ABBY PULLED OUT THE PACKAGE OF BOLOGNA AND MADE sandwiches for lunch. They were still waiting on word from the garage. Charlie had promised to tow the car first thing and said he’d call them after lunch.
Please let it be something simple. Something he can fix so we can get back on the road.
Her boss had called this morning. Frank had given Lewis a fraud case he’d been saving for her, and if she knew Lewis, he’d do everything he could to show her up. Lately he’d been getting better results with his cases. Sometimes she wondered if he was as ethical as he made himself out to be. He’d been solving cases that seemed impossible without going beyond the law. Apparently Frank didn’t see it. He’d never condone such practices.
She’d gone for a long walk in the woods after her “shower.” She still felt awkward about the way they’d awakened this morning, though Ryan seemed fine. He’d been on the phone a lot with his coaches and his family. She could hear his voice filtering through the shack’s porous walls.
She was slapping cheese on the bread when Ryan entered, Boo on his heels.
She handed him the plate of food. “Bon appétit.”
When they settled on the porch step with their lunch, her phone rang. Abby’s heart quickened as she saw the foreign number on the screen.
“This is Abby,” she said in greeting.
“Hey, Abby. This is Charlie from the garage. I checked out your car. I suspected from what you said that there’s a transmission problem from the flooding. So I took out the electrical switch assembly and tested it. Bottom line, you need a new one. Don’t have that here, of course, but there’s a Fiat dealer in Worcester that carries the part.”
She didn’t know what any of that meant. “Worcester . . . how far is that?”
“Basically, they’d have to ship it, but they can overnight it. I’ll have it first thing tomorrow if you want me to order it.”
Tomorrow? Abby closed her eyes. When she opened them, Ryan was looking at her.
Charlie told her the price of the part and the cost of repair. “Soon as we get the part, we’ll get it installed. I could have it ready tomorrow after lunch sometime.”
“Is there anything you can do to expedite this? Another dealer that’s closer?”
“Sorry, ma’am. Best we can do. There’s a dealer in Manchester, but they don’t have the part.”
“And that’ll fix the problem?”
“Fix you right up.”
What choice did she have? She told him to overnight the part, and he promised to call tomorrow as soon as it was fixed.
Abby hung up the phone. The bologna sandwich suddenly looked unappetizing.
“Tomorrow?” Ryan asked.
“Afraid so. We still have a fourteen-hour drive left, not including stops, so even if he gets done at one o’clock, the earliest we’d be home is four or five on Thursday morning. Frank’s going to kill me.” If this cost her the promotion, she was going to punch somebody.
“Frank’s lucky to have you. This isn’t your fault.”
She gave him a wry smile. “I parked in a flood zone.”
“Frank doesn’t have to know that.”
Their eyes met, and she felt her smile turning real. There was nothing she could do. She couldn’t repair the car. She couldn’t wish the part into existence. There was no magic wand that fixed everything. If there were, she would’ve waved it over her heart years ago.
“Let’s just make the best of it,” he said.
She looked down at her half-eaten bologna sandwich and scowled.
“There’s an ATV in the shed. We could burn some time with that. Plus I found a grill and some charcoal in there. How about we grill out those hotdogs tonight?”
“Isn’t that kind of like setting a pebble in a platinum ring?”
“Everything tastes better grilled.” He polished off his sandwich and stood. “Now where do you keep that gun of yours? I think it’s high time to kick your butt at target practice.”
Abby arched a brow. “You are so on.”
Abby watched as Ryan cocked his hip, held the .38 Special out with one arm, and lined up the sight.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she said. “What are you doing?”
He lowered the gun. “Aiming for the water bottles.”
“Your stance, your arms . . . My gosh, Ryan, have you ever shot a gun?”
“’Course I have. Dad took me hunting a few times.”
She frowned at him. “With a rifle.” She huffed, using her foot to knock his feet apart. “Not like that. Broaden your stance.”
He cocked his foot out to the side. “Like this?”
“Not like—for heaven’s sake.” She put her hands on his hips and tugged. “Square up.” She tapped on the side of his hip, then nudged his left foot forward. He wouldn’t be able to hit the broad side of a barn like that. “Kick my butt . . .,” she muttered.
Ryan raised the gun.
“Both hands!”
“Geez.” He placed his left hand over his right, too low.
“Wait.” She reached around him, aligning his thumbs. “Haven’t you ever seen Cops?”
His large hands dwarfed the gun, and it seemed to take forever to get his fingers situated. She was pressed into his side, her head practically on his shoulder, her arm stretched alongside his. He was warm and solid and—
She felt his shoulders shake once. Twice.
She angled a look up at him.
His jaw was locked. His lips were pressed into a tight line and twitched at the corners. His eyes, avoiding hers, sparkled like a lake at high noon.
She huffed. “You jerkwad!”
His smile broke loose, and his mischievous eyes found hers as he lowered the gun. “What?”
She stepped away, swatting his backside for good measure.
He laughed. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
Abby crossed her arms, but she was sure the effect of her glare was ruined by the smile she couldn’t quite bite back.
When he raised the gun a moment later, he had perfect form. He smirked at her before firing off a round, taking out a water bottle on his second shot.
Once she was convinced he was no novice, she stood back a good distance. After he’d taken out half the water bottles, he aimed for the ones on the ground. His broad shoulders didn’t even budge against the recoil. His arms tightened and flinched at each squeeze of the trigger, the movement of skin over hard muscles fascinating her. Her eyes followed the tapered lines of his back down to his narrow waist. His jeans hung there, fitting quite nicely against the curve of his backside. She couldn’t believe she’d smacked his butt. She used to do it all the time.
She suddenly realized it had been quiet a moment. Her eyes shot up to find him watching her, gun lowered.
She wiped the appreciation from her face. “Not bad,” she said, stepping up to take her turn.
He smirked. “My aim or . . .?”
“Your aim, smart aleck.” She reloaded the gun, her face heating.
“If I didn’t know any better, Abby McKinley, I’d think you were checking out my form.”
“I see you’re still as humble as ever.” Her fingers shook as she loaded the chamber. When she finished she snapped it shut. “Now step aside and see how an expert does it.”
They shot off rounds until she was almost out of ammo. She hadn’t planned on target practice when she’d packed. And she sure never dreamed she might actually enjoy the company of her infuriating ex-husband.
Ryan found a couple of serviceable branches and set them by the logs he’d put in front of the campfire next to the cottage. The charcoal briquettes had turned out to be wet from a roof leak, so they were improvising.
They’d been doing a lot of that today, and Ryan was enjoying every minute. After they’d shot Abby’s gun, they’d explored the trails with Boo. They’d talked a lot, keeping the conversation light and insignificant. There had been playful moments and flirtatious quips that buoyed his spirits.
But tonight was their last night together. Tomorrow they’d start their marathon journey home, and what then? He could almost hear the clock ticking in the background.
Abby joined him by the fire, opening the package of hot dogs and handing him two. Moments later, they were roasting them over the fire from their respective logs, which he’d set close together. Darkness was falling around them, bringing a light chill to the air, but the warmth of the fire should keep Abby warm.
“I wish we’d gotten the makings for s’mores,” she said.
“You haven’t even had supper, and you’re already wishing for dessert.”
She flashed a shameless smile at him before tending to her hot dog.
His thoughts went back to earlier when he’d caught her ogling him. The memory gave him a burst of hope. Maybe she hadn’t forgiven him, maybe she was afraid to let him in again, but she wasn’t immune to him either. That was something. It made all those early-morning workouts totally worth it.
The fire popped and sizzled, casting a glow over her face. She looked lost in thought, staring into the fire, her brows drawn. Even with a frown, she was beautiful.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said.
Her eyes flitted to him. “Just fretting over work. The timing’s really bad with the promotion on the line, and Lewis is determined to show me up while I’m gone. I have got to get home.”
He understood her need to get ahead, to prove herself. But her rush to get home was like a jab to the gut, especially after the nice day they’d had.
“Know what?” she said suddenly. “I don’t want to talk about work. Nothing I can do from here, right?”
“That’s the spirit.” He turned the stick, heating the other side of the hot dogs.
They sat in comfortable silence, soaking up the peacefulness. Sparks shot into the blackened sky, almost seeming to meld into the stars above. The smell of burning wood lingered in the air. He couldn’t imagine anyplace else he’d rather be.
“This reminds me of that camping trip we took with your class that one time,” she said, a smile curling her lips.
His first year of teaching, they’d gotten suckered into being chaperones for the science class trip to Clifty Falls State Park.
“I remember,” he said. “We sat by the fire after everyone else turned in.”
“Until the girls found a snake in their tent.”
He chuckled. “I can still hear the screams. Brendon Martin and his pranks. My gosh, that kid about wore me out my rookie year.”
It had taken an hour to settle everyone after the snake was discovered. Once it was quiet he’d sat next to Abby by the fire again, dreading saying good night.
“It was our first night in separate beds,” he said.
“Beds being a relative term.”
They couldn’t get enough of each other in those early days. Sitting close to Abby with the kids in the nearby tents, knowing he couldn’t have her, had strained his self-control. When Abby had stood, holding out her hand, giving him that come-hither look, he would’ve followed her anywhere.
They walked toward the parking lot under the guise of putting away supplies and made out behind a grove of pine trees until he was ready to curse Mrs. Mowers for signing him up for the blasted trip. That night he’d turned in restless and wanting.
He watched her now, her eyes trained on the fire, her cheeks pinkening, and he knew she was remembering too.
Man, he’d loved her so much. Still did. Would give anything if he could turn back time and change what had gone wrong between them. He’d thought one night without her was difficult. Three years had been torture.
“I loved having you as my wife,” he said.
Her eyes swung to him and clung, hungry. Not for touching, but for words. Early in their marriage he’d often showered her with loving words. Because she filled him with so many emotions, because the look of peace that would come over her face was a sight to behold. She would soften, melting into his arms like ice cream on a hot August day.
Now that he knew about her childhood, he finally understood. Wished he’d never stopped saying the loving words she’d needed to hear. Maybe it wasn’t too late.
“You were my everything, Abby,” he said softly. “I wanted to spend every day making you smile. I wanted to have a family with you, grow old with you.” I still do.
She swallowed, her eyes shuttering. “Some things aren’t meant to be.”
He wanted to deny it, to press her. But he couldn’t risk sending her running. And yet . . . he was running out of time.
“I know you didn’t want me along on your trip—”
She gave a huff of laughter. “What gave it away?”
“Going back home was hard for you, and I know the delays have been frustrating . . . but I feel like this has been good for us.”
He waited for her response, his heart pounding like a little girl’s. Just some little encouragement. A tiny hint that this trip hadn’t been an epic mistake. That she didn’t hate him anymore. That she might give him—give them—a second chance.
“Maybe so.” It was a big concession for her.
“I’m glad I came.” He reached out, swept the back of his knuckle down her cheek. It was so soft, like silk.
Her green eyes glittered in the firelight. She leaned into his touch just a little. His heart lurched.
That’s my girl. Without breaking eye contact he took her roasting stick and leaned them both against a log.
His fingers trailed down her hair, drawing a shiver from her. “I’ve had fun with you,” he said softly. “I forgot how much fun you are. How warm you can be.”
Something flashed in her eyes. “I thought I was cold,” she said lightly. But emotions tightened the corners of her mouth. “Heart of stone, or something like that.”
His careless words were a blow to the solar plexus. She’d already suffered so much verbal abuse from her father. It killed him that he’d added to it.
“I was wrong. You’ll never know how sorry I am for those words. I wanted to call them back a million times.” He swallowed against the hard lump in his throat. “No wonder you hated me.”
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.