Abby, Get Your Groom! Page 11

  “Sure,” Dylan said as if he didn’t know why she wouldn’t have. “But then he started doing all that stuff—with the clothes and the jewelry and the keeping quiet at parties and a backstory?”

  Abby took a deep breath and pushed away what remained of her food, no longer having an appetite.

  “It wasn’t only after we were engaged. It was all along. But he was subtle about it at first, and like I said, it was always supposed to be for my own good. To make me a better Abby,” she repeated the phrase Mark had so sweetly said to her...until the break-up, when he’d lashed out at her with his genuine opinion. “What it took me some time to realize—and that didn’t happen until after we were engaged—was that it really boiled down to him thinking I wasn’t good enough for him—”

  “And he was what? King of the World?”

  Abby took that comment with a grain of salt, unable to forget the exchange she’d overheard with Cade at the Camden Sunday dinner.

  Besides, there had been people all through her life who had had similar preconceived notions of who or what she was because of the way she’d grown up. Mark wasn’t the first.

  “Mark is a systems analyst from a normal, middle-class family in the suburbs,” she said without editorializing.

  “Who looks down pretty severely on kids in and from foster care.”

  “Yes. But he isn’t alone in that—I’ve met a lot of people who don’t have the best opinion of foster care kids. People who didn’t want their kids to play with the foster kid in their class. People who didn’t trust a foster kid to babysit for them. People all along who were leery of me because of where I came from and who were afraid I was defective in some way—”

  “Defective?” he repeated, as if it was a dirty word.

  Abby didn’t know what to do but shrug again. “That’s been said,” she confirmed before she went on. “And when I figured out that Mark shared those ideas and that he thought I wasn’t good enough for him or his family, I broke up with him.” And discovered herself even more wary of relationships.

  But she didn’t say that.

  “Why was he with you in the first place if he thought that?”

  “He didn’t know about my background at first. It isn’t my opening line on a date. I think he liked me, and then he found out so he tried to make things line up for himself.”

  “How long has it been over?” Dylan asked as if he didn’t want to comment on her assumption.

  “About a year.”

  “It had to have hurt,” he said softly.

  “Sure,” she said, though she tried to make it sound as if she’d taken it in stride. She didn’t want to show weakness by admitting it had pulled the rug out from under her and left her hiding out at China’s apartment, barely able to do her job and slink back there every day until she could get a place of her own.

  “But maybe I’m just better off on my own like I’ve always been,” she added. “Better off taking care of myself, looking out for myself.” Even though, deep down, she kind of wanted that not to be true.

  Dylan didn’t say anything but she thought she read skepticism in the expression on that refined face as he pushed away what remained of his own meal.

  Then he looked at her squarely, earnestly, and said, “I didn’t mean to imply I thought there was anything wrong with you with what I said about the job. I just know that it would be a pretty monumental change for you to go from what you’re doing to what I’d like you to do for us. To keep you from being overwhelmed, I’d walk you through it the whole way until you got used to it and knew all the ins and outs.” Then he smiled that smile that had just a hint of wickedness to it, glanced at the mass of curls around her face and said, “And I’m the last guy who would want to see that untamed hair tamed—I think it’s great.”

  Okay, he recouped some points with that because it was an issue with such history for her.

  “I am serious, though,” he persisted. “I can see you accomplishing much bigger things. Making more money. Becoming more successful. I don’t think you recognize just how smart and talented you are. I think China knows it about you, but—”

  “China thinks bigger than I do but she isn’t always right.”

  “She’s more out there, more flamboyant, maybe. But I think she knows you and she seems to see the same things in you that I do. So you might consider that she’s right to think that you could do bigger things.”

  “I don’t want your job,” Abby said concisely. “I like what I do.”

  “You do it well,” he said, as if that wrapped up a conversation that had gotten away from him and gone places he’d never expected. Then, more under his breath, he added, “And the systems analyst wasn’t good enough for you.”

  It was a nice thing to say even if Abby didn’t take it to heart.

  The restaurant was closing, and since they were finished Dylan paid the bill and they went outside again. Retracing their steps across the street, they walked around to the dimly lit parking lot behind the shop.

  Along the way he said, “So, tomorrow I’m sneaking Lindie into the regular shop for what?”

  “Highlights that we didn’t have time for today.”

  “And you have a back door in and a private room there where you can do it?”

  “Sort of. When Sheila first started, the salon was her husband’s barber shop. He let her have a station of her own in back and built a wall so her customers and his were separated. When Sheila’s business started doing better than her husband’s he turned over the whole place to her and went to work for someone else. She expanded into the front but she didn’t bother to take down the wall—”

  “Yeah, now that I think about it, I do remember a wall in back.”

  “We don’t actually use that station too much,” Abby went on. “Only in a pinch if we’re really busy. But, yeah, if you and Lindie come in through the break-room door and go from there to that old station, nobody will even know you guys are there. But you’ll have to get there without photographers or anybody following you because the rest of the shop will be open for business. Anyone could come in the front and charge through till they find you.”

  “I’ll make sure we don’t have a tail.”

  They’d reached the parking lot by then. Abby’s compact car was near the building. Parked on the side street just outside of the lot was a sleek black Jaguar but the SUV she’d ridden in with him twice now wasn’t anywhere in sight.

  “Where’s your car?” she asked.

  “That one is mine,” he said with a nod to the sports car as he walked by it to go with her to hers. “I use the SUV when I know I’ll have more than one passenger, but this is my baby. I just got her back from the body shop today.”

  “Were you in a wreck?”

  They’d reached the driver’s door of her car and he’d pivoted around to face her so she saw his grimace in the lot’s single light.

  “No, luckily not a wreck. But the damage was done by someone else...”

  He didn’t elaborate so Abby unlocked her door and opened it, standing with it between them.

  “What would you say to coming with me to the rehearsal dinner on Friday night?” he asked out of the blue.

  “Are you asking just because I told you I like to get a peek at the festivities? Or because I’ll already be at GiGi’s house to do hair before—”

  “This is not some kind of pity invite,” he swore. “Well, unless you want to think of it as taking pity on me and being my only ally again—Sunday Dinner, The Sequel. I was just thinking that I’d like it if you were there with me. As my plus one. Just because... I want you there.”

  “I don’t know that you’re winning points with your family by hanging out with the help,” she said, recalling once more what she’d overheard at Sunday dinner.

  “Don’t kid yourself—at this
point, they like you better than they like me.”

  She doubted that.

  But she did want to go. She tried to deny it, but she couldn’t. She liked the Camdens. And even if it was only a temporary, for-now association with her as a service provider, they were all warm and friendly toward her; they didn’t make her feel like The Help butting in on private family occasions. And it was a chance for her to actually be at one of those special events she usually only got to view from the sidelines.

  And even if all of that hadn’t been true, there was also the fact—and the real reason she couldn’t deny herself—that it was a chance to be with Dylan.

  “Come on,” he urged. “Everybody is meeting at GiGi’s to go over to the church so you’ll be right there. If you want to change clothes GiGi has plenty of rooms you can use. And, who knows, maybe it would be good for you to see the setting of the whole thing beforehand. Maybe you’ll say, oh, your hair has to be higher than we were planning, Lindie, to compete with those cathedral ceilings.”

  Abby laughed. “I don’t think I’m going to make anybody’s hair high enough to compete with cathedral ceilings.”

  She knew he was only joking, but his grin would have given it away if she hadn’t. The grin that crinkled his gorgeous blue eyes and drew lines to accentuate that mouth that had kissed her the night before...

  “Just say yes,” he commanded.

  What was there about this guy that got to her so much?

  “Yes...” she said, even though she knew she should say no and didn’t understand why she couldn’t. “If you’re sure your family—”

  “I’m sure.”

  The grin had mellowed into a small smile as he seemed to study her face as if it was important to him to know every inch of it.

  Then he leaned over the top of the door and found her mouth with his again in a kiss that began like the two simple little kisses of the night before and then went further.

  His lips parted over hers and it became a very real kiss. Not a comforting kiss. Not a quickie kiss. But a kiss kiss.

  Especially when his hand came to the back of her head, when his fingers threaded through her hair to hold her more firmly to that mouth that was moving over hers and lingering long enough for her to kiss him in return. For her to taste the mints they’d both popped after dinner, for her to feel the warmth and strong softness of his lips and judge him the best kisser she’d ever encountered.

  That scruff of beard wasn’t as rough against her face as she’d expected it to be and she liked that, too. That bit of masculine coarseness against the smoothness of her skin.

  The way he lingered let her know he didn’t hate it, either. Then he ended it, without any eagerness, and peered down into her eyes.

  “I’m pretty sure that I like you too much, Abby Crane,” he whispered, maybe more to himself than to her.

  Then he kissed her again, just as potently but only for a moment before he stepped back.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow for highlights,” he said then.

  She laughed. “You want some, too?”

  “No, thanks, I think I’ll pass,” he answered with another grin, this one slightly crooked.

  Then he kissed her a third time, quickly, there and gone, as if he just couldn’t not do it, before he stepped away completely.

  Abby took it as a signal to get behind the wheel of her car and when she did he closed her door and said through the window, “Lock it and drive safe.”

  She did lock the door before she started the engine and he got out of the way so she could head for the parking lot’s exit.

  She watched him through her rearview mirror as he got into the sports car and disappeared from her sight.

  But what didn’t disappear was the memory of his hand in her hair. Of his mouth on hers.

  Of those kisses she only wanted more of right at that minute.

  Those kisses that could carry her away somewhere she knew better than to go...

  Chapter Seven

  “I don’t know why you’re here this morning, but, man, is it nice to see a familiar face that isn’t peeved at me!” Dylan greeted his cousin Seth.

  Seth lived in Northbridge, Montana, running the farm there and the rest of Camden Incorporated’s nationwide agricultural affairs. He and his wife, Lacey, had come in to Denver with their new baby for Lindie’s wedding. They were staying with GiGi, so Seth showing up at Dylan’s loft early Thursday morning was a surprise.

  “I brought doughnuts,” Seth announced, holding up a bag as he did.

  “I’ve got coffee,” Dylan contributed, leading the way into his kitchen.

  Seth perched on a bar stool on one side of the island counter while Dylan went to the other side of it to pour two mugs of steaming dark French roast.

  “Everybody’s giving you a hard time, huh?” Seth said as they each chose a doughnut.

  “Not without cause. But oh, yeah!” Dylan answered emphatically.

  Because Seth and his wife didn’t live in Denver they had only met Lara once and not for long enough to have been drawn into her antics. So Seth and his wife were the sole members of the family who weren’t unhappy with him.

  “I had to get out of here until Lara moved on to greener pastures—that’s why I went to Europe. But I think those three months away just made everything with the family fester. Since I’ve been back...” Dylan shook his head and exhaled a frustrated sigh. “Let’s just say there’s been lots of fallout from the Lara debacle.”

  “I think everybody’s coming around, though.”

  “Are they?” Dylan asked hopefully, knowing that Seth had likely heard much that wouldn’t be said directly to Dylan.

  “They all know you’re working hard to make it up to them and they appreciate the effort you’re going to. It’s just that—”

  “The way they see it, I turned on them.”

  “Well, you definitely didn’t take their side. And that raised some hackles. But it’ll pass. It’s already in the process of passing. What do you think they’re gonna do, kick you out of the family?”

  “Some days since I’ve been back it’s seemed like that might be a possibility.”

  “Nah! Mostly the talk I’ve heard since I got in yesterday morning has been about this hairdresser girl you’re working on to make amends. Everyone’s focused on wondering about you and her.”

  “Me and her? There’s no me and her. But they like her, right?”

  “They all seem to like her a lot, yeah.”

  Dylan laughed as he finished a bite of doughnut and washed it down with a drink of coffee. “They’re probably worried about her being anywhere near me,” he said facetiously.

  “Nah,” Seth answered as if that was silly. “But I think they might be worried that something is up between the two of you and that it’s too soon after Lara, that your head might not be straight yet. That whole thing was pretty messed up.”

  “I’m completely over Lara, no matter what they might think,” Dylan said, having no doubt about that himself. “So my head is straight enough to know that I have to heal wounds with the family before I move on to anything else. Like a new relationship.”

  “Sounds like you’re pretty clear about that,” Seth observed. “But everybody’s saying that whenever this Abby girl is around you turn to...you know...mush.”

  “I’m just being nice to her,” Dylan protested, in spite of knowing that he felt as if he turned to mush whenever he was with Abby—and even when he wasn’t. Like whenever he just thought about her, which was pretty much every minute. But he didn’t know it showed and he certainly wasn’t going to admit to it.

  Seth drank coffee and shrugged before he said, “Lacey noticed it yesterday. She said in a room full of women—some of them Lindie’s hot friends and some of them hot girls working on everybody—y
ou barely took your eyes off of this Abby.”

  “Now I’m in trouble for not ogling Lindie’s friends and the women who were doing the work?”

  Seth laughed. “Sometimes we can’t win, can we?” he commiserated. “But just between you and me...is something going on with this new girl?”

  Was something going on with Abby?

  There was the constant thinking about her.

  And picturing her in his mind.

  And falling asleep every night craving things he shouldn’t be craving with her.

  There was the ever-present struggle to keep his hands to himself whenever he was with her, when he wanted to reach out and stroke her face or test a strand of that untamed hair or touch her arm or hold her hand or anything that would make contact.

  And there was the kissing...

  “Nah,” Dylan said, echoing his cousin. “I mean, I like her. She’s great. But like I said, I know the dust has to settle—for me and for the family—before I get into anything else.”

  Seth nodded but his expression seemed to convey skepticism. “I’m sure you’re being careful,” he said.

  Dylan thought that was more advice than confidence, but he only said, “I am,” reminding himself of the necessity to be cautious even as he reassured his cousin.

  But it was a reminder he knew he needed one way or another.

  Because when he was with Abby, lines seemed to blur that shouldn’t.

  After Lara he couldn’t help being leery of the fact that what he saw in someone was possibly not all there was to them. That there could be plenty of underlying issues that he should be on the lookout for. Issues that could have dire consequences.

  And last night Abby had shown him something of herself that had taken him by surprise. Which could be an indication of that, he thought.