by Robyn Neeley
She shrugged and pulled the web out of her hair, glancing down at the piece in her palm. “Sure, whatever.”
Brandon studied her. He was the first to admit that he sucked at reading women, but something was definitely the matter. He headed back behind the bar and cracked open a cranberry juice, mixing it with Sprite. Setting it in front of Abby along with a bowl of nuts he’d opened to munch on earlier, he leaned against the bar. “On the house.”
“Thanks.” She set down her purse and took a drink, laughing sarcastically. “Abby’s Potion. Of course.”
“No, that would include fresh strawberries, a little pineapple juice to add to the sweetness, and a splash of vanilla-infused vodka to smooth it out.” He paused not knowing why ingredients for a drink he’d never made rolled off his tongue like they did, or why the color in Abby’s face drained. “Abby, what’s wrong?”
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking today.”
He pulled himself up and shoved his fists in his pocket. Judging by her tone, he wasn’t really excited to hear what she might admit. “Do you regret what we did last night?”
“No!” she blurted out, then narrowed her eyes. “Do you?”
“Not at all.” He was at least glad to hear she hadn’t thought their sleeping together was a mistake. He covered her hand with his. “Talk to me.”
“I’m sorry . . . it’s . . . it’s just I ran into Caitlin at the costume store this morning. I guess she can’t be an expectant mother for Halloween since she’s already pregnant.” She stared at him.
“I know. She told me yesterday. Isn’t it crazy?”
“That’s what you’re calling it?” She removed her hand from his, her lips quivering.
“I’m not calling it anything.” His eyebrow shot up. “Abby, she didn’t tell you that it’s mine, did she?”
“She didn’t have to.”
“Red.” He reached for her hand again, tightening his grip this time. “It’s not mine. She told me yesterday that she’d been with someone shortly after me, and they didn’t use protection. That’s why she asked me to meet her. She wanted me to hear the news that she was pregnant from her first before I heard it from someone else.”
“And you believe her about not being the father?”
Brandon released her hand and stared blankly. “Yeah. I mean, I know she’s done some questionable things, but why would she lie about something like that? If I were the baby’s father, I damn well would have a right to know, and I certainly wouldn’t have taken you to bed last night had she admitted it was mine.”
Abby’s eyes filled up.
“Baby, I’m sorry.” He came around the bar and took her into his arms.
“It was a hard morning.” She let him hug her for a minute but then stepped out of his embrace. “Did she say who the father was?”
“She didn’t, and I didn’t press for a name.”
“She just looks further along than me, which means she must have gotten pregnant this summer.”
Brandon bit his lip. He’d noticed the same thing. Where Abby wasn’t showing yet, Caitlin was sporting a small round bump. “It’s not mine,” he said, trying to convince himself now, too.
Abby grabbed her purse off the bar, glancing toward the kitchen. “I think I’ll get started on the food. Emma will be here in an hour or so.”
“I’ll pitch in in the meantime. Whatever you need. Put me to work.”
She put up her hand in a halt. “Thanks, but I’d really like to be alone right now.”
“Okay.” He watched her disappear into the kitchen.
Needing some fresh air, he grabbed his coat and stepped outside, heading for the pier. He stopped at the edge and looked out on the water. Just two days ago, he’d been on Mitch’s boat docked right in that very spot, sharing intimate details about his life with Abby.
She was the one woman whom he trusted to share all those things. He’d said something to upset her and he really didn’t know what.
He regretted his outburst, but did she really think he’d make love to her if he’d just found out hours earlier that he was going to be a father to another woman’s baby? What kind of man did she think he was?
He cast his gaze out onto the lake and then rode the ripples all the way back to shore. Caitlin’s baby couldn’t be his, could it? The troublesome brunette had been known to play with the truth for her own personal gain, but how would she benefit by saying the baby wasn’t his?
There was one way to find out. Turning toward the inn, he headed up the hill to his car. He’d give Abby some time alone. Right now, he needed to have a second talk with Caitlin.
Chapter 18
Abby parted her hair and began braiding each side, tucking a loose red strand behind her ear. She’d tried on her pirate wench costume this morning, but ultimately decided that anything matching Brandon’s wasn’t a good idea.
Emma had stopped by earlier with her costume, giving Abby an alternative. Under normal circumstances, she would have enjoyed wearing and embracing the spunky princess.
Now, all she wanted to do was jump in her bed, hide underneath the covers, and hibernate until spring. Instead, she pulled the purple cape over her shoulders and smoothed her blue skirt.
How was she going to look Brandon in the eyes tonight after yesterday’s conversation where she’d basically questioned his moral judgment for making love to her when he knew Caitlin was pregnant.
Even after he insisted it wasn’t his—and the jury was still out on that as far as Abby was concerned—his outburst on how he’d feel if Caitlin wasn’t telling him the truth gutted her.
It was exactly what Abby was doing. Keeping secrets that would ultimately hurt him.
Not wanting to burst into tears then and there, she’d hightailed it into the kitchen to get started on the food prep. Shortly after, she heard his car pull out of the driveway, and he never came back.
He did text her last night saying he was sorry for leaving without saying good-bye and attached a picture of his pirate costume.
She grabbed her phone from her nightstand and pulled up the text, staring at the gold hook. Tonight was supposed to be wonderful for them on so many levels. He’d show off his hard work on the inn while sharing his plans for its future, and she would give all the guests scrumptious samplings from her Taste the Magic menu.
Now, if she got through it in one piece, it would be a miracle.
It was possible that Caitlin’s baby wasn’t Brandon’s, but what if it was? When he learned that Abby was also carrying his baby, would he choose the woman who he could actually remember sleeping with or the woman who took away the memories of them being together?
All of it was too much. For a fraction of a second, Abby contemplated not telling him about the spell or that her baby was his.
But she couldn’t do that. She wasn’t that person. She’d made terrible choices this month, but she was going to tell Brandon the truth—all of it.
She’d lose him, that much she was sure of, but she never really had the whole Brandon to begin with—the one who remembered their first six weeks together.
Her doorbell rang, and she headed to answer it while loosening the cape around her neck.
“Well, look at you, my sweet sister.” Emma sauntered in in her long sparkly blue gown, her blond hair in one long, pretty braid.
“Hello. I’m glad you are here.” Abby giggled. “And no, I’m not going to suggest we build a snowman.”
“Darn.” Emma snapped her fingers in fake disappointment. “You look adorable. Brandon is going to love it.”
“Yeah . . . I was thinking maybe I’d stay in the kitchen and avoid him tonight.”
“He didn’t call today?” Emma asked.
“No.” Abby’s face fell, and she tried to lift it back up to no avail. “Tonight was supposed to be our night—unveiling the inn and announcing Taste the Magic.”
Emma came over and tugged on Abby’s braids. “It’s still your night. The food is fabulous. Word is going to
spread quickly. Why, I bet orders will start flooding in for the holidays.”
“That would be nice.” She might need something to occupy her time while she licked her wounds once Brandon learned the truth. “God, I hope Caitlin doesn’t spend the entire evening gloating.” The thought of her prancing around the party like she’d thrown it herself made Abby’s stomach turn.
“I still can’t believe she’s pregnant,” Emma said. Abby had told her the shocking news when she stopped by earlier.
“Yeah. I should have known she’d make a grand re-entrance.”
Getting into character, Emma stretched out her hand. “Maybe I can try to turn her into an ice sculpture or something.”
Abby gave a thumbs up at that suggestion. “Please do. Although, I guess I don’t want you to freeze her baby just because it has Satan’s offspring for a mother.”
“You still think it could be Brandon’s?”
Shrugging, she slid on her tall black boots that completed her outfit nicely. “I don’t know. He really believes she’s telling him the truth, but wait until you see her. She looks like she’s farther along than she’s saying, which would mean she got pregnant around the time they were together.”
“Well, try not to let her ruin this evening.”
Abby took one last look in the mirror at the deflated redhead staring back at her. Where was her fight? The old Abby Stevens—who always showed a little feist—needed to come out and get her game face on.
“You know what? I’m not going to let that evil tramp ruin this evening. Tonight is way too important to Brandon, and it is to me, too.” She took a deep breath, raised her head high, and headed past Emma to the door. “Let’s do this.”
Chapter 19
“Have you seen Abby?” Brandon asked, taking the beer bottle Mitch offered.
“Yep, she’s in the kitchen with Emma.” The Buttermilk Tavern owner reached behind him for a stuffed mushroom, popping it into his mouth. “Sure do love what they’re whipping up in there.” Grabbing another, he grinned. “And that they make sure I’m the first to taste it.”
Brandon smiled, his gaze resting on the plate of assorted appetizers behind the bar for Mitch. They did look amazing—a mix of fun finger food and fancier selections.
He couldn’t wait to try all of them and congratulate Abby personally with a hug and hopefully a little lip lock. He’d been so caught up in getting into his costume and then giving his early arrivals tours that he hadn’t greeted Abby with a proper pirate’s kiss. He was about to fix that.
He turned for the kitchen but was intercepted by Tom and Bridget, both sporting their seventies bling. “Well, if isn’t my good friends, Sonny and Cher.” Brandon chuckled, unable to ignore Tom’s bright yellow bell-bottom pants and blue rhinestone jacket. “Nice threads. I never thought rhinestones and polyester particularly went together, but you make it work,” he joked.
“Dude, you don’t even know how long it took Bridget to convince me to wear this getup.”
“You look hot, Baby.” Bridget gave him a reassuring kiss and then swung her long black wig to the side.
“What we won’t do for our ladies, right, Brandon?”
Brandon nodded his agreement since he was only in his getup because Abby had told him to be a pirate. He’d planned on wearing a suit and looking more like James Bond. “Blarmy right, mate.”
“The inn looks fabulous, Brandon,” Bridget said.
“Thank you. I’ve had a lot of help. Speaking of which, will you both excuse me? I need to talk to my bar wench, and she’s hiding in the kitchen.”
“Wait!” Bridget grabbed his arm. “You can’t go in there.”
“Why not?”
“Um . . . we just tried, and Abby kicked us out,” she said sheepishly. “Said she has a ritual—no guests in the kitchen until she’s done cooking.”
“Really?” She hadn’t told him she’d be barricading herself in there all night. Well, he was going in, and he’d suggest a new ritual that hopefully she’d find way more satisfying. One that began with his taking her into his arms and kissing her silly because that’s what he wanted to do and wasn’t going to wait another hour to do it. “I think I’ll go give it a shot.”
Tom stepped in for his wife. “Dude, you know how the Stevens girls roll. Probably doing a little abracadabra. Poof. Look . . . Here’s a plate of mini grilled cheese sandwiches . . . alakazam.” He grabbed a little sandwich from the table behind them and popped it in his mouth. “Magically delicious.”
Bridget swatted her husband, not being able to resist grabbing one for herself. “Very funny.” She turned to Brandon. “You must be so proud of Abby.”
“I am.” He smiled because Bridget made it sound like he and Abby were more than business partners. God, he hoped they were moving in that direction.
Taking a swig of his beer, he looked around the crowded room. Maybe he should give Abby a few more minutes in peace. He wasn’t really buying the superstition nonsense and suspected she might be avoiding him.
There was so much to talk about, including the second conversation he’d had with Caitlin yesterday afternoon. After threatening to get a lawyer for a DNA test to be performed when the baby was born, she finally told him who the father was. He knew from how emotional she got she wasn’t lying.
He wouldn’t be able to tell Abby what he learned—it wasn’t his place to. He also felt sorry for Caitlin because he could tell she had strong feelings for the father.
He glanced over at the door that separated the kitchen to the main room and adjusted his hook. Would Abby really kick him out if he just poked his head in for a minute?
Who was he kidding? He wouldn’t be in there a minute. Not when he wanted to get the beautiful redhead alone to tell her how hard he’d fallen under her spell.
He’d done a lot of thinking the last twenty-four hours, and he planned on putting it all out there. He was crazy about her, and she needed to know. Tonight seemed like the perfect opportunity to tell her.
If she didn’t feel the same or was still harboring feelings for her baby’s dad, he’d back off. It’s not what he wanted, and he’d hate doing it, but he’d respect her decision.
Just then a familiar face came through the front door. “Shiver me timbers! Ahoy, bucko.” He rushed over to greet Jason. “When did you get back, mate?”
“Like an hour ago, Captain Swift. Nice hook.” Jason pointed to Brandon’s hand. “I hope I can come in without a costume.”
“We’ll let ye in. Did you bring any rum?”
“Sorry.” Jason opened up his jacket. “None here.”
“Come on.” Brandon waved for Jason to follow him to the bar. “I’m running out of pirate phrases, anyway.”
“Look at this place.” Jason’s face lit up as he gazed around the room. “I go away for a couple of weeks, and you decide to open up an inn.” He shook his head amused.
“What can I say? I get restless.” Brandon smiled, taking a moment to scope out the room. His guests were having a blast mingling, dancing, and drinking. “Pretty cool, huh.”
“Yeah, it’s awesome.”
“I’ll give you a tour, but let’s get you a drink first.” He motioned to Mitch. “A beer for my best mate.”
“Aye, aye, captain.”
“Is Emma here?” Jason asked, nodding to the dance floor then shaking his head. “Please tell me she’s not that nun.”
Brandon followed his gaze to the backside of a nun twerking to the beat. “No, that would be Betty. She’s been out there all night.”
“Thank God.” Jason laughed.
Betty turned around and curled her finger, trying to lure Mel—dressed as a priest—to join her.
Jason took the beer Mitch offered. “So, where is my beautiful girlfriend and her fireball cousin?”
“They’re in the kitchen. Apparently, it’s a ‘no Brandon’ zone for the evening.”
Jason arched his eyebrow. “Really? How are things going with Abby?”
“Good .
. . I think.” At least he hoped. Truth was, after yesterday, he wasn’t quite sure.
“The blog seems to be going well. You two look like you’re having a lot of fun.”
“Yeah, it’s been amazing. The off-camera time has been freakin’ fantastic, too.” His thoughts easily went over to the place in his memory bank that held both their evening gazing under the stars and the awesome movie night that ended in the mind-blowing time in his bed.
“You’re welcome,” Jason said and sipped his beer.
“For what? Recommending me for the blog assignment?”
“That and for encouraging you to finally ask Abby out on a date?”
Brandon studied his friend. “When did you do that?”
“Jason!” Emma came dashing over, throwing her arms around her boyfriend. He pulled her in for a long kiss. Envy shot straight through Brandon because he really wanted to be doing the same thing to Abby right now. This waiting until she was finished cooking was for the birds. If Emma could come out of the kitchen, then he could go in.
Besides, what pirate waited around for his fair lady? Certainly not Captain Swift. He tapped his hook on Jason’s shoulder to get the lovebirds’ attention.
“Hey, Emma. I hate to interrupt, but is it okay if I go in the kitchen now?”
Emma smiled. “Of course it is, but I think you should maybe hit the dance floor first.” She nodded to the center of the room where Abby stood, chatting with Betty and Mel.
“I think I will. Carry on.” His breath hitched as his heart sped up with each step. She looked adorable in her costume, although it was a far cry from a slutty bar wench.
“Ahoy, lass.” He removed his pirate’s hat and bowed. “Ye look beautiful tonight.”
“Thank you,” She smoothed her dress. “It was a last minute change. Do you really like it?”
“Yarr! You’re gorgeous.” He dumped the pirate speak, put his hat back on, and offered his hand. “Care to dance?”
She giggled, touching his hook. “As long as you don’t stab that in my back.”