Sweetest Mistake

by Candis Terry

  “She has the attention of a gnat,” Fiona apologized, as Izzy toddled off for a little one-on-one with the kitten, who’d decided to show off by doing a somersault, then chasing her tail.

  “Just like her father,” Jana added. “The only time he’s got any focus is when he’s got a weapon in his hands.”

  “That’s a scary thought,” Charli said.

  “Only if you’re a fire or a terrorist,” Jana said.

  When it came to Jackson’s hands, all Abby could think was how they felt on her body.

  She gave everyone a smile. “I hope you’ll excuse my appearance. I’ve been going through boxes. Or I should say memorabilia.” She held up another of her mother’s slogan T-shirts. This one a tye-dyed catastrophe. “Because nothing says the 1960s any better than DRAFT BEER, NOT BOYS.”

  Jana chuckled. “You look fine. And if you find one that says MAKE LOVE, NOT WAR, I call dibs.”

  “So what brings you all here today?”

  “We were sitting around Jana’s kitchen table tossing around wedding ideas and snacking on cheese doodles,” Charli said, giving Abby the same easy smile she’d used when she’d hosted the television show. “And it just seemed like a good time to get to know you better.”

  “And bring cupcakes,” Fiona said.

  Abby’s stomach gurgled. “You brought cupcakes?”

  “And chicken salad sandwiches,” Charli chimed in. “I used a recipe from my friend Suzanne in L.A., who hosts a local cooking show. The cranberries and toasted almonds make it out of this world. Hope you’re hungry.”

  Abby nodded. “Starving.” She’d probably eaten more in the past week than she had in an entire month when she’d been married. But who could resist?

  In the kitchen, Jana began taking things out of the basket. She held up a plastic container and a loaf of country-style bread. “Sandwiches first or cupcakes?”

  “If I keep this up, my pants won’t fit,” Abby said. “Still, I vote for cupcakes.”

  “Real women have real curves,” Charli said. “I think we’re all too obsessed with what we think the ideal woman looks like. And since Reno likes curves, I vote cupcakes first.”

  “There are days I don’t even bother to look in the mirror,” Fiona added. “So count me in for dessert first.”

  When Izzy ran into the room holding her little hands up for a sugary treat, the decision was made.

  “Majority rules,” Jana said. “Dessert first.”

  Gathered around her parents’ midcentury kitchen set that bore the scratches and dents from many a poker night, Charli lifted the lid off the plastic carrier to reveal a dozen delicately decorated treats. The cupcakes had been capped with a fine dusting of snowy coconut and accented with an edible lilac and small mint leaf.

  “Those are too beautiful to eat,” Abby said, even though her mouth watered.

  “Thank you.” Fiona beamed with pride. “But if you don’t devour them all, you’ll hurt my feelings.”

  “You made these?”

  While Fiona nodded, Jana handed one to Izzy, who immediately picked off the mint leaf with an “Eeeew.” Apparently to a three-year-old, green and leafy equaled gross.

  “Fiona’s been working really hard at perfecting her craft. The cupcake competition’s tight in San Antonio, so she’s thinking about moving and opening up a small shop here.”

  “That would be great,” Charli said. “Then you and Izzy would be closer to Jackson.”

  “That’s the idea.” Fiona grabbed a cupcake for herself. “The thirty miles to San Antonio doesn’t seem like much unless you have to drive it all the time. Usually, when his shift ends, he’s exhausted and can barely make it home. Let alone stop by our place to visit after work.”

  “Then maybe he should move back to San Antonio,” Abby dared to suggest.

  Fiona shook her head. “Sweet feels more like home.”

  “That’s exactly what I thought when I first came here,” Charli said. “And exactly why it wasn’t difficult to walk away from the TV show. Well, that and the fact that I found the most incredible man on earth to spend the rest of my life with.”

  Jana glowed. “Having raised him, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  Over cupcakes, chicken salad, and homemade bread, Abby bonded with the women gathered around her table. They united over wedding talk of roses vs. daisies. Satin vs. chiffon. White cake vs. chocolate. As hard as she’d tried, she’d never been able to achieve that type of camaraderie with the women in the Junior League or any of the other organizations she’d become a part of in Houston. This was not to say there weren’t nice ladies in the groups. Maybe it had just been her, knowing that with every step she took she lived a lie that most could probably recognize, so didn’t want to get too close.

  Fiona had said it best.

  Sweet felt like home.

  Abby wasn’t exactly sure what her dance card held for the future, but like a person deprived of life’s simple pleasures, she planned to enjoy everything to the max. Especially if it was as sinfully delicious as the lavender-laced cupcakes she and the others had devoured.

  Hours later, they’d put some old Motown albums on the record player. Izzy had been fascinated by the spinning disk and thought it would be fun to put Miss Kitty on for a disastrous whirl. They talked more about Charli and Reno’s wedding plans, possible honeymoon locations, and the news that Jana—who’d now been a widow for several years—had started dating again. The lucky man mentioned was Martin Lane, the silver-haired gentleman Abby had seen at Jana’s side at the welcome-home celebration.

  To know that the woman Abby had respected and admired her whole life might be finding love again made her heart warm and happy.

  When the chitchat and laughter waned, they began to help Abby sort through her parents’ assortment of junk. When Abby thought to put several items in the donate pile, Charli and Jana snatched them up for the soon-to-exist antiques-and-design shop they planned to name after Jana’s goat.

  In the midst of a breakout boogie to Martha Reeves and the Vandellas going full blast on the stereo, someone knocked on the door. With Izzy—her dancing partner—in her arms, Abby opened the door to find Jackson standing there. The look of surprise on his face made Abby laugh. The snug fit of the dark blue SAFD T-shirt stretched across his broad chest made her heart do a quick “How ya doin’?”

  “Perfect timing,” Abby told him.

  He glanced inside the living room, where the other women continued to dance while sorting through boxes.

  “Dance, Daddy!” Izzy opened up her arms and lunged for him.

  Without missing a beat, he came inside the house and led Izzy into a silly, exaggerated tango. Izzy’s giggles filled the room even after the song had ended. Clearly, she adored her daddy. Then again, Abby had known that from the first moment she’d seen them together.

  Abby fell just a little more in love. If that was even possible.

  When Jackson set Izzy down, she went back to playing on the floor with Miss Kitty and a teaser wand. Each time the kitten sat up on her back haunches and batted at the dangling feather, Izzy giggled. The delightful sound couldn’t help but make a person smile.

  “What’s going on here?” he asked, looking around at the stacked boxes and array of household goods scattered everywhere.

  “We came over to enlist Abby’s help in wedding planning and stayed to help her get things moving,” Jana said. “She’s got a lot to do before she can get on with her life.”

  He gave Abby a strange look that turned his blue eyes darker. “Really.”

  A statement, Abby noticed. Not a question.

  “All these boxes have to go in the storage unit parked in the driveway,” Charli said, closing the lid of a large box.

  “Maybe you can give her a hand, Jackson?” Fiona added.

  Before Abby could blink, her friends had grabbed up their purses and a protesting Izzy, and headed out the door.

  When the two of them were alone, Jackson put his hands on hi
s hips and glanced around at the barely restrained chaos in the room.

  “You need help?” he asked on a long breath of air that signaled exhaustion and, if she was correct, a snip of irritation as well.

  She shrugged. “It can wait. I’m sure you’re tired.”

  “If you throw in dinner and a cup of coffee, I’m good.”

  Yes. He was good.

  But that was another subject for another day.

  “Deal.” When she put out her hand he just looked at it. “Or not.” Embarrassed, she tucked her hand behind her back.

  Without an explanation, he began to pick up boxes and stack them against his chest. “Is the unit unlocked?”

  She nodded. Something had obviously darkened his mood. Whether it was work-related or something personal, it was really none of her business. She picked up a box and followed him out the door. Several wordless trips later, they had the boxes cleared from the living room and the storage unit locked.

  When Jackson closed the front door behind him, he finally asked, “So what was my ex-wife doing here?”

  Ah. So that was what had his boxers in a twist?

  “She came over with your mom and Charli.”

  “And?”

  If Abby thought she’d imagined the full-on glower he’d nailed in her direction, she’d be wrong.

  “And . . . she’s really nice.”

  He had the nerve to do an eye roll. “What did she say?”

  Holy cow. What did he expect she would say? Fiona was one of the nicest people she’d ever met. And even if she had said anything, Abby wasn’t the type to step in the middle of a situation and make it worse. If there was something going on between Jackson and Fiona, they needed to work it out for themselves.

  Then again, since he’d walked in with an obvious chip on his shoulder, it wouldn’t hurt to try to tease him out of it.

  “Well . . . she said that you had some real issues.”

  “Issues?” His brows shot up his forehead. “What the hell kind of issues?”

  “Kidding.” She touched his arm, and he stepped back as though he’d been burned. Wow. Okay. WTH? “Get over yourself, Jackson. Fiona said nothing other than it was nice to meet me and that maybe we could be friends. Honestly, we were more focused on cupcakes, chicken salad, and wedding plans than you.”

  She crossed her arms. “Why? What do you think she’d say? What dirty little secrets are you hiding?”

  “Nothing.”

  The frown wrinkling his forehead in deep horizontal grooves rejected that single-word statement all to hell.

  “Uh-huh.” She leaned in. “I’m not buying it. But if you still want dinner, pack those record albums in boxes while I run up and take a quick shower.” She tugged at her stained T-shirt. “I’ve been working all day, and I just need a moment to cool off.”

  Without waiting for a response from Mr. Grumpy Pants, Abby marched upstairs, wondering what, exactly, had jammed such an enormous stick up his butt.

  Water rushed through the pipes in Abby’s house, and Jackson could barely keep his mind on the menial task he’d been given. Most of the record albums were classics he hadn’t heard in a long time. As he thumbed through several, he couldn’t resist putting on the Very Best of Marvin Gaye. Without much thought, he dropped the needle on track three. Immediately, he recognized he’d made a huge mistake. When Marvin started singing about sexual healing, Jackson couldn’t get his mind off Abby.

  Upstairs in the shower.

  Warm, wet, and naked.

  He hadn’t meant to walk into her house with a leftover attitude from his conversation with Jesse. But the moment she’d opened the door, and he saw his mother and his ex there, he couldn’t help but wonder exactly what they’d told her about the dissolution of his marriage to Fiona. Though he and Abby were working on their friendship, and though he’d obviously been doing his best to thwart their alliance all to hell by kissing her every time she came within arm’s reach, he didn’t need her to know that the depth of his feelings for her had possibly been a huge obstacle in his marriage.

  She didn’t need that burden on her shoulders.

  It was all him.

  All his fault.

  All his own weakness.

  He dropped down on the sofa, laid his head back, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. The day had been long. His work shift had gone from a quiet morning to an afternoon filled with three-alarm responses and a fatal accident in which an elderly woman had gotten on the freeway going the wrong way. To top it off, the captain had pulled him into his office and questioned him about the progress he’d made on his study materials and whether he’d made any further decisions.

  Jackson loved being a fireman. He couldn’t imagine himself doing anything else. But stepping up into bigger shoes meant less time for his family. The study hours would most likely jeopardize his time with Izzy. Plus there was a chance he could be sent to another station or even a different area in order to progress with the promotion.

  He didn’t mind being low man on the totem pole. Just like when he’d been in the Marines. He hadn’t minded taking orders. He’d regretted moving up because it had put him at an equal level with Jared—in charge of his own group of men. If he’d stayed low man, he’d have had a better chance to protect his brother that day.

  Or taken the bullet himself.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face and took another deep breath to clear away the images of what he hadn’t been able to control. The loss he hadn’t been able to stop.

  With a loud purr, the kitten crawled up his chest and settled on his shoulder. The sound was soothing, and while Marvin Gaye and Diana Ross eased into “You Are Everything” he closed his eyes and let all thoughts—except those of Abby—warm, wet, and naked—slip from his mind.

  When Abby reentered the living room feeling fresh from the shower and in a better frame of mind, her heart rolled over in her chest and went legs up.

  On the sofa, Jackson had his head back, his eyes closed. His broad chest moved up and down with a slow, steady pace that let Abby know he was sound asleep. On his shoulder, Miss Kitty had curled up into a ball, and her little motor was running a satisfied purr.

  From the stubborn set of his jaw to the long, muscular legs stretched out, she took the opportunity to look him over. While she did, she fought the desire to curl up beside him and snuggle in too. But she’d promised him dinner, and she figured the best thing would be to let him sleep while she put everything together.

  As silently as she could, she pulled out the grilling pan and grabbed a couple chicken breasts and some zucchini from the fridge. As she sliced the vegetable and sprinkled it with olive oil, she realized how much she’d missed being able to cook a meal. When she’d been married, she’d never been allowed. There had been a full-time chef in place before Abby had even moved in.

  Mark had controlled the meal planning and the proportions that had been served. If Abby had wanted a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, Consuela the cook would lower her thick black brows, and say “Mr. Rich no want you to snack.”

  In the beginning, when Abby had been out on errands, she’d treated herself to an occasional bag of chips or her favorite candy bar. But when her own personal funds had run out, and Mark had given her an allowance, he’d made her hand over receipts. And when she realized that she’d be chastised for the occasional snack, or heaven forbid, a venti hazelnut macchiato from Starbucks, she’d given them up.

  Much as she had everything else.

  From the cupboard, she grabbed a box of rice pilaf and dusted the chicken breasts with garlic salt and pepper, then put them alongside the zucchini slices on the hot grill. Moments later, the food began to sizzle, and a wonderful aroma rose and tickled her appetite. The water for the rice had begun to boil, and she stirred in the margarine. A sense of well-being surrounded her as she went about doing a mundane task most people did every day.

  It didn’t feel mundane to her.

  Not with the sexy man asleep on her sofa.<
br />
  Not with all the hot desires and risqué images that floated through her head while she stirred a box of instant rice mix into a pot of boiling water.

  Without warning, he was behind her, a big hand to the small of her back and his body heat turning all those racy images inside out.

  “Mmm. That smells good,” he said in a low voice made deeper from his little catnap.

  “Thanks.”

  He leaned in closer. Brought with him that warm, sleepy, masculine scent. “You smell good.”

  Her heart did a flip and drove all those naughty thoughts downward through her belly and straight into her lacy white underwear. His breath against her cheek made it difficult to focus on the chicken and vegetable sizzling on the pan.

  “Need help?” he asked.

  She shook her head, afraid to move even a fraction. Afraid to look into his eyes. Afraid of being able to keep her hands to herself. “This will be ready in just a few more minutes.” Her words rushed on—almost on their own. “I appreciate your getting the boxes stored. Tomorrow, after I’m done at your brother’s clinic, I should be able to start painting and—”

  He turned her to face him. “What’s your hurry?” His eyes searched her face, fell to her mouth. Lingered.

  “Hurry?”

  “My mom said you had a lot to do, so you could get on with your life. Not the first time I’ve heard that.” His gaze came back up to hers. “So what’s on the list? What’s driving you?”

  His gaze fell to her mouth again.

  Nervous, she licked her lips.

  “What do you need?” he asked.

  Wrong question to ask when he stood so close. Smelled so good. Felt so warm.

  Before she could answer, he slid one big hand to her waist. The other around to her back. He pulled her against him so that all that separated them was a layer of clothes.

  She felt a rush. A shiver. A flush spread through her chest as her heart kicked into overdrive.

  “I know what I need,” he murmured. Lowered his head. And then he was kissing her.

  As much as her mind told her to back away, she melted into him. His mouth grew more urgent, and she opened to him, reveled in the deliciousness of his kiss. His arms went around her, and he held her tight. Her arms snaked around his neck, her back arched, and the heat between them exploded.