The Last in Love (Ardent Springs Book 5)

by Terri Osburn

  Strong hands drew her to him. “Abby girl, I’d go anywhere with you. Just say the word and I’m there.”

  Their lips barely touched, and she pressed up on her toes to get closer. “You always know just what to say,” she breathed.

  “And you always smell like heaven.”

  Feeling flirty, she asked, “How do you know I smell like heaven?”

  “Because whenever I’m with you, it’s like holding an angel.”

  A husky laugh bubbled out. “That might be your best line yet.”

  “I might have read that one in a book,” he confided.

  “Well, at least you’re honest.” Abby caved to the urge and dragged him down for a searing kiss, longing to show him how much he meant to her. The moment he once again crushed her against the door, the cell phone in her pocket chirped to life. Breaking contact, she sighed. “That’s probably Mama wondering where I am.”

  “Do you want to text back and tell her we’re testing the strength of her boyfriend’s alley door?”

  Abby pushed him away. “Cute and funny. Look at you.” Checking the phone, she accepted her fate. “I need to go. She’s got mason jars and rope, and I have no idea what we’re going to do with them, but when there’s a glue gun involved, it’s always painful.”

  When she stepped aside, Justin opened the steel door. “I’ll kiss any burnt fingertips tonight. What time should I pick you up?”

  “I’ll meet you here.” Since the Ruby was only blocks away, making him drive to her place and back seemed pointless. “Movie starts at seven fifteen, so I’ll be here by six forty-five. Sound good?”

  “Works for me.”

  “There you are!” exclaimed her mother as they stepped into the darkness of the back offices. “What were you two doing out there?”

  Being the smart man that he was, Justin gave the older woman a silent salute before disappearing up the black metal stairs to his apartment.

  “Are we ready to decorate mason jars?” Abby asked, ignoring the question.

  One cherry-blonde brow arched. “The glue gun is hot and ready to go. And don’t think I don’t know what was going on out there.”

  Abby lowered her voice. “Like I don’t know what goes on when Bruce’s car stays parked in your driveway all night long? Why don’t you just move into the new house already? It isn’t as if you’re remaining chaste until your wedding night.”

  Dimpled cheeks turned the same shade as her thin curls. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Abigail.”

  “Sure you don’t, Mama,” she chimed, coaxing the woman toward the office on the left. “And Justin and I were discussing knitting out in the alley.”

  Chapter 17

  “This is going to be too easy,” Q bragged, clueless as usual.

  “We need to go walk it again.” Justin curled into the Infiniti, waiting for his shortsighted friend to settle into the passenger seat.

  He hadn’t liked the idea of taking a morning away from the downtown project to research the interstate tract, but if he wanted his former coworker gone, they needed to determine if the property was even worth pursuing. Abby had needed the time off for a dress fitting for the wedding, so he’d moved forward with a meeting, tired of Q’s endless text messages on the subject.

  In order to prepare, Justin had insisted they walk the property to see for themselves what they’d be getting. The sign near the highway read plus or minus six acres, which, depending on the investors, could be an adequate amount or not enough.

  Building a couple of gas stations alone wasn’t worth the effort. Hotels were a must, and if they really wanted to entice folks off the interstate, they’d include an outlet mall featuring all the top brands. The jobs created, plus the tax revenues for the county, should silence any naysayers who saw progress as a four-letter word.

  “Come on, Justin. It rained yesterday. That field is going to be a mess, and these are my best shoes.”

  “Then you can sit in the car.”

  The broker’s office had been in Madison, a mostly commercial area of Nashville east of I-65. During the hour drive—normally forty-five minutes but extended thanks to Friday morning traffic and an accident at the Goodlettsville exit—Justin had endured Q’s nonstop chatter.

  In Q’s world, which was seemingly filled with rainbows and unicorn parades, no one held a grudge, everything was simple, and the past never happened. He was the human equivalent of a goldfish.

  In most situations, boundless optimism combined with unlimited generosity were admirable traits. In the real estate development world they were seen as faults, especially when the person in question leaned more toward gullibility than altruism. When Justin had convinced Rupert Chesterfield to bring his old college buddy, Quintin Culpepper, onto the team, he’d felt comfortable putting his credibility on the line, because despite his less-aggressive nature, Q had an incredible head for numbers. In college he’d tutored the entire fraternity through every math class offered and had actually taken engineering classes for fun.

  And then Howie Rockwood had come along with false promises about what his family’s construction business could do, taking advantage of Q’s trusting nature, and ended up putting them all out of a job. Howie’s dad’s construction business went under—something that would have happened no matter what Q and Justin had done—the development deal came to a screeching halt, and Justin’s credibility had gone up in smoke. No other firms would touch him. Chesterfield made sure of that.

  As they merged onto I-65 north, Q said, “Vicki really wants to talk to you.”

  Justin’s jaw tightened. “I’m not interested.”

  Why he didn’t hit the gas and then shove Q out of the car for even mentioning Victoria, Justin didn’t know. He wasn’t the type to see all women as evil manipulators and men their hapless dupes, but in this case he had to recognize the specific parties involved. Quintin Culpepper could be exploited by a Girl Scout. He never stood a chance against Victoria Bettencourt.

  But that didn’t mean all was forgiven, either.

  “Did you know she went to Chesterfield on your behalf?”

  And Justin believed she could no longer surprise him. “I had no idea.”

  Q played with the button along the side of his seat, sliding himself forward and back. “I was always jealous of this car.”

  “You have a Mercedes,” he pointed out.

  The passenger seat zoomed forward again. “That was Dad’s car. He took it back after I got fired. Said he was tired of me screwing up and that he should have thrown me out a long time ago.”

  The man was pushing thirty, so Justin could see his father’s point. But what the elder Culpepper really should have done was stand up to his wife when she coddled their son, insisting he be given everything he ever wanted. Having something to prove—even if to two people who would never know his accomplishments—had lit a fire in Justin that had served him well in his short life.

  “Did he kick you out of the house?”

  “He tried, but Mom wouldn’t let him.” Showing more fire than usual, he said, “I’m going to prove him wrong. When this deal scores big, he’ll see that I can do something right.”

  Rolling his eyes, Justin knew immediately that he was going to help make that happen. So much for Q being the sucker of this twosome.

  “Once we have a clear layout of the land, we’ll send out feelers to local investors.” Knowing the interstate would narrow ahead, he shifted lanes. “Thanks to Nashville’s economy running far ahead of most other parts of the country, we have a better than average chance of pulling this off, but we need to stay realistic. There are no guarantees.”

  Like a dog who’d picked up the word treat, Q sat up straighter. “That’s what I’ve been saying. We can’t miss with this one.”

  “Let’s try this again. There are no guarantees,” Justin reiterated. “Six acres isn’t much when you start adding elements like chain hotels and retail outlets. If the pros don’t outweigh the cons here, we’re out. End of s
tory. You got that?”

  Like a man without a care in the world, Q slid his seat all the way back and crossed his ankles. “You worry too much, bro. We got this.”

  Amazing. Freaking amazing.

  “I say up an inch.”

  “I’m the bride and I say down an inch.”

  Abby and her mother had been fighting this battle for nearly five minutes.

  “She has great legs,” Haleigh said, offering support. “Let her show them off.”

  Mama held her ground. “A woman over thirty does not wear a dress that short.”

  “Maybe not in your day,” Haleigh quipped, earning a quelling evil eye.

  Refusing to surrender, Abby lifted the skirt to exactly where she wanted it, not quite three inches above her knee. “Stick a pin in it, Maureen. This is where it’s going.”

  “Perfect,” her best friend cheered, only to be poked by her future mother-in-law.

  “Keep that up and I’m wearing black to your wedding.”

  “Do that and I’ll sic my mother on you.”

  One would never know that these two women actually loved each other.

  Maureen snapped her fingers, and a young girl appeared with a large, pin-covered bulb clamped to her wrist. “If this is where you want it, this is where I’ll put it.”

  As if the seamstress were betraying her, the bride pouted. “This is my wedding.”

  “And this is your daughter’s dress,” the redhead mumbled, holding three pins pinched between her lips. “Besides, twenty years ago we sure as heck weren’t wearing skirts down to our ankles for our girls’-night-out shenanigans.”

  Haleigh leaned forward. “Do tell.”

  “Maureen O’Callahan, if you say one more word, I’m taking my business elsewhere.”

  Undaunted, the seamstress flashed Abby a conspiratorial smile. “Hem high and neckline low described a large portion of your mother’s wardrobe back in the day.”

  “That’s it,” Mama snapped. “You’re all out of the will.”

  “Damn,” Haleigh lamented. “Guess I’ll just have to steal that ruby ring before you kick the bucket.”

  Laughter echoed all around, and even Maureen spit out her straight pins. “This one is ready to go,” she said, escorting Abby off the pedestal. “Miss Haleigh’s turn now. Come on back and we’ll get you into the dress.”

  As the pair wandered off, Abby twirled before a three-way mirror. The beige heels made her calves look awesome, if she did say so herself.

  “People are talking,” Mama said, voice low and serious.

  “About what?” she asked, lifting her hair off her neck to get the full updo effect.

  “About you spending nights above the bookstore.”

  Abby had spent five of the last six nights at Justin’s place, and if it weren’t for him having firehouse duty, that number would be higher.

  “Where I spend my nights is nobody’s business,” she replied, annoyed they were even having this conversation. It wasn’t as if she were taking walks of shame down Main Street every morning. Between her new stove being back-ordered and the apartment’s proximity to their project location, staying above the bookstore had been a practical decision. Spending her nights finding release in Justin’s bed had been a strictly personal one.

  Mama joined her at the mirror and peered over Abby’s shoulder. “You might not care about your reputation, but I do.”

  Seeing red, she lowered her voice to keep the conversation private. “I have been celibate for two years, Mama. If some prude wants to call me a wanton woman for rejoining the land of the living, so be it. I won’t apologize for being happy.”

  “You were his babysitter, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Eighteen years ago,” she argued, throwing her hands in the air. “We’re adults now. Both of us. And I won’t let you turn this into something dirty or perverted.”

  Like a dog with a bone, Mama whispered, “Why can’t you find a man your own age? Didn’t Dale Lambdon ask you out a few months ago?”

  Dale Lambdon had asked out every woman with a pulse except the one woman who actually wanted him. A discovery Carrie had shared with her at the time of the asking, which was the reason Abby had turned him down. That and she simply didn’t see her former classmate as more than a nice guy to call in an emergency, thanks to his position as a local sheriff’s deputy.

  “I’m sure that Dale will make some lucky woman very happy someday, but he isn’t the man for me.” Sensing a double standard, she said, “What if this was about Cooper? What if the ladies social committee at church told you Cooper was shooting above his means by marrying a doctor?”

  Mama’s face flushed. “I’d tell them that Cooper has loved Haleigh Rae for half his life, and he deserves to be happy, just like anyone else.”

  Heart falling, Abby fought back tears. “But I don’t have a right to be happy, is that it, Mama? Is it because I’m a woman? Because we’re expected to keep up appearances and to hell with what we really want?”

  “Abigail Louise, are you saying that you love Justin Donovan?”

  Dumbfounded, Abby could do little more than stare. The issue was not whether she loved anyone, but that she was entitled to spend her days—and nights—with whomever she chose without being judged for it.

  “Answer the question, honey,” Mama pushed. “If you love this boy, you need to tell me.”

  Feeling cornered, she slipped past her mother to pace before the cream satin chairs. “It’s only been a week. How can you be in love with someone in a week?”

  Taking her by the shoulders, the future bride said, “I loved Bruce by the end of our first date, and then I lost him for more than thirty years because I was too young and stupid to know that the world wouldn’t end if I stepped out of my comfort zone. If this thing with Justin is more than a casual romp, I’ll support you no matter what. Do you love him or not?”

  From the first time they’d kissed, there had been nothing casual about Abby’s feelings for Justin. And with every touch he told her he felt the same. Their first night together, when she’d been drowning in doubts, Justin had promised to catch her if she fell. Maybe it was time to test that promise.

  Heart in her throat, Abby glanced around at the endless offerings of tulle, pearls, and lace. Ironic that she should have such a revelation in a place where so many happy endings had been celebrated. Hugging herself tight, she met her mother’s anxious gaze. “I do,” she whispered. “I love him very much.”

  Without warning, she found herself crushed against Mama’s chest. “I’m so sorry, baby. I had no idea.”

  Laughing, she said, “Neither did I.”

  Mama released her to ask, “Does he feel the same way?”

  Abby’s mind slipped back to that first night.

  “You’re mine, Abigail. You’re mine.”

  “I think he might,” she replied, feeling as if her feet were no longer touching the floor.

  Shifting into fairy godmother mode, Mama grew serious. “We mustn’t rush him. Men don’t come around to these things as quickly as we do.”

  Considering how hard Justin had worked to drag Abby this far, she was almost positive that Mama had things backward. Then again, she saw no sense in creating waves when the current ebb and flow were working so well.

  “Here I am,” Haleigh called, trudging to the pedestal in a flowing blue garment that beautifully accentuated all her new curves. A year ago she’d been rail thin, surviving on coffee and self-recrimination. Today she looked healthy and happy. As she took her place in front of the mirror, she spotted her future in-laws’ teary grins. “I know those tears aren’t for me. What did I miss?”

  Mama beamed. “Abby is in love.”

  Eyes wide, the leggy blonde nearly fell from her perch. “You are? Already?”

  “I guess so,” she replied with an awkward shrug.

  Haleigh didn’t display the same enthusiasm as Mama had. “You’re full of surprises these days, Abbs.”

  Squeezing her daughte
r’s arm, the bride said, “But she isn’t going to push him. It’s important that men come to their senses in their own time.”

  “Right,” Haleigh mumbled, holding Abby’s gaze. When Maureen called Mama away, she asked, “Did you get some answers?”

  “No,” Abby admitted. “Not yet.”

  “Don’t go into this blind, Abbs. You need to know what you’re getting.”

  Arms crossed, she defended her man. “Justin cares about me and that’s what matters. We’ll deal with anything else if it comes.”

  “Okay,” she said, nodding her head. “I hope it works out, then.”

  “Abby, Maureen needs you in the back, honey,” Mama cut in. “She wants to make sure your hem is pinned even all the way around.”

  “I’m coming.” Offering Haleigh a reassuring smile on her way by, she whispered, “I know what I’m doing.”

  Her friend’s silent nod spoke volumes. But Haleigh would come around, she thought, stepping through a burgundy curtain beyond the fitting rooms. Whatever happened in Chicago was in the past, and when Justin wanted to tell her, he would. Until then Abby preferred to focus on the future.

  Chapter 18

  Surveying their progress so far, Justin stepped back from the center of the square, careful not to put himself into traffic. They’d decided to split the circle into quarters, leaving a path to the statue in each direction. The opposing quarters would match, meaning no matter the observer’s viewpoint, they would always see two diverse but complementary flower beds. The cross path would be defined with boxwood, while the beds would feature five different types of flowers.

  “I made it,” Abby said, jogging across the roundabout to join him.

  She’d adopted a shorts-and-T-shirt uniform for days requiring dirty work, pulling her hair into a simple ponytail to keep the dark waves out of her deep green eyes. And though she often called this her grungy look, he still lost his breath every time he saw her. On this warm Friday afternoon, the color was higher on her cheeks than usual.

  “Does the dress now fit in all the right places?” he asked, tossing an arm over her shoulder to pull her into his side.