Crossing Abby Road

by Ophelia London

  She laughed quietly and shook her head. “Seriously, though. Today, this vacation I’m trying to be on?” She waited for me to nod. “I kind of demanded it because I swear, if I had to look one more time at the same people I see every day—the same people I’ve seen every freaking day for the past eighteen months—I was gonna go straight-up crazy. I just needed to get away and regroup, recharge or something. I don’t know.”

  She twisted the lid of her water, and I leaned forward, not just because she looked extra sexy when she got excited—even in a frustrated way—but because I could relate.

  “I’m sure my therapist told me the same thing a hundred times,” she added, “but before three days ago, it wasn’t like I could just kick off my shoes and go sit on the beach.” She sighed and drew her own squiggly line in the sand with the tip of her finger. “So yeah, pressure’s a huge bitch, and the only thing that keeps me even close to sane is knowing there’ll be another moment just like this…at some point in the next year.”

  She lifted her chin and gazed out at the water.

  “That’s what’s really important, ya know?” Her voice was softer. “Finding the quiet moments. Holding on and relishing them. Money and success and…and the happiness people think come with that, it’s all such bullshit. It means nothing. You can’t take any of that home or hold it in your heart, but all the stress that comes with it sure the hell keeps you up at night.” She rubbed her forehead. “Do you know what I mean?”

  “Yeah,” I said, feeling the need to rub my own forehead, or that aching spot on my chest again. “Unfortunately.”

  “If I could stop everything right now and stay just like this, I totally would. Wouldn’t you?”

  It took a second, but I nodded.

  “But it’s not like I can, and I’m sure you can’t, either. You’ve got your store and Chandler and all those T-shirts to fold.” She smiled. “Must keep you busy.”

  “Yeah, it does.” And that’s only one store.

  Abby kept her eyes on me, gazing with curiosity. A moment later, she picked up the plastic bowl of pasta salad and slurped in a forkful of noodles. “So, speaking of big life decisions,” she said after chewing. “Why didn’t you stay in the Marines?”

  I was grateful for the attempted subject change. Had Abby sensed the frustrated wheels turning in my head? The elephant-sized weight on my chest that had come out of nowhere?

  “My mom made me go AWOL,” I said, wanting to lighten the mood. “So lower your voice.”

  She stared at me for a second, then threw a napkin at my face. “Come on.”

  I laughed. “No. Actually, at the end of my last deployment, I didn’t know if I should stay in the military or just finish school. I was stuck at a crossroads.”

  “Really?”

  “Totally vacillating. I had options, though. I thought about the FBI for a while, even applied.”

  She blinked and inched forward. “Did you get in?”

  I didn’t answer her, but took a bite of bread and let the question sit.

  “Ah, I see.” That pretty, flirty grin. “Of course you got in.”

  I still didn’t answer, wondering what she’d make of that.

  “And the CIA didn’t interest you, either?” Teasing was in her voice again, like that jab about Sinatra.

  “Not for long.”

  She gaped at me and lowered her fork. “You approached the CIA?”

  Ramping up the suspense, I leaned toward her and dropped my voice. “Actually, they approached me.” I peered behind me, like I didn’t want to be overheard. “But the rest of that story is classified. If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” I shot my arms out and took her by the shoulders. “Then eat you.”

  A startled, breathy gasp escaped from between Abby’s parted lips as she stared back at me, her smoky eyes wide and gleaming. My hands on her bare shoulders felt secure and heavy, and I didn’t move them. I’d wondered about it before, even felt a few pretty strong impulses, but this was the first time I really thought about kissing her, right this instant, like I could already taste her lips, breathe in her skin at the side of her neck, feel the curves of her body against mine as I eased her back onto the sand, my fingers tangling in her soft blond hair, sliding under her clothes…

  Holy damn. Nothing had happened, and yet I couldn’t even breathe. The thought of really touching Abby, my hands all over her, had lit me up then frozen me solid. Her eyes hadn’t once drifted from mine. At least she was breathing because I could hear it, the jagged intake of oxygen between her lips, and how it shook her body. If neither of us moved, the air between us would surely catch fire. My chest burned, and heat seared the palms of my hands where I was still holding her shoulders.

  And I’d just talked about eating her.

  I was the first to blink.

  “You’re…” Abby said, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re so full of it. The CIA probably sent you here, and you’re really an undercover bodyguard.” She pulled back one corner of her mouth. “Is that the big decision that’s been weighing on your shoulders like Atlas? If that’s the case, I definitely think you should call it off.”

  Her nervous humor broke my concentration, and I dipped my chin, strangely relieved that I wasn’t caught up in her eyes anymore. The weight on my shoulders she’d just described felt even heavier now. Not that I still didn’t want to kiss her, feel her tongue slide against mine—nothing would be better right now.

  But because of Abby, I was suddenly thinking about things differently. What was really important. And I needed a clear head for that.

  “The good spies are usually smaller, like Tom Cruise,” I said, lifting my head while letting go of her shoulders. “Guys my size tend to stick out in a crowd.”

  Abby pulled back another smile. “I can see that—oops!” A gust of wind picked up the napkin from her lap.

  “Stay here, I’ll grab it,” I said, leaping to my feet, needing a reason to give my body and brain a break from her for a minute. Our sexual tension was awesome, but I really wasn’t a superhero.

  I jogged along the shore, chasing after the flyaway napkin like a boy chasing a kite. Today’s forecast had shown wind, but I hadn’t noticed while we’d been inside our Stonehenge. Finally, I caught up to the damn thing and swiped it before it got away. As I was walking back, I noticed Abby was sitting up on one of the rocks now, and she was on her phone. I stopped, not wanting to interrupt her if she was talking to work people, like Max. Yeah, I still got a bad feeling about that guy.

  When Abby saw that I’d stopped, she lifted her free hand and waved me over. I waved back, feeling my own cell vibrate in my pocket. I pulled it out and checked the face, expecting to see another reminder text from Chandler.

  It was a text, but from my father.

  Should we pop the champagne?

  I closed my eyes and clenched my jaw. For the first time, I wished I’d kept Dad out of this. No, that wasn’t what was running through my head. It was all the things I hadn’t considered carefully enough, everything I’d be giving up in order to expand my store, open another Todd’s Tackle, strive to be as successful a businessman as my father.

  Was that important to me? More important than never wanting to feel the same kind of stress I’d had in the Marines? That hadn’t made me happy, and I’d never craved it or thrived because of it, like some of my buddies. War was over and I was home.

  My priorities were different—or they should’ve been. I didn’t need that kind of pressure or drama anymore, no matter what form it presented itself.

  Abby waved again, stealing my focus. When I waved back, she smiled so widely that I could see her teeth. The pull to her was almost magnetic. But it wasn’t just that I wished I could blow off my meeting at the bank to spend this one day with her. It was what that meeting meant. What I’d be signing up for once I signed on the dotted line.

  And it wasn’t what I wanted.

  Chapter Nine

  “The Tender Trap”

  I stared dow
n at my phone, at my father’s text still on the screen. He thought it was already a done deal, that I’d been to the bank, signed the loan papers, and was ready to party. Pulling out of the meeting would be easy; it would take one phone call.

  But telling my dad…

  At that thought, the pain in my chest slid to my gut.

  “Hey!” Abby was waving both hands above her head now, calling me over. I laughed and waved back with a quick salute. It wasn’t like I was about to run off down the beach away from her. Though if I’d been following my original plan for today, I should’ve been on my way to the bank.

  But I wasn’t.

  I pushed the air from my lungs and gazed out at the breaking waves, at the boats dotting the horizon. I couldn’t make the decision either way right now. And since I did still have a couple of hours until my official appointment, the best I could do was stall. So I slid my hands into my pockets and strolled back over to Abby. “You summoned?”

  “Heard you have a cute butt,” she said, her chin tipped to smile up at me, eyes all squinty.

  I chuckled and looked away. “Is that the gossip going around?”

  “Oh, yeah. All of Seaside’s talking about it.”

  “Can’t believe you’d degrade me to a sexual object.”

  She pushed out her bottom lip. “Poor you.” She slid from the rock and back down to the sand. “Sit.” She already had the key lime pie and one fork out.

  Even though I shouldn’t have, the picture was way too tempting, so I blocked out everything else and watched Abby eat pie. And damn, it was totally worth it.

  For the next hour, we got the riveting topic of our early educations out of the way. After a while, neither of us was talking, as we lounged on our backs, halfway shaded by Stonehenge, halfway soaking up the sun. Abby’s breathing wasn’t regular, so I knew I hadn’t bored her to sleep.

  The sand under my cell vibrated, and I pulled it out of my pocket an inch, hoping to hell it wasn’t Dad again. But it was an unknown number calling. Maybe the same one that had left the voicemail earlier. It wasn’t family or work, and I had all of the bank’s numbers programmed into my phone. Who was calling me?

  The only logical answer was Sophie.

  I knew I owed her a return call.

  The girl lying next to me made a sound and rolled to her side toward me, forcing all other thoughts in my head to evaporate like morning fog. Even over the salty air, I could smell that shampoo of hers coming off the top of her head. Another sound, and she scooted closer, her bare foot brushing my leg.

  Did the temperature just shoot up to a hundred degrees? She was close enough now that I could easily put an arm around her and pull her to my side. These thoughts were interrupted by a Beatles song. That cheesy one about the octopus.

  Still on her back, Abby made another sound, one of irritation, as she dug into her pocket, grumbling under her breath. “It’s Hal,” she said, pulling out her phone.

  I shaded my eyes and rolled my head to face her. “Richardson?” Yes, I knew who she was talking about. In fact, a few weeks ago, I’d read a story about him on Yahoo! News. He played guitar in Mustang Sally, the band Abby fronted.

  “Should I answer?” She was asking me, though I wasn’t sure why my opinion should matter. “I get a lot of calls when we’re split up like this. Such a pain.”

  “Take the call,” I said. “Do you want some privacy?”

  “For Hal?” She snorted and pointed for me to stay put. I knew better than to disobey a direct order from a superior. She slapped the phone to her ear. “What?”

  Her exasperated tone made me laugh.

  The story I’d read was about a charity benefit Hal Richardson had organized, but it also talked about their band. Mustang Sally was a four-member group: three guys, one girl, a cross between No Doubt and Paramore.

  “Hal, seriously. You’re gonna need so much therapy after that.” She held the phone away from her ear, looked at me and mouthed, “bad first date.”

  I smiled and nodded my sympathy. Huh, even rock stars could have crappy luck with women.

  The new article said the bandmates were close. And I could tell from Abby’s indulgent/irritated replies to Hal that they were friends, good friends. But not that good, not involved.

  Yeah, I needed to get to the bottom of the question of her relationship status sooner rather than later. Especially now, while Abby was sprawled across the sand, her tank top raising up just enough to show a slice of her flat stomach. I stared at those three inches of skin, wanting to touch her.

  “Well, don’t resort to Match.com yet,” she said. “Now I gotta go, you’re totally interrupting my— ” She sighed when she got cut off. “Um yeah, but whatever, Hal.”

  From Abby’s annoyed sighs, short answers, and laughs, it sounded like how I talked with Nikki and Jessica—like siblings. The sound of the waves and wind wasn’t too loud while closer to the ground like this, so I couldn’t help eavesdropping by default. Plus, also like Nikki, this Hal guy’s voice needed its own volume control.

  “Maybe he is,” Abby said, then shot me a quick glance, a pink flush sweeping across her cheeks.

  Ahh, no wonder the short replies—they were talking about me now. I propped my head up on one elbow and looked down at her long body stretched across the sand. Her eyes were blocked by one arm thrown over her face.

  “Lemme talk to him, duchess,” I heard pretty clearly through the phone.

  Duchess. Was that a nickname? Cute, with a hint of that sibling condescension.

  Abby moved her arm an inch and her eyes slid to me. Probably from my grin, she knew I’d heard. “Not happening, Hal,” she said.

  I wasn’t dying to talk to some guitarist I didn’t know who probably had protective big brother issues. Then again, maybe he’d been worried about Abby being out here alone just like I’d been. Hell, he was probably more concerned, since he’d known her longer than four hours.

  “Duchess…” he said.

  Abby closed her eyes and grimaced. Yes, she knew I’d heard that, too.

  Okay, it wasn’t a big deal, and talking to a crazy rock star might actually be entertaining, so I shrugged a casual “why the hell not.” She eyed me first then said to Hal, “Do not be a moron.” I couldn’t help laughing as I waited for her to pass me her phone. “Sorry,” she said. “He’ll keep bugging me.”

  “It’s fine.” I nodded then did a quick throat clear. “Hello?”

  “Is Abby okay?” The volume of his voice was much lower now. No way Abby heard the question.

  I glanced at her. Yeah, she was okay, though she was wrapping a strand of hair around one finger tighter than a tourniquet, another nervous tell. “Yes,” I answered.

  “Okay, then.” Hal exhaled but didn’t speak. Were we supposed to be having a silence standoff that I didn’t know about? “So, you’re the guy?” he finally said.

  The guy? What did that mean?

  “Well…yeah,” I answered, as it seemed I was the only guy around.

  Abby stared at me, her fingers going all grabby like she wanted to snatch the phone and save me. No girl had ever wanted to save me before. I glanced away, because her worried expression made me want to laugh, but when I wasn’t looking at her, the thought of it made me want to kiss her.

  “I’m Hal. I know you know who I am, and I know who you are, too.” I seriously doubted that but didn’t speak up. “Don’t bother asking how I know, I have my ways. Just listen. Abby’s my best friend and she’s a good girl, a very good girl. And she’s special.”

  I couldn’t help laughing under my breath. “Yes, I know.”

  “She’s more important to me than anything, more than my favorite Gibson signed by Slash. You get me?” This was probably high praise for a professional guitarist. “She deserves to have a good time today, more than anyone, and if you’re the guy or whatever, then you better make sure she has fun—but safely, safe fun, because like I said, she deserves it and she’s special, but she’s just one girl and she can’t
do it all, no matter what she says. Know what I mean?”

  I didn’t reply because the question seemed rhetorical. Of course I knew she was just one girl. I glanced at Abby. She was biting a nail now, about to come out of her skin. It wasn’t like Hal was intimidating to me. I’d seen a photo of him. He looked about five-foot-five and a buck fifty soaking wet. I could squish him with my thumb. Maybe Abby’s concern was about something else.

  All day, I’d been worried that I’d do something to scare her away from me. Was she afraid something would scare me away from her?

  Not a chance.

  “Yes, I understand,” I said to Hal. “And I know…she is. Very.”

  “Okay, because if anything happens to her, anything at all, I know people from, like, Sicily.”

  I wonder if he knew my people from Sicily. If a skinny white kid was playing the Godfather card, this must’ve been important.

  “You got it,” I said.

  “Okay then, just, I don’t know, make her laugh—she needs lots of laughs, laughs until she cries, those are her favorites. Feed her, too, even if she says she’s not hungry. And, uh, if you can, keep her away from Max, confiscate her damn phone if you can.” This gave me a chill, and I was about to ask a follow-up when Hal added, “But fun, she needs fun—bottom line. And if you mess with her, I’ll, ya know, kick your ass to Jupiter.”

  I did laugh at that, but moved the phone so he wouldn’t hear. “Okay. Well, don’t worry.” Abby was pawing me for her phone now. “It was nice talking to you, bye.”

  “Yeah, see ya—even though I won’t ever see you.”

  Wow. Quite a piece of work for such a little guy.

  By the time I passed her the phone, Abby’s face was beet red. What did she think we’d been talking about to make her so embarrassed? “Sorry,” she said. “Hal’s the product of what happens when cousins marry.”

  “He’s pretty protective of you.”

  She narrowed her eyes, the embarrassment gone. “What did that ingrate say?”

  “Something about breaking my face if anything happens today.”

  “Happens? What does that mean?”