by Candis Terry
“Thanks.” Before he stood, she said, “Hey. Do you know how a person would go about starting a business?”
“What kind of business are we talking about?”
“A nonprofit.”
“What kind of nonprofit?”
She stroked the puppy’s head. “Oh, maybe one that supports rescuing animals.”
“Well, all I know how to do is put out fires,” he said.
Or start them in some pathetically needy heart.
“So I’m not really sure,” he said. “But if it’s something you’re really interested in, I’d be glad to help you find out.”
Snuggled in and happy with all the attention, the puppy released a big sigh that made Izzy go “Awwwww” and kiss the top of its head.
“Yeah. I’m serious. I was thinking maybe a secondhand shop with all the proceeds going to a no-kill shelter.”
“We sure could use one around here.” Jackson looked at her with what foolishly to her appeared to be hope. “Does that mean you plan on staying in Sweet?”
“Maybe,” she said, sounding a lot more casual than she felt. “Maybe not.”
Then again, where on earth would she go when there was nowhere else she’d rather be?
When Sweet put on a party, it usually rocked the house, or barn, or whatever four walls it claimed. The following Friday night, when Abby walked into the Black Ties and Levi’s Charity Auction to raise funds for Sweet’s Emergency Center she thought it safe to put a red X next to a big hell yeah.
As a rule, not much went on in the small town. Oh sure, there was the renowned Sweet Apple Butter Festival, which benefited the American Cancer Society. And no one missed the Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving morning—an event that paled in comparison to Macy’s big to-do but did wonders for the coffers of the Make-A-Wish Foundation.
When it came to opening their hearts and wallets, the community was nearly unstoppable. Abby took a look around and imagined no place better to start a nonprofit to support the rescue of abandoned and abused animals.
The interior of the Community Hall had been transformed into a wonderland of red satin and twinkling lights. White linen tablecloths covered the folding tables, and red rose centerpieces with votive lights took the harshness away from the white cinder-block walls. The curtains onstage were awash with red and purple that set a rather passionate mood.
According to the announcements, there was to be a dinner, a silent and live auction, and a dance afterward. With the number of attendees already milling about the room, Abby had no doubt the event would be a huge success.
That did not stop the nerves at the back of her neck from pricking her with sharp reminders that there were still those present, like Pauline and Paul Purdy—her former employers—who would see her and wonder who, what, when, and why. With a bonus thought of “Oh gawd, how awful.”
To ease the apprehension of what the night might bring, Abby grabbed a glass of champagne as a waiter passed by and downed it.
“Hey. There you are.”
Abby set the empty glass on a nearby table and looked up to find Charli and Fiona coming toward her. While the men in the room were decked out in crisp Levi’s—or as was the standard in a ranching town—Wranglers, black ties, and tuxedo jackets, the women had dressed for the occasion in everything from frothy prom dresses to flamboyant sequined affairs. Apparently, she and the two women coming her way had all taken the same LBD approach to their evening wear. She, however, had chosen her curve-hugging dress for one reason and one man.
Sometimes, a woman knew when she looked good because she felt good in what she was wearing. Tonight, she had her roar on, and—win or lose—planned to put Phase II of opening Jackson’s eyes to the test.
“Hey,” she said back.
“Can you believe this?” Charli asked with a toothy grin. “I mean, who’dve thunk little old Sweet could make such a flashy statement?”
“Apparently, you haven’t seen them hit the streets with their rubber poultry hats for the Turkey Trot,” Abby said.
“I have.” Fiona raised her hand. “And it isn’t pretty.”
“The boys look good, though,” Charli commented, with a glance over her shoulder.
“I just got here, so I haven’t had a chance to take a gander yet,” Abby admitted.
“Well, it’s a must. I even made Reno put his name in the hat.”
“But you’re engaged,” Fiona reminded Charli. “This is kind of a bachelor auction.”
“He’s still unmarried.” Charli grinned. “And I don’t mind paying high dollar for some hard . . . labor.”
“Oh. I get it.” Abby laughed. “This is where you bid on someone to wash your car.”
“Naked,” Charli said.
“Or check the shower tiles.”
“Also naked.”
Abby laughed. “I’m guessing that as long as there’s wet and naked, we’re all good.”
Fiona let out a long sigh.
“What was that?” Charli asked with a lift to her perfect brows. “Have you got a victim—I mean a participant in mind?”
Fiona glanced across the hall. “Have you seen Jackson’s fireman buddy?”
“No.” Charli looked across the room. “Should we?”
“Too late,” Fiona said. “I’ve got first dibs.”
At that moment, Abby noticed the Wilder boys walk across the front of the room near the stage. Individually, they were stunning. As a group, they looked as appetizing as a decadent box of chocolates. Abby couldn’t tear her eyes away from Jackson. Put him in a fireman suit, a tux jacket and jeans, or a simple T-shirt and cargo shorts, and he took her breath away.
Truthfully, she liked him best in nothing at all.
“Holy guacamole.” Charli gestured to a tall, dark, and devastating man walking with the group. “Is that who you’re talking about?”
Fiona nodded. “I want to lick him up one side and down the other like a cherry Popsicle.”
“Honey, you bid as high as you can go,” Charli said. “And if you run out of money, you just let me know. I’d be happy to chip in.”
“Me too,” Abby added. Not that she was trying to pawn Jackson’s ex-wife off on someone to get her out of the picture but because everyone deserved to be happy. And the dark-haired, dark-eyed hunk looked like he could give Fiona a whole lot of happy.
“Thanks, you guys.” Fiona smiled. “I haven’t been with anyone since Jackson and I split. I hate to act like such a hoochie mama, but—”
“Hey. There’s a little hoochie in all of us,” Charli said. “Didn’t I tell you how I finally got Reno to make the big move?”
“No.”
“The famous Wilder barbecue party? While we were dancing, I conveniently told him I’d forgotten to put panties on under my dress. He could barely keep his hands to himself. Then I told him if he was interested, I’d meet him back at his house.”
“Oooh, devious.” Abby laughed. “Was there any rubber left on his tires?”
“Nope.” Charli grinned. “But that was one hoochie-mama move I’ll never regret.”
“I call it brilliant,” Fiona said. “Reno needed yanking out of that dark place he’d put himself into.”
“Agreed.” Charli glanced across the room and got a sudden hunger in her eye. “This totally feels like high school, with us on one side of the room and the boys on the other. I’ll talk to you girls later. I’ve still got a hoochie move or two up my sleeve.” With the flash of a grin, she was gone.
Fiona lingered. “Can we talk for a minute?”
Uh-oh. “Sure.”
“I just wanted to thank you for being so nice to Izzy.”
“I adore her. She’s a wonderful little girl.”
“I think so. But then I’m the mom, so I’m prejudiced. But you’re the girlfriend, and sometimes—”
“Whoa.” Abby grabbed another flute of champagne for herself and one for Fiona as a waiter passed by. She was definitely going to need liquid courage for this convo. “I’m not the g
irlfriend. Who told you that?”
Fiona gave her a direct look. One of the many things Abby liked about her. “If you aren’t, you should be.”
“Okay, now I feel awkward.” She took a drink and let the bubbles fizz over her tongue.
“Let’s face it, Abby. Some things are meant to be together. The moon and stars. French fries and ketchup. You and Jackson.”
“I don’t think he sees it that way.”
“Are you sure?” Fiona tilted her head, and a cascade of thick blond curls fell over her shoulder.
“Pretty sure.” She couldn’t believe they were having this discussion.
“Can we be honest? Woman to woman,” Fiona asked.
“Absolutely.”
“Because I really like you,” Fiona said. “And I’d really like for us to be friends.”
“Me too.”
“And what I’m going to say might sound really . . . blunt? But I don’t mean it in a nasty way.”
“Okay. I’m effectively braced. Hit me.”
“During our marriage, you were always there.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I love Jackson from the bottom of my heart. I always will. But we were never in love. We met under an unusual circumstance. He felt guilt. I felt hero worship—not to mention he looks really hot in that fireman’s uniform. And we fell in lust. I never fooled myself for a minute that we were in love. But when I got pregnant, we tried to do the right thing. He tried really hard.”
Fiona sighed. “God, I give him a ton of credit for that. But you were always there, in the back of his mind. And even if I’d fallen crazy in love with him, I’d never have stood a chance.”
“I . . . ummm . . . crap.” Abby took a drink. Washed away the emotion clogging her throat.
“Whether he knows it or will acknowledge it or not, Jackson is and always has been in love with you, Abby. It hurt him really bad when you cut him out of your life. But I think I might understand why you felt the need to do that. For a man who will willingly rush into a burning building and risk his life, he’s not so willing to risk his heart. I really hope you can change that.”
A ribbon of affection curled through Abby. When girls were young, it was easy to make friends. Once you reached high school, not so much. She was going to count herself in the lucky bunch having met up with Fiona. “Has anyone ever told you you’re an amazing person?”
Fiona smiled. “Not for a long time.”
Abby glanced across the room, where Jackson stood talking to the dark-haired man Fiona wanted to lick like a Popsicle. Abby tilted her head in his direction. “Maybe he’ll be the one?”
Fiona’s bright blue eyes traveled across the room. At that moment, the man looked at her too and Abby could swear she saw sparks collide.
“One can only hope. I just have to be careful from now on, you know? I have Izzy, and I need to set a good example for her. Plus, I’ve already gone the lust-not-love route. I don’t want to make a return trip.”
“I get that.” Abby finished off her champagne. “The whole friends-with-benefits thing can be exceedingly unappealing.”
“Then kick him off that train,” Fiona said, even though Abby hadn’t mentioned anyone in particular. “Force him to see your relationship for what it really is. He’s stubborn, but he’s not stupid.”
“There are some things you think a man could do for himself.”
“Well, there’s a lot they can do, but there’s also a lot they refuse to do,” Fiona said. “That’s why they need us. To help them strip away that barrier—along with their clothes.”
Abby laughed. “But that’s the best part.”
Fiona’s expression turned serious. “I know you love him. Everyone but he can probably see that. And I really want that man to be happy. He’s an amazing dad, and he’s also just a really good guy. Everyone deserves to find happiness.” She hugged Abby. “So go get him. And don’t let him talk himself out of it.”
Abby returned the embrace.
Go get him.
Don’t let him talk himself out of it.
Force him to see your relationship for what it really is.
Great advice from a very smart woman that Abby fully intended to take.
“Who’s the blonde?” Mike Halsey asked.
While George Strait sang over the rent-a-DJ’s sound system, Jackson’s gaze followed the direction of his buddy’s attention, which seemed to be focused right on Abby, who looked amazing in a little black dress that clung like a black satin sheet to her curvy body. Her wild curls had been pulled up into a messy tumble atop her head. And she wore only a simple pair of dangly earrings as an accent.
The way that dress fit, he wondered what was underneath.
If anything was underneath.
And what would it take for him to convince her to let him take a look?
Not telling her that he’d gotten her out of his system. That was for damned sure.
The black tie around his neck tightened, and his fingers curled into his palms. Then he noticed Fiona standing beside her. “Which blonde?”
Mike lifted his chin. “The one with her hair down.”
“Oh.” Whew. “That’s my ex-wife.”
Mike’s head snapped around “No shit?”
“No shit.”
“Huh.” Mike’s grin widened. “So who’s the blonde next to her?”
“That, my friend, is Abby Morgan.”
“Ah. Now I get why you’re all twisted up like a pretzel.”
For whatever reason, Mike couldn’t pull his eyes back into his head, and Jackson hoped he wasn’t going to have to warn his friend to back off.
“You okay with your ex and Abby being so friendly?”
“Hadn’t thought about it.” Well, he had, but he wasn’t about to admit that particular weakness to anyone. “Why?”
“With the way she’s looking at you, you might want to put some effort in that direction.” Mike clamped a hand over Jackson’s shoulder. “Because either she wants to jump your bones or skin you alive. Hard to tell in this low light.”
Jackson snapped his head back around to find the two women looking directly at him. Yep. They were talking about him.
“You think I should be worried?”
“What?” Hooch laughed. “Like you think they’re over there talking about the size of your dick?”
He frowned. “Women do compare notes.”
“Then you’d better get your ass over there before they get out the tape measure.”
“I’m on it.”
Though he’d tried to be a good husband, and though he and Fiona were great friends, she had a cannonload of ammo stocked up should he decide to piss her off. Abby didn’t need any more reasons to think he was an ass. He’d already provided her with her own handful of bullets. Like telling her he’d gotten her out of his system after they’d made love.
Stupidest comment he’d ever made.
And in his lifetime he’d made plenty.
Once he’d touched her, he knew it would never be enough. Not in a million lifetimes. The minute he’d held her in his arms, he felt as if he’d come home. Yeah, they’d had a great friendship when they were kids, and it grew into something special when they’d gotten older. But now he was just plain afraid to let himself believe that it could all work out the way it went inside his head.
Why couldn’t he just let himself go?
Why couldn’t he just allow himself to take hold of all the feelings she raised inside him and run with them?
Things had changed since she went away. Not just that they’d both married other people but that those relationships had made them act different. React different. The war had changed him. The violent death of his brother and the untimely loss of his father had changed him. Being a father and learning it wasn’t all about him and his needs anymore had changed him.
Though there were times he’d failed, he tried to be there for others. Just one of the many reasons he’d chosen to be a firefighte
r. And when push came to shove, he hoped someone would always be there for him too.
Why couldn’t he just let himself go?
Because he was a pro at stepping in his own mistakes. Open mouth, insert foot—that was him all over the place. And also because there was that part of himself that feared they wouldn’t be there and that he’d be left again.
Of course, that particular paranoia didn’t stop him from wanting Abby in his arms, in his bed, and in his life. His mother had always told him he was a glutton for punishment. Maybe that was true.
On second thought, there was no maybe about it.
As the waiters began to serve the dinner, folks stopped mingling and sat down to enjoy the catered meal. When Fiona and Abby went their separate ways, he headed in Abby’s direction, determined to be her dinner partner.
When he got to the table, Jesse was already there.
Figured.
Just as Jesse lifted the cloth napkin from the table to hand to Abby, Jackson clamped a hand over his shoulder. His brother looked up and had the audacity to grin.
“What’s up, little brother?”
I’m thinking about kicking your ass.
“Mom wants you,” Jackson said, knowing the statement was a bald-faced lie and that he didn’t care. Especially when Abby looked up and gave him a smile that made him melt.
“Really?” Jesse’s brows pulled together, and Jackson refrained from a “Gotcha.”
“Yeah. She’s over there alone. Martin couldn’t make it tonight. Something about his daughter in Seattle making waves about something or other. Mom wants you to sit with her.”
At least there was some truth to that.
“Why can’t you sit with her?”
Jackson gave him a “You really want to go there?” glare.
A heartbeat later, Jesse excused himself from the table. Jackson was only too happy to take his place.
He gave a nod to the others at the round table, knowing the music was too loud for conversation other than with the person next to him. Which was really the only person he had any interest in anyway. So it worked out great for him.
“You look beautiful.” He took a sip of the Jameson in his hand, set the short tumbler down on the table, and leaned in to inhale Abby’s delicious scent. “Smell even better.”
