Abby’s heart squeezed at the regret in his eyes. His fingers lingered in her hair, and she felt the touch in every cell of her body. He could do more with one simple touch than any other man had accomplished with so much more.
“I never hated you,” she said.
On the contrary, she’d never loved another man the way she’d loved Ryan. Never would. Wasn’t even sure she wanted to. When she remembered the broken, raw heap she’d become when the marriage had fallen apart, she wasn’t even sure why she was here. Sitting by a fire. Letting him touch her.
Then she looked into his eyes, and she remembered. Remembered that feeling of falling, a wave of delicious dizziness, like she was floating in the clouds. He brushed her cheek with his thumb, his touch just a whisper.
There was no one around now. It was past Monday, and there was no one to convince they were married. It was just the two of them. Alone. Honest emotions written clearly on his face. In her heart.
And she knew with startling clarity that it wasn’t over between them. It never had been. She’d fooled herself into thinking it was, but he’d seeped so deeply into her heart she’d never get him out. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to.
He leaned closer, slowly. Gave her all the time in the world to back out. But he was looking at her with such longing, and she could smell his familiar smell and almost taste his lips.
And suddenly, almost wasn’t enough anymore.
Their lips met tenderly, the softest of brushes. He’d always been so gentle with her, like he was afraid she’d evaporate into thin air. But she didn’t want gentle right now. She wanted to grab on hard and not let loose.
She wrapped her arms around him, digging her fingers into the hair at his nape. Her heart beat like a jackhammer, her lungs couldn’t remember how to work, and she didn’t care.
He tugged her closer. “I missed you, Red,” he whispered against her mouth. “I want you.”
He unraveled her. She was coming undone right in his arms, and he was making her like it. Just as he always had.
“You’re my heart,” he murmured. “My everything.”
She melted in his arms. Her fingers reveled in the softness of his hair, the solid strength of his shoulders, the sandpaper feel of his jaw. She loved it all. Wondered how she’d lived without this for three long years. How she’d ever live without it again.
A whimper sounded as he pulled away. Her, she realized. But she was too despondent at the loss to be embarrassed.
He didn’t go far. His breath hovered over her mouth. His eyes, so warm, taking her in with unnerving intensity.
His thumb swept across her cheek again. “I love you, Abby.” His voice was thick.
His words sucked the moisture from her throat. A quake started deep inside, spreading tremors rippling outward.
He took her face in his hands. “You hear me? I love you. I never stopped.”
Her heart squeezed. Was it true? She wanted to believe it. Was afraid to believe it. It hadn’t felt like love, not at the end when ugly words were said and her heart was splintering into a million pieces.
A band tightened around her rib cage, constricting her lungs. She couldn’t catch her breath. Couldn’t tear her eyes away from the raw emotion in Ryan’s.
“I’m afraid.” She’d never spoken more honest words.
He pulled her into his chest, tucked his chin against her head. His breath released on a heavy sigh. “So am I.”
Eyes wide, she pressed her ear to his chest. His pounding heart echoed hers. She wasn’t alone in this at least. But it was a disaster in the making.
Wasn’t it?
There was a long list of reasons why. It hadn’t worked before. Last time had nearly killed her. She didn’t know if she could lose him again.
His family hated her. They’d never let her back into their lives.
They had separate lives now. Lived in separate towns. And she’d soon be moving even farther away.
“I can hear the wheels spinning,” he said softly.
“I don’t know how this could work.” I don’t know if I want it to. You’ll break my heart. I don’t want to end up curled up in a closet again.
He tightened his arms, kissed the top of her head. “Let’s not talk about it tonight. Okay?”
“We’re leaving tomorrow. Going back to our lives. Our separate lives.”
“Let’s just . . . take a deep breath. Give it some time to soak in. We don’t have to decide anything right now.”
She closed her eyes and focused on the small task of breathing. In. Out. She honed in on the sound, the feel, of his heartbeat, settling into a steady rhythm.
“You feel so good in my arms, Abby.”
The low hum of his voice reverberated through her. He felt good to her too. So good. She knew she should say it, but she couldn’t squeeze the words out. She tightened her arms around him instead.
It must’ve been enough, because the next thing she heard was a contented sigh.
Chapter Twenty-Four
ABBY’S EYES FLITTERED OPEN. RYAN WAS LYING ON HIS side, facing her. Staring at her.
“Morning,” he said.
Light flooded into the cabin through the slats in the blinds, illuminating his sleepy face.
“Morning.” Her head lay on his palm, her own hand cradling his, their fingers laced together. They’d stayed up late talking, the conversation shifting to less serious things. He seemed to sense she needed time to think. And space to breathe. They’d fallen asleep holding hands.
“How long have you been awake?” Staring at me?
His lips turned up. “Awhile.”
He had such nice lips. Full on the bottom. A nice bow on the top, curving gently, almost heart-shaped. His jaw was stubbly after a full night’s sleep, and she found it didn’t bother her at all. Her hand itched to run across it, feel the roughness scrape the tender flesh of her palm.
He was a nice sight to wake up to, she couldn’t deny that.
“I do believe you’re ogling me again, Abby McKinley.”
That was twice he’d used her full name. Maybe he liked the sound of his name with hers.
She matched the tone of his voice. “And what were you doing before I opened my eyes, mister?”
“Ogling you.”
“Just as I suspected.” There was a lot more than that going on behind those steady brown eyes, but she didn’t want to go there.
“It’s nice and warm in here,” she said.
“I banked the fire a bit ago. Boo dragged me outside—”
“A ten-pound dog dragged you outside?”
“She has very persuasive eyes.”
She wasn’t the only one.
“You missed a beautiful sunrise.”
She couldn’t believe she’d slept through all that. “What time is it?”
His eyes lit with mischief. Then he walked his free hand slowly across the covers. “Time to tickle Abby.”
She flinched away, but not in time. He dug right into the ticklish spot at her side.
“Stop!” Her laughter negated the word.
She reached for his knee and hit gold.
He jerked away, laughing. “Oh, you’ve had it now.”
“It’s too early for this!” she cried, twisting away. He knew just the spot, darn him. “I need coffee!”
“You hate instant.”
They wrestled and twisted, Ryan letting her get in a few jabs and pokes. Her laughter filled the shack until she cried, “Uncle!”
“Uncle,” she said again, and he stopped.
Then they lay breathless, their chests heaving, their legs twisted in the sheets. Boo bounded between them, tail wagging, wanting in on the fun. Abby absently scratched behind the dog’s ears while she caught her breath.
A few minutes later Ryan leaned over, pecking her on the cheek. “I’m gonna get a shower. Then you and I, girl . . .” He slapped her on the backside. “We’re going four-wheeling.”
“You want to drive?” Ryan asked.
“Have at it,” she said. They’d left Boo napping in the cabin. She hoped her pooch would be okay.
They put their helmets on, and Ryan fired up the machine. “Hang on.”
She latched on to his shirt, and the four-wheeler shot forward. Abby grabbed on to him. So much for distance. The trail was rutted and muddy, and Ryan seemed to have a need for speed.
Within moments she was plastered to his back, her arms hugging his waist, her thighs squeezing his.
Ryan whooped as they went airborne and hit the ground with a jolt. When she slid to the side, his arm curled protectively around her knee.
They hit a mud puddle, and a geyser hit her full force. “Ryan!”
He laughed.
She slapped him on the stomach. “Are you trying to drench me in mud?”
“You’ve caught on to my evil plan,” he called over his shoulder.
Abby was glad for the face guard. As it was, her clothes were already a muddy mess. But her heart was pumping with excitement as they flew down the bumpy trail and up the hill. And, though she’d been reluctant at first, being pressed into Ryan’s hard body was nothing to cry over either.
A long while later they reached the summit overlooking the pond, and Ryan pulled off onto a turnout. She eased off the back of the ATV and pulled her helmet off. Her backside was numb and her arms ached from holding tight.
“I’m a mess.”
“You love it,” he said, smiling.
“It is fun,” she said, following him to the overlook. Pine needles clung to the muddy bottoms of her shoes.
“You’ve never been four-wheeling before?”
“Nope.”
She stopped when she reached his side. The pond sparkled under the morning sun, a light breeze stirring the overgrown grass on the shore. Their little shanty looked kind of quaint from up here. She thought of last night, of their kiss, the things he’d said, and her pulse sped. What did it all mean?
You don’t have to think about it now, Abby. She drew in a breath of pine and fresh air, becoming aware that Ryan’s gaze had shifted to her.
She scanned her jeans and her mud-splattered arms. Her hair was probably plastered to her head.
Ryan pulled out his phone and aimed it her way. “This is definitely a Facebook moment.”
“Don’t you dare!” she said, laughing, putting her hands up and darting away.
Ryan chased her down by the ATV, caught her wrists in one of his hands, and snapped a picture.
“Don’t you dare post that.”
“You look cute.”
“I have mud splattered all over me.” She leaned on the ATV. He still hadn’t released her hands. He checked the photo, smiling. Then he showed it to her.
It wasn’t half bad, actually. She had a little smear of dirt on her cheek, but she was smiling, and her eyes looked impossibly green in the sunlight.
He pocketed the phone, his eyes meeting hers. His hand loosened on her wrists until he let go. After being so close to him for the last hour, the gap between them seemed wide. He hadn’t made a move since their kiss last night.
But he was looking at her now with that intense warmth that made her insides go all liquid. She curled her fingers into the seat beneath her.
Space, she decided, was highly overrated. “You want to kiss me?” she asked.
Something flared in his eyes. He moved closer, his eyes smoldering. “The answer to that question, Red, will never be no.”
And then his lips were on hers, slow and sweet, as if savoring every second. Abby’s hand slid up the smooth column of his neck and found his pulse. It pounded against the flesh of her palm.
He moved forward, fitting between her knees, and slid his hands into her hair. Man, she’d missed this. No one had ever kissed her like Ryan. He could shake her to the core with just a look, a touch. But his kiss rocked her world.
Despite the feel-good chemicals floating through her blood, thoughts of tomorrow began to press in. Tomorrow, when they’d say good-bye, their futures uncertain. Would all of this lead to more heartbreak? She wished she could shut off the worries, but she’d always had trouble living in the moment.
As if sensing her worry, Ryan pulled back. He leaned his forehead against hers. Their breaths mingled as her heart settled in her chest. He’d always been so attuned to her. So many other guys were emotionally clueless. They just dove right in, paying little attention to what she wanted or what she liked. She’d missed that about Ryan.
He dropped a kiss on her head and grabbed their helmets, handing hers over as she stood. “Your attempt to distract me from my evil plan has failed.” He swatted her on the backside. “Saddle up, woman. The mud’s about to fly.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
ABBY TWISTED THE KEY IN THE IGNITION, AND THE FIAT engine purred. “Ah, it’s a beautiful sound.” She tossed her purse into the back with Boo and buckled up.
Ryan whistled the strains of “On the Road Again” as she pulled onto the highway.
The couple who owned the shanty had picked them up and driven them to the garage, giving them a chance to settle up for the extra night. Charlie had finished the car a little early.
As eager as she was to get going, Abby’s heartstrings had tugged as they’d driven away from their fishing shack. Maybe the place had been a tad rough, but it had been their little hideaway for two days, and the thought of never seeing it again made her sad.
After their four-wheeling trek, Boo had whiled away the morning chasing butterflies and napping in the sun while Abby and Ryan fished. They didn’t catch anything bigger than her hand, but they’d had fun, the conversation never turning serious.
Ryan hadn’t come near her after the kiss except to take her fish from the hook, a job she’d always hated. He’d threatened to fry up their catch for lunch, knowing the only fish she ate were shaped like squares or sticks. He used to tease her mercilessly about being a Mainer who didn’t like seafood.
He reached across the console and took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers, and they shared a smile. His hand felt warm and strong. Big and safe around hers. Her left hand gripped the steering wheel, the wedding ring still glimmering on her finger.
If they made good time she’d be dropping Ryan off around three a.m. The thought of leaving him behind in Chapel Springs made her heart twist. She shook the thought, taking a sip of her bitter garage-shop coffee.
Their morning had been easy and fun. But now, with only miles until their parting, something dark and heavy began swelling inside. What was going to happen? Even if they could make it work . . . even if they found a way to overcome the problem of geography, was this a good idea? Why would it go right this time when it had gone so wrong last time?
She pushed the dark thing down, tightening her hand around Ryan’s.
“Let me know when you want me to take over,” he said. “I don’t want you to get a migraine.”
“I will. I’ll need a nap at some point. I need to show up at the office bright and early, and I’ll be working long hours to make up for my absence. I’m sure you’ll be putting in extra time too.”
As she drove they chatted about trivial things: music and movies and politics—a subject they’d always agreed on. Every now and then Ryan would kiss her knuckles or draw circles on the back of her hand with his thumb, his touch making her shiver.
She knew he must be anxious about the end of their trip too. She found herself in an internal tug of war, one side pulling her toward home and work, the other toward Ryan. The miles were passing quickly, and soon they would reach a deadline. She wasn’t sure what lay on the other side.
They hit traffic near Boston, but soon they were nearing the Connecticut state line. Abby switched on her Bluetooth headset and
called Frank to assure him she’d be in tomorrow bright and early. But he was out of the office, and Lewis fielded the call.
“Better late than never,” he said when she asked him to relay the message. It took everything in her to ignore his mocking tone.
He regaled her with his latest coup, a worker’s comp case they’d been after for months. He’d caught the guy—with a supposed neck injury—throwing a sixteen-pound ball at Sunset Bowl.
“Too bad you missed it, Abby. It was right up your alley.”
“Ha ha.” She rolled her eyes and ended the phone call.
Ryan watched Abby’s hand as she pulled off her headset. She looked like she wanted to strangle it, but she placed it on the console instead.
“Great,” she said. “He closed the Murphy case.”
“Lewis?”
She huffed. “He’s so arrogant. I’ll bet he just loved rubbing that in my face.”
“I’m really starting to not like this guy.”
“He’s worked for Frank longer than I have, and honestly, I don’t think he expected me to last a week.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “He thought a woman couldn’t handle the job.”
“He underestimated my girl. He’s scared now, that’s why he’s being a jerk. He feels threatened.” He tried not to think about what that meant.
“He’ll be rubbing it in for weeks. He’s resented me from day one.”
The word stuck in his mind like a metal pin caught in a cog.
Resented.
It hauled him back two days to their conversation about her dad. It was the word he’d been trying to remember, the thought he’d wanted to unpack.
She’d said her dad had resented her for being born. No doubt she’d felt that way every time he’d uttered a harsh word or lifted a hand to her.
But Abby had also thought Ryan resented her for tying him down after they’d lost the baby. He examined the thought, turning it every which way. He’d felt awful when she’d told him he’d made her feel that way. But had he really given off those signals? God knows that wasn’t how he’d felt. He’d grieved their baby, but he’d never regretted marrying Abby. Never once.
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