“Sure,” she said.
Mick thought her smile looked a little forced, but he chose to take her at her word. Dealing with Jess was tricky enough. He’d have to work harder to figure things out with Abby the next time he saw her. He’d thought the whole investment thing he’d suggested earlier would create a bond, but the truth was until they sat down and talked about where her mother fit into both their lives, things between them would never be easy.
After her visit with her father and dealing with the portfolio realignment with her boss, Abby needed to get out of the house for a while. She craved fresh air and a change of scenery.
“Gram, do you mind if I run into town for a bit? The girls are down for their naps.”
“Not for long, I imagine,” Gram said. “But we’ll be fine. I’m teaching them to play checkers. They’re beating the socks off me already.”
“Remember, they’re not to have any snacks except juice. No cookies.”
Gram gave her an innocent look. “Are you telling me how to feed a sick child? Didn’t I do okay with you and your brothers and sisters? Every one of you made it to adulthood.”
Abby laughed. “Okay, there will be cookies but I’ll pretend not to notice.” She gathered up her purse and keys. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
“Take your time,” Gram said. “Shop a little, why don’t you? Bring the girls back a surprise. They deserve it. They’ve been awfully good.”
“I’ll do that,” Abby said.
In town she found a parking spot on Main Street right in front of Ethel’s Emporium. The awning-shaded window was filled with a colorful display of beach towels, sand pails, beach balls and Chesapeake Shores T-shirts and swimsuits worn by exceptionally well-endowed mannequins.
Though she’d intended to go to Sally’s to have a late lunch, maybe even a slice of old-fashioned apple pie if Sally had any, she decided to take Gram’s advice and look for trinkets for the girls. They would probably love a couple of beach toys or maybe a souvenir T-shirt.
She was just stepping out of the car when Trace rounded the corner from behind the building. Dressed in a suit and tie, his hair gleaming, he would have fit right in among the men she worked with every day on Wall Street. There wasn’t so much as a hint of the rebel he’d once been or the one she still glimpsed in the occasional twinkle in his eyes. In some ways that saddened her, but she had no idea why. Trace’s choices and his future had nothing to do with her.
She gave him a halfhearted wave, which she hoped would discourage him from stopping to chat, but of course he headed her way.
“I’m surprised to see you here in town at this time of day,” he said, falling into step beside her as she walked straight toward Ethel’s.
“Why is that?” she asked.
“I figured you’d be at the inn.”
“Doing what?”
“Managing things.”
She turned to face him down. They needed to get a few things straight and now was as good a time as any. “Look, you may have been able to manipulate things to keep me in Chesapeake Shores for the time being, but you don’t get to control how I spend my time. Even the lowliest peon gets a lunch break. For instance, you’re out here on the street, instead of sitting behind your desk in the middle of a workday. Should I report you to your father?”
His lips twitched. “Okay, point taken. How are the girls?”
“Feeling better,” she said. “I’m going to see if Ethel has any little treats I can take home to surprise them.”
“I’ll come with you,” he said at once. “Then maybe I can talk you into having lunch with me.”
She frowned at him. “Why?”
“Why what? I’ll shop with you because it sounds like fun. I’d like to have lunch with you for the same reason.”
Abby didn’t entirely trust his motives on either count, but it seemed pointlessly rude to tell him to disappear. And she could hardly tell him that spending time with him made her nervous. Heck, she didn’t even want to admit that to herself. She’d spent a lot of years making certain she never left herself vulnerable. Whatever insecurities she’d felt had been buried deep so she could cope, first with being there for her siblings after Megan had gone, and later with her professional life and her kids after her marriage had fallen apart.
“Suit yourself,” she said finally, stepping inside the Emporium and immediately being carried back to childhood when the sight of all those gaudy tourist trinkets had enchanted her. So had the display case of old-fashioned colorful penny candy, the same kind that members of her father’s construction crews had kept on hand for her. The price was higher now, but the assortment was still tempting, if only for nostalgia’s sake.
Trace grinned at her and headed straight for the candy. “Jawbreakers or red hots?” he asked.
“Cherry Twizzlers,” she countered without hesitation.
“Hey, Ethel,” Trace called out. “How about an assortment of candy?”
Ethel came across the store, beaming at him. “Trace Riley, I’ve been wondering when you were going to come in here,” she said, barely sparing a glance for Abby. “I hear you’re moving in upstairs.”
Ignoring Ethel’s cool, though not unexpected, reaction to her, Abby turned to Trace with surprise. “Really? You’ve rented your own place? I thought you were going to stay with your folks.” She wasn’t sure why that disconcerted her, but it did. Had something changed? Was he more committed to staying right here in Chesapeake Shores than he’d led her to believe? And why did that even matter?
His gaze locked with hers. “I thought there might come a time when I’d want some privacy,” he said meaningfully.
Abby’s pulse promptly skipped a beat or two, so she turned away, but not before she caught the satisfied grin on his face. “Pig,” she muttered under her breath.
Trace laughed. “I heard that.”
“So did I,” Ethel said, chuckling. “You two always were fussing with each other.” Her attitude toward Abby warming slightly, she added, “I suppose if Trace is around, that means I’ll be seeing a lot of you, as well, Abby.”
Abby realized then what a mistake she’d made by coming in here with Trace and what a mistake it would be to be seen having lunch with him at Sally’s. There was little that the year-round residents of Chesapeake Shores liked more than local gossip. And a couple of old flames being seen around town together would give them plenty to talk about.
“I doubt you’ll see much of me,” she told Ethel. “I’m helping Jess get the inn ready to open. After that, I’ll be going back to New York,” she added, giving Trace a defiant look that dared him to contradict her.
Ethel looked as if she wanted to pursue Abby’s statement, but Trace pointed to the candy in the display case. “We’ll take three bags. Make sure you add a variety to each one.”
“Three bags?” Abby asked.
“You have to take one apiece home to the twins. I’ll bet they don’t get candy like this in New York.”
“They don’t, which is probably why they haven’t had any cavities yet,” Abby said.
Trace shrugged off the comment. “They’ll just brush their teeth longer tonight. And if you don’t agree to take the candy home to them, I’ll bring it by myself later.”
Abby could see she wasn’t going to win. “Whatever,” she mumbled and went to look at the selection of T-shirts. She found two adorable ones—in turquoise for Caitlyn, lime-green for Carrie—and took them up to the counter.
“Bet they’ll like my treat
best,” Trace murmured in her ear just as Ethel handed her the bag with the T-shirts inside.
She was so startled by his unexpected closeness and the provocative whisper of his breath across her skin, she dropped her package. To her annoyance, he grinned knowingly as he picked it up and handed it back to her.
“Is everything a game to you?” she grumbled as she headed out the door.
“Not until lately. You must bring out my competitive spirit.”
“Well, get over it,” she said. “And I am not having lunch with you.”
“Why not? Does the prospect of sharing a booth at Sally’s with me scare you that badly?”
“Of course it doesn’t scare me,” she said indignantly, tossing her package and the bags of candy he insisted on handing her into the car.
“Then come with me,” he coaxed. “We haven’t really had a chance to catch up, Abby. We’ll have a couple of burgers. You’ll steal some fries from my plate, and then we can share a slice of Sally’s apple pie the way we used to.”
It struck Abby as a very bad idea to do anything the way they used to do it. That had only led to trouble and heartache. Still, she couldn’t seem to make herself turn down the invitation that he’d deliberately turned into a challenge.
“Okay, fine,” she said eventually, slamming the car door, then marching right past him.
When they reached the entrance to the café, she stopped and looked directly into his eyes. “When we get inside, you are not to hint in any way that we are together. If Sally asks, we’re discussing business, nothing else. This is not personal. It is not a date.”
“That’s going to make it hard to catch up,” he suggested.
“Those are my terms.”
He regarded her with a determinedly serious expression that was belied by the amusement in his eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Anything you say.”
“I’m not kidding,” she warned.
“I get that.”
“I don’t want half the town whispering behind my back about the two of us.”
“Then we probably ought to sit in separate booths,” he said, then paused thoughtfully. “Then again, that would stir up its own kind of gossip, wouldn’t it? It’s so hard to know what to do in a situation like this.”
The mocking note in his voice was exasperating, but she let it pass. “Believe me, I’m willing to go the separate booth route to find out,” she said.
“Well, I’m not. Besides, you don’t want me thinking you’re a coward, do you?” He feigned a dismayed expression. “Oh, whoops, I already know that about you, don’t I?”
Abby had never once in her entire life had a greater desire to haul off and kick someone soundly in the shins than she had right this second. “Have you forgotten that pitcher of water already?”
“Fortunately for my suit, Sally only serves water by the glassful,” he commented as he opened the door and stood aside to let her enter. His solemn gaze met hers. “Truce, okay? Just for the next hour.”
Abby looked into those once-familiar eyes and felt herself drowning. Suddenly a hundred different memories swirled in her head, all of them enticing. She swallowed hard and looked away. This wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all. She ought to be running for her life.
Instead, though, she lifted her gaze, met Trace’s and managed to keep her voice steady as she replied, “Truce.”
It was an hour, after all. How hard could it be? Amazingly, though, right now it promised to feel like an eternity.
8
T race noted the speculative glances when he and Abby walked to a booth by the window in Sally’s. He wondered if she remembered that it was the same booth they’d always chosen if it was available. He could recall a hundred different conversations right here, dozens of lingering glances and even a few stolen kisses when he’d squeezed in beside her, rather than sitting across from her. Even though he wanted to do that right now, he opted not to rile her and slid in on the opposite side of the booth.
Abby promptly hid her face behind the menu, which was quite a trick since Sally’s specials were listed on a blackboard and the menu itself was a single laminated sheet of paper. People who came here regularly for breakfast and lunch knew their choices without consulting either one. Weekdays the breakfast special, for example, was always two eggs scrambled with grits, toast and bacon or sausage. On Saturdays it was pancakes and on Sundays French toast. The lunch specials rotated among burgers, tuna melts, Reubens, a crab-cake sandwich and grilled cheese, all accompanied by potato salad or fries.
The desserts and pastries, however, were subject to Sally’s whims. Trace had noted on the blackboard by the door that today’s was apple pie, something he’d been hoping for since he knew it was Abby’s favorite—or at least a close second behind the yacht club’s chocolate mousse.
“Do you know what you want?” he asked, after studying her, rather than the menu, for several minutes.
“Just a small house salad,” she said with a sigh.
“Come on now,” he coaxed. “When was the last time you had a big, juicy burger? With the twins starting to feel better, you’ll work it off in no time,” he said, then quickly amended, “Not that you have anything to worry about in the first place. You look as good as you did ten years ago. Better, in fact. Though you were beautiful then.”
“Are you through trying to dig yourself out of that hole?” she inquired, her eyes dancing with amusement.
He grimaced. “Pretty much.”
“Thank goodness. I will have that cheeseburger, though.”
“Fries?”
She considered the suggestion thoughtfully, then shook her head.
“Which means you’ll be stealing mine,” he lamented. “I’ll have Sally double the order.”
“I am not going to touch your fries,” she insisted, then grinned. “I’m saving the calories for pie.”
Just then Sally approached. Unlike Ethel, she didn’t seem the least bit startled to see them or to find them together. Obviously her link to the grapevine was in fine working order. “Two cheeseburgers, fries and apple pie,” she said, already writing it down before either of them could speak.
“No fries for me,” Abby told her firmly.
“I’ll just add a few more to Trace’s plate, then,” Sally said.
Trace chuckled at Abby’s indignant expression. “Your reputation is pretty much stuck in a rut in here,” he told her after Sally had headed for the kitchen. “It’s one of the delights and annoyances of growing up in a small town. Everyone thinks they can predict what you’ll do, what you’ll order and who you’ll be with.”
“Which is one reason I’m so grateful to be living in New York,” Abby said. “I like the anonymity.”
“Do you really?” Trace asked. “Over the years, I’ve found myself missing this.”
“Where are you living? I don’t think you’ve said. Or rather where were you before you came back here?”
“SoHo,” he said, watching her expression closely. “I still have my loft there.”
Abby blinked, clearly startled. “SoHo? In New York?”
He nodded. “You sound surprised.”
“I am. I thought you were probably living…” Her voice trailed off. She shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess I thought you were living closer to here, maybe Baltimore or Washington.”
“Nope. I’ve been in New York close to
ten years now, practically as long as you have. I figured you would have heard.”
“I don’t keep in touch with that many people from here,” she said. “Besides family, anyway.”
“Not even Laila? You used to be close with my sister.”
“We talk from time to time,” she said. “But believe it or not, your name doesn’t come up. Sorry if that offends your ego.”
“My ego can weather a few hits,” he replied, though he wasn’t actually sure how many, and especially from her.
“What were you doing in New York? Will you have to find a new job if you go back?”
“No. I pretty much take my work wherever I go. I do freelance design work for several different ad agencies and some of my own clients.”
For the first time since they’d encountered each other in his office at the bank, she actually looked intrigued, maybe even a little impressed. That wall she’d erected around herself when she was with him tumbled down. She leaned forward slightly, clearly curious. “Would I recognize any of the work you’ve done?”
“That depends on how much attention you pay to the ads you see in magazines,” he said. “I have some major-league clients.” He named several and enjoyed watching her eyes widen.
“Wow, I had no idea. I guess I never really thought you were serious about any of that.”
He gave her an amused look. “Even though I studied graphic design and art in college?”
“I thought you did that primarily to annoy your father,” she admitted. “After all, you also got the business degree he expected.”
“Because I figured knowing how to manage a business would never be wasted and it was easier than fighting him,” he said. He frowned at her. “I told you all this back then.”
“I guess I wasn’t convinced you really meant it.”
Trace was oddly hurt by her lack of faith in him. Hadn’t she known him better than anyone? How often had he confided his hopes and dreams to her?
The Inn at Eagle Point Page 12