by Marie Force
“I was pent up.”
He laughed and gathered her in tight against him. “Take this off,” he said, tugging her shirt up and over her head and releasing the front clasp on her bra. “Much better,” he said as his chest hair rubbed against her nipples.
Stephanie tightened her arms around him, closed her eyes and focused on enjoying every second of their reunion. For so many hours she’d feared never seeing him again, never holding him, never making love with him, never talking to him or waking to his gorgeous face on the pillow next to hers.
As he dug his fingers into her hips and picked up the pace, it became clear to her that she never would’ve survived losing him. Her life, too, would’ve been over—at least the life that she’d come to love almost as much as she loved him.
“Grant…”
“What, honey?”
“Love you. More than anything.”
“Me, too. Me, too.” He pushed hard into her, tipping her over the edge again. His muffled cry against her shoulder and the surge of heat within her only made the ride sweeter. Everything was sweeter when they did it together.
For a long time afterward, she held him tight and gave thanks for all they had. The rest faded away, unimportant. She had everything she needed as long as she had him.
Laura and Owen emerged from the clinic into afternoon sunshine. Her legs were rubbery beneath her, making her tighten her grip on his arm to remain standing. “I…I need to sit,” she said. Her hands were trembling, and her skin felt clammy.
Owen steered her to a bench in the middle of a small garden outside the clinic’s main door and sat next to her, seeming equally shell-shocked.
“Say something,” she said after a long period of stunned silence.
“I have no idea what to say.”
“Did that really just happen?”
“I think it did.”
Lightheaded and nauseated, Laura bent at the waist, forcing fresh air into her lungs.
He rubbed comforting circles on her back. “Are you going to be sick?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Are you?”
Owen laughed, relieving some of the tension. “Not sure yet.”
Laura sat up straight, moving slowly in deference to the lightheadedness, and turned to him. “How are we going to do this? Can you tell me that? Three babies in one year and a hotel to run?”
She knew she sounded slightly hysterical, but who wouldn’t be after Victoria confirmed that the stomach flu wasn’t the flu after all but indeed another pregnancy—and this time she was expecting twins? Apparently, she was six weeks along. A transvaginal ultrasound had revealed two strong heartbeats.
Owen massaged her shoulders. “First, take a deep breath.”
Gazing into his familiar gray eyes, she did as he directed.
“Now take another.” After she inhaled and exhaled a second time, he said, “Keep breathing, Princess. No matter what happens, we’ll deal with it.”
Laura hated the hysterical tension that gripped her chest, the tears that pooled in her eyes and the overwhelming need to cry that came with them. “A year ago, you were footloose and fancy free, living the good life. It was a big enough deal for you to take on Holden—and me. But this... It’s just too much. You’ll be running for your old life—”
He kissed the words off her lips. “Stop. I’m not going anywhere. And for your information, I never lived the good life until I lived with you—and Holden. It’s not too much. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“That’s not true! You never wanted any of it!”
“I had no idea how much I wanted it until I had it. Don’t you see?” With his hand on her face, he compelled her to look at him. “I didn’t know what I was missing. How could I know, growing up the way I did? I love you, I love Holden, and I’ll love our babies, too. I promise.”
“It’s too much,” she said, shaking her head as tears spilled down her face.
“It’s just enough, honey.” He cupped her cheeks and swept up the tears with his thumbs. “How lucky are we? How blessed?”
“I’ll tell you one thing, mister, you’d better get all the sex you can while I’m pregnant, because after these two are born, I’m never going near you again if you can get me pregnant this easily—and two of them to boot!”
Laughing, Owen dragged her up and tossed an arm around her. “Yes, you will. You can’t resist me.”
Because she couldn’t exactly deny that, she elbowed his ribs. “Watch me.” A new thought made her nauseated again. “Oh my God, what’ll I tell my dad?”
“Tell him he’s going to be a grandpa again, just a little sooner than we’d planned.”
“Since this is all your fault, why don’t you tell him?”
He made a distressed face that made her laugh. “Do I hafta?”
“I’d say that’s the least you can do after you knocked me up so thoroughly.”
Puffing out his chest, he said, “I did do a pretty good job, didn’t I?”
Even though she was amused by his pleasure in the earth-shattering news, she couldn’t let him see that, so she scowled at him. After this extremely unexpected development, she figured she had the right to be a bit grouchy until she wrapped her head around it.
At the car, he turned her to face him and eased her back against the sun-warmed metal. “I’ll be glad to tell your dad this awesome news,” he said, nuzzling her neck, “and I’ll make sure to tell him again how very much I love his beautiful daughter who has made me so happy. So damned happy.”
“Keep talking,” she said, bending her neck to give him better access. “Maybe I’ll forgive you before the wedding.”
Chuckling, he held the passenger door for her. “Let’s go tell our little boy that he’s going to be a big brother.”
Laura was glad—and relieved—that Owen was so excited about the new babies. But all she could think about was nine months of nausea, three babies in one year and a hotel to run. It might take her a while to match his excitement, but she’d get there. Eventually. Or at least she hoped so.
Abby showered, blow-dried her hair and treated the site of the tattoo with antibiotic ointment. She bent and twisted to get a look at it in the mirror, frustrated all over again with herself for taking the safe route with a small tattoo on her back that no one would see unless she wanted them to.
“You’re doing a heck of a job shaking things up, girlfriend,” she whispered to her reflection. “You’re doing a hell of a job, I should say.” She shook her head in disgust. “You’re such a bad ass. Unable to hold your liquor, unable to swear respectably, unable to get a tattoo that people will actually see, unable to get off during sex. No wonder things didn’t work out with Grant or Cal. I bore myself. Why wouldn’t they be bored, too?”
She was sick to death of wanting to be different. She was fed up with wishing for something else but not knowing how to make it happen. She’d thought she found what she wanted with Cal, but that hadn’t worked either. And now here she was, right back where she started with nothing much to show for the last ten years of her life.
“Well, that’s not entirely true,” she said, thinking of the nest egg she still had from Abby’s Attic. Thinking about her adorable little store made her heart ache even more over what she’d given up for a man, so she chose not to go there. Rather, she relived the kiss on the beach with Adam for probably the hundredth time since it happened an hour ago.
That was some kiss. It was unlike any kiss she’d ever had. Maybe it was because they’d been on the beach, outside where anyone might see them, that it had been more exciting than other kisses. Maybe it was the slightly scandalous notion of taking up with her ex-boyfriend’s brother that had set her hormones abuzz.
No, she thought. It wasn’t any of those things. It had been Adam and the way he’d looked at her as if she was something—or someone—special to him. While they’d always been friendly after knowing each other all their lives, something different had clicked between them on the ferry ride home the o
ther day. Sitting behind him on the motorcycle had been thrilling. Walking the beach with him had been thrilling. Kissing him had been incredibly thrilling.
She ran her fingers over her lips and couldn’t wait to kiss him again. Maybe later when he came over… For a brief instant, she wondered what Grant would have to say about Adam dating his ex. Would Grant’s objections put a damper on whatever was happening between her and Adam? They’d better not, or she’d be having some words with Grant McCarthy. After his years of indifference toward her, he had absolutely no right to interfere with anything she did, even if she did it with his brother—a thought that made her laugh nervously.
Doing it with Adam McCarthy was something she’d never even considered before yesterday, and now it was all she could think about. Grant had better not get in the way of what was turning out to be the most fun she’d had with a guy in ages… Since she first got together with Cal, back when things had still been fun between them rather than strained.
Even though Adam had been awesome about helping her to bust out of her shell, Abby was well aware that he couldn’t do it for her. She had to do it herself, or it wouldn’t mean as much.
Before she could spend any more time thinking, she grabbed her purse and phone and headed for the door. Not wanting to lose her nerve, she kept her head down as she walked through town. On the way, she passed Tiffany’s new store, Naughty & Nice, housed in the former home of Abby’s Attic. She experienced a profound wave of regret at seeing another store where hers had done so well. However, she loved Tiffany and wished her all the best with her new store.
“Abby?”
Speaking of Tiffany, she approached Abby on the sidewalk, holding a coffee in one hand and a bank deposit pouch tucked under her other arm. As always, Tiffany looked stylish and amazing in an eye-popping orange print dress that made Abby feel like a dowdy frump next to her.
“I thought that was you! I didn’t hear you were home.”
Abby gave her a quick hug. “The store looks great, Tiffany. I hear you’ve made a tremendous success of it.”
“After a few bumpy weeks, it seems to be catching on.”
“Congratulations. I never had a doubt that you’d be great at it.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. I was filled with doubts. So how’s Cal?”
“That’s…um…over.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I hadn’t heard that either.”
Abby shrugged off the pain and disappointment. It’d been over months ago, if she were being truthful, so every day seemed to get a little easier.
“Do you have time to come in and take a look at the store?”
Even though she was anxious to get to the tattoo place, she was curious about what had become of her store. “I’d love to.”
Abby followed Tiffany into a space that in no way resembled Abby’s Attic. Where her store had been sweetness personified, Tiffany’s was all about sex—and in some cases, raunchy sex. Abby’s senses were overwhelmed by the scents, the textures, the sheer volume of choices. “It’s incredible, Tiff. Truly.”
“You really think so?”
“I do. I love it.” Abby didn’t say what she really thought—that the store brought home all the many ways she felt inadequate as a woman. She’d have no idea where to begin among the many choices Tiffany had provided for her customers. She was lost in a sea of femininity.
“Why do you look so sad?”
Startled by Tiffany’s astute assessment, Abby forced herself to make eye contact with the other woman. “I feel out of my league in here.”
“How so?”
Abby ran her fingers over a lacy garter belt and nodded. “I’ve never been one for sexing things up.”
“Well, isn’t that too bad? A body like yours ought to be shown off.”
Abby uttered a most unladylike snort of laughter. “Sure.”
“You don’t think so?” Tiffany put down her coffee and came over to open one of the oversized dressing rooms. She gestured for Abby to step inside. “Face the mirror.”
Abby did as directed and tried to look anywhere but at herself, anywhere but at the woman who so desperately wanted to be different but didn’t know where to begin.
“Is it okay if I get personal?”
“Ah, sure. I guess so.”
Tiffany unbuttoned Abby’s blouse and pushed it off her shoulders, revealing the utilitarian white bra that Abby had worn since she was old enough to wear bras. “Hmm,” Tiffany said. “Nice tattoo. Just got it?”
“Today.”
“Good for you. I’m guessing a D cup?”
Abby’s face flushed with color. She’d always been sensitive about breasts that had gotten too big too fast when she was a teenager. “Yes.”
“Stay put. I’ll be right back.”
Over the next thirty minutes, Tiffany Sturgil changed Abby Callahan’s entire perspective about lingerie and how important it could be to feeling sexy. Once she got a load of what her too-big breasts looked like in a lacy midnight-blue bra, it hadn’t taken much encouragement for Tiffany to talk her into enough underwear for two weeks’ worth of sexy, not to mention several new dresses designed to show off her assets.
“You’re going to need a thong for that dress,” Tiffany said, taking a close look at Abby’s posterior in a slinky black number that hugged her curves. All thoughts of shyness had disappeared the first time she bared her breasts to try on the bra that Tiffany insisted would do wonders for her cleavage. She’d been right about that and about every other choice she’d made for Abby.
“I’ve never worn a thong before. I can’t get past the feeling of having a nonstop wedgie.”
Tiffany laughed. “I hear that all the time from first-timers, but trust me, once you go thong, you never go back.” She held up a scrap of midnight-blue lace, dangling it in front of Abby like a metaphor for the life she wanted so badly but hadn’t known how to find.
Abby took hold of it, stepped into the dressing room and closed the door, not wanting Tiffany to see the basic cotton panties that matched her equally boring bra. She slid the thong into position, grimacing at the sensation of having fabric wedged where it didn’t belong. “How long does it take before you don’t notice that you’ve got something jammed up there?”
“A couple of days max.”
“If you say so.”
“Check out what it does for the dress,” Tiffany said.
Abby turned, putting her back end to the mirror and looking over her shoulder. She had to admit the dress flowed better with the thong than it had without it. “Okay. I’m sold.”
“Well, you kinda had to take the thong either way after you tried it on.”
The dry comment made Abby laugh. She opened the door to share the laugh with Tiffany. “You’re too much.”
“I hear that almost every day.”
“You’re also crazy good at this.” Abby hugged Tiffany. “Ring it up. I’ll take it all. Thank you so much. This was exactly what I needed.”
“My pleasure. You’ve done wonders for my coffers today.”
“And you’ve done wonders for my self-confidence.”
“You’re a beautiful woman, Abby. Any guy would be lucky to spend time with you. Don’t let a few setbacks keep you from taking new chances. I’m living proof that even the most unhappy person can find true love and happiness.”
“Are we talking about Blaine?”
Tiffany smiled and nodded.
“Oh, I’m so glad to hear that! The last time you and I were together right in this store, he came in, and the two of you nearly burned the place down just by looking at each other.”
The soft look of love on Tiffany’s face told the full story. “He’s amazing and everything I never thought I’d have.”
“I’m so happy for you. You deserve it.”
“So do you. It’s going to happen for you, too. I know it will.”
Abby wanted so badly to believe Tiffany, but she’d learned to be pragmatic about these things. Some people didn’t meet th
e person they were meant to spend forever with and were just fine on their own. If that happened to her, she’d find a way to make a worthwhile life for herself. But the time she’d spent with Tiffany had filled her with a new sense of optimism. Maybe, just maybe there might still be hope for her and romance after all.
Tiffany offered to have her assistant, Patty, run Abby’s purchases back to the Beachcomber for her.
“That’d be great. I’ve got another stop to make while I’m out.”
“Go on ahead, and come back soon, okay?”
“I will. Thanks again, Tiffany.”
“My pleasure.”
Trying to ignore the unnatural feel of the thong between her cheeks, Abby hustled through town, arriving at the tattoo studio ten minutes later.
“Back again so soon?” Duke asked when she walked in. He was sitting in one of the chairs, reading the latest issue of the Gansett Gazette. “Everything all right with your ink?”
“I want another one.”
Duke glanced at Jeff and then at Abby. “You sure about that?”
Abby’s heart pounded as she nodded. She walked over to the book she’d looked through earlier when she’d been seeking something safe. At the time, another design had called to her, but she’d dismissed it as too much. “This one,” she said when she found it. “On my ankle.” The dark purple morning glory came with a winding vine that would curl twice around the back of her leg.
Duke came over to look at what she’d chosen. “That’ll take a couple of hours.”
“I’ve got the time if you do,” she said, feeling defiant and elated.
“Right this way, madam.”
Abby all but skipped to the chair, delighted with herself and her decision to do something unexpected. “Do you mind if I make a few calls while you’re working?”
“As long as you hold still, have at it.”
She pulled a notebook from her purse and prepared to spend the time reconnecting with the former suppliers she’d worked with at Abby’s Attic. Laura had given her carte blanche to set up the gift shop at the Sand & Surf any way she saw fit, and it was time to get to work.
