by Deanna Chase
Clay, appearing as if he hadn’t exerted one ounce of effort, joined her on the sidewalk. They both stared at her smashed hood. Even if the Mini Cooper hadn’t taken off, there was no hope of getting a jumpstart. The hood wasn’t opening without the help from a good body shop technician.
Abby closed her eyes for a moment then turned to Clay. “So, how long have you been back in town?”
“A couple years. You?” he asked without looking at her.
“About twenty minutes now.”
He glanced her way, his lips twitching into a half smile. “That’s some homecoming.”
“You’re telling me.” Abby let out an exaggerated sigh. “I better call Yvette. Everyone’s probably waiting for me.” She pulled out her phone, but Clay’s intense gaze seared straight through her, momentarily paralyzing her. The town ceased to exist, sounds of the traffic faded away, and all that was left was Clay. She careened forward, as if caught in his magnetism, and unconsciously licked her lips.
He cleared his throat. “I thought you were going to call Yvette.”
“Right.” Taking a step back, she pulled up her sister’s number and hit Call. It went straight to voicemail. Abby sucked in a calming breath. “Vette?” she said into the phone. “There’s been an accident. I’m fine, but I’m going to be a little late. Call me when you get this.” She ended the call and shoved the phone back into her pocket.
“You drove all the way from Louisiana?” Clay asked, gesturing to her license plate. “That’s a hell of a haul for a family visit isn’t it?”
“I—”
“Mr. Garrison,” a man in a brown police uniform called as he crossed the street. “There you are. What happened to the accident you called in?”
Clay waved at me. “Abby here rear-ended someone in a Mini Cooper, but the girl took off without leaving any identifying information.”
“Abigail Townsend,” the police officer said, shaking his head in disapproval. Abby recognized him as one of Yvette’s former classmates, Pauly Putzner. He was three years older than her, had asked her out once right before she and Clay had officially started dating, and had gained what Abby estimated at about fifty pounds. And if that wasn’t enough, he was suffering from early-onset balding. “Looks like nothing’s changed since you hightailed it out of here a decade ago. Still reckless I see.”
Abby’s entire body heated with both embarrassment and rage. She curled her fingers into fists and focused on not telling him where he could shove the night stick strapped to his duty belt.
“Abby’s not the one that drove off, Pauly,” Clay said, shaking his head and not bothering to hide the irritation in his tone. “Maybe you should take our statements before you go making judgments.”
Pauly let out a grunt of disapproval, but pulled out a small notebook. A few minutes later, having apparently gotten all the details he deemed important, he asked for Abby’s license and insurance card. After she handed both to him, he let out another snort of derision. “New Orleans? Figures. I hear that town is a beacon for the depraved.”
“Hey!” Abby said, hands on her hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Clay wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in so she was pressed up against his lean, muscular body. Aphrodite and Zeus, she thought, this man is pure heaven.
“Officer Putzner,” Clay said, his eyes narrowed. “Perhaps you could just stick to filing a report and lose the commentary.”
“Right.” Putzner chuckled as he looked from Clay to Abby. “I forgot you two had a thing once.” He turned his gaze to Abby. “Too bad that didn’t work out. Clay here could’ve probably helped you work out some of those issues.”
Abby envisioned hauling off and smacking the officer right in the kisser… even though she secretly admitted he was probably right.
Clay had always been her rock right up until the shit had hit the fan. Being in his arms and breathing in his scent of soap and a hint of fresh earth made her feel as if she’d never left all those years ago, like they’d never broken up and Clay had never married another woman.
Married. Right. Abigail shifted to the left and disengaged from Clay’s protective embrace. Clearing her throat, she said, “Are we done here?”
“For now,” Putzner said, eyeing her with suspicion. “Just keep your nose and your magic to yourself while you’re in town, Miss Townsend. We don’t want any more trouble around here.”
Abby gritted her teeth, wishing she had the ability to curse his privates. How satisfying would it be if he woke up tomorrow with a shrunken penis? Her lips curved into a smile at the thought. But she only nodded and stayed silent as he sauntered off down the street.
“What were you thinking just then?” Clay asked.
“Nothing.”
He chuckled. “With that wicked smile? Bull. You were definitely thinking something.”
She blinked up at him then laughed. “Let’s just say that if I had the power of transfiguration, he’d need a magnifying glass to find his equipment the next time he needs to relieve himself.”
“That’s the Abby I know and love,” he said, still chuckling. But when his eyes met hers, he immediately sobered and averted his gaze.
All the joy from being around him fled, and Abby pressed a hand to her abdomen, feeling as if she’d been sucker punched right in the gut. It wasn’t nearly as bad as when she’d left him all those years ago, but it was an echo of the pain that had never left her. She turned her back on Clay, afraid her expression would give her away.
Pink’s voice suddenly filled the silence as she sang about getting the party started, and Abby was relieved to see Wanda’s party cart pulling in right next to her smashed SUV.
The music vanished, and Wanda said, “Hey, girl. Mindy Jo over at the wine bar told me someone from Louisiana had been in an accident. I knew it had to be you. You okay?”
“Fine,” Abby said, grateful for the distraction. “Car’s dead, though. I’m waiting for Yvette to call me back.”
“She’s been called into the fire station to help with a few brush fires near old man Hamilton’s place. Need a ride somewhere?”
“Yes,” Abby said without hesitation, pushing back the worry trying to creep into her thoughts. Her sister Yvette was a fire witch. Her ability to control the element had kept their county from burning during the dry fall months year after year. “Can you take me to my dad’s?”
“Sure. Hop in.”
“Great.” Abby reached into the passenger side of the SUV and grabbed her purse and the sweets she’d purchase from A Spoon Full of Magic. And when she turned to head to Wanda’s cart, Clay was right there behind her.
He peered into the back windows. “You sure don’t travel light, do you?”
Abby chuckled. “No, not this time. I’m not sure how long I’m going to be here, and I still have a soap making business to run. I considered flying and shipping my supplies, but in the end I figured it would be easier to just drive.” She gave him a wry smile. “Turns out maybe I shouldn’t be driving at all.”
“Maybe just not gawking at the scenery,” he said with a teasing smile.
Oh hell. She closed her eyes. He’d caught her staring at him. Well, dammit, it wasn’t her fault he looked even better than he did ten years ago. He should be required to wear a warning label or something.
“You should probably get going. I’m sure your dad is anxious to see you,” he said, his voice suddenly low and full of sympathy as compassion shone in his dark eyes.
He knows, she thought, and had to glance away.
“I’m sure he is,” she agreed as she moved toward Wanda’s golf cart. Did the entire town know her dad was sick? It was a high probability. She’d have to get used to the concerned citizens of the town giving her that look. But right now, with Clay appearing to see straight into her soul, it was too much.
“It was really good to see you, Abs,” he said.
She glanced over her shoulder, unable to read his now closed-off expression. “You, too
, Clay. Thanks for your help.”
“No problem. Be safe out there, okay?”
“I’ll try.” Then she flashed him a quick smile and hurried over to Wanda and away from the one man who, after all those years, still managed to make her heart beat just a little bit faster.
Chapter 3
Clay stood on the sidewalk watching as Wanda and Abigail rode off in the crazy golf cart and disappeared into the late-afternoon sunshine. He’d thought he was hallucinating again when he’d glanced up from his clipboard to see Abby staring at him. How many times had he envisioned her returning to town in the last two years? More than he could count. It was strange living in Keating Hollow without her.
It was the reason he’d left ten years ago, and the only reason he’d been reluctant to return. But circumstances had changed, making it clear it was time for him to come home. He hadn’t regretted his decision to leave Los Angeles and return to the witch community he’d been a part of since his childhood, but that didn’t mean being here without her had been easy. And judging by the way his heart had nearly burst out of his chest when Abby’s car plowed into the Mini Cooper, it was clear nothing had changed when it came to how he felt about her. Not now and probably not ever.
“Dammit,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. He could not afford to go down that road again. He had bigger issues to deal with. Getting distracted by someone who would just up and leave again wasn’t something he was willing to risk.
He moved off the curb, intending to head back to the brewery, but when he stepped on something hard and uneven, he stopped and glanced down. Light shone off a piece of silver metal nearly blinding him. Squinting, he bent down and inspected the object.
A set of keys.
He picked them up, eyed the emblem on the key fob, and glanced at Abigail’s SUV. Both had the Mazda emblem. Running his thumb over the Unlock button, he pushed and heard a double click, indicating the keys were a match. After relocking the car, he pocketed the keys and pulled out his phone. But before he could dial a call came in, and his phone started playing “Forget You” by Ceelo Green.
Clay gritted his teeth and answered. “What is it, Val?”
“Well hello to you, too, honey,” she said sweetly. Loud voices chattered in the background over the bubble gum pop music she liked so much.
“Stop playing games. What did you need?” His fingers tightened around his phone so hard, he was amazed the plastic case hadn’t cracked. “Is it Olive? Is she okay?”
“Stop being such an old man,” she snapped, all the sweetness replaced by venom. “Olive is fine. I just called to say we’re in Palm Springs on a shoot. Olive’s staying with me for another week.”
“We agreed to a two-week visit, Val. Not three,” he said, careful to keep his tone steady. He’d learned from past experiences that blowing up at her only made her more likely to dig her heels in and do whatever she damn well pleased. “Olive needs to come home. She has school. You can’t just disrupt her schedule like that.”
“Why not? You did when you dragged her off to that godforsaken town in the middle of nowhere.”
“You moved to Paris,” he said through clenched teeth. “Without us.”
“I was only gone for six months. Jayzus, Clay. It’s not like I ran off with another man.”
Right. Clay chose to avoid that particular argument. He’d heard the rumors. Had lived the lonely nights when she’d been off ‘modeling’ for shoots that never seemed to result in a paycheck. “None of that matters now,” he said, calmly. “Just bring Olive home, or tell me where you two are staying and I’ll come get her.”
“No. She has a job. One she wants to do. You’re not taking this away from her. Not like you tried to do to me. I’ll bring her home when it’s done.”
“She has a job? She, as in Olive has a job?” Clay barked into the phone.
Val didn’t answer, and the chatter in the background had vanished. Clay pulled the phone away from his ear and scowled at the screen. Son of a witch. His ex had hung up on him. He called her back, but her phone went straight to voicemail. “Dammit!”
“Something wrong in Garrisonville?” a woman asked from behind him.
He glanced over his shoulder and spotted Yvette, Abigail’s sister, standing on the sidewalk and holding a large bottle of water. Her jeans had black soot stains, but her Keating Hollow volunteer firefighter T-shirt was clean, as was the baseball cap covering her chestnut hair. “Isn’t there always?”
She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Val being an uber-bitch again?”
“When isn’t she?” He rolled his shoulders, trying to release the tension. “She just called to inform me she’s keeping Olive for another week so that Olive can finish some sort of shoot. I don’t know if it’s a photography shoot, a commercial, or something else. Apparently, Val seems to think she doesn’t need to consult me when it comes to our daughter.”
“Ouch.” Yvette frowned, placing her hands on her trim waist. “I thought you decided to keep her out of the business?”
“I did. Val didn’t.”
“I hate to say it, Clay, but I really think you should consider that lawyer. Until you get this custody thing worked out, she’s going to keep doing this to you.”
“You’re probably right,” Clay said out of habit more than anything else. Everyone in town had told him the same thing more than once. The only problem was Val had connections he didn’t have. Her friends in the business had access to custody lawyers who were real sharks. Expensive lawyers who’d wage a battle he couldn’t afford to fight. He’d been hoping he and Val could work something out through mediation. Keep it simple, do whatever was right for Olive. Two years ago, that had been a fine solution. Val hadn’t been interested in being a mother anyway. But now? Clay was afraid Val only saw dollar signs when she looked at their beautiful little girl.
When she’d called wanting time with Olive six months ago, Clay had been relieved, though a little suspicious, and agreed to shared custody. Olive would go see her on school breaks as often as Val wanted her. His daughter needed her mother, and he’d do whatever it took to make sure Olive got to spend time with her.
Their first visit had been fairly normal. Val had taken Olive to an audition, but Clay had assumed it was Val’s audition since she knew Clay wasn’t crazy about his daughter being anywhere near the entertainment industry, especially since she was only eight years old. Now he wasn’t so sure. Had Val been grooming her these last months? Surely whatever shoot she’d booked for Olive hadn’t been a fluke. Jobs didn’t come that easily in Hollywood. An ache formed in the pit of his stomach, and he was afraid his worst suspicions were confirmed. He needed to talk to Olive, find out if this was something she wanted or if Val had forced it on her.
Yvette patted his arm. “Give Lorna a call. She knows how to handle these things.”
Lorna was the town attorney. And while Clay respected the sweet older woman, he also knew that the high powered LA attorneys Val threatened to hire would eat her alive. “I’ll consider it.”
“Let us know if there is anything we can do.” Yvette eyed the wrecked car. “What happened here?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t checked your voicemail yet, have you?”
“No. I was putting out a fire.” She patted her back pocket and produced a smart phone. As she checked her messages she asked Clay, “Want to give me the rundown?”
“Your sister rear-ended someone while checking me out.” Clay couldn’t help the pleased smile that tugged at his lips.
“Abigail? She made it to town?” Yvette’s eyes widened. “Is everyone all right?”
“Yes, but that SUV is going to need some major work. After the accident, it refused to start. Wanda gave her a lift on her pimped-out golf cart.”
Yvette snickered. “Of course she did. Well, that’s one way to make an entrance back to the family farm.” She was quiet for a moment, listening to her messages. Then she hit a button and pressed the phone to her ear once more. �
��Abby? I’m here at your poor car.”
Clay held up the keys. “She dropped these.”
“Clay found your keys laying in the road.” She nodded her thanks to Clay. “Right. Okay. I’ll see you soon.”
Yvette held her hand out, taking the keys. “Turns out my airhead sister forgot to grab her suitcase before she went tooling off with Wanda.” She eyed Clay. “I guess she was still distracted.”
“I have that effect on some people.”
“No, just Abby.” Yvette opened the back hatch, peered in, and sighed. “Now I need to find a way to transfer all her crap into my Mustang before we can get this towed to the shop.”
Clay scanned the contents. Three suitcases, pillows, a computer bag, and a variety of boxes were stacked up to nearly the roof of the vehicle. “It’s a miracle she didn’t hit someone sooner. How could she possibly see through all that stuff?”
“Backup camera?” Yvette asked. Then she shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Not even half that stuff will fit in my car.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Clay said. “I have to drop some brew samples off at the house for Lin. I can load this stuff in my Jeep and haul it over.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Yvette said, eyeing him with suspicion.
“I know. I don’t mind. It’s not a big deal,” he said. Of course it was a big deal. He’d just lied about bringing Lin some beer samples, all because the only thing he could think about in that moment was seeing Abigail again. He took the keys back from Yvette. “Tell her I’ll bring everything by in a few hours when I get off work.”
Yvette snorted. “Sure. Just remember, she not staying.”
He eyed the contents of the car. “You could’ve fooled me.”
Chapter 4
“You need a beer,” Wanda announced as she took a right at the end of Main Street, leaving behind Clay and the rest of the town.
“You can say that again.” Abby rubbed a hand over the back of her neck, praying she didn’t wake up the next morning with a severe case of whiplash. She hadn’t been going that fast had she? Fast enough. She hadn’t even pumped the brakes before running into the teenager’s car. “Hey, who do you know that drives a Mini Cooper? A white one?”