Crossing Abby Road (14 page)

“You’re uncomfortable,” I said. “I see that, but I’d deem myself unmanly if I didn’t tell you that I think you’re the most—” She opened her mouth, ready to cut me off, but I beat her to it. “Nope.” I kept my voice light. “Still my turn to talk.”

Her shoulders rose with a deep inhale. Whatever I was doing was helping. I moved to sit in front of her, keeping my hand on her foot until she straightened her leg, letting me hold it. With the back of my fingers, I brushed the sand off the bottom of her foot. She sighed contently, relaxing again.

“And I was about to say…this morning, I was surprised. By your face, sure, but your eyes, especially. You don’t look a thing like your pictures.”

“I know.” She spoke at the sand. “Those pictures—it’s like I’m another person. It’s me, but a flawless me, a perfect
me. Abigail Kelly without blemish. She’s a freak who doesn’t really exist.”

Freak? The word made my stomach churn, then my brain, first with compassion, then with anger for whoever’d caused her to feel so shitty about herself. The way she’d used her professional name wasn’t lost on me, either. Abigail Kelly wasn’t the girl I’d spent all day with. Someone had done this to her. A dick ex-boyfriend, that prick of a manager. Or maybe there was a long line of people who hadn’t treated Abby like she deserved. Hadn’t loved her like she deserved.

Well, that train stopped here.

“You don’t realize it, do you?” I ran a finger from the top of her big toe across the arch of her foot. It twitched between my hands as her eyes fluttered closed. “Those pictures of you in magazines, they’re nice and whatever, but in person…Abby, you’re absolutely stunning.”

“Stunning?” she whispered, like she’d never heard the word before.

If there was one thing I could accomplish today, it was getting through to Abby exactly what she’d done to me, what she did to me the instant I first saw her. “When I’m finished, you can go back to pouting about your bra size—which is drop-dead killer, by the way.” I pulled at her pinky toe. “But right now, I need you to believe me.”

The desire to drag her onto the sand and make out until we both died never really left my brain, but to make her smile—that was what I lived for today.

“If you want,” I said, “I’ll tell you all about what was running through my mind when I saw you at my store,
before
I figured out who you were, and before I made you try on that stupid hat.”

“It’s not a stupid hat,” she whispered.

“Shhh.” I tugged her big toe. “Not your turn yet. Anyway, this morning, I took at least a full minute before I had the guts to actually approach you, even as a customer. You completely took over my store, made me all tongue-tied, scared the shit out of me. You’re like a…a beautiful Godzilla.”

We both laughed down at the sand, and even though I couldn’t see her face, I knew the tension was lifting. I could feel it in the balmy air between us.

“That’s an interesting metaphor,” she said.

“I hope you know it’s a compliment.”

She laughed again. “If you say so.”

I was about to speak again, but I was probably going to run out of charm in about three seconds. I’d never talked like this to a woman before, like I was her self-esteem coach. Maybe that was because I’d also never had to throw a huge effort out there; girls and sex and giving the other person what she needed had always come easy. But Abby was worth all the effort, even if the only thing I got to hold ever again was her cute little foot.

I traced slow figure eights across her arch until her toes curled, in and out like a fist. I couldn’t help grinning at the effect I had.

“I’ll only admit one more thing,” I said, then took in a deep breath. “With very little effort, Abby, you drive me completely mad.”

“Ditto.”

Simultaneously, we lifted our chins, gazes locking. Damn, she looked so good, the milky late afternoon sky behind her, the sparkle of both optimism and flirtation in her eyes.

“It’s not just your finger that makes my foot twitch, Todd.”

“You did not just say that.”

She grinned. “Pretty good, right?”

It was all I could do not to lean in and kiss her right then.

Just past her shoulder, one of Chandler’s buddies was jogging our way, then he spun around, his back to us. A second later, he was airborne, trying to catch something over his head that he’d missed. A red Frisbee was flying straight at my face.

I caught it with no problem, stood up, and whizzed it back. The guy’s name was Rufus, or Bufus, and as I recalled from the many times he’d hung out at my store, he was about as sharp as a bag of wet mice. I think he had younger sisters. Yeah, he and Chandler had driven a group of girls to Panama City to see that hugely popular boy band Seconds to Juliet last month. The guy might recognize Abby, which was just about the last thing we needed right now. Damn lucky I’d caught the Frisbee so Rufus/Bufus hadn’t had to come over here to retrieve it.

He caught the disc and called back a thank-you.

Yeah, yeah, now go away.

From her place down on the sand, Abby was looking up at me, chin tipped, hair swept back from her face. Smiling. What in the world was she thinking, smiling at me like that in public?

I exhaled and gazed down at her, wondering if now was the time to tell her everything that had been on my mind today. Maybe I’d also cowboy up and ask her that one burning question that had been plaguing me the most about her.

“So, I was thinking—”

My vision went black. No, before black, it went red…the exact red of a red Frisbee. “Ow—dammit,” I muttered, stumbling back a few steps until I hit the rock behind me, forcing me to sit.

I heard Abby gasp. My eyes were watering from the stupid plastic disc that had clocked the bridge of my nose. I heard her rush over, felt the air around me change as she hovered above me, but I had a hand over my eyes, blinking through the stun.

“Are you all right? Are you bleeding?”

It didn’t really hurt—I’d been more surprised than anything—but I didn’t want Abby to think I was a wuss. So I dropped my hand, ready to display what a badass I was, and allowed her to shower me with praise in any creative and nasty way she chose.

But instead of Abby’s pretty face, I saw Rufus/Bufus, one hand lifted in greeting, jogging over to us.

“Shitballs,” I muttered. Not wasting an instant, I grabbed Abby’s wrist, pulled her onto my lap, clamped one arm around her waist and the other at the back of her head, keeping her face at my neck.

She squirmed a little and arched her back, since I’d probably startled her to death.

“Shh-shh. Hang on a sec,” I whispered over her muffled questions, keeping her in place. In about two seconds, she’d figure out what was going down.

“Yo, Todd. Sorry, dude. Did I get ya?”

Abby’s body went stiff in my arms. I didn’t move, either, listening to her breathing. I felt her panting breaths on my skin, her chest expanding with each inhale, pressing against mine, which made it extremely difficult to keep myself properly oxygenated.

Rufus/Bufus was saying something to me, but all I could focus on was the way Abby’s warm exhales brushed against the side of my neck. Her face was there, too, her nose against my skin, her mouth touching me.

Damn, what was she doing?

The guy kept talking, I think I was answering back, maybe even having a conversation, but my mind was fogged over. Abby had obviously caught on because she wasn’t wiggling anymore—in fact, her arms slid around my back and I heard the softest moan in my ear as she snuggled into my chest. Her mouth pressed to my neck, not kissing, just…there. On me.

Dammity-damn-damn-damn.

Reflexively, my arms tightened around her, flattening her against me until I could feel each of her inhales, hear the exhales in my ear. I burrowed my hand under her hair, touching the silky skin at the back of her neck. Her breath quickened in response, and I was about to grab her under both knees and swivel her around so she was straddling me. Enough with this game.

“Yeah, and so then I told Chandler I was…”

Hell, man. Rufus/Bufus was still here, watching whatever Abby and I were doing, or about to do. I had to get this guy away before we gave him a real eyeful. But since I couldn’t allow Abby to be seen, maybe I could embarrass the guy away. Hmm, if I started to kiss her, he’d eventually wander off, right?

No. When I kissed this girl for the first time, it would not be in front of an audience.

So I did the first thing I could think of. I tickled her. She started giggling and squirming. I glanced up at Rufus/Bufus, who wasn’t talking anymore, but just staring down at us. What was his problem? I tickled her again and Abby arched her back, laughing against me. The guy blinked. At least something registered.

“You’re so ticklish, babe,” I said, keeping one hand clamped at the back of her head so she couldn’t thrash it around, while my free hand tiptoed across the side of her ribcage. She was laughing so hard she had to inhale in gulps. She kept saying my name, begging me to stop, but the sound of her laugh was like the sun on my face. I’d never get tired of it.

“Puppy, puppy, hold still.” She was still squirming, still giggling and bucking, even though I’d stopped tickling her. Her laugh was so contagious, and I had no idea what I was laughing at.

Our audience still hadn’t budged.

“Maybe this will stop your squirming, babe.” I slid both arms low around her waist, gathering her up some, then rocked her against me. She moved on my lap, but not to get away. Her body elongated and she hooked her chin over my shoulder until she was pressed flat against me, chest to chest.

Hot, gale force gusts swirled low in my stomach. I wasn’t laughing anymore. Neither was she. I swept the hair away from her neck and dipped my chin, resting my mouth on her bare shoulder, not quite a kiss, even though I could taste the salt of her skin each time I moved to a new spot.

She went still in my arms, heavy, weak against me, melting. I shut my eyes. I was about to melt, too.

“Uh, yeah, so I’ll catch ya later, man.”

The words sounded distant, and when I opened my eyes, I saw the back of Rufus/Bufus treading up the sand away from us.

Abby was breathing hard. We both were. Her arms were tight around my neck, and I had a fistful of the back of her tank top. I let go of it and ran a hand from her hair down her back, giving myself a moment to assess the situation, to control my breathing and thoughts and protruding body parts before I went any further.

“Puppy?” Abby whispered into my ear.

I laughed out loud, releasing my grip on her, but she didn’t move. “Yeah, I was winging it.”

She giggled against my neck, her breath wafting over me like smoke. “Nice going.”

“Told you I’d do better next time.” I traced a finger down her back, waiting once more to follow her lead. If she never moved again, I was more than happy with that. She could live on my lap, for all I cared.

“You did much better, only…that was a lot of tickling.” She unhooked her chin from my shoulder and straightened, though not climbing off. Her eyes were bright and glowing against the darkening sky, little tears clinging to their corners.

I’d actually done it. I’d made her laugh ‘til she cried.

She looked happy, and I felt like a million damn bucks, and she belonged right here. With me. Even in the near-dark, things couldn’t be more clear.

“Winging it,” I repeated with a shrug, my brain not able to utter another full sentence yet.

“Very good job,” she said, dropping her gaze from me and nibbling her bottom lip, looking more tempting than the sweetest Italian chocolate. “You were very”—she paused to take in a breath then blow it out—“very good.” She bit her lip again then slid off my lap, dropping down to the sand.

My body was buzzing, whirring, missing how it felt when she was next to me. Not that I really did expect her to stay on my lap for the rest of our lives, but it was hella disappointing when she was gone.

She leaned back against the rock and sighed. “What a chill day. My life’s usually more like a hard day’s night, but not today. I’ve laughed more in the last few hours than I did all last year.” She wore a smile that yanked at my heart. “Thank you for that.”

“For the record,” I said, dropping down to the sand beside her, “I’ve had an okay time, too.”

She laughed and swatted my knee. “Sometimes you have a real way with words, and other times, you’re such a dude.”

“I accept your high praise.”

Abby laughed again then tipped her chin to look up at the clouds, the orange sun ready to set. “Ah, endless rain in a paper cup.”

“Okay, what is it with you and the Beatles? That’s about the tenth time you’ve quoted their lyrics in conversation.”

Abby pressed the back of her hand over her mouth. “I suck, I know. Sorry. I hardly notice when I do it anymore. It drives my family crazy when I call my hair ‘Arthur’ or refer to things as ‘dead grotty.’”

“Grotty?”

“Grotesque.” She shrugged. “That’s Beatles lingo.”

I rotated to face her, draping my arms across my bent knees. “So you’re a fan.”

She scoffed a laugh. “That doesn’t begin to describe it. It’s more like a sickness.”

“Pretty odd for someone our age.”

“So says the only Sinatra enthusiast under ninety.”

I laughed and ran a hand through my hair. She had me there. “I’ll tell you my story later. You go first.”

She pushed back against the rock behind her and crossed her legs. “It’s not much of a story, so…”

“Oh, no. Remember, we’re past all respect and dignity, and we’re supposed to be talking about
you
, anyway.”