Wade reached toward her, then pulled his hand back. He’d done the same thing when he’d knelt at her side after her fall, something she hadn’t remembered until now.
“How’s your head?” he asked.
She swept her bangs aside and touched the knot, realizing he’d been about to do the same thing. It was better all around if he kept his hands to himself. His touch stirred things that didn’t need stirring, certainly not by the man she was investigating.
“It’s healing up.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “It’s a ghastly shade of yellow, though.”
“You’re still having headaches.”
He must’ve noticed her rubbing her temples. “Not from the fall. It’s the health condition I mentioned before—hypertension. High blood pressure can cause headaches.”
Wade frowned at her. “None of my business, but maybe you’re not getting enough rest. You don’t have to entertain Maddy every moment.”
“I’m fine, really. I like spending time with her.”
A splash drew her attention to Maddy, who rose from the water like a wet mermaid. “Come on, you guys!”
“Maybe we should head back,” Wade said.
Abigail wasn’t cutting the Father’s Day celebration short on account of a headache. “No way. I’m getting my feet wet.” She removed her tennis shoes and socks, rolled her jeans until they reached the tops of her calves, and ran through the grass to the shoreline.
16
Abigail watched the school band approach the corner. The musicians looked spiffy in their starched red-and-white uniforms, marching forward in unison. The brass section blared “You’re a Grand Old Flag,” and the percussion beat out a snappy cadence. The Moose Creek annual Fourth of July celebration was under way.
The smell of grilling burgers and kettle corn continually wafted by, tempting her to break her low-sodium, low-fat diet. She’d seen a booth for Rocky Mountain oysters and hadn’t been tempted in the slightest, though a long line snaked from the booth.
Abigail had lost Aunt Lucy to her friends from church, and Maddy was watching the parade with Olivia and her mom, Shay. Abigail spotted Dylan across the street, and he waved through the passing parade. As she waved back, her phone vibrated in her pocket.
Abigail darted into the nearest building, Mocha Moose. The smell of the rich brew was pure heaven, and she promised herself a cup after the call.
She pulled out her phone, checked the screen, then answered. “Happy Fourth, sis.” It wasn’t much quieter in the busy café. She meandered to the back, waving to new friends as she went.
“What’s all the racket?”
“The Moose Creek marching band. And a thousand of my closest neighbors.” Abigail rounded a bend and found a secluded nook. “That better?”
“Much. Aunt Lucy with you?”
“She was, but she ditched me for her friends. Actually, they wanted to put chairs out for the parade in the wee hours of the morning, and I decided my time would be better spent wandering the booths. Exercise, you know.”
“Step away from the junk food.”
“Yes, Dr. Jones.” Abigail plopped into a stuffed leather armchair and wondered if she’d find the motivation to get up.
“How’s Aunt Lucy? Are you seeing any signs of dementia?”
“Nothing too worrisome. She gets stuck on a word once in a while and repeats herself occasionally. I’m not sure what’s normal and what’s not.”
“Either of those could be normal. Any signs of disorientation? Poor judgment? Misplacing things?”
“Not that I’ve noticed.”
“Well, stay alert. Maybe you can talk her into a checkup.”
“That’s a good idea. How’s my apartment?”
“Empty, much like it is when you’re here. Now, tell me about your symptoms.”
Abigail rolled her eyes. “Did you call just to nag?”
“No, I called to nag and snoop.”
“Can we move on to the snooping?”
“Fine. What have you found out about J. W.?”
Abigail sighed. “Nada.”
“It’s been two weeks, Abs. We’re into July already.”
The band’s patriotic tune permeated the walls as it turned the corner. “So that’s why there’s a parade . . .”
“Very funny. What’s the holdup?”
“The holdup is I haven’t found answers online—”
“Because nobody else knows the truth.”
“Possibly. Maddy doesn’t know anything, and the one person who does isn’t exactly a fountain of information.”
“Maybe he doesn’t trust you.”
“Well, hello, he’s only known me a month. Why would he?”
“Is there someone else?”
Abigail had been down this road so many times she’d worn a rut in the pavement. “His best friend, Dylan, maybe. Beyond that, I don’t think anyone knows.”
“Think he’d talk?”
“He’s pretty loyal. They go way back.”
“Might be time to pull out the feminine charms.”
Abigail laughed. “Right, because I have so much finesse.”
“Just think Ginger from Gilligan’s Island.”
“I’m more Gilligan, don’t you think?”
“Ha. You can be charming when you want to be. You had Daddy wrapped around your little finger.”
There was no animosity in her tone. Reagan had always been closer to their mom, Abigail to her dad. That’s just the way it was.
“Maybe I can try.” Abigail wouldn’t lead Dylan on—that wasn’t her style. But a little flirting never hurt anyone, she supposed.
“Good girl. You’ll have J. W. eating from your hand in no time.”
“J. W. . . . Thought we were talking about Dylan.” Wade was a whole different matter.
“Why would you waste time charming his friend when you’re not even sure he knows the truth? There’s a deadline.”
“Yeah, but—” Abigail bit her lip. But what? Wade was her employer? Wade was too much of a challenge? Wade was hazardous to her well-being?
“It’s not like he’s hard on the eyes. Come on, Abs, any single girl in her right mind wouldn’t mind getting closer to the man.”
“It’s not like anything could come of it. He’s the subject of my investigation.” And he wouldn’t be happy when he found out.
It’s your job. She was the Truthseeker, and it wasn’t like she’d come here looking for this.
“Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the process.”
“I’m not getting attached to a man I’m going to betray.”
“You can’t look at it like that. You do this all the time, Abigail. What’s so different this time?”
“I don’t usually get to know my subjects so well. I’m living here. He’s Maddy’s father.”
“You’ll have to find a way to separate all that. Maybe this is God’s way of saving the magazine. Maybe you’re there ‘for such a time as this.’”
Abigail recognized the quote from the story of Esther. Was her sister right? Had God placed her here so she could save Viewpoint?
“You’re right. It can’t be a coincidence. All right, I’ll see what I can do about getting closer to Wade.” Abigail winced even as she said the words. She didn’t even want to think about how she was going to manage that feat.
“Are there fireworks in Moose Creek? You might be able to do something with that.”
“There’s a small display.” She imagined cozying up to Wade in one way or another and felt her face grow warm. “I don’t know about this, Reagan.”
“You don’t have to throw yourself at him, Abs. You can be charming in a subtle and discerning way. I have confidence in you.”
“Easy for you to say.” She was so done talking about this. “So, how goes it with Dr. Right?”
“Three dates and counting. We’re going downtown tonight for Taste of Chicago and the fireworks.”
“Which kind of fireworks?”
“Hopef
ully both.”
Abigail heard the smile in Reagan’s voice. She shifted the phone to her other ear.
“He kissed me good night last time.”
“And . . . ?”
“I think I’m a goner.”
Abigail smiled. “You haven’t said that since Robbie Lewis took you for a ride in his Camaro. Maybe he’s the one.”
“Oh, it’s too early. We hardly know each other, right?”
“You have good instincts. But take it slow, all right?”
“You know me—I’ll probably be weighing the pros and cons for another year or two at least. If he hangs around that long.”
“He’d be crazy not to.”
“Spoken like a loyal sister.”
A ring sounded on Reagan’s end. “Oops, that’s the answering service. Hope it’s nothing major.”
“Have fun tonight.”
They said good-bye and Abigail pocketed her phone, her thoughts turning to their discussion about Wade.
As she waited in line for her coffee, the memory of sharing a saddle sprang to her mind. The heat of his legs against hers, the whisper of his breath in her ear, the rumble of his voice in his chest. The moisture in Abigail’s mouth evaporated at the memory.
She could get closer without leading him on or behaving foolishly. As Reagan said, she could be charming when she wanted to be. The real question was, while she was busy tearing down Wade’s defenses, would she be able to keep her own wall in place?
After the parade, Abigail found Aunt Lucy and the gang in the craft barn and spent the afternoon perusing handmade afghans, quilts, and jewelry. Aunt Lucy had hired a teenage girl to man her doll booth, and she’d already sold more dolls than Aunt Lucy sold in a month.
They nibbled on goodies from junk food alley for dinner. Abigail gave in to her craving for kettle corn but skipped the fatty cheeseburgers, though the smell of them grilling was tempting. She decided to round out her meal with a barbecued chicken sandwich and hand-squeezed lemonade. Hey, it was made with fruit.
Abigail was getting in line at the barbecue booth, which was sponsored by Aunt Lucy’s church, when Dylan and Wade stepped into line behind her.
“Hey, Abigail,” Dylan said.
“Hi, you two.”
Wade nodded hello.
“What do you think of our Fourth of July celebration?” Dylan asked. “Must be a far cry from Chicago’s.”
“Like two different worlds. This is great, though, and the food looks and smells so yummy. It’s hard to choose.”
“You picked the right booth,” he said, all dimples.
She inched forward as the line moved. “Have you seen Maddy?” she asked Wade. “I haven’t seen her since I dropped her off with Shay and Olivia this morning.”
“Reckon they’re over by the games,” Wade said. “She knows where to meet us for the fireworks. Where’s your aunt?”
“We’re meeting at the picnic pavilion once we have our food. Do you mind if I join you all for the fireworks? Aunt Lucy isn’t sticking around.” She widened her eyes the way she’d seen Reagan do, then wondered if her eyes looked like Aunt Lucy’s behind those thick glasses.
“Sure,” Dylan said. “We watch ’em up on Sugar Hill, just west of town.” He pointed past the town square. “Great view from up there.”
“Daddy!” Maddy appeared, followed by Shay and Olivia.
“Those look good,” Abigail said, gesturing toward the caramel apples the girls were working on.
“They’re over that way,” Shay said. “Next to the funnel cakes, which is where I totally blew my diet.”
“You hardly need to diet.” Dylan’s eyes flirted the way they did with anyone with a set of X chromosomes.
Shay’s face blossomed a pretty shade of pink even as she rolled her eyes.
Abigail smothered a smile as she moved forward in line.
“Look what Olivia made me.” Maddy pulled a knotted hemp necklace from the collar of her T-shirt. A horse charm hung from the bottom.
“That’s beautiful, Olivia,” Abigail said, fingering the fibrous cord. “Must’ve taken a long time.”
“It looks just like Destiny.” Maddy tucked the necklace into her collar.
“Hope you thanked her properly,” Wade said.
“I did. Hey, Dad, can I watch the fireworks with Olivia? We’re saving a spot on the fairground, right by where they’re let off.”
Wade’s glance bounced off Abigail. “Don’t know, Maddy. It’ll be a madhouse getting out of here afterward. How will I find you?”
“We can drop her home,” Shay said. “Olivia would love the company.”
“Please, Mr. Ryan?” Olivia asked shyly.
Wade shifted, looked back toward the fairgrounds. Abigail wondered if he was uncomfortable without their buffer between them.
“Suppose so,” Wade said.
“Yay!” Maddy said, and the group turned toward the town square.
“Don’t get too close to the fireworks,” he called.
Abigail moved forward, ordered her sandwich, and chatted with the teen she recognized from her aunt’s church. Once her sandwich was in hand, she slipped past Dylan and Wade.
“See you in a bit.”
She made her way to the pavilion where Aunt Lucy had saved them a spot at a picnic table, far enough away from the stage that the country music wasn’t blaring in their ears. The sandwich was tasty, with only a hint of spice, and the lemonade was the perfect blend of sweet and tangy.
By the time they finished, Aunt Lucy and her friends declared themselves done in and called it a day.
“Do you need a ride, dear?” Aunt Lucy asked.
“No thanks. I’m staying for the fireworks.”
They said good-bye and walked off in the dusk toward their cars. Abigail glanced around town. Fewer people cluttered the walks now, and the streetlamps had come on. Night was falling quickly, and everyone was finding a spot to settle for the display. It was time to find Wade and Dylan before it was too dark to navigate the hill.
She started the trek toward Sugar Hill, across the neatly clipped fairground grass. The evening was cooling off, and she wished she’d brought her jacket. Overhead, the stars were peeking through the dark shroud, and a large moon hung in the western sky.
Reagan was right. Tonight was the perfect opportunity to get closer to Wade. Maddy wouldn’t be there, he was off work, and it was a romantic evening. She had to be more charming. She thought of Dylan’s overt flirtation. Not a chance. She knew her limits.
Abigail glanced up at Sugar Hill, dodging spread-out quilts and children waving sparklers. The hill was lit with flares of fireworks and sparklers. She hoped she could find Wade. And if she did, what was she going to do with the opportunity?
17
Wade flipped out the quilt and lowered himself onto it. He pulled the pack of sparklers he’d bought for Maddy from his pocket and tossed them down. So much for that.
“Bring a lighter?” Dylan dropped onto the other side of the blanket.
Wade retrieved it and tossed it by the sparklers. There were at least a couple hundred people on the hill, but the sheer size of the butte allowed plenty of space for spreading out.
Dylan lit a sparkler and sat back, watching it flicker and flash. He’d been quiet since they’d run into his ex-girlfriend at the fairgrounds.
“So what’s the deal with you and Bridgett?” Wade asked.
“No deal. We’re friends.”
“Didn’t look like it to me. Couldn’t take her eyes off you.”
Dylan held the sparkler farther away, watching the light burn down the stick. “We’re friends,” he said firmly.
“Thought you liked her.”
“I did.” Dylan shrugged. “She wanted to take it to the next level, and I didn’t.”
“What’s wrong with the next level?”
Dylan gave a wry grin. “It’s the level preceding ‘till death do us part.’”
Wade wondered if Dylan would ever tire of leavin
g a trail of heartbroken women and settle down. “Don’t you want kids someday?”
“Don’t know. I got Maddy.”
“Maddy’s my kid.”
Dylan gave a crooked grin. “Exactly. I get to come around, tug her ponytail, then go home to my quiet house.”
As Dylan’s grin slipped away, Wade caught a flicker of something on Dylan’s face and suspected that the quiet house was sometimes too quiet. Then again, the man was rarely home. He needed activity, socializing, fun. Maybe he needed all those things because his house was so quiet.
But Wade wouldn’t verbalize the thought. Dylan would turn tables, and then Wade would be on the hot seat. It had taken almost a week for them to find their footing after their argument in town. The conversation was never revisited; they just bumped along until the conflict was forgotten. That’s what men did.
Dylan’s sparkler burned out, and he tossed the stick to the ground.
“Hey, guys.” Abigail sauntered toward them on those long legs of hers.
Wade gave her a nod.
“Hey, gorgeous.” Dylan stood, Wade just a second behind him.
She cocked her head and smiled as she approached, not at Dylan, but at him.
Wade gulped. There was something . . . different about her. About the way she looked at him, the way she carried herself. Something that stole the moisture from his mouth and made him wish he’d told Maddy no. No, you can’t watch fireworks with Olivia. No, you can’t leave me here with Abigail.
Abigail’s foot caught on something and she stumbled, pitching forward. Dylan, who was closer, reached out and caught her. Abigail straightened, her eyes averted. “Sorry,” she said, pulling away from him.
“You can fall into my arms anytime you like.” Dylan winked. “Have a seat.”
Wade took his spot on the edge of the blanket, Dylan sat on the other side, which left the middle for Abigail. She eased down between them. Wade wondered if that stumble was contrived, then recalled the genuine embarrassment on her face. Maybe not.
“Sparkler?” Dylan offered.
“Sure.” Abigail took the stick and Dylan lit it. She extended it as it flared to life. “I haven’t held one of these since I was a kid.”
Big Sky Romance Collection Page 11
