“Contained? Is that another way of saying I’m cold?” She was teasing me, I could tell, so I played along.
“Nope. Just that you keep all that heat shut up until you’re ready to unleash it.”
She smiled. “I’ve never been accused of running hot. So Linc’s been alone since his wife died?”
“Sort of.” I glanced at Abby. “He kind of went off the rails after her accident.”
“She was killed in a car accident?”
“Yeah. They think she fell asleep at the wheel. Her car went over a bridge.” I swallowed over the lump that always rose in my throat when I remembered those bleak days. “It was horrible. Thank God the kids were home with her parents.”
“Oh, they had children?” The dismay in Abby’s voice was real.
“Becca and Oliver. They’re the greatest kids.” I paused, checking to see how close we were to the exit I needed to take. “Linc had just gotten a job close to home, something that would keep him in one place. No more travel. I gave him a hard time about it, but I knew it was what he needed to do for his family. I didn’t have that, so traveling was never a big deal. He was on the last project we were doing together, and Sylvia had gone to see her parents. She left the kids with them and ran out to pick up dinner, and I guess she was so tired from the drive in . . . Linc blamed himself.”
Abby’s eyebrows drew together. “Why? It wasn’t his fault.”
“No, it wasn’t, but he felt like if he’d been home by then, she wouldn’t have been driving.” I eased over one lane, checking the mirrors. Talking about Sylvia’s accident made me hyper-aware of my own driving safety. “Linc couldn’t handle everything once she was gone. He started drinking, and everything went downhill from there.”
“That’s terrible.” There wasn’t judgment in Abby’s voice, just sadness. “But things are better now?”
“Yeees.” In many ways, Linc had recovered. But I knew part of him never would. Part of his heart had died that day with Sylvia. “I mean, he doesn’t drink anymore. He’s in a twelve-step program, and he’s been sober for almost three years. But Sylvia’s parents took custody of the kids when he was drinking, and they still have them. Linc hasn’t fought to change that. I think part of him feels like he failed them, and he doesn’t deserve to have them back.”
“Would he have to go to court?”
“No, nothing was ever done formally or legally. Linc goes to see the kids as often as he can, between jobs, and technically, he could take them any time. But his in-laws have convinced him that moving Becca and Oliver would hurt them at this point. So he’s just miserable all the time.” I took the next exit. “We’re almost there. Are you hungry?”
“Starving.” Abby grinned. “I was too nervous to eat lunch today.”
I loved that she was comfortable enough with me to admit that. “Why were you nervous? We’ve kind of done things backwards. You don’t have to worry about our first kiss or that we won’t have anything to talk about.”
“Still.” She flipped her hands over on her lap. “I tend to clam up in new situations. And dating . . .” She looked out the side window. “I haven’t done much of it. I had one semi-serious boyfriend in high school, and a few first dates here and there. And then Zachary. So I always worry I’m lacking some basic ability to handle this kind of situation.”
“Hey.” I captured her hand and squeezed it. “Don’t think about tonight that way. It’s just you, Abby, and me, Ryland, eating dinner together. Nothing scary. Just the two of us and some amazing Asian food.”
“Asian?” Her voice rose in what I hoped was anticipation.
“Yeah. I might’ve done a little recon. And Emmy might’ve told me that you believe the one thing the Cove’s missing is a really good Asian restaurant.” I slowed the truck and turned down a tree-lined road. “Cooper told me this place is a hidden gem. I hope he’s right.”
The trees gave way to a more open, busier street, and when we came to a small strip-mall, I pulled into the parking lot. Just as Coop had warned me, from the outside, the place didn’t look like much. I stole a quick glance at Abby to see if she was having second thoughts. But no, she wore a huge smile.
“This is perfect.” She gathered her handbag and opened the truck door. “All the best Asian food comes from little places like this. When I lived in the Bay Area, I used to go to a restaurant in Oakland that looked like this. I’d order a few dishes, take home the leftovers and eat well for a week.”
I met her on the passenger side of the truck and caught both her hands in mine. “You’re pretty damn amazing, you know that, Abby Donavan?”
She looked up at me, eyes glowing and lips curved. “Is that a good thing?”
“It’s a wonderful thing.” I pulled her closer, moving her hands around my body to meet behind my back, forcing her flush against me. When I bent my head to capture her lips, she made a small noise at the back of her throat that made me want to turn around and push her up on the side of my truck. Instead, I opened my mouth and coaxed her tongue between my lips, not touching her anywhere else as I held her hands captive in mine.
“What was this for?” She murmured the words against my lips. “I thought the kiss came after we ate, when you took me home.”
“I couldn’t wait.” The confession was spontaneous. “So now the pressure’s off. We can relax and enjoy dinner, knowing that the kiss is out of the way.”
Abby thrust out her lower lip in a pretend pout. “So that’s the only kiss I’m getting tonight?”
I laughed, released her hands and gave her a gentle shove toward the door of the restaurant. “Not if you play your cards right.”
The inside of the Mandarin Court wasn’t anything special. The man who showed us to our table smiled widely as he handed us laminated menus and filled our water glasses; I noticed that just about every table was occupied, which was probably a good sign. Abby appeared to be completely at ease, flipping through the pages and muttering as her finger tapped on one picture and then another.
“What looks good?” I glanced down the list of dinner specials. “I’m a boring Chinese food customer. I usually just order beef and broccoli.”
Abby’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “Don’t tell me such things. All of the wonderful choices, and you always get the same thing. What a waste!” She cocked her head, considering me. “Do you trust me, Ryland?”
Every time she said my name, a jolt of desire shot straight to my cock. “Uh, yeah. I do.”
“All right. Let me order for us then. I promise, you won’t be sorry.”
When the waiter appeared, Abby closed her menu and began firing off requests with rapid-fire precision, using her hands as she asked questions and smiling when he nodded enthusiastically. I wasn’t sure I understood most of their exchange, but I could tell we weren’t going to be getting Special Meal Number Two.
“Were you speaking Chinese there?” I sipped my water, raising one eyebrow.
Abby shrugged. “A little bit of Mandarin, and little Yue.”
“Yue? Never heard of it.”
“You’d call it Cantonese.”
“Oh, really?” I reached across the table and threaded my fingers into Abby’s. “And how did you pick up that ability?”
“I told you we lived in the Bay Area for a while. The manager of the Donavan San Francisco was a Chinese man with a huge family. After my mom . . . left, he and his wife Corrine sort of adopted me into their life. They were my auntie and uncle.” She spoke with the kind of affection I didn’t hear often in her voice.
“Do you see them very much these days?”
Abby nodded. “Whenever I can. I always stop and spend a few days with them when I visit my mom in Napa. Uncle Edwin is the one who taught me how to order in Mandarin. They’d take me to Dim Sum, and Auntie Corrine would order so fast, I couldn’t keep up, but he made sure I learned the words. And then I knew a girl in college who spoke Yue, and so I picked that dialect up from her.” She shook her head a little. “I can�
�t really speak it, but I know how to order food.”
“And that’s a valuable skill to have.” I paused a minute, trying to think of the best way to frame my next question. “You said your mom left, and I realized I’ve never heard you really talk about her much, only your father. Are you close to her?”
Something flickered in Abby’s eyes. “We have a decent relationship, but no, we’re not close. When she left my dad, she took my younger sister Jessica with her, and I elected to stay with my father. I think I hurt her, and it’s taken years to get over that.” She hesitated and ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip. “When I found out that my dad had been cheating on her and drinking all the time, I wanted to leave. To go apologize to my mother and beg her to forgive me for not understanding before. But by then I was sixteen, and she’d just remarried. I was too stubborn to admit I’d been wrong about my father, so instead I stayed with him, covered for him . . . and was miserable.”
I flipped my hand so that hers lay within mine, moving my fingers to caress her palm. “That sucks. And you’ve never talked with her about it?”
She shook her head. “No, we’re not that kind of family. We smile, and we pretend everything’s fine.” She glanced up at me, her eyes troubled. “You think I’m closed off—well, you called it ‘contained’. But that’s the only way I’ve known how to be. It’s only been in the last few years, working in the Cove and getting to be friends with Jude and Emmy, that I’ve realized there’s another way.”
I chuckled. “You’ll have to come meet my family someday, Abby. No one pretends, and nothing is contained. Ever. Sometimes I used to wish it would be.” I remembered some embarrassing discussions around the dinner table, growing up. “You’ll appreciate your parents after that.”
“I doubt it.” She moved her fingers around my wrist, her nails scraping just enough to be slightly erotic. “Are your parents still married?”
“Oh, yeah, thirty years and counting. My sisters and I pretend it’s not big deal, but it’s nice to know our folks are still in love. My dad can’t stand it when Mom goes away without him, and my mother gets up every morning to make Dad breakfast before work.”
“Do your sisters still live in New Jersey?”
I nodded. “Yup, they all live within about fifteen minutes of each other. I have three nieces and two nephews, and my mom’s always pestering me to settle down and give her more grandchildren. It’s so stereotypical, it’s disgusting.”
“It sounds wonderful.” I couldn’t miss the wistful note in Abby’s voice. “Why did you leave?”
I blew out a breath. “I felt like I was smothering there. I knew I didn’t want to go to a four-year college, but I didn’t want a dead-end contractor job, either. My grandfather was a restoration hobbyist—you know, someone who just does a little work on the side, not as a main job. He taught me some, and he introduced me to a guy who ran a company out of Kansas City. I went to vocational school for a few years, and then I started at the bottom of Leo’s business. That’s where I met Linc.”
“And eventually you started your own company?”
“Yeah. It was already in the works when Sylvia died. I’d wanted Linc to come on as my partner, but he turned me down so he could stay home with his family. And then . . . after, I offered him partnership again, but he’d just stopped drinking, and he didn’t want the pressure. So for now, at least, we’re keeping things as they are.”
A rattle of glass across the room caught my attention, and my mouth dropped open as three waiters marched toward our table, each carrying a tray. A fourth one hurried to open stands, beaming at us as they all began to deposit food in front of us.
“Good God, woman!” I looked at Abby in alarm. “How are we going to eat all this?”
She laughed, clapping her hands in delight, and for a moment, she looked so young and carefree that I wanted to freeze time.
“We won’t! But just think of the fun we’ll have enjoying the leftovers.” She snatched up a pair of chopsticks, her eyes sparkling at me. “Did I mention I always eat my take-home Chinese food in bed?”
I had a sudden and vivid image of Abby, surrounded by white containers, wearing nothing but a sultry smile as she ate lo mein with chop sticks.
“Oh, baby.” I groaned the words, making her laugh even harder. “I think I just found a whole new appreciation for leftovers.”
“I swear to God, Abby, I can’t eat another bite.” I leaned back in the booth. “You’ve won. You out-ate me. Just roll me out and let me die.”
“Ryland.” Abby shook her head. “You disappoint me. Come on, you have to at least have one fortune cookie.” She cracked one open and squinted at the miniscule type on the slip of paper. “‘You will find much happiness and satisfaction with someone most unexpected . . . in bed.’” She glanced up at me, speculation in her eyes. “Hmmmm.”
“It does not say that. Let me see.” I held out my hand, but Abby kept it out of reach, giggling.
“It does say that. Well, sort of. It’s a game we always played in college. You add the words ‘in bed’ to your fortune.” She winked at me. “Makes them more fun.”
I rolled my eyes. “What is it with you and Chinese food and bed? I’m starting to think . . .” I broke off when her face went bright red. “Oh, that’s it, isn’t it?” I lowered my voice. “Did you have a fling that had something to do with Chinese food? Like, lots of food?”
Abby covered her face. “Oh, God. This is embarrassing.” She peeked at me through her fingers. “Okay, yes. My first time to . . . well, my first time was with a guy I met through my auntie’s son. His family owned a restaurant in Chinatown, and I was always getting food delivered. Mostly because I loved what they made, but also because I had a huge crush on Tyler.”
I sat back, smirking. “Uh huh. So you and Tyler did the nasty while you were having your leftovers in bed?”
“Nooooo.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t exactly like that. I took him to my prom in senior year, and afterwards we stopped at his parents’ restaurant and took food back to my suite at the hotel, and well . . . one thing led to another.”
“You slut, you.” I teased her, just to see if I could get her to blush again.
“Hardly.” Abby crumpled the clear cellophane from the cookie in her fist. “After Tyler, there was one guy in my senior year of college, and then no one else until Zachary. I’m no expert, but I think three lovers does not a slut make.”
“You haven’t been with a man since Zachary? Wasn’t that, like, three years ago?” I couldn’t imagine. A woman like Abby? Why hadn’t some other guy snatched her up?
“No. I don’t exactly troll bars for men to pick up, and my work hasn’t lent itself to meeting many single straight men.” She caught the corner of her lip between her teeth. “And I wasn’t looking. I’ve been healing, I guess.”
“Until a certain irresistible, drop-dead handsome, smart and sexy restoration specialist swept into your life and made you realize how much you’d been missing.” I gave her a mock leer. “You lucky girl.”
A lazy smile spread over her full lips. “Take this lucky girl home before she falls into a food coma, please.”
We rode home in companionable silence, talking more about our mutual friends than ourselves. Abby made me laugh as she described the night last spring when Jude and Logan had pretended to try to fix her up with Cooper.
“It was hysterical and awful at the same time.” She leaned back in the passenger seat, curling up her knees and stretching the skirt of her dress over her legs. “Cooper walked in, saw me, and immediately smelled a set up. I knew the score, of course—Jude wanted to make Cooper and Emmy admit they were seeing each other. But I had to pretend to be interested in Cooper.” She giggled. “Don’t get me wrong, Cooper’s a wonderful man, but I knew he only had eyes for Em.”
“Why didn’t they want to tell anyone?” I knew Cooper and Emmy hadn’t been living together very long, but I hadn’t realized how new their relationship was.
&
nbsp; “They wouldn’t admit it to each other. Coop had a few bad marriages and thought he was doomed to failure when it came to relationships. Emmy was still leery after her husband left her. They kept pretending they were just hooking up.” Abby sighed. “I wanted to knock their heads together and made them see the truth, but Jude said that would be counter-productive.”
“I’d think so.” I turned onto the main street of Crystal Cove. It was quiet for a Friday night; most of the locals were already in for the evening, and there was a lull in tourist traffic. “Cooper and Emmy were gun-shy, huh?”
“Yes, I guess so.”
I pulled into the jammed parking lot outside the Riptide and maneuvered the truck into the yellow no parking zone near the building. One of the perks of working for the owners was the fact that I didn’t have to worry about getting towed.
Shifting the truck into neutral, I turned in my seat to face Abby. I’d noticed that the closer we’d gotten to her apartment, the more withdrawn she’d become. Now she sat still, staring through the windshield. I ventured one finger to trace the line of her cheek.
“Abby?” My voice was low, intimate. I saw the movement of her throat as she swallowed. “Are you still scared?”
She flashed a glance in my direction. “Yes.” The word came out on a rush of breath before her chest lifted as she spoke again. “But I’m not terrified anymore.”
I smiled, her honesty as always disarming me. “Well, that’s something.”
One corner of her lips turned up just a little. “I’m not afraid of you, Ryland. But I’m still scared of what could happen between us, and how it could affect me.”
I nodded. “I won’t push you, Abby. We move at your speed. And I promise I’ll always tell you the truth. I’m not looking for anything from you. I don’t want a job or your money or even just your cooperation on the hotel job.” I let my fingers stroke down the side of her neck. “I only want you.”
She leaned into my hand, her eyes drifting shut. “Do you want to come upstairs?”
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