by Melissa Blue
Pam kept falling for the same quiet and timid guy over and over again—her complete opposite. When the obvious truth sunk in, opposites in this case did not attract, her mother would end things. There was never a question of love. Her mother was filled to the brim with it, for everyone. Love was the foundation for all good relationships, but that alone didn’t make one work.
Abigail made the water as hot as her hands could stand. “How did he feel about you breaking things off for good?”
Silence filled the room, and she paused to glance at her mother. The older woman’s back held stiff. The man-made curls bounced when her mother turned around. They had the same slanted eyes, and irises the same shade of amber, but at the moment Abigail could see through bravado to the hurt. The sadness deepened the crows’ feet and laugh lines, showing her mother’s age, despite how well the flirty sundress clung to her figure.
“He decided things should end. I agreed, because it was what would make him happy. Why’d you think I ended the relationship?”
In that moment Abigail didn’t feel like her usual opinionated self. Any other time she would have said, without caveat, why she believed her mother lay at fault for another failed marriage. She did her best not to kick people when they were down.
“I’m sorry to hear it didn’t work out.”
Pamela sniffed. “You’re sorry that I’m hurt, but I know you don’t believe in love.”
On firmer ground with her mom, Abigail finished the last few dishes. “I do believe in love.”
“What about the last guy? He was in and out before I could formally introduce myself. You’re much more like me than you want to be.”
Abigail wanted to argue. She wanted to revert to two-years old and stomp her foot. She didn’t, because dealing with Drew the past few days made her see, maybe, she might have something in common with Pamela.
Her mother whirled around, jangling the bracelets adorning her ankles. “What’s going on?”
Abigail would not indulge in a mother/daughter moment, especially about relationships. Those kind of conversations always led down a road of reckless advice. “Nothing.”
“I’ve heard that ’nothing’ before. It was—”
“Why do you carry around knives, Mother?”
“Don’t try to throw me off my course. I asked you, what’s going on? It’s man troubles.”
“You would know,” Abigail murmured.
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t have a beau,” she said louder and concentrated on the refrigerator. She made a sound of disgust, took the trash can from the end of the counter and pulled out old take-out cartons.
The bracelets jangled again. “That’s a problem within itself. You know your Grams isn’t getting any younger. She’ll love some great grandchildren.”
“I don’t think marriage is for me,” Abigail said flatly.
“And why not?”
Abigail paused mid-throw and looked at the shining example of marriage in her life. As Grams would say, Abigail was spitting image of her mother. The high cheek bones. The lower lip much bigger than the top. The eyes. Her mother carried around a little more weight now, but if someone put up a picture of her mother in her mid-twenties and compare it to Abigail now, one could mistake them for sisters.
Though by twenty-eight her mother had been divorced and had a child. Within two years of that, she’d be on her second marriage and divorce. Pamela was so far from Gramps and Grams, Abigail sometimes wondered if her grandparents had adopted her mother. Except Pamela was the spitting image of Gramps.
“I’ve yet to meet someone I could see myself with for the rest of my life. Forever. Till death. Good, bad. Poor, rich.” Abigail snorted. “Obedient, too.”
Pamela pffted and flung the last one aside. “Now-and-days you can write any vows you want.”
“But you’re supposed to stick to them. Forever. Even now. I don’t think I could ever love someone that much. Or even find someone who I got along with for more than a year.” She fished a sponge out the sink, rinsed it out and stuck her head into the refrigerator to get out all the sticky spills from sweet-and-sour pork.
Her mistake, because it gave Pamela the perfect opening to start her “go for it” speech. Having heard it a million times, Abigail tuned the words out. The speech usually involved her mother waxing poetic on all the beginning stages of her marriages. How wonderful the courtship was. How her time with the men was just as wonderful and how it felt to fall in love. Courtship sounded downright magical, according to her mother, but what about the long haul? Her mother didn’t have a tale for that and neither did Abigail. Pamela jumped into the beginning of a relationship like a skydiving junkie. The relationships ended in about the same amount of time it took to plunge back down to earth.
Abigail had been cautious to say the least. She usually stayed much longer than was necessary, because the it had to hit her at some point. Lightning would have to strike, and then she’d know he was the one to spend the rest of her life with. Never happened.
The one question she couldn’t ask her mother was how long to wait? What were the signs? It was hell to ask Grams, because she still missed her husband like he’d died the day before.
And her father, well, they didn’t have any common ground. There had been Greg, who of course, got along grand with him. Getting engaged to him had given Abigail and her father something to talk about. After the break up…awkward conversations. Nothing deep or heartfelt. How’s-the-weather kind of conversations.
In short, she didn’t have anyone to ask. Even Emma couldn’t put the it into words. You were just supposed to know. That was as helpful as giving someone with a gunshot wound advice to duck faster the next time.
Abigail pulled her head out of the refrigerator by the tail end of the “go for it” advice. “I’ll think about what you’ve said,” she muttered. “Anyway, I’m going to head to the store and get a few things.”
She opened the freezer, pulled out some frozen chicken and placed the meat on the counter. “Thaw this, please.”
Pamela made a noncommittal noise. “You didn’t listen to a word I said.”
“Of course I did, Mother.”
Her mom shooed her out of the way. “Pick up some wine while you’re there.”
“Already on it.” They did air-cheek kisses and Abigail left.
*****
The squeak in the shopping cart’s front left wheel quieted when Abigail halted at the sight of Drew at the end of the aisle. The mindless, chipper music continued to play in the backdrop, but her focus zeroed in on him, so nonchalant, taking in cereal boxes, with one of those small baskets. Her mouth went dry.
There should have been nothing sexy about the pose, but Abigail knew if she took a picture of him and ran it as an ad, women would come out in droves to the grocery store to shop and not for necessities. His profile held no worry lines just a curious concentration as though he had all day to pick whatever he wanted to eat for a quick breakfast. That was the Drew she told herself she didn’t want to know. The kind of Drew she could spend Sunday mornings with naked and scouring the ads section.
Abigail blamed her mother. The whole “go for it” speech had to be a subliminal message after all these years. She pushed the feelings and thoughts down. If she moved now, the squeak would give her away. Eventually, she’d have to, and he’d look up. There’d be a surprised smile and then a saunter toward her.
They were friends; she could look forward to him coming over to her with a smile full of debauchery. Right? And she could parry the move without crossing a boundary. Right? Abigail sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. Right. She looked at the bottom row of breakfast food bars and pushed the basket. It took him about three seconds longer than she’d guessed it would take.
“Well, well, well,” he drawled. “Don’t you look like a ray of sunshine this Saturday morning?”
She steeled herself against the smile, and schooled her expression into a scowl. “Are you stalking me?”
>
Preparing herself still didn’t dim the effect his smile had on her. Her palms dampened on the cart, her heart sped up and all she wanted to do was curl into summer heat.
“A man’s gotta eat.” The basket hung recklessly from his fingers. Half a gallon of milk sat in the bottom. He hadn’t chosen a cereal before coming over. It had been indecision that took those extra three seconds.
Abigail leaned against the top bar of the shopping cart. “I’ll give you that, but I’ve never seen you in here before.”
He probably thought she never noticed the flash of irritation in his gaze. She wasn’t the only easy target. To give him credit, those deep-chocolate irises hid the wealth of the man. Skill and know how made her able to cut away and see past the charm and humor. But, Abigail noticed a lot about Drew that she, at times, shouldn’t have been able to.
The observation must have stung, and the emotion showed in his gaze. For the first time, she hated the expression. She had no good reason to be at odds with him, especially now that he was her boss. But more so, he wasn’t the devil she wanted to make him out to be. He had helped her with the presentation when he didn’t have to.
She lifted her hands. “You’re not stalking me, but last night I got a vibe from Keri and Marilyn.”
“You did?” He moved closer to her but, thankfully, the cart kept a pretty good distance between them.
Abigail wouldn’t be tempted to lean into his musky scent or the heat. Any lingering desire to curl into him with another kiss would be avoided. The other thing she noticed last night, his knee had crept into her space again and again. Teasing touches that made her hot and want more of that damnable picnic basket and fireflies.
“It seemed to me Marilyn and Keri were closer than friends. You know the kind that has a sexual tension between them.”
“Really?” he questioned, but glanced down in her cart.
She’d picked up yogurt, bread, eggs and milk so far. “I also know Keri was the friend you talked about not ever having sexual tension with. I find it suspect.”
The irritation now gone, he smiled. “I never said why there would never be sex. Just that it wasn’t an issue between us.”
She huffed, exasperated. “How is it you expect me to trust you when you lie?”
“It’s evading,” he said with a thoughtful expression.
“Same difference.”
His gaze turned serious, but the smile was still playful. “When you want honesty from me, I’ll give it to you.”
She straightened at the words. “So, you feel it’s ok to evade unless the person is deserving.”
The smile dropped from his mouth. “I’m saying, with you, we’ll have a relationship that is based on what we need.”
She huffed out a sound filled with disbelief. “And what I need is evasion tactics?”
“You’ll only let me close to you if I’m everything you believe me to be.”
“That’s some screwed logic.” But Abigail couldn’t tell him he was wrong.
She kept him at an arm’s length, and when it came right down to it, she couldn’t say why. What was it about him that put her on guard? A more troubling question, why did Drew go out of his way for her?
“The point still is you lied,” she said.
He sighed. “What’s it going to take, Abby?”
The tone held so much vulnerability, she had to grip the shopping cart handle to keep from walking forward to comfort him. “We can’t,” she murmured. “Friendship is what I can give you. Nothing more.”
The Drew she wanted to know met her gaze. There was so much in those brown eyes she didn’t want to put a name to. Abigail had to look away.
“We can’t be friends.” His soft laugh sounded tired and defeated. “Another lie I told you.”
Gathering some courage to ask the next question, she said, “If I ask you for honesty, will I get it?”
“Yes.” His gaze didn’t waver.
“Why didn’t you tell Greg what you thought? Why’d you ask me instead?”
He didn’t hesitate to give it to her straight. “My cousin was blindly happy about the engagement. Until he met Yvonne, I had never seen him so sure about anything. So in love with anyone. For Greg, love is simple. It will be the thing that gets you through the bad times.”
His jaw tightened “But, you weren’t sure, and you’re sure of everything. You don’t doubt yourself even when it’s the wrong thing to crusade for. Yet, you didn’t seem certain of the relationship with Greg.” He shook his head. “The simple truth is that you weren’t happy. We weren’t close. We weren’t anything, but I wanted you happy.”
He stuffed his free hand into the worn jeans, and let his words fill the silence. He thought she was sure of everything. If he really knew her, he would know that doubt clouded her every decision. Stubbornness made her seem opinionated. In her family you couldn’t let your insecurities show. Not with women who were so independent they ran right over you. One had to stake her claim or would be left with nothing. Worse, you’d be dragged behind the will of someone else.
Abigail chose her words carefully, “We can be friends, but you have to always be honest with me.”
His lips twitched. “Leave the charm at home?”
“More like don’t do things to please me. Do things because they please you. I can take care of myself.”
“You seem to always take care of the people around you. Would it be so bad to let me pick up the slack?” He paused. “As a friend?”
She wanted him to. Her limbs startled to tingle at the thought. She could see him carrying all the baggage she could no longer bear.
Just go for it, Abigail could practically hear Pamela say, but her mother was the reason she was here at this store. Her mother went for it all the time. The details? Why bother with those? Matter of fact, other people could take care of them.
“Never mind,” he said. “I’m pretty much done shopping. Monday?”
The abrupt ending to the conversation threw her. “Monday then.”
He grabbed the nearest cereal and tossed it into his basket. “Monday,” he said again before walking away.
She watched the saunter from behind. Nice. Really nice view. Heat rushed up to her face, and all the why nots left her brain. “Damn, Pamela,” she muttered.
Chapter Ten
“’I can’t fight it’,” Emma sang through the phone line. “’I just can’t hide it.’”
“I know, I know…you should stop or I’ll have to hit you with something.” Abigail swivelled her chair to face the window.
Drew had yet to make it to her office. Yes, Jim had given Drew an office for himself on loan, but he’d rarely used the space. Her morning felt empty without him there to antagonize her or vice versa. She scowled down at the view. “So, what am I supposed to do?”
“Nothing.” Emma squeed again. “We’ve got a week to put together an engagement party. We want something small and intimate, but I’m going to be calling in favors. I’ll save up all the big ones for the wedding.”
“What’s Sasha in the clink for?”
“It’s not jail, it’s a party,” Emma said with more cheer. “And invitations. She’s started on them already.”
“Oh, so I get the second phone call. Figures. I’ll be bringing all the joy and cheer, but Sasha gets called first.”
“When you have a party and need invites, who do you call first?”
Abigail wouldn’t deny the truth, but she had to argue with someone. “That’s not the point. Formal wear?”
“And,” Emma’s voice went conspiratorial, “A guest.”
The door behind her opened, and the guest Emma had in mind came into the office. His aftershave filled the room. She couldn’t quite describe the scent, but it probably held a designer label. All Abigail could think was “go for it.” If anything, the smell was brimstone in a fancy bottle.
“There will be no need for a plus one on my invite,” Abigail said.
She turned the chair away from th
e view to the other just as appealing one. The day’s suit was pinstriped and tailored to a ’T’. A red clip pinned down the cerulean blue tie. He’d forgone a jacket, or had left it in the borrowed office, and sported a navy-blue vest that matched the striped pants. The closed expression gave nothing away and it worried her the most.
They hadn’t made it to friends yet, and if her sanity held, they wouldn’t ever be lovers, but in the past they’d always managed banter. Though he wore a mask with charm or a playboyish slant, he’d been open in a way.
“Emma, I’ve gotta get to work, but let me know if you need anything else,” Abigail said into the phone.
Emma gasped. “Oh, he is standing right there?”
Abigail’s gaze slid from his. “I will call you later or see you at the shop.”
“He is.” Emma sighed. “Invite him already.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but the dial tone rang in her ears. Placing the phone back into the cradle, she considered Drew. “Good morning.”
“Morning. When will your team be ready?”
All business. No flirting on the horizon. Good. This is what she wanted from the beginning. He was the one who had broached the idea of friendship. She could live with her office being devoid of any warmth for the next couple of weeks if it meant keeping her team. Keeping her heart, she thought without reserve.
Damn, Pamela. “For a presentation or a meeting?”
“Presentation,” he said without any character, like an android someone had plugged in the night before to unleash on her the next day.
“Presentation?” She pushed for an explanation while his lifeless demeanor continued to bother her. “Another day and I am sure we can put together a rough idea of what Lancaster has in mind.”
