by Cate Beauman
“Gracious sakes, where are my manners? Come in, come in.” She ushered Abby inside. “And you call me Mary.”
He closed the door behind them, locking up, absorbing the warmth and lemony scent in the familiar surroundings.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mary.” Abby stepped forward, giving her a hug.
“Oh.” Mom’s eyes grew wide as she returned the embrace.
Jerrod grinned. The Quinn’s weren’t big huggers. Everyone was in for a surprise now that Abby was here.
“Thank you so much for having me.” Abby drew away.
“We’re always happy to welcome friends.” Mom looked Abby up and down, taking in her skinny jeans and jacket they’d pulled from the closet in their hurry to leave the condo. Despite her simple outfit, Abby screamed ‘city chick.’ “Good heavens, you’re tiny, honey. One good gust of Nebraska wind will blow you away. How about a plate?”
Abby smiled. “No thank you.”
“Mom’s used to burly men.”
“Garbage disposals are what you are. How about you, son? Can I offer you a plate?”
He shook his head. “Just a bed.”
“You know where they are. Go ahead and settle in. Abby, make yourself at home. I’m sure Jerrod will be happy to show you to your room. I’ll see you in a couple hours.” She hugged him again. “Good night.”
“Good night,” Jerrod and Abby said at the same time.
“You ready to go up?” He yawned, exhausted now that he could finally relax.
“Mmm.”
“Let’s go.” He signaled with his head, climbing the stairs with her at his side, stopping at the third door on the left down the long hall. He flipped on the light, and Abby gasped.
“Oh, Jerrod.” She walked around the roomy space, touching the dark polished wood of the ornate antique footboard and the matching dressers.
“Does this work for you?”
“It’s perfect. I love it. I have my own fireplace.”
“All the rooms do. We have central heating now, but they still work if you want to use it.”
“I feel like we’ve stepped back in time. All of these antiques.” She smiled, brushing her fingers over his great grandmother’s cranberry glass vase on the side table. “Everything’s so pretty.”
Her delight for the simple things always fascinated him. Her excitement was infectious. “Do you think you’ll be okay in here?”
“Definitely.” She took off her jacket, pulled back the covers, and hopped on the bed.
Her screams echoed in his head, and he tensed despite her apparent ease. “I’ll be right across the hall if you need me.”
“Okay.” She kicked off one sneaker, then the next.
“I’ll leave my door open.”
“You don’t have to. It’s so peaceful.” She lay back against the pillow and sighed. “I’m already as comfortable here as I am in our own home.”
Their home. Somehow over the last few months the condo had become theirs. They’d lived as any other couple did, sharing meals, cleaning duties, bills. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“Okay. Good night.”
He turned, drowning in fatigue.
“Jerrod.”
He stopped, turning back to face her. “Yeah?”
She stood, taking a hesitant step toward him, and stopped. “I’m not really sure about our boundaries, because this has never come up before, so I don’t know…” She nibbled her lip and looked down. “I know we’re just friends and you’re my bodyguard…” She shook her head and huffed out a breath as she met his gaze again. “I got your message loud and clear, but I was wondering if it would be okay…”
This was the first time he’d ever seen her so uncomfortable around him. He didn’t want things to be this way between them. “Do you want a hug, Abigail?”
She smiled her relief. “You’re a mind reader, Mr. Quinn.”
“Maybe.” He opened his arms, full well knowing he shouldn’t. “Well, come on already.”
She grinned and stepped into his embrace, wrapping herself tightly around him, resting her head on his chest.
He closed his eyes, holding her close, sliding his hand down her soft black hair. “Night, Abby.”
“Good night, Jerrod.” She stared into his gaze. “I’m glad things aren’t weird between us.”
Things weren’t weird per se, but they were definitely different. The photo shoot had changed their status quo. “Me too,” he said and eased back, walking into the hall.
She closed her door three quarters of the way and shut off her light, sending the upstairs into darkness.
~~~~
Abby opened her eyes, well rested and warm, snuggled beneath layers of soft blankets. She stretched her arms, locking them under her head as she smiled, staring up at the beautifully coffered ceiling. She’d slept like a rock cloaked in the deep country silence and homey comfort of the old farmhouse. Not even twenty-four hours ago she and Jerrod had been through hell, and now she was on a farm in the middle of nowhere. She strained her ears, listening closely, amazed by the lack of muffled horns blaring or emergency vehicles rushing by. She’d never been this far removed from civilization. Even Hagerstown had its fair share of creature comforts and amenities a short drive away.
Smiling again, she let loose a contented sigh despite her disastrous life. Dimitri and Victor wanted her dead, her career and dreams were officially in limbo, and contact with Lex was out of the question, yet she couldn’t help but relax, sensing the freedoms that came with this latest round of precautions. For once her world had opened up instead of gotten smaller. No one would look for her here. For the first time in months she was truly safe, and she planned to take full advantage.
The deep low of a cow somewhere in the distance penetrated her thoughts, and she shoved herself up to sitting, scrambling from the covers in her flossy white bra and panties, looking out the window to the left of the bed. She stared out at snow-covered fields as far as the eye could see, leaning closer to the glass, when she spotted a gray-bearded man bundled in a thick orange jacket and black Elmer Fudd hat walking toward the huge red barn. Hurrying off the mattress, she tossed her bedding back in place, anxious to get dressed and explore. She wanted in that barn. She’d seen a farm animal or two growing up in Maryland but had never actually touched one. Now was her chance. Jerrod told her his family raised chickens and pigs and tons and tons of cows on their small organic farm. Maybe he would teach her how to milk them. She wanted to gather eggs and sheer stuff and do whatever else it was they did around here. Eager to begin, she hurried over to the small suitcase Jerrod left by the dresser and unzipped the bag, pulling free a pair of pink polyester pants. Her smile faded as she held them up. “What on earth is this?” She reached in again, grabbing a pair of underwear big enough for three.
“Abby?” Jerrod tapped on the door and stepped in dressed in jeans and a Huskers sweatshirt. “Oh, shit, sorry.” He walked out.
“No. Come back here.”
“You’re not dressed.”
“Come in here, Jerrod. Please.”
He came back, muttering something under his breath, averting his gaze. “God. Put something on.”
“I can’t.”
His eyes met hers. “What do you mean you can’t?”
She held up the beige granny panties. “What is this?” She held up the pants next. “And this. My Gran wore stuff like this.”
“Huh.” He scratched his chin.
“Huh? That’s all you have to say? How am I supposed to milk cows and fetch eggs in these?”
He covered his mouth with a slide of his hand, attempting to disguise a chuckle.
She dropped her ‘outfit’ to her side. “Are you laughing?”
“No.” He coughed.
“Jerrod.” She reached down and pulled a bright blue and pink flowered shirt from the bag and a bra big enough to wrap around them both. “Are you serious?”
His cough turned into a full-fledged burst of laughter. “Jesus, Ab
by, I’m sorry.” He struggled to shore himself up and laughed again. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.
“This is not funny.” She grinned, delighted to hear that deep roar. “It’s absolutely not.” She pulled the other outfit out, the sizes no better, the shirt and pants no less atrocious. “I mean, come on.” She started laughing herself. “Who picked this stuff out?”
He shook his head, snorting out another chuckle. “I don’t know, but it looks like we need to go into town. Put your jeans on and come with me. We’ll find you something to wear for now.”
She pulled on her pants and dashed across the hall, covering her scantily clad chest with her arm.
He opened his closet. “Everything’s going to be huge and about nine years out of fashion.”
“As long as I don’t look like a geriatric Easter egg, I won’t complain.”
They both grinned.
“Go at it.” He stepped out of the way.
There were a couple of sweaters, heavy work jackets, a pair of slacks, a polo or two, and several Huskers options. “Mmm, I think I’ll take this.” She pulled the dark red sweatshirt from the hanger. “It looks nice and warm.”
“Be my guest.”
“Do you have any t-shirts?”
He walked to a drawer. “Take your pick.”
She pulled a simple white undershirt from the selection and slid it on, followed by the sweater. “Perfect. Warm and comfy.”
“That’s the name of the game around here. You want something to eat?”
She shook her head, rolling the sleeves past her wrists, studying him. She’d never seen him dressed for the day so casually. He looked good enough to eat in his relaxed attire, like someone she could relate to on a non-bodyguard-to-principal level. “I want in that barn. Will you give me a tour?”
“After I grab a cup of coffee.”
“Can I touch the animals?”
He raised his brows. “If you want.”
“I’ve never felt a cow before or a pig or a chicken. I can’t wait.” She flashed him a huge grin.
He smiled. “The cows will be busy with the milking, the chickens will more than likely peck at you, and the sows would rather eat that hand of yours than have you petting them.”
She grimaced. “Pigs eat people?”
He chuckled. “They can.”
She swallowed. Maybe going to the barn wasn’t such a good idea after all. “I thought that was some kind of urban legend.”
He shook his head. “These aren’t pets, Abby.”
“What about the piglets? There must be a Wilbur out there for me to love.”
“I guess we should go find out.”
They walked down the stairs, and she moaned, breathing in something doughy and delicious. “Oh my god, what is that?”
“Fresh bread.”
She moaned again. “Your mom makes fresh bread?”
“Every morning.”
“Wow.” She followed him past the formal dining room with its long antique table and cabinetry and into the kitchen. She gaped. The space was huge and not what she’d expected. Major renovations had taken place. Dark wood, stainless steel, and yards of chocolate-colored granite were everywhere she turned. “Now this is a kitchen.”
“Good morning.” Mary smiled, stirring a large bowl of some sort of batter.
“Morning, Mom.”
“Good morning,” Abby returned, studying Jerrod’s mother. She was young, no more than fifty—tops, with the same dark blond hair and calm blue eyes as Jerrod. Her high cheekbones begged for blusher, and her full, firm lips a bit of gloss. She was tall and sturdy in her jeans and plaid button down, emanating an inner strength Abby envied.
“Can I get you a cup of coffee, Abby?”
“Oh, no thanks.”
“Abby doesn’t drink coffee.” Jerrod handed her a steaming mug of tea.
“Thank you.” She smiled, examining the gorgeous bold red pottery. “I love your crockery, Mary. It’s beautiful. Your whole home is beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“Mom’s a hell of a potter.”
“Mary, you made this?”
“I did.”
Abby sipped her tea, scrutinizing the excellent craftsmanship closer, in awe. “I’ve never made pottery before.”
“You’re welcome to join me in the studio any time you like.”
“I would love to.” She smiled, wiggling her brows at Jerrod, earning a grin and shake of his head.
Mary glanced from Abby to Jerrod. “Like I said, any time.”
The side door opened, and in walked a tall man in jeans and a thick, dark Parker Police Department jacket.
“Well if it isn’t Little Timmy.” Jerrod smiled and walked over, giving Not-So-Little Timmy a guy hug. Timmy was an inch shorter than Jerrod and not as powerfully built, but he wasn’t small by any stretch of the imagination.
“Welcome back, big brother,” Little Timmy said with a grin.
Abby smiled up at the man who looked very much like Jerrod. Tim’s chin was softer, his hair more brown than dirty blond, and his teeth completely straight when he flashed his grin. “Hi. I’m Tim, this lug’s little brother.” He gave a jerk of his head in Jerrod’s direction.
“Hi.” She held out her hand, instantly comfortable in Tim’s friendly presence. “I’m Abby, this lug’s friend.” She copied Tim’s gesture.
He smiled again and gave her hand a firm shake. “Nice to meet you. So how are you handling farm life?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t handled it yet. Jerrod’s going to show me around and teach me how to milk a cow.”
Jerrod paused with his mug halfway to his mouth. “I missed the discussion about that part.”
She shrugged, smiling. “I want to know how.”
“We have machines for that.” The radio belched on the waistband of Tim’s jeans. “Sorry.” He turned it down. “My work is never done.”
“Tim’s the Chief of Police,” Jerrod supplied before he sipped at his coffee again.
“Impressive.”
“It’s not all that glamorous.” He scrubbed at his face. “In fact I haven’t slept in a solid twenty-four. Bar fight at The Wrangler kept things hopping.”
“The more things change the more they stay the same,” Jerrod said as he leaned against the counter.
Can I fix you a plate, Tim?” Mary asked as she set strips of bacon into a hot, sizzling skillet.
“I just ate, but thanks, Mom. Tammy fixed me up at the diner.”
Mary nodded. “Abby, Jerrod, are you ready for a plate?”
“Abby wants a tour of the barn first.”
“Bundle up. It’s cold out there.”
Jerrod set his mug down and left the kitchen, coming back moments later in his black jacket, carrying hers, handing it over. “We’re going to have to do better than this.” He swiped a wool hat from the rack as she zipped and pulled it on her head.
She smiled, her shoulders light, reveling in the sensation of complete relaxation. Jerrod seemed at ease as well. “Thanks.”
“We’ll go into town after breakfast. You can pick out some new clothes.” He grinned and winked.
She chuckled, understanding he was thinking of the horrid clothing she’d pulled from the carryon. “Sounds good.”
Tim stood in the doorway, watching them. “Mind if I join you for the tour?”
“Not at all.”
Tim stepped out first, then Abby and Jerrod at the same time. She blinked back tears, sucking in a sharp breath from the shocking sting of the brutal winds. “Yikes.” She crossed her arms at her chest. “It’ll be a while before I get used to this.”
“We’ll thicken up that California blood,” Tim said as they hurried toward the barn.
She spotted a white Honda Civic barreling up the drive.
“Oh shit,” Tim said as Jerrod muttered something under his breath and closed his eyes.
Abby light mood vanished as she sensed Jerrod’s tension. “What is it? Who—” The screech of
tires cut her off as a tall, beautiful redhead got out of the driver’s seat and ran toward them in black tailored slacks and a fitted white blouse.
“I knew you would come home.” She rushed up, throwing her arms around Jerrod, kissing him. “I knew you would come back to me.” She kissed him again and pressed her hands to his cheeks, staring in his eyes. “God, I’ve missed you.”
The pretty redhead’s spicy perfume tickled Abby’s nose, and her stomach sank as she struggled not to stare at the cozy picture of love reunited. The woman twined around Jerrod had to be the “serious girlfriend” Alexa had spoken of. Despite her sister’s best guesses it was clear Jerrod was definitely not a free agent. She glanced up, meeting his eyes, and looked down just as quickly as he untangled himself from his lover’s hold.
“I’m back for a few weeks, Shelby, but I’m not staying.”
Abby peeked up from under her lashes, swallowing the bitter taste of yesterday’s conversation in the safe house as Shelby leaned against his solid chest. Jerrod told her he couldn’t be with her for her own safety, but the truth was he couldn’t be with her because he was already with someone else.
Shelby’s eyes filled as she clung to him. “But Jerrod—”
“Will you excuse us for a minute? Timmy, keep an eye on things.” Jerrod took Shelby’s hand and started toward the house.
Tim looked at Abby, giving her a small smile. “So, should we go check out the barn?” He held out his arm.
The barn and animals inside lost their appeal as Jerrod and Shelby’s voices echoed behind her, but she looped her arm through Tim’s, struggling to find her enthusiasm anyway. “I’d like that.”
“Right this way, madam.”
Chapter Eleven
Jerrod leaned against the frame of the living room window, staring out at the barn, watching for Abby as the sun began its evening descent. She’d been out all afternoon with Tim at her side, doing whatever chores Uncle Jimmy would allow. He didn’t have to stand here and wait; Tim was more than capable of keeping Abby safe on the short walk back to the house, but he was restless and edgy with it—as he always was when he stayed here too long.
