Striding toward the edge of the balcony, he stopped, resting his hands against it. “Look, Abby, I…” He what? How did he tell her there was nothing he wouldn’t give her? “The house…” And anything else that was his to give. “Is yours if you want it.”
“I think I do,” she said quietly. “But then I’ll feel terrible for swiping your house out from under you.”
“Don’t.” His eyes locked with hers and all of a sudden an urge to be honest with her, to tell her how he’d always felt about her, even if it was too late, was so overwhelming, he almost gave in. Luckily common sense and an unwillingness to make things even more awkward between them stopped him. She didn’t feel that way about him. She was divorcing his best friend. And for those two big reasons, he couldn’t tell her. It would only make things worse. “Dean is my best friend, and you and Dani are…important to me,” he said instead, stumbling over the understatement.
Her expression clouded at the mention of Dean but she simply nodded.
He wondered how many different meanings, how many different intentions she could hide with a simple nod.
Too many. And he’d be an idiot to try to figure them out.
He offered a small smile as he added, “Besides, you and Dani will turn it into a much better home than I would have.” He turned to leave, the desire to tell her how he felt about her nearly strangling him. The longer he said nothing, the more he felt the opportunity slipping away. “Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Why is that?” she blurted out quickly as he reached for the balcony door handle.
She wasn’t making his usual avoidance and escape easy that evening. “What do you mean?”
“I just mean—Why don’t you…um…Why aren’t you…?”
“Married?” Was that where she was going with this?
Again the simple nod.
He sighed, placing his hands on his hips. His gaze fell on the dark mountains, which were shadows against the navy, starlit sky. “I guess I just haven’t found the right one,” he said. Impossible to do when she’d already married his best friend.
“Are you looking?” she asked with a laugh. “’Cause I’ve seen quite a few women sending you not-so-subtle hints—Linda, the basketball coach, for one.”
“Linda?” She must have her signals mixed up. “No way. She’s just a friend.”
“Maybe to you, but I think she likes you.”
There was more than friendly curiosity in her tone. Jealousy, maybe? He shook his head. “Well, either way, I’m not into Linda.” The problem was, he hadn’t found anyone in town he was into enough to consider a relationship with. He’d dated women over the years. He’d even gotten semi-serious about one—Cameron Day, a young professional snowboarder, who’d lived twenty minutes outside of Glenwood Falls. She’d taught him how to ski finally, and they’d been really close, but unfortunately her skiing career was her priority, and he’d understood that.
Since her, he’d been on a few dates—mostly Becky’s doing—but until he found someone who made his chest ache with longing to be near them, like Abby did, he’d rather be alone.
“What about me?” she asked, her eyes downcast on the railing between them. “How come you’ve never liked me?”
“Huh?” That’s what she thought?
She gave a nervous laugh. “Jeez, listen to me. I sound like an eight-year-old. I just meant…well, exactly what I said.” She stared at him, waiting for the answer to the million-dollar question.
One he didn’t know. “I do like you.” Too much. “I…well…it was…” Oh God, he felt like he was drowning. Just tell her the truth.
“It was because I stole your best friend away, right?”
No, it was because his best friend had stolen her away. Her answer seemed a lot less complicated, and he sensed non-complicated was what she needed right now, so he nodded. “I guess so, yeah. But if you hadn’t, hockey would have eventually. The game first, friendship second,” he said.
She looked away. “Don’t I know it.”
“Well, goodnight,” he said again, hoping this time she’d let him go. He had a hard time looking at her sad, thoughtful, faraway expression without wanting to wrap his arms around her and tell her he’d never put her second, that her heart would be safe with him.
But unfortunately, he wasn’t sure that sentiment went both ways.
Chapter 10
The following weekend was moving day.
“You really don’t have to be in a rush about this. You and Dani are welcome to stay as long as you need to,” her mother said, blocking Abigail’s path to the front door.
They’d had this discussion a million times since she’d told her parents the house was ready to move into. “This is getting heavy, Mom.” Her grip started to slip, and she readjusted the box in her arms. Her forearms burned, and she suspected she would be feeling this the next morning. She didn’t care, the thought of sleeping in their own place that evening fueling her strength.
Her mother sighed, moving aside. “Okay.”
“Mom, it’s just a few blocks. I’m not leaving Glenwood Falls again.” She meant it. Moving home may have felt like admitting failure or defeat in the beginning, but now that she was back, creating a new life for herself and Dani, it seemed like the best place to be. She had a job, a new place, and best of all the support of her family and friends nearby. Glenwood Falls may not be as exciting and fast paced as L.A., but that was a good thing. She’d never entirely fit in with that world anyway. She’d been happy there, but that was because of Dean and Dani, and she’d made the best of the lifestyle options she’d had. But this, this felt right. This felt like home.
She carried the box outside just as her father pulled into the driveway with the U-Haul loaded up with their furniture from the storage locker, where she’d stored the bigger items until she’d found a place. She’d been on her way over there to help him load everything. He must have gotten help from Mr. Kelsie, the owner. Abigail smiled. One less thing to worry about. “Perfect timing,” she said, accepting the keys from him. “I just finished filling the car, and Mom is driving me crazy.”
He laughed. “You have to be patient with her. This is the first time she’s had you and Dani living so close. Neither of us want to lose that again. We’ve just missed having you home the last nine years.”
“I know, Dad. And as I just told Mom, I’m not going anywhere. Just six blocks away.” She shot a glance toward the house, where her mother stood, looking out the living room window, a tissue clutched in her hand, her eyes red and puffy. “Is she going to be okay?” she asked, suddenly feeling bad. One day, Dani would leave home, and she suspected she’d be the one standing in the window with tissues. She blew her a kiss and her mom smiled, returning it.
“She’ll be fine. Just maybe invite her over to help you unpack once you get settled,” he said. “Are you sure you can handle this thing?” He nodded toward the U-Haul.
“I drove one all the way from L.A. Six blocks should be easy.” Somehow driving her belongings to her new place made her feel more independent. “But thanks, Dad,” she said, giving him a hug.
“Okay, I’ll meet you at the house to help unload everything,” he said, taking her car keys.
* * *
Jackson climbed out of his truck when he saw the U-Haul turn the corner onto the street. Abby was behind the wheel, and he did a quick glance around to make sure the neighborhood kids weren’t playing anywhere near the street.
The woman he remembered couldn’t park a Smart car, let alone a ten-ton cube van.
But as he watched her slowly, carefully back the van into the unpaved driveway, his this-should-be-good look changed to one of admiration.
Impressive.
Great, just something else to love about her.
Her SUV pulled up behind his truck and he waved to her father as the man got out.
“Gotta admit, I nearly had a heart attack just now watching Abby back that thing in,” Jackson said.
“Me too. I
wasn’t sure there would be a house left to move into,” he said with a laugh.
“I heard that,” she said walking toward them.
His eyes did a once-over on her body and immediately he was both grateful and annoyed her father was standing right next to him. Dressed in a pair of tight black capri leggings and an oversized T-shirt that hung off one shoulder, exposing a pale blue bra strap, she looked amazing. Her long hair tied back in a high ponytail and her face free of makeup, she rivaled a Cover Girl model for best fresh face to the world.
“Hi,” she said, stopping in front of him.
“Hey. That was impressive,” he said.
“Odd how that comment strikes me as almost more offensive than the ones I just overheard,” she said with one eyebrow raised.
“I just meant those trucks aren’t easy to drive.”
“For a girl?”
Oh shit. He wasn’t getting out of this one. He’d learned quickly living with his sister to just apologize. “Sorry,” he said. He reached into his pocket for his keys. Removing the only house key he had from his key ring, he handed it to her. “Here you go. Welcome to your new home.”
She took it and smiled. “Thank you. And I appreciate you getting the renovations completed early.”
He nodded. “No problem.”
She turned to her father. “Dad, if you want to unlock the door, I’ll start unloading the SUV.”
“Where can I start?” Jackson asked.
She stopped and swung back in surprise. “Oh, that’s okay. You don’t need to help. We got it.”
“Who do you think helped me load the stuff from the storage unit into the U-Haul?” her dad called out as he unlocked the front door.
Her eyes widened. “You helped?”
He shrugged. “Right place at the right time to be useful. I was at the bank across the street and saw your dad drive up with the U-Haul.”
Her expression was unreadable. “Oh, well, thank you.”
“So, I’ll start unloading the truck?”
She hesitated.
“That bedframe of yours weighs about a thousand pounds,” her father said.
She sighed. “I guess that’s a yes, then.”
* * *
The sight of Jackson Westmore moving her personal items into a house he currently owned and she was now renting was too much to wrap her mind around. However, it was far too amazing a sight to look away. He’d abandoned his sweatshirt somewhere between the bedframe and the couch. Now, his bulging biceps testing the confines of the sleeves of his white T-shirt and his forearm muscles straining under the weight of an oversized box nearly caused her to drool onto the counter, where she stretched to peer out the kitchen window. She was suddenly jealous of her moving boxes. What would it be like to have his arms holding her that way?
He shifted the weight of the box and wiped sweat from his forehead onto his shoulder as he walked up the front path toward the house. He glanced toward the window, caught her staring and smiled. Her knees nearly gave way beneath her as she stepped back out of sight.
Get it together. It’s Jackson Westmore. Dean’s best friend and a man she should not be having this insane attraction to. It had to be her recent dry spell in the sex department causing it. Though admittedly no one else was making her want to pounce on them.
Hearing the door open, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. A relationship, even a casual one, was not in her plans right now.
Not even a hot, steamy, passionate one, she thought as he entered the kitchen and set the box on the counter. “Thank you,” she said.
They’d barely spoken since the night she’d practically begged him to like her on the balcony at the motel, and she still felt embarrassed by her need for acceptance. It had never bothered her before that he didn’t like her. Why was it suddenly so important?
Because he was her daughter’s hockey coach and her new landlord didn’t seem to be working as an answer.
“No problem,” he said. “Were you enjoying the view?”
She willed her cheeks not to turn red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I wanted to make sure you didn’t drop my good dishes,” she said avoiding his eyes. Her gaze fell to a vase of flowers on the table. “Where did these come from?” she asked, approaching the vase and smelling the lilies—her favorite.
“Just a small housewarming gift,” he said with a shrug.
Her eyes widened.
“Becky’s idea,” he said quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets.
A sense of disappointment overwhelmed her. “Oh.”
“I just realized I don’t have a key for the padlock on the shed door out back, so I’ll cut the lock off and get a new one. The hardware store is closed now, but I’ll swing by with one soon, if that’s okay.”
“Yeah, no rush. I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not really a puttering around out in the shed type.”
He laughed and her breath caught. Where had those incredibly sexy dimples come from? Had he always had those? He’d never smiled this much at her before…and she longed to see it again. Which was more than a little stupid. She glanced away, turning her attention back to the flowers. “Thanks again for your help.” She was eager to be alone to start unpacking, but mostly, she was eager to be away from those dimples and the dizzying effect they were having on her. Where had she packed her vibrator again?
“No problem.” He headed toward the door and she followed. “And I’ll stop by soon with the new lock and key.”
“Great. Thank you.”
He hesitated by the door.
“Everything okay?”
“I lied.”
“Huh?”
“The flowers were my idea,” he said, waving as he headed off toward his truck.
Chapter 11
Wow. Are you sure you’re only having one baby?” Abigail asked, sitting across from Becky the next day. Dani had spent the day with Taylor while she’d continued to unpack and get things organized. She stared behind her friend at the mound of baby clothes that was spilling off the couch.
Becky laughed. “I better be. Dani, your mom’s here!” she called out as she picked up a tiny pink and white jumper to fold.
“Pink and white? So, you found out the sex of the baby?”
Becky shook her head, holding up an identical jumper in blue and gray. “Nope. Just covering all the bases.”
“Isn’t that getting kind of costly?” Abigail asked, before she could stop the comment. “Sorry, that was completely rude.”
Becky shook her head as she yawned. “Not at all. Actually, it’s pretty cheap since I made all of this.” She shrugged. “Whatever I don’t end up needing, I’ll give to Kelli, or Jackie, or one of the other million pregnant ladies in town. You know, I swear it’s contagious. When one of us gets…”
“Wait a sec,” Abigail interrupted. “You made all of this yourself?” Standing, she crossed the room and scanned the pile. She picked up the cutest little denim dress with purple flower embroidery on the front pockets. “Like made the entire thing? Even the embroidery?”
“Yep. The glamourous life of a military wife. I have to keep busy or I go crazy missing Neil.” She sniffed and reached for a tissue. “Jeez. Hormones are the worst.”
Abigail smiled. “I remember I used to watch old episodes of Friends when Dean was on the road during my pregnancy, and I’d end up crying my eyes out and be a blubbering idiot when he’d call. He was always so worried about leaving me…” She stopped, the brief glimpse into a better time, the memory of a loving Dean making her uncomfortable. “Anyway, these are amazing, Becky. Have you ever thought about selling them?”
She scoffed, blowing her nose. “No way! Not anymore anyway. Now I just do it for fun, and it really is a lot cheaper than BabyGap.”
“And much better quality. That’s why I’m serious. Expectant moms would much rather spend money on these handmade items, and they’re so much cuter than what’s in stores. You could make a fortune.”
> She frowned, examining a pale green knitted sweater with alligator-shaped buttons. “You think so?”
“I know so.” She continued her search through the pile of clothing. “I mean, look at this jacket.” She clutched the tiny hooded khaki jacket with safari animal buttons and patches to her chest. “This seriously makes my ovaries hurt.”
Becky laughed. “Now you’re crazy.”
“Okay, so maybe it doesn’t make me want to rush out and get pregnant, but if I already was pregnant you would be my baby designer. I’d buy anything Becky’s Baby Boutique sold.” She folded the jacket and added it to the pile.
Becky picked up another dress—yellow with a white lace trim and daisies on it. “How much would you pay for this?” she asked.
“At least fifty dollars.”
Becky’s eyes widened. “Okay, Miss Desperate Housewife. You are crazy. This cost me three dollars in fabric and…a dollar fifty in lace.”
“Exactly. You’d make a fortune!” she said, ignoring the desperate housewife comment. She knew her friend must think her life in L.A. had been one big episode of the popular drama series, but it wasn’t as fantastic as she probably imagined.
“I wouldn’t even know how to start selling this stuff.” She bit her lip. “The Sunday morning flea market?”
She nodded. “That would be good, but also kinda time-consuming.” Her friend was far too busy to sit at a flea market table all day, every Sunday, and the cost of the table would cut into her profits. “But why not start an online business? Less overhead and add shipping costs into the price…” Her excitement rose as she talked, but she sensed she was losing Becky.
“I don’t know. That seems complicated, and I’m still not convinced anyone would buy this stuff.”
Abigail sighed. Becky was sitting on a gold mine—quite literally—and she didn’t even know it. “I have a friend in L.A. who owns a baby boutique store in Beverly Hills, Baby Couture. She needs to see this stuff.”
“Help me up, I have to pee…again,” she said, changing the subject. “I swear this kid is training to be an Olympic gymnast someday.”
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