From the Moment We Met

by Adair, Marina

  Okay, so maybe it wasn’t a spot so much as a gas pump, but it would have to do. August was the height of tourist season in St. Helena, which meant parking was at a premium. One more turn of the lot and Main Street would be so congested that driving would be impossible.

  She was due at town hall any moment and still had to pick up her order from the Sweet and Savory.

  According to Tanner, Eddie Floor, the town’s only building inspector, was a by-the-book hard-ass who liked his morning coffee with a lot of sugar and leg.

  Abby looked down at her short legs and sighed. There was nothing she could do about giving Eddie his leg quota for the day, so she was overcompensating with a lot of sugar to make up for being late to a meeting she had begged for.

  Another thing she blamed on Tanner. She’d spent last night staring at the ceiling and touching her lips. Which still somehow managed to taste like him. And over an hour this morning trying to cover up the annoying hickey on her neck that was the exact shape of Tanner’s mouth. When that didn’t work, she opted for a cap-sleeved shirt with a high collar she’d buttoned up tight to her neck.

  “It was just a kiss.” She rested her head against the car window and groaned.

  No matter how many times she said it, it didn’t stop her lips from throbbing. Because it wasn’t just a kiss. It was the kiss to end all kisses.

  The kiss that had undeniably rocked her widowed world so hard she had been taken right out of herself.

  And that hickey . . .

  Abby took a deep, calming breath, which only managed to make the collar of her shirt droop and the hickey on her neck more visible—damn the man—and hopped out of the car. She had four minutes to grab a box of Lexi’s famous éclairs and get to town hall for her meeting. What she didn’t have time for were thoughts of Tanner’s lips, of Tanner naked, or how the morning heat had her skirt shrink-wrapping itself to her thighs.

  Sticking the nozzle into her gas tank, she pretended to run her credit card through the pump’s reader and gave Stan a casual I-got-this wave through the window. He waved back, then disappeared behind the counter, and that’s when Abby ran for it.

  Grabbing her purse, she ditched the car at the pump and, sure to look both ways, sprinted across the street and pushed breathlessly through the front door of the Sweet and Savory. A warm blast of cinnamon and oven-sweet air greeted her.

  The bistro was already at standing-room-only capacity, with the line for the to-go pastries and specialty coffees winding back through the restaurant to the window display, which showcased an array of decadent cakes and tarts.

  Lexi came out from the kitchen wearing a NO SAMPLING THE CREAM PUFFS apron, a tray of cream cheese croissants in one hand and a rolling pin in the other. Both baker and apron were covered with a light dusting of what Abby assumed was flour.

  Lexi caught Abby’s eye and waved her up to the front. Being BFFs with the owner of the most popular bistro in the valley had its perks.

  “Hey, you gotta wait your turn like everyone else,” Nora Kincaid said, whacking at Abby’s ankles with her cane when she leaned over the counter to check the morning’s specials. “This here is the line and you are a cutter.”

  “She’s not cutting,” Lexi explained, serene smile in place. “She called ahead and I have her order ready.”

  “I called ahead,” Nora challenged loudly enough for everyone in the bistro to hear. “And I had to wait in that line. If you ask me, your cream puffs are good, but not that good.”

  “My husband would disagree.” Lexi pointed Abby to the end of the counter, away from Nora and her sharp cane. “But feel free to go someplace else if you feel like it.”

  Nora mumbled something about cheaters and the neighborhood going to hell before ordering Brooke, Lexi’s part-time counter-girl-slash-barista, to get her a lavender latte and pucker-up lemon tart to go.

  “Thanks,” Abby said when they were out of earshot. “I’m bribing a city official with a half dozen of your éclairs and a few of those chocolate croissants everyone loves. The ones with sea salt sprinkled over the top. And I don’t need Nosy Nora poking around. Oh, and I need them ASAP.”

  “Okay.” Lexi smiled, but she didn’t move. Except for her eyes, which were narrowed in on Abby’s shirt.

  “As in, if I don’t make this meeting, I won’t be able to enter Jackson Bottlery in the Memory Lane Manor Walk, so could you scoot your butt over to the pastry section and bag up my order?”

  Lexi just rocked on her heels. “Kind of hot for a turtleneck, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not a turtleneck. It’s just a high collar.” Abby fingered the collar of her cap-sleeved blouse. “And I picked it because it said professional, trustworthy, ‘Yes, Mr. Inspector, you can make an exception for me just this once.’”

  “Uh-huh,” Lexi mumbled. Her BS meter was flipping Abby the bird, which was the number one reason Abby had considered skipping the sugary bribe and relying on her charm. But since Eddie was a leg man, she’d decided to risk facing Lexi. Bad decision. “You hate high collars. They make your boobs look enormous and take three inches off your height. Even in heels you come off more Oompa Loompa than grown woman.” Too bad Eddie wasn’t a boob guy. “So try again.”

  Keeping a secret from her friend had always been hard. When that secret happened to be a huge hickey covering half her neck, it was downright impossible. And since that hickey was special delivery via the very fine lips of one Jack Tanner—a topic she’d rather not talk about ever—Abby had done her best to steer clear of her friend. And the man in question.

  Not that either one was an option anymore. She needed this project to be a win, and in order to do that she needed Hickey Master to bring his grade-A tool belt to the site tomorrow morning. Which meant she needed her friend’s perspective.

  Lexi knew their history. Knew how badly he’d crushed her. And obviously knew something was up.

  “Fine,” Abby said, leaning in and lowering her voice. Nora was still within earshot and had the fastest texting fingers in town. “Jack and I may have shared a kiss or two.”

  “I knew it.” Lexi actually had the nerve to start clapping. “I knew you still had a thing for him.”

  “It’s not a thing, it just happened.”

  “Says the girl wearing a high collar in the middle of August.” She reached out to pull the collar down.

  “Can you yell that a little louder?” Abby hissed, batting her hand away and holding her palm to her throat just in case. “I don’t think Marc heard you next door.”

  “Did you two, um . . .” Lexi made a little swivel motion with her hips.

  “No!”

  “But you want to,” she practically sang. “I know you do.”

  Abby did. So badly. But that wasn’t up for discussion. Or consideration. Although, if she were being honest, she’d considered herself into quite a state last night. Just thinking about it had tingles starting low in her belly and spreading out in all directions.

  “Back to whispering,” she warned with a stern look. Lexi was not intimidated in the slightest. She was too busy making kissy noises. “And before you start plotting my love life, you need to tell me it can’t happen again. The kissing,” she corrected. “The kissing can’t happen again.”

  “Sure it can.” Not what she wanted to hear. “You need something fun and shiny to distract you from everything going on.”

  “What part about bribing a city official, entering the Pungent Barrel in the Memory Lane Manor Walk, and Richard’s statue did you miss? The last thing I need is a distraction. I’m going to have a hard enough time staying focused as it is.”

  And working with Tanner, remembering what he looked like naked, was going to be hard enough. Seeing him naked—as a full grown man—then expecting to work side by side with him, all those long nights holed up together in that bottlery?

  Impossible.

 
“Focused on what? How big his tool belt is?”

  “Not appropriate, Lexi. I just became single. I mean, a widow.” God, that sounded weird.

  “Right. I guess we should google the appropriate mourning time first, then add in the fact you’ve gone seven years without sex and . . .”

  Lexi whipped out her smart phone, started fiddling with the Google app, and instead of googling sex etiquette for widowed thirty-year-olds, held up a photo of Hard Hammer Tanner.

  In nothing but a creatively placed football.

  Abby swallowed.

  “Hello?” Still waving the phone. “Do you think you are expected to wait another seven? I say jump his bones and get it over with.”

  “Again, not appropriate.” Abby grabbed the phone and, taking one last look—maybe two—shoved it in Lexi’s apron pocket. “Neither is my dating. I’m single for the first time since college and I finally have my life back. You’re supposed to tell me to lie low, get my act together, prove to this town I am not a woman to be taken lightly. And jumping into a relationship wouldn’t help. Especially with someone I am bound to work on projects with.”

  If not the Pungent Barrel, then another project. It was only a matter of time before they would be stuck working together. St. Helena was too small for their paths not to cross. And often, if Abby pulled this job off. When she did—it was no longer an if—her design firm would take on bigger, more exclusive projects. And that was Tanner’s specialty. Along with kissing. Jack Tanner was a world-class kisser.

  Not to mention a world-class playboy.

  Lexi pulled out a pink box and started filling it with pastries. “You’ve been lying low for so long, I think you deserve to treat yourself a little. Although, from what I’ve seen lately, nothing about Tanner is little.”

  Nope, Tanner was big, built, and so gentle, Abby knew sex with him would be like finishing a one-course meal and wishing she’d ordered the buffet. She was sure women everywhere agreed.

  “Last time I slept with someone I worked on a project with, he was also sleeping with everyone else, then stole twelve million dollars and left me a widow. I think I am done with workplace affairs.”

  Lexi set the box on the counter. “Honey, Richard was a jerk.”

  “And Tanner has more women frequent his house than Hugh Hefner.”

  “Maybe because the woman he wants keeps telling him to go suck it.” Lexi placed a hand on Abby’s and her voice went soft. “I know Richard’s death is affecting you more than you’re letting on. His showing up right when you were ready to start living again is like having one more person leaving before you get your answers.”

  Abby had never voiced that fear to anyone before, but she shouldn’t have been surprised her best friend had figured it out. For years after her parents had died, Abby would stay up all night playing the what-if game. What if she hadn’t gone to that recital? What if she had won instead of coming in fifth and they stayed for the finals? What if Richard had never loved her and their marriage had all been some sick game?

  And what if she were missing that one elusive piece of herself that made people want to stay?

  Her confidence wasn’t unraveling because Richard had gotten the last word. She was scared to move on and start dating because all the words she wanted to hear him say were sitting in an urn in her front yard, reminding her that all of the unanswered questions her heart needed to understand would never be explained.

  “What if I put myself out there and get hurt again?”

  “And what if you take your sweet time and he moves on?” Lexi pulled out the phone and flashed the photo of Tanner for emphasis. “You don’t get to turn a man like him down over and over, then hold it against him that he’s dating other women.”

  That’s not the problem, Abby thought, looking at his rippling abs and gorgeous pecs. She was afraid she’d say yes, they’d go out, she’d fall hard, then find out he wanted to keep dating—other women. Other hot women with mile-long legs, twentysomething’s boobs, and no-strings capabilities. “I think Jack is more of the all-you-can-eat buffet type.”

  Just like Richard was.

  “Or what if he just needs to find the right woman?” Lexi leaned forward, getting as close as she could to being in Abby’s face with a giant pastry box and a counter between them. Then she fluttered her lashes and Abby knew she was in trouble. “Something you can find out when you finally settle our little pact.”

  “You can’t hold me to that!”

  “I can and I will. And before you pull some ‘friends don’t let friends date jocks’ speech, just be honest and tell me he doesn’t get to you. Because if you look me in the eye and say he doesn’t, then I will drop it.”

  Abby met her friend’s eyes, and when she went to open her mouth and deny it, oh God, she couldn’t.

  Jack “Hard Hammer” Tanner got to her. Even worse, he got her. Like nobody else in her world.

  And damn if that didn’t piss her off.

  “You know what, Lexi? You’re right. Friends don’t let friends date jocks. And since people having sex don’t keep secrets and the last person I want to know about my business is my brother, you’ll just have to wonder.”

  Not giving Lexi a chance to respond, Abby grabbed her box and headed out the door, thankful Stan hadn’t towed her car. She crossed Main Street and made her way up the wide front steps of town hall, her breath catching when she saw the banner advertising the Founder’s Day festivities flapping between the white columns.

  ST. HELENA’S ANNUAL FOUNDER’S DAY MEMORY LANE MANOR WALK: WHERE PRESERVATION AND INGENUITY MEET AT THE CORNER OF MEMORY LANE AND THE ROAD TO TOMORROW.

  Collar in place, Abby tugged her skirt a tad higher than midthigh and pushed through the doors, not stopping until she reached the welcome desk. Setting the unmistakable pink box of sweets on the counter, she smiled at the welcoming committee of one, who didn’t smile back. “Good morning, Roz.”

  Roz Kale was about four thousand years old, friendly as a porcupine, and her bright red lips were pressed into a thin line, making it more than obvious that today Abby took the good right out of her morning.

  “Éclair?” Abby offered.

  Roz looked down at her elastic-covered waistline and glared. “Do I look like I need an éclair?”

  Not going there. Abby smiled and said, “I’m here to see Eddie Floor. Could you ring him and tell him Abigail DeLuca is here?” When the woman didn’t move, she added, “He’s expecting me.”

  Not taking her eyes off Abby, Roz picked up the phone and punched a series of buttons and mumbled something unpleasant into the mouthpiece. Two seconds later she shot Abby an Are you satisfied? glare and hung up. “He’ll be out in a minute. You can wait,” she pointed to the chair on the opposite end of the lobby, “over there.”

  With a defeated sigh, Abby hazarded to venture. “Let me guess, you invested in Richard’s vineyard?”

  “Nope.” There went the condemning lips again.

  “You or someone you know slept with Richard?”

  “Nope. My granddaughter, Sidney, is supposed to go to a Niners game next week with that nice Jack Tanner. She’s interested in being a sportscaster.” Abby would bet that wasn’t all she was interested in. “Only now I’m hearing on Facebook that you poached him and he’s going to cancel.”

  “I haven’t poached him and Jack’s always been the kind of person who does what he wants,” Abby said, surprised at just how badly that statement hurt, and irritated she let it get to her.

  The woman finally smiled. “Well then, my Sidney will be happy to hear that. She’s got what they call the X factor, and has the face for television too. Plus, she’s a big football fan, and an even bigger Hard Hammer Tanner fan.”

  Join the club, Abby thought, looking at the picture of the blonde pinup girl with impressive cleavage and porn star lips on Roz’s desk. She doubted there was a single
lady in town who wouldn’t let Hard Hammer Tanner put a ring on it. Well, except for Abby.

  Although he didn’t want to put a ring on it. Nope, St. Helena’s resident stud muffin wanted to hang out. Hold hands. Be real. Kiss a little. All the things she and Tanner did best together. And all Abby had to do to make it official was stop playing the what-if game and smooch the hometown hero who looked amazing in nothing but a football and day-old stubble.

  A small giggle escaped her lips at the thought, then another. And Abby had to bite her lips to keep from laughing. Not that it helped. She looked at her reflection in the city clerk’s window and had to do a double take. She was smiling, big and dreamy. In fact, she was glowing.

  Holy cow. Abigail DeLuca, town martyr and woman scorned, was glowing. No ifs about it.

  She touched her lips and felt them tingle and couldn’t help but wonder, could it really be so easy? Just say yes, pucker up, and all of the BS that had become her life as of late would disappear?

  It would, her mind said. Although her heart added the, “At least for a little while.” Because their problem had never been connection or getting lost in each other. It had been Tanner’s ability to pick up and move on without her.

  But he wasn’t going anywhere. His roots were firmly planted here in St. Helena. And she wasn’t naive enough to think forever was in her future.

  But temporary? That she could do.

  Sex. She could so do that. At least she hoped she could. It had been a while.

  Excitement and something else, something distantly familiar and much more dangerous to her well-being, slid through her body. Because she was going to get Eddie Floor to give them an extension and then she was going to call Tanner and tell him he was hired—for whatever position he felt himself qualified.

  Widow or not, Abby was single and needed a little fun in her life. And fun was never as exciting as when it was had with Jack Tanner.

  “Actually, Roz, you might want to have Sidney check with Jack before she dusts off her Niners jersey. I think he’s going to be a little busy for the next few weeks. Oh, and . . .” Abby opened the pink box and snagged an éclair, not concerned her collar sagged a little. Around a mouthful of custard she added, “If you could buzz me through, that would be great. It seems Mr. Floor is waving me in.”