Justice For Abby

by Cate Beauman

  He took her hand before she could walk away. “I’ll come with you.” Tim got Abby on the dance floor. He sure as hell was going to take this time with her now.

  “Jerrod, wait,” Shelby called.

  “I’ll have to catch you later,” he tossed over his shoulder, pulling Abby to his side as they wandered through the crowd.

  Abby looked at him with surprise. “That was pretty rude.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t always feel polite.”

  The band started up again, playing something slow as he and Abby met up with Timmy at the table. Abby pulled a huge drink from her water and set the bottle down.

  Timmy stood. “Should we do it up?”

  She looked at Jerrod. “I don’t know. Do you want to dance?”

  There was nothing he wanted more, but not in the barn surrounded by dozens of people. He wanted to take her home and circle her round until they lay in his bed, which was exactly why he needed to keep his distance. “I’ll leave the twinkle toes to you two rock stars.” He took the seat Timmy vacated.

  “I guess it’s you and me,” she said to Timmy with a shrug. She and Tim took to the floor, moving to a country classic Jerrod had heard a time or two, whether he wanted to or not.

  Shelby strolled over, pulling out the chair next to him, plunking herself down. “I was trying to talk to you.”

  He played with the bottle Abby left behind, suppressing a weary sigh. “I was busy.” Shelby hadn’t been out to the farm since Abby’s disappearing act. He’d enjoyed the reprieve.

  “You blew me off.”

  “I was talking to Abby.”

  “Jerrod.” She took his hand. “I want us to be friends. The way you and Abigail are.” Her eyes sharpened on his.

  He pulled his hand away, trying to calculate her new game. “I don’t know if you and I can ever be friends, Shelby.”

  Her eyes filled as she blinked rapidly. “Why do you like to hurt me?”

  Here they were again. “We have a history, and most of it’s rocky. Most of the time I don’t think you even really like me.”

  She grabbed his arm, clinging. “I love you.”

  He shook his head, ready to be finished with this. “You’re used to me.”

  Her lip quivered. “How can you say that?”

  “Because it’s true.” He looked Abby’s way, catching her eye, giving her a small smile, hoping like hell she wasn’t getting the wrong idea.

  “Why does she get the best part of you?”

  “No one get’s the best part of me.” His hand froze on the water bottle as the words left his mouth, stunned by his own truth.

  Shelby scoffed. “Just the job, right? Whether it be Marshal or cop or bodyguard. No one gets to have all of you, except the badge or shield you’re holding at the time.”

  He tuned Shelby out, staring at the white tablecloth, realizing that Mom was right. Dad had given himself to the farm and the town of Parker; his family had gotten what was left. For close to fifteen years Jerrod had worked his ass off to prove to his father and himself that he was different—maybe even better than the man who’d ridiculed him from his teen years on, only to realize he was exactly the same.

  Rushing to his feet, he started toward Abby, ready to take what he wanted, what she wanted. One dance didn’t have to alter the universe. The song would end. He would go back to the table, and she would continue on with Tim, but nothing else had to change, except they would both be happier. He would still be Abby’s bodyguard. She would still be his principal. They were at a barn dance in Parker, Nebraska for Christ’s sake. What the hell could happen? The risks to Abby’s safety wouldn’t increase because he held her in his arms for one rendition of whatever the hell Chuck and his band decided to play next.

  A camera flashed to his right, mere feet from Abby and Tim as they talked, holding each other close, oblivious. Ms. Hammlin, Parker Gazette’s photojournalist, moved closer, capturing another picture of the couple directly to Abby’s side. Jerrod rushed forward, yanking Abby against him, shielding her face with his chest as he shoved the camera out of the way. “No pictures.”

  Ms. Hammlin, stumbled back a step as Abby stared up at him, wide-eyed. The dancers around them did the same, and the music stopped.

  “No pictures,” he repeated, as if the fifty-something was any other paparazzo he’d dealt with when he pulled duty in LA. He brought Abby closer against him.

  “Jesus, Jerrod. Take it easy,” Timmy moved forward, taking Ms. Hammlin’s arm. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Yes I’m fine, Timmy.” She swiped a hand down her dress, giving Jerrod another shocked look, and turned away.

  Timmy whirled as the music started again. “What—”

  “What the hell are you doing?” Jerrod fired off in a low, dangerous tone, stepping closer to his brother. “She was taking pictures right next to you. Are you trying to help them find her?”

  “I wasn’t—”

  “You weren’t paying attention,” Jerrod said as his anger grew. He was supposed to be able to count on Timmy for backup.

  “You’re right, I wasn’t.”

  “That’s all you have to say?” He gripped his arm tighter around Abby’s waist, realizing she was trembling.

  “That’s enough, Jerrod.” She pulled away. “Tim and I, we were careless.”

  It pissed him off further that Abby was going to bat for Timmy when they were both in the wrong. He was sick of being the asshole when he was just trying to do his job. “You can’t afford mistakes.”

  “People are still looking over here,” she whispered, her eyes hot with misery and embarrassment as they darted about. “I want to go.”

  “We don’t have to—”

  She scoffed and walked toward the side door.

  He shook his head in disgust. “You better make damn sure she doesn’t make the paper.” He hurried after Abby, catching Shelby’s curious, calculating stare, and picked up his pace when Abby rushed out into the dark without him. “Abigail, wait.”

  She moved faster as he caught up to her side.

  “Abby.”

  She got in on the passenger’s side of Mom’s truck, slammed the door and buckled up, staring straight ahead.

  He opened her door. “Abby—”

  “I don’t want to do this anymore, Jerrod,” she said, her voice quiet and weary. “Please, let’s just go.”

  He stared at her, watching her lip tremble as she turned her head, understanding they were right back where they’d been hours ago. “Damn it.” He slammed her door closed, making her jump, and swore again. Why couldn’t one evening go right? Just one. He turned away, took two steps in a half-assed pace, and walked around to his side, getting in with another slam of the door.

  Gripping the wheel, he closed his eyes in frustration and inhaled deeply, trying to shake the clutches of defeat. He glanced Abby’s way once more and started the truck, driving the five miles home in silence, wanting nothing more than to rewind the last fifteen minutes. If he had accepted Abby’s invitation to dance in the first place, none of this would’ve happened.

  He pulled into the drive, parking in mom’s usual spot, and killed the engine as Abby got out. “Abby, wait.”

  “Not right now. Please.” She climbed the front steps and opened the door with the key mom had given her.

  He huffed out a breath, following after her, ran up the stairs, and stopped outside the half-closed bathroom door as the shower turned on.

  Abby peeled off her shirt, and he turned away, going to his room to wait. He’d be damned if they were going back another step tonight.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and stood just as quickly, restless and tense, taking off his jeans and t-shirt, pulling on his shorts, biding his time. They were going to fix this. She’d asked for space, but tonight he couldn’t give it to her. If they didn’t find their way through the constant rough patches of late, they were going to ruin a perfectly good thing. An idea came to mind and he started downstairs, switching on the teakett
le. A cup of green tea and easy conversation had helped smooth the way last time; it didn’t hurt to try the same tactic again.

  Jerrod added bags to steaming water as Abby’s feet padded down the hall and into her room. The floorboards creaked above his head, and finally there was silence. It was now or never. He climbed the stairs, stopping outside her door, and peeked in. She sat by the fire in her plush white robe, staring down at the floor, her hair wavy from the braids. She was so damn gorgeous—and alone. And she didn’t have to be. He was right here, exactly where he wanted to be. With a deep, nervous breath, he pushed open the door, leading with the mugs, hoping a silly cup of tea would work as well as it had the first time.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Abby sat on the rug absorbing the heat of the fire as she leafed through the copy of Trendy Ethan sent a few days ago. She studied herself sitting in Jerrod’s lap on the swing, laughing in his arms while he grinned—one of his grins that even now sent a rush of tingles through her belly.

  Pressing a hand to her stomach, she blew out a long sigh, touching Jerrod’s smiling face, missing the couple in the picture. That man and woman understood each other. They were happy and got along. Why couldn’t she and Jerrod find their way back to that symbiotic place?

  She sighed again, leaning back against the frame of the cozy loveseat. They’d been heading in the right direction tonight with easier conversation and relaxed smiles, but then he reverted back to bodyguard mode, yanking her against him while he shoved the camera away. And he’d had every right to. She closed her eyes, shaking her head, wishing for a redo. She’d been enjoying her dance with Tim and their foolish debate over country music versus her preferred Top 40 instead of paying attention to her surroundings. She should have been more careful. Tim too. Jerrod was only doing his job—a job she was quickly learning to hate.

  She focused on the magazine again, perusing articles, stopping on the sensual spread of her and Jerrod lying in bed. She’d stared at their sexy poses more than a few times, remembering jokes about brownies and meals for life, entranced by their natural chemistry oozing from the pages. She looked to the opposite page, studying the way they stared in each other’s eyes—the official turning point in an otherwise good thing. How many times had she wished the photo shoot away? How often did she regret laying among the sheets with Jerrod, stirring up emotions better left undiscovered? For the rest of her life she would know what she was missing. For the rest of her life she would want. Her door creaked open, and her gaze shot up, locking with Jerrod’s as he stood in the shadows of the hall.

  “Do you mind if I come in?”

  Sitting up straight, she closed the magazine. “No.”

  He walked in, bare-chested and in shorts despite the cool temperatures of the house, carrying two steaming mugs. “I brought you some tea.”

  She wrapped her robe tighter, glancing at the tattoo on his mouthwatering bicep, taking the hot cup. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” He settled himself on the rug next to her, leaning against the small couch the way she did.

  Unsure of what to do or say, she wrapped her hands around the warm crockery, sipping at the slightly sweetened tea. “It’s good,” she tried.

  “Good.” He gave her a small smile.

  “Jerrod.” She moved awkwardly, trying not to spill her drink as she turned, fully facing him. “Tonight was my fault—”

  “Abby—”

  She shook her head, needing to finish. “I wasn’t thinking. Tim and I were talking. It didn’t register that the lady was taking pictures until you came over, but it should have. My safety is as much my responsibility as yours.” She touched his wrist. “I’m sorry for getting angry with you when I’m the only one to blame.”

  “I’m sorry I was so rough.” He took her hand, giving her fingers a squeeze. “I know this isn’t easy on you.”

  “No, it’s not, but it’s not easy on you either.” She eased her hand from his and put her mug down, wrapping her arms around her knees. “I hate this—all of it. I don’t like the way things are between you and me. I miss Margret desperately. I keep wishing her home safe with her family or out on some silly date with a fifteen-year-old boy. I’m worried about my sister. I want to be able to pick up the phone and give her a call.” She sighed. “I want my life back.”

  “I wish I could give you all of those things.”

  She blinked as her eyes filled, knowing he meant it. “I keep yearning for normal—to go to the store on my own, to walk down the street and feel like I don’t have to look over my shoulder, to look at a man and not automatically wonder if he has ulterior motives, but then I realize those things might never happen. I find myself mourning for the Abby I was in early May, before everything changed.” She shook her head, disgusted with herself. “And how selfish is that? Margret’s parents just want their daughter back—alive—and I’m sitting here thinking about foolish things that don’t even matter. I’m getting my second chance.” She dashed at her cheeks, catching her tears.

  “I don’t think it’s wrong to wish you had never been abducted.”

  “But I was.”

  He nodded. “And you’re dealing with it. Your strength amazes me, Abigail. You’re still kind and sweet despite everything you’ve been through.”

  Another tear fell as she reached for his hand, touched by his words. “I’m just me.”

  “You’re an amazing woman.”

  “Aw, you’re making me sloppy, big guy.” Hesitating, she got to her knees and gave him a hug. “Thank you.”

  He set his mug down and returned her embrace. “I mean it.”

  She eased back. “I’m glad you do. What you think means a lot.” She sat down, pulling the magazine out from under her, suddenly feeling awkward and unsure. They used to talk like this all the time, but something about tonight was different. Jerrod rarely spoke freely with his feelings, as he did now.

  “What do you have there?”

  She looked down at her smiling face on Trendy’s cover. “Oh, the proof copy. I was looking at a couple of the articles.” She licked her lips, averting her gaze in an attempt to conceal her fib.

  He slid the magazine between them. “There’s some pretty good stuff in here if you’re looking for makeup tips and ‘sex positions that will drive your man wild,’” he said, making air quotes.

  She laughed as he grinned. “There’s more in here than that.”

  “I know.” He winked. “Connie Withers did a nice job with the Escape article.” He started turning through the pages.

  “She really did.” She swiped a lock of hair away from her cheek, relaxed again in Jerrod’s presence. “The new line will be off to a great start if I ever get a chance to talk to Lily. I’ve come up with some really great stuff; it just needs to be sewn.”

  “You’ll have to show me.”

  She smiled, thrilled that everything felt right between them again. “Okay.”

  “Zenn might be crazy, but he took some nice pictures.”

  She looked down at the page with them on the swing, and a smile ghosted her mouth. “Zenn’s demanding, but he get’s what he wants.”

  Jerrod flipped again. “You look great—beautiful in all the shots.”

  She stared at him as he kept flipping, trying to figure out what was going on. Typically Jerrod’s mind was a mystery. He rarely told her how or what he thought. The only time he’d let her in was the night they helped Mama birth her bull. “Thanks. You look good too.”

  He stopped on another page. “That’s a powerful picture right there.”

  She glanced at herself straddling him. “Mmm.” She had no clue what else to do or say as the image of them in bed and him currently sitting next to her shirtless and delicious stirred her up. In defense, she moved to shut the magazine.

  He stopped her, placing his hand over hers.

  She tried to pull away as sparks hummed along her skin. “Jerrod.”

  He gripped her tighter. “Do we look at each other like that all
the time?”

  “I—I don’t know,” she said quietly, swallowing as they both stared at the sexy couple lying among the sheets.

  “I wanted you right there.”

  Her gaze flew to his, caught off guard and utterly shocked. “Jerrod—”

  “I’ve tried to stop, but I can’t. For two weeks,” he shook his head. “Hell, from the first second I saw you I’ve been telling myself I can’t be with you, that I don’t want to be, but I’m lying to myself. And you. Why? For what reason?”

  Her heart pounded as she pulled her sweaty hand from his grip. After the confusion of the last few weeks she’d finally convinced herself she and Jerrod would never be together. “I don’t—” She rushed to stand and turned away from his steady blue eyes as her insecurities came flooding back. “I thought you didn’t want me.”

  “I wish to hell I didn’t. Our situation would be easier all the way around.” He stood, turning her to face him.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I don’t want to be like my father.”

  She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “He didn’t treasure my mother the way he should have. He never gave her what she needed.” He walked to the portable radio, switching it on, fiddling with the knob until he found anything playing music instead of commercials. Tim McGraw’s voice crooned through the speaker as Jerrod came back, holding out his hand. “Will you dance with me?”

  She hesitated, still trying to adjust to this surprising twist in the evening. “You don’t dance.”

  “I do tonight.”

  She stared into his eyes, now intense. “Jerrod, what are you doing?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’m sick of trying to figure it out.”

  She slowly extended her hand, taking his.

  He held her gaze as he pulled her to him and started moving to the music.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest, breathing in the soap on his warm skin, closing her eyes as he snuggled her closer.

  They turned slowly, and she relaxed, enjoying the moment for what it was. Jerrod was finally giving her the dance she’d been asking for for months. Minutes passed and the song ended, rolling into the next quiet melody. She looked up, smiling as they continued circling round. “Thanks for the dance.”