued on its merry way along the water’s edge until it disappeared into the sand.
The heat was welcoming, like a big hug, and the sun was a warm kiss on my face. Or maybe it was just a hug and kiss I was craving as I sat with my toes in the sand.
“Do you like it here?” Todd asked.
“So awesome,” I replied, tipping my chin. “How do you know about this place? Isn’t it private property?”
“I know a guy who lives over there,” he said.
Like me, Todd had buried his toes in the sand—such a playful, childlike thing. I resisted the urge to lean up against him, even though I knew the feeling of our sides together—and maybe his arm around me, too, if I let my fantasy wander—might have been just what Dr. Robert ordered.
I unburied my right foot and tapped the top of his left with my toes. His eyes moved to mine, and he smiled. I recognized that kind of smile; it made my pulse throb in my lips. His expression turned serious as his eyes dropped to my mouth. The carnal impulse sweeping over me was hard to hold back because it felt like my lungs had caught fire.
I was relieved, yet disappointed, when Todd stood and waded a few inches into the water.
“This is perfect to swim in,” he said without looking back. “Especially if you don’t like high surf.” He folded his arms tightly against his chest.
I stared after him, still feeling rather hot and bothered.
Needing to extinguish my inner fire before I imploded, I didn’t fight my next impulse. I had the presence of mind to first toss my cell phone and new hat over my shoulder, before dashing past Todd, straight into the water. As I ran hard, splashing in the shallow surf, I heard him call out something from behind me. I took a few more strong running steps and pitched headfirst into the oncoming wave, pulling myself forward under the water.
The pressure hit my ears like descending in an airplane, arresting my exhale until my body grew used to it. In full-on mermaid mode, I broke the surface for a quick breath before jackknifing for another deep dive. Years of intense vocal training had strengthened my lungs, and I could hold my breath for a fairly long time. Underwater, I opened my eyes, blinking through the initial salty sting. Schools of tiny iridescent fish fearlessly swam around me. From the ocean floor, I picked up a broken piece of starfish. After breaking surface for one more inhale, I body surfed the next foamy wave into Todd’s feet. He’d waded out a few yards to meet me.
“What’s the matter?” I panted, blinking up at him, my eyes blurry and stinging. “Afraid of the water?”
“Yes,” he replied through his teeth. “There’s a level red today. See the red flags up all the poles? That means sharks. That’s why no one’s out there.”
“Sharks?” I yelped, bumping into Todd’s legs, scrambling to my feet as we both backed out of the water. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried, but you kept running.” He laughed tensely, peeled off my Dodgers cap, and let it fall from his hand onto the wet sand. “You didn’t surface right away, and then you dove again and didn’t come up.” He shut his eyes, pressing his index finger over the bridge of his nose. “I was just about to go in after you.”
“You would’ve done that?”
He lowered his ha
nd and opened his eyes, turning to me. “Abby, in a heartbeat.”
Okay. I’m only human.
One step was all it took. I leaned in the rest of the way, wrapping my arms around him, not caring for one second if he thought I was a lunatic. “Thank you,” I whispered, hoping my words reached his ears. He didn’t respond vocally, but first one of his arms went around me and then the other. This spoke volumes.
I smiled into his warm shirt, my limbs softening, melting like hot honey. His hands moved across my shoulders. Seawater dripped from my hair down my face. It was probably damaging my retinas to the point of mutilation and blindness, but I didn’t care.
His hands slowly slid from my shoulders to the small of my back, pulling me ever so slightly into him. I felt a hitch in my breath, the kind Todd had described earlier, the kind that precedes a perfect first kiss. I knew I wouldn’t contest what was coming next . . . salt water or no salt water.
But all at once, I was released.
“Sorry,” he whispered, his arms going slack as he took a step back from me. He chuckled tightly, shaking his head. “Sorry.” He looked down at the tiny waves bubbling at his tan feet, hands safely back in his pockets.
“It’s okay,” I mumbled, taking my own step away, feeling ridiculous and a bit trampy for having hurled myself at him. Embarrassed and frustrated, I turned around, stumbling back to where I had been sitting just a few minutes ago, a naughty child banished to her bedroom.
You idiot! I inner-scolded, as I pulled my knees in front of me, fingering my toe ring. The man shows an inkling of not wanting you to be eaten alive by Jaws and you attack him like it’s prom night!
I couldn’t see the front of him, but the back of Todd’s shirt was plenty drenched thanks to me. I shook my head, ashamed by my idiotic bravado. So not my style. I would never be Molly.
“I’m not normally . . .” I started to explain, but stopped, not knowing how to finish without making it worse. I attempted to run my fingers through my wet hair, but had to settle for twisting it into a loose, dripping tangle down my back. Todd was still looking out at the water.
Abby Road Page 8