Tanner kissed her as though she was his, held her as though he would never let go, as though he would never want to let go. And Abby allowed herself to believe, believe in them.
Suddenly, all of their history disappeared, and the trust that had been torn from her came rushing back, leaving just her and Tanner. In the now. With a clean slate and a chance at a future.
And there was nothing for Abby left to do but fall.
She fell even further as he whispered her name over, sliding one palm up her side, covering her breast. His other hand pulled her toward him, until she felt so full, so complete, there was nowhere he wasn’t touching.
“Every damn time, you turn me inside out,” he said, moving inside of her, and the intensity behind his words, the sincerity in his expression was her undoing. She felt all the emotion spiral in her body and tighten, then a flash of intense heat gripped her.
“Every. Damn. Time,” he said, lifting her up, and for several long seconds, time seemed to hang, frozen between them, then he pushed up into her as he guided her down, and the sensation was beyond anything she’d ever felt. The connection, the intensity, the way they fit so perfectly together washed over her.
All at once everything coiled and let go in one glorious rush and Abby screamed. Thank God it was just his name, because I love you was threatening to come, so she clenched her teeth, trapping it inside as he exploded into her until it triggered another wave.
And what seemed like an hour later, or at least enough time to realize there was no coming back from this—that Tanner owned every part of her—she heard him whisper, “Every fucking time, Abby.”
And please, God please, let that be the truth. Because Abby knew that if he walked away, she’d never see her heart again.
CHAPTER 17
You busy?”
Tanner gave one last look through the pass-through of the prep area at Abby, who, wearing a pair of fantasy-inspiring cutoffs, was in the main warehouse on a ladder, showing Gus where she wanted the paintings hung. Tanner knew those shorts well. Had been staring at them all day while she flitted around and rearranged the tables. And every time she decided to bend over or rise up on her toes to point something out, the hem rose right with her and went that much further to ensuring a great day. Which, based on who was behind him, he’d need a few more bends to keep his mood up.
“According to your definition of busy, no, I’m not,” Tanner said, turning to face Colin.
“I deserve that.” Colin walked farther into the prep area and rested a hip against the prep island.
Tanner felt his body relax and he hopped up to sit on the counter. He gestured for Colin to do the same on the island. Hell, they hadn’t spoken more than three words to each other since Tanner relayed Ferris’s message, and those three words had been “Fucking knew it.” So he didn’t want this conversation to end in an argument.
“Nah, it’s been a crappy few weeks,” Tanner said, and Colin smiled. It was weak, but a smile all the same.
Colin scanned the prep area then peered through the pass-through window and let out a low whistle. “It looks like you’re really going to get this done.”
“By Thursday afternoon,” Tanner said, and couldn’t help but smile. If all went smoothly today, they were on course to finish a whole day early. The Titanic of foodie shops, the project everyone said would be an epic failure, was going to come in on time and under budget, thanks in large part to Abby.
“It looks—”
“Fantastic?”
Colin laughed. “Yeah. That.”
“All Abby. Every inch of it.” Tanner watched her through the pass-through window holding over her head a piece of art made out of old wine bottles that was big as she was—and he smiled. She was talented and dedicated and damn beautiful, and even though he knew he was staring, he couldn’t seem to look away.
“Yeah, I know that too,” Colin admitted. “And I know I really screwed up. And before you tell me it’s okay, let me be clear that it’s not.”
Which worked for Tanner because, even though there were things Tanner wished he could have done differently, things he’d said he wished he could take back, there was no way in hell he’d ever say the way Colin treated Abby was okay.
“I thought about what you said, about my riding your coattails—”
“I was pissed. I didn’t mean—”
Colin held up a hand. “Yeah, you did. But you’re wrong. I came to terms a long time ago with the fact I wasn’t Jack Tanner and I’d never have a Super Bowl ring. I even get that you own Oakwood, but I brought in Ferris.” He placed his hand against his chest. “I brought in the initial seed money for the land surveys and got the planning commission on board when we didn’t even have blueprints.”
“I never, even once, thought you didn’t work your ass off for this,” Tanner admitted.
“We both did,” Colin said, and maybe it was Gus messing with his head, but something about that comment felt off. “It would be great for the company and for both of us. But what I didn’t realize until we’d lost it was just what it had represented for me. This was my Super Bowl, Tan. A game I have waited my whole life to play in, and I finally got my invitation. I was more than ready for the chance, and then it was gone, and it was like I was thrown back in the minors.”
“I know, and I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” He was damn sorry. Colin was the kind of guy who worked behind the scenes making sure everything got handled, that everything ran smoothly, so Tanner could cruise in and do his job.
Problem was, Tanner was sorry his buddy lost out on something that could have been huge for him, but he couldn’t seem to muster up any disappointment over losing Ferris. Abby was right—they didn’t need Ferris to build out Oakwood.
The more Tanner thought about what she said, about developing it himself, the more excited he got about the idea. He wasn’t talking about calling out the bulldozers tomorrow, but he was ready to start tossing some ideas around again, get back to the original concept of indoor-outdoor living and custom comfort, and maybe even see where Colin stood on the two of them making local history.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Colin said, and Tanner didn’t think his buddy was about to show him sketches of his thoughts. “Ferris called. He didn’t pass because of the mix-up or even his mom.”
That was good to know, and he couldn’t wait to tell Abby. She’d been so distraught over her role in Ferris’s decision. Not that it was her fault at all, but it was no use trying to tell her that.
“I guess another parcel came on the market,” Colin went on, “giving the Santa Barbara property an unobstructed ocean view, and that was the deal-maker.”
“Ferris was all about the view from the get-go.”
“Yeah, but he wasn’t impressed with the construction company the other guys used. So he offered us the build.”
“What?”
Colin smiled. “He offered us the build, man. All of it. We get to do the homes, course, clubhouse, everything. And we get to watch what he does, learn firsthand how to take on a project that size. Plus, he handles all of the financial risk.” Then to sweeten the deal, Colin threw out an outrageous figure Ferris was willing to pay.
Tanner let out a low whistle. “After deducting what I paid for the land, that’s more than we would have made on Oakwood if we’d gone with him.”
“I know,” Colin said and released an audible breath. Tanner released one of his own. This was a lot to take in. It was exciting, challenging, and an ideal opportunity with nothing but the potential for upside. “Ferris suggested you running the build side of things and asked me to move over into creative and planning.”
Which was exactly what Colin was amazing at. What he’d wanted to do since they were kids, but lacked the credentials because he’d never finished his civil engineering degree. But working under someone with Ferris’s reputation would be all his fr
iend would need to get under his belt. Then he could hire out the credentials to make his ideas sound.
Tanner hopped down and clapped Colin on the shoulder. “You did it.”
Colin shook his head. “We both did. Ferris is still all bromanced out over the idea of working with the famous Hard Hammer Tanner.”
“What kind of time frame is he looking at?” Tanner was already going through his mental lists of upcoming projects.
“He wants us down there as soon as possible to be involved in every step. I told him we have the DeLuca wine cave starting next week and we have to finish up that first, which by the way the slab was poured and the portable office will be up and running next week, just in time for you to come in and make it happen.”
Colin kept going, but Tanner suddenly had a hard time keeping up. His heart lodged itself in his throat, somewhere between hearing the word DeLuca and the realization they’d be moving to Santa Barbara. This project offered everything he and his company needed.
Except for Abby.
Because like it or not—and he definitely liked it—Abby DeLuca was no longer a want of his . . . she was a need.
The sun was setting when Tanner strolled up Abby’s front porch for his scheduled Thursday night piano lesson. Between the Pungent Barrel project and dealing with the drama at home, it had been all miss and no hit the last few weeks when it came to his lessons. Something he should be excited about rectifying.
Except, there he stood, finally . . . finally, with an open invitation to Abby’s bedroom. And the screwed-up part was, he was considering canceling. He’d faced down some pretty scary scenarios in his life, but this one was in its own league, and he wanted to make sure he’d thought everything through.
But before he could go over his game plan, the door opened and, holy hell, he couldn’t mess this up. But that ache in his chest, matched with a heavy dose of guilt, had him thinking that was exactly what he was bound to do.
Abby looked up at him with those big, brown bedroom eyes that had first caught his attention back in high school. Only instead of wearing tennies, cutoffs, and a bouncy ponytail, she had on strappy heels, a soft cotton dress, and a mass of chocolate curls tumbling down her back. And she looked so happy to see him. Like he was the highlight of her day. Like he wasn’t about to drop a bomb so big on her it could ruin everything they’d started.
“Hey,” she said shyly, and man, he had it bad. Abby was the perfect combination of sexy and girl next door, and if he looked hard enough, he could see the little spark of naughty twinkling in her eyes. But tonight there was something else—uncertainty. And out of nowhere he felt the weight of his earlier decision crush in on him. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it.”
He looked at his watch. Shit. He was an hour late for his lesson. “I was waiting for the guys to finish hanging the last chandelier and I lost track of time.” He’d also been waiting on Ferris for two days to e-mail a deal memo to see if it was really as great a deal as Colin had sold it. Just his luck, it was better. “They weighed a ton.”
“But it’s done.”
“It’s done.” He smiled, but even that hurt. “The guys will need to do some last-minute touch up in the morning, no more than an hour. Trey finished stocking the racks with enough Ryo and DeLuca wine to satisfy the entire NFL and . . .” What else could he possibly recap to stall? “Oh, Lexi wanted me to tell you the flowers for tomorrow night arrived and they are in her refrigerator. She’ll bring them tomorrow when she helps set up.”
“We’re going to pull this off,” she said, her voice giddy.
“Abs. We’re going to win.” And he had never wanted to kiss her so badly in his life. But if he did that, he’d peel her out of that dress and they wouldn’t come up for air until next month. And he had things to say.
Her eyes went to his hand and she covered her mouth. “Oh my God, is that . . .” She snatched the sheet music in his hands and laughed. “The Imperial March?” She flipped it over and looked at the price tag on the back. “You must have bought this when you were a kid.”
“I was ten and I bought it because Princess Leia looked hot on the cover.” Abby laughed. “But after I got it, I wanted to learn how to play it.” He’d tried teaching himself on the electric keyboard Colin’s sister got for Christmas one year, but he couldn’t figure out what note went with what key. “My mom used to play.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“She was my first teacher. We never got to this piece, before”—Jesus, did his throat just catch?—“she left.”
“Then this lesson is long past due,” she said gently, and before he could shrug it off and pretend it didn’t matter, she laced her fingers with his and led him inside. He had the strangest feeling that if he played things right, she wouldn’t be opposed to leading him around forever.
Even stranger, that didn’t completely freak him out.
Eyes on the sheet music, she sat down at the piano and crossed the finest pair of legs he’d ever seen. A pair of legs that, as of late, had spent a significant amount of time wrapped around his waist. And yeah, he was focusing on those because it was easier than acknowledging the big ball of emotions pressing on his chest like pissed-off linebackers.
“Have a seat.” She patted the bench next to her. “It looks like we’re going to be working on The Imperial March, a grade four piece.”
He did as she asked, scooting much closer than appropriate. She didn’t complain, so he stayed put. “What happened to my being a grade three?”
She placed her long, lean fingers on the keys and slid him a look that had that ball in his chest tightening. “I figure between the extra lessons and your practicing more,” she waggled a brow, “we’ll get you there in time for the next recital.”
Her fingers flew over the keys, sexy and confident, as she played the song for him. His song. The song he’d wanted to learn and show his mom in case she ever decided to come back, and suddenly he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t sit there next to Abby on that too-small piano bench and pretend for another second everything wasn’t about to change.
In about six months, he was going to load up his truck and head south. He had no idea what that meant for them, but he was determined to make this work.
“Abby, before we start the lesson, there is something I have to tell you.” He took a deep breath. Then another. And, Jesus, this was hard. He would put himself out there, lay it on the line, and he had no idea how she’d respond.
She took his hand and he damn near embarrassed himself.
“I saw you talking to Colin the other day,” she said, and because he needed a moment to gather his thoughts, he let her talk. “And based on the way you guys were glaring at each other, it didn’t go well.”
Wrong. It went fantastic. But she was back to talking, rambling, actually.
“I wasn’t going to give you this until after tomorrow night, until after the Memory Lane Manor Walk winner was announced and we were alone, but,” she looked behind her, gave an uncertain huff, then patted his hand, “stay here.”
She disappeared into her office, which gave him a whole three seconds to get a fucking grip, but when she reemerged with a set of rolled-up designs tied with a big blue bow and a smile so wide, he didn’t have the heart to interrupt her. Only she rolled out the designs on top of her baby grand and his whole chest crashed to the floor, taking his stomach with it.
It was Oakwood. Not Ferris’s Oakwood, but Tanner’s. She had taken everything he’d said, listened to every one of his ideas, and brought them to life. For him.
“Abby,” he said, not sure what to say next, not sure he could even talk past the lump in his throat.
“They’re just preliminary sketches. And there isn’t anything that can’t be changed or altered, or if you hate them we could even start over.”
“I don’t want to start over, which is why I need to—”
“And I didn’t mean we as though I was expecting you to ask me to work with you on this.” She waved a hand and he could see she was shaking. “I’m not expecting that at all, and I would never assume I’d be hired as the . . . all I’m trying to say is if you don’t like it, that’s okay because it’s nothing fancy, just something I threw together.”
Threw together his ass. He flipped the top sheet over and studied the designs. The pages and pages of designs. She had drawn sketches of the country club, of how to organically integrate the houses into the landscape, even a few samples of the kinds of homes he could build.
He got to the last page and looked up. “This is my lot.”
She nodded stiffly and her smile looked so fragile he was afraid with one wrong word she would break. “And you don’t have to tell me I’m not an architect and nowhere near qualified to say if this is even doable but—”
He would never say that, but someone obviously had. And he knew who.
“—I just wanted to give you a taste, let you see what your ideas looked like on paper. I went with a hunting lodge kind of feel, very masculine with some feminine curves to soften it, and easy flow of indoor to out.” She reached over and pointed to the back elevation of the house. “Of course, a big porch that wraps around the entire back of the house so you can watch the storms blow in is a given. And if you look here—”
But he was too busy looking at her. “How long did this take you?”
Her face flushed and she shrugged as though it was no big deal. But it was a big deal. To him it was huge. “I’ve been working on it on and off since Sunday night.” Based on the details and accuracy of the designs, she’d not only put in a good chunk of research at the planning department, but she’d spent some serious time putting this all together. Time he had no idea where she found, since she’d been pulling sixteen-hour days at the Pungent Barrel by his side, hauling tables, painting bathrooms, getting dirty when needed.
He watched her watching him and everything inside of him stilled. Abby wasn’t hiding anything, she was looking at him with her heart in her eyes, every insecurity she owned right there for him to see. And what he saw made breathing impossible.
From the Moment We Met Page 26
