Abby, Get Your Groom!

by Victoria Pade

  He’d been aware even before last night that she kept her cards close to the vest, that she was extremely self-protective, and that she wasn’t the most trusting person he’d ever encountered.

  Given how she’d grown up, that was understandable.

  And what went along with it all was that she was also strong and fiercely independent, that she wasn’t needy or grasping, that she was determined to take care of herself.

  Coming post-Lara, all of that was particularly appealing to him. Yet, while focusing on that, he hadn’t bothered to think about what other underlying issues there could be.

  But last night she’d flared over his job offer, of all things, and that had surprised him.

  She’d misinterpreted what he’d been saying to her. Nowhere in any of what he’d suggested had he intended to criticize her or say that she was lacking or needed fixing or improving, and he honestly didn’t see how she’d taken that from it. But she had.

  And she’d gotten really defensive about it. She’d dismissed what he had honestly been proposing and focused solely on the impression she’d had that she was somehow not good enough. Her back had definitely been up. Over something he’d thought was a pretty sweet job offer. Something anyone else would have jumped at. Or at least been flattered by. Yet it had served only to provoke her.

  And while she’d explained her reaction and he’d come to understand that it had roots in a relationship that had hurt her, it had also seemed like a curtain opening to show him that other side of her. A side that included some of those underlying issues he’d learned not to ignore.

  Granted, what he’d faced in Abby had been a woman who was hot under the collar over something that turned out to be a sensitive issue rather than a woman who was making claims against his family and pounding wedges between them all. But it was that difference between what he thought, what he assumed, what he expected and what she’d come at him with that had given him pause.

  So, yes, he needed to be careful. Especially when he was so taken with her. When he was increasingly susceptible to her. Especially when every minute with her—other than that response to his job offer—made him like her even more.

  “I’m not going to let anything go too far with Abby,” he said to his cousin then. “I’ve shaken up her whole world with what we’ve uncovered about her history—she has a lot to come to terms with. And, God knows, I have my own problems at the moment.”

  Seth frowned at him. “You’re not going to let anything get too far with her? Does that mean that there is something going on?”

  “Just that I like her is all.” Dylan conceded only to what he’d already admitted. “Another time, another place, different circumstances, would I maybe explore it a little? Yeah, maybe. But not here and now. I’m just doing what GiGi has asked me to do and I’m grateful that it isn’t painful.”

  And he was determined to put the brakes on things like kissing Abby because he knew he shouldn’t have done that.

  Any more than he should be wanting so damn much to do it again.

  But he was going to resist. He was.

  “So you’re doing chauffeur duty today?” Seth asked as he finished his coffee.

  Dylan was relieved to let the subject change naturally. “I’m at Lindie’s disposal, yeah,” he said. “The final dress fitting and something about picking up gifts for her attendants, and then I’m taking her to Abby’s salon for highlights in her hair.”

  Seth grimaced. “Wow, you are paying your dues.”

  Actually, while he wasn’t looking forward to any of what he was doing with his sister, he did consider seeing Abby at the end of the day his reward for it all.

  He didn’t say that, though.

  Instead he said, “Lindie would probably need me to do it for security purposes, anyway. Every day closer to the wedding makes the group of photographers and newshounds grow. I’m even using a rental car today so we won’t be driving around in anything that might give us away—actually, it’s a van that looks like a delivery van. I have it arranged so another security person picks her up at home and takes her to the Colorado Boulevard store as if she’s doing last minute wedding stuff there. Then I’ll be waiting for her at the delivery dock to get her out incognito so—hopefully—we won’t be followed.”

  Seth nodded. “Want help? I’m probably the least recognizable Camden since I don’t live around here, so I could tag along and keep you company while Lindie does the fluff stuff.”

  Dylan would have liked to have the cousin he didn’t get to see enough of tag along today.

  Until it came time for that reward at the end of it all.

  Then having Seth with him would just seem like a distraction from Abby. A buffer that he didn’t want.

  It was exactly what he should have agreed to for exactly that reason.

  But he couldn’t make himself do it.

  “Thanks, but I think the fewer of us there are, the better.”

  “Then I should probably let you get going. I just wanted to say hey and see how you were holding up.”

  “I’m okay,” Dylan assured his cousin as he walked him to the elevator.

  But just how okay was he if his biggest goal today—despite everything—was to get any time he could with Abby?

  * * *

  “That needs to sit for about twenty minutes. Can I get you guys coffee or tea or a soda?” Abby asked Lindie and Dylan when she’d finished wrapping the bride-to-be’s hair in strips of foil.

  “I’d love an iced tea,” Lindie said.

  “Nothing for me,” Dylan answered from where he was sitting on a folding chair that Abby had pulled into the more secluded portion of the salon for him.

  And positioned in the corner that she could see from the mirror as she worked.

  It was stupid, she told herself.

  But it made her own time pass so much more pleasantly to be able to steal glimpses of him whenever she wanted—which was about every thirty seconds. Glimpses of him sitting there with his arms crossed over his chest, massive biceps stretching the short sleeves of his polo shirt, the ankle of one long leg propped on the thick, muscular thigh of the other, and looking altogether masculine and sooo hunky...

  “I’ll be right back,” she said to Lindie, leaving the two of them to go out into the front portion of the salon.

  “Ah, there she is. This is Abby Crane—she’s who you want to talk to about wedding hair.”

  One of the other stylists in the salon was at the desk and seemed relieved to pass off the attractive blonde woman whom Abby had assumed was a customer coming or going.

  Abby had no choice but to make a detour from where she’d been headed.

  “Hi,” she greeted the blonde, who wore her hair in a chin-length, very precisely cut bob, and whose eye makeup China would say was the wrong color for her hazel eyes.

  “I’m Lara Humphrey.”

  She said that as if her name should be recognizable, but Abby had no idea who she was.

  “I want to talk to you about possibly doing hair and makeup for my wedding.”

  “Sure,” Abby said.

  She caught China as China passed through the salon and asked if she would take an iced tea to the back station.

  About that time the other stylist removed herself from behind the desk and turned her back to the blonde so she could roll her eyes at Abby to warn her that the blonde was a handful.

  Abby took the stylist’s place behind the desk.

  “Congratulations on your engagement,” Abby began. “When is your wedding?”

  “I’m not sure of the exact date yet—it will definitely be in December but we haven’t decided between the two days that the country club is making available to us.”

  “Okay,” Abby said. “So you have a little bit of time. You might want to make an appoin
tment with me or one of the other people on the special events team to just have us do your next haircut or style—something that can give you an idea of what we can do. Then, if you like that, we can go from there. That’s less costly than scheduling a test run for your whole wedding party at this point—”

  “Cost isn’t an issue,” the woman clipped out. “I’ve heard that you’re doing Lindie Camden’s wedding.”

  There was nothing to indicate that this woman might be a photographer or a reporter who had tracked Lindie and Dylan to the salon. She was dressed in very expensive slacks and a cashmere sweater set with pearls that looked real. Abby might not shop for designer labels herself, but she had worked with enough wealthy clients to recognize pricey, high-quality clothes—certainly not anything that the kind of reporter who stalked celebrities would be able to afford. And she was wearing what Abby guessed to be about a three-carat diamond engagement ring on her finger. Plus she only had a small purse on a chain over her shoulder that wasn’t large enough to conceal anything other than credit cards and a cell phone.

  Since there weren’t any other newspeople gathered outside—the way there had been at the special occasions salon on Wednesday—it didn’t seem that word had leaked that Lindie and Dylan were there. There was also the woman’s demanding, entitled attitude that spoke of something else.

  But before Abby could answer her question about whether or not she was doing the Camden wedding, the blonde said, “If you’re doing that one, I want you to do mine.”

  That sounded purely competitive and added to Abby’s thought that this was not a photographer or a reporter. So she continued to treat her as a potential customer.

  “We recommend that you try out the kind of work we do, see our price list and what services we offer. If you come in for a solo appointment, we can talk about—”

  “Are you doing the Camden wedding?” the blonde demanded.

  Her voice had suddenly raised to interrupt Abby and carried far enough through the shop for stylists and customers to be glancing toward the desk. Abby had no idea if it was carrying all the way to the back station where Lindie and Dylan would be able to hear.

  “We don’t talk about what events we are or aren’t doing,” Abby said so noncommittally that she could have easily been trying not to reveal that they didn’t have the Camdens’ business in order to attract someone who wanted the salon that did.

  Which might have been the way the blonde took it, because she said, “You should be glad if you aren’t working with those people. They’re horrible human beings.”

  The woman craned to look around Abby, her gaze going from one chair to the next to check out who was sitting in each of them.

  Maybe she was a reporter, after all.

  But still, that wasn’t the sense Abby was getting.

  “How many people would there be in your party?” she asked, to steer the conversation in a different direction.

  But the blonde was intractable. “I know you’re doing that wedding,” she said accusingly. “The Camdens and I have friends in common who know it and told me. Friends who knew I was actually engaged to one of them. Until I found out he didn’t have a spine and then I called it off.”

  “And now you’ve found Mr. Right,” Abby said cheerfully, dismissing the rest.

  “I have. I dodged that bullet, that’s for sure. And believe me, it was a big bullet to dodge. I’ve never met people more hurtful and backstabbing and underhanded! They deserve all the bad things that get said about them, and then some.”

  “That’s funny because I’ve heard that they’re very nice people.”

  “Well, someone is lying to you!”

  “So what would you like to schedule?” Abby asked, again attempting to do what this woman had claimed she was there for.

  “What are you doing for them? I want at least what they’re getting.”

  “I meant would you like to schedule a single appointment to get a feel for our work or a special occasions package for you and your wedding party?”

  “One of my bridal showers is in two weeks,” she announced imperiously and still not quietly. “I guess I could come in just before that. You must be good if the almighty Camdens are using you instead of their own precious salons. The clan doesn’t very often go beyond their own empire to do anything. That’s the problem—they’re all about themselves and their little clique. They’re horrible to anyone who doesn’t turn their back on everything but them. It’s like they’re a cult or something.”

  Abby had had about enough of that. “You know,” she said, acting as if she were pulling up the schedule on the computer screen that the woman couldn’t see. “I’d better check December before we go any further...” She paused then shook her head. “Oh, I’m sorry. We’re already booked solid that whole month. Unless your date changes—”

  “It won’t,” the blonde said bitingly.

  “Then I just can’t help you.”

  The blonde apparently didn’t like not getting her way because she threw a bit of a snit that Abby took with a blank expression and without comment, waiting for it to pass.

  Then the woman finally turned and left, and as Abby watched her go she couldn’t help wondering which of the Camdens could possibly have been dumb enough to be involved with her.

  * * *

  “It was you she was engaged to?” Abby exclaimed.

  The shop had closed by the time she’d finished Lindie’s hair. Lindie’s fiancé, Sawyer, had picked her up, and Dylan had persuaded Abby to have dinner with him.

  She knew she should have begged off. But besides wanting to have dinner with him—which she couldn’t deny that she did—the visit from Lara Humphrey had left her curious.

  When she’d returned to the back station, to Lindie and Dylan, after the blonde had left, neither of them had said anything to lead her to think they’d overheard the woman’s rant.

  But they’d both been very, very quiet. A whole lot quieter than they’d been before that. They’d even seemed more reserved with each other, and Abby had sensed tension that hadn’t been in the air before.

  She had to believe that they’d heard. The woman certainly hadn’t made any effort to keep her voice down.

  And she wondered if Dylan might bring it up over dinner.

  So she’d gone along with his idea to drive their respective vehicles to her apartment, leave them there and walk down to the row of restaurants across from the park where he’d first told her about her father.

  They were in a little bistro that was too expensive for her and China to ever have tried despite the proximity to them, and over glasses of predinner wine, Dylan had brought up the afternoon’s incident by apologizing for her having to run interference with his former fiancée.

  “It was me,” he confessed in answer to her response over his revelation, his handsome face pinched into a pained grimace. “And I can assure you that I do have a spine and showed it by being the one to call off the engagement—it wasn’t the other way around. Although I know that’s how Lara has told it from the start and usually I don’t bother correcting it.”

  But he felt inclined to do it with her. Was that because he cared what she thought about him?

  Not that that mattered...

  “Well, I know you have a spine,” she said. “You didn’t have any problem standing your ground when you were outnumbered by battery-pack-throwing photographers on Wednesday. But really? You were engaged to—”

  “Lara Humphrey,” he confirmed as their cheese tray appetizer arrived.

  “She said her name like I should know who she is.”

  “She’s the only child of Swan Humphrey. He owns the HCI chain of banks.”

  “Okay,” Abby said, but that meant nothing to her, either.

  “Anyway, Lara’s right, we do know a lot of the same people—that’
s how we met, at a Halloween party three years ago,” Dylan went on.

  “Was she nicer in costume?”

  He laughed and Abby was glad to lighten his mood because he hadn’t been himself since Lara’s visit to the salon. His not-so-talkativeness and the tension she’d sensed when she’d returned to him and Lindie had held over even after Lindie left.

  “She wasn’t in costume but, yeah, she was nicer. That tirade today is one of the two other sides of her that I didn’t know were there until the end.”

  “No costume, but she’s still a master of disguise?”

  Another laugh. “God, it’s nice to be here with you,” he muttered, visibly relaxing right before her eyes. “Actually, not so much a disguise as a manipulation. She likes to work in subtle ways to churn things up. But if you break off an engagement with her then you’re really in for it. She went so nuts that she was storming into work, into just about every place I went—including into GiGi’s Sunday dinner—to scream and throw things and make a scene. She even took a baseball bat to my Jaguar.”

  Abby tried to suppress a smile over his utter astonishment at that. Apparently it was a particularly low blow to him.

  “That’s why your car had to be fixed this week?” she said.

  “Right. And Lara is the reason I ended up going to Europe. I didn’t want to take her to court and get a restraining order and make a big, public deal about it, but her constant public attacks against me needed to stop. I thought out of sight, out of mind. That maybe if I got away she’d cool off, hopefully find somebody else, and then I’d be off the hook and could just deal with the fallout I’d left behind.”

  “Fallout,” Abby echoed. “Is that what’s going on between you and your family now?”

  “It’s why they’re not so happy with me, yeah.”

  “Because you broke up with her? Or because you brought her around in the first place? Or...what?” Abby asked, making the only two guesses she could come up with.

  “They’re unhappy with me because of what went on before I broke up with her. Because of garbage she pulled with them all. And because of garbage she pulled with me and how I handled it all...” he muttered under his breath. “I don’t know if it comes from Lara being an only child or what, but she did not play well with others.”