Justice For Abby (16 page)

Abby spread fresh wood shavings around the last of the
stalls, breathing in the cedar scent as she hummed along with the country music Mary liked to listen to while they worked. She paused, glancing up when Mary and Caleb Conroy stepped inside with the paperwork Mary signed off on every other day before Caleb drove off with the milk supply.

“…sure would be nice to see you there, Mary.” He took off his dingy cap, blotting at the sweat on his ruddy face despite the cool temperatures of the barn.

“It’s doubtful, Caleb. I don’t have time for such foolishness. I have a farm to run.” She turned the page over, picked up a pen, and signed her name.

“Sure would be nice to see you,” he repeated, setting his hat back on his balding head, squirming. “The O’Neils put on a nice party.”

Nibbling her lip, Abby watched poor Caleb fumble about, struggling to ask Mary on a date.

“Chuck and his band are going to play.” He cleared his throat as Mary handed him the sheet.

“I’m sure you’ll have a fine time, Caleb.”

Abby wrinkled her nose. He was blowing it with his forehead wiping and cap fiddling. Unable to stand in for another second, she leaned her rake against the wall and stepped out. “Did I hear something about a party?”

Mary turned, and Caleb stood up straight.

“Good afternoon, Abby.”

She smiled at Caleb. “Good afternoon. I had no idea you were a party animal.”

He pinked up. “Oh, I’m not. I was just wondering if Mary here was planning to attend the O’Neil’s annual barn dance.”

“A barn dance? I love to dance. Mary, we should go.”

Caleb perked up. “It’s a fine time—a live band, refreshments, lots of square dancing and stuff.” He pulled off his hat again and set it back in place as he cleared his throat for the second time.

Abby beamed. “
Fun
. What do you say, Mary?” She gave her a gentle poke to the side with her elbow. “I’ve never been to a barn dance, and I’ve never square danced before. We can do-si-do the night away.” She wiggled her brows.

Mary folded the quality card Caleb had handed off. “I don’t know, Abby.”

“You work so hard. I think we’d have a good time.”

Mary stared at her in her jeans and plaid coat, her hair up in a tight ponytail. The no-nonsense woman was in desperate need of a night out on the town. “I don’t have anything to wear to a barn dance.”

She grinned, sensing Mary was on the fence. “We’ll go shopping. We can go to the department store.”

“Now don’t start thinking you’re going to be dressing me up like some slick fashion plate.” She shoved her hands in her pockets the same way Jerrod always did. “I’ll leave the fancy clothes to you.”

Abby shook her head soberly, even though she had every intention of ‘slicking’ Mary up. There were a few dresses she remembered seeing on her own trip into town a couple weeks ago that would work very well. “No, certainly not.”

“I’d rather just go to the thrift shop.”

Her brows furrowed as her plans to smooth-talk Mary into the blue number she had in mind disintegrated. “The thrift shop?”

“There’s nothing wrong with used clothes.”

She smiled, liking the idea after all. She would take a few tired items and make them into something new. “You’re absolutely right.”

“Okay, I’ll go. But just for a little while.”

She threw her arms around Mary and winked at Caleb. “We’re going to have such a good
time
.” She eased back. “So, when’s the dance?”

“Saturday,” Caleb chimed in.

“Saturday?” She had four days to make big things happen.

“If that’s too short notice—”

“It’s definitely not,” Abby reassured, understanding that Mary was already looking for a way to back out. “We’ll go to town today, if that works for you.”

“I think I can find some time.”

“Perfect.”

Mary glanced at her practical blue sports watch. “In fact, we should probably go pretty soon. I don’t want to fall behind with the house chores.”

“I’d like to change first, then I’ll be ready. And I’ll help with the house chores when we get home.”

“I’ll finish up in here with Caleb. I’ll meet you inside in about twenty minutes.”

She nodded. “See you Saturday, Caleb.”

“Bye now,” he said.

Abby turned, grinning her triumph as she made her way down the row of stalls to the exit. She rarely played matchmaker, but Mary and Caleb had the potential to be an incredibly cute couple. Mary needed someone with a gentle, sweet side to chip away at all of that serious, and Caleb fit the bill.

She closed the barn door behind her, doing a victory wiggle despite the harsh winds, pausing when she spotted Jerrod sending a nail into one of the upstairs shutters on the house. He shoved his hammer in the tool belt hanging on his hip and descended the ladder from heart-stopping heights as she moved along the short path. He jumped down, skipping the last four rungs as she reached the back steps.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” She took the stairs inside with Jerrod following.

“All finished up?”

“Until this evening.” She toed off her boots and hung her jacket on the rung, turned, and almost slammed into him as he settled his coat next to hers. “Sorry.”

“No problem.” He moved to the left as she did.

They both moved to the right.

She stopped. “Go ahead.”

“You first.”

Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her she couldn’t head upstairs and avoid an awkward encounter no matter how much she wanted to. “Thanks.” She skirted around him, making her way to the refrigerator.

Jerrod followed, leaning against the counter, crossing his arms at his chest. “How’d it go this morning?”

They’d run into each other several times while he’d been in and out of the barn with his tools, bending over in his snug jeans, repairing loose boards for his mother. “Pretty well.” She pulled out the plate of leftover chicken and bowl of salad.

“Uncle Jimmy says you’re turning into a real pro with the milking.”

She plucked up a decent-sized helping of Mary’s fresh-from-the-greenhouse greens, plopping them into a bowl, and pulled a knife from the drawer for the chicken. “Your family’s taught me well.”

“Who knew there was a farm girl beneath those designer clothes?” He smiled.

“Pretty crazy.” She grabbed the cutting board and sliced a breast in half, waiting for him to be on his way. She’d tried to avoid alone time with Jerrod since the Shelby incident on Saturday. They needed some space until she could figure out how she was supposed to look at him and not
want
him despite what he thought of her.

“Abigail.” He slid closer to her side. “When are you going to talk to me?”

“I’m talking to you right now.”

“Only because you’re too polite not to.”

“I’m trying to work everything out.” She looked up, meeting his eyes, sliding the blade along her skin instead of the chicken. “Ow!” She dropped the knife with a clatter as blood oozed down the pad of her index finger.

Jerrod moved in, twisting on the sink, grabbing her wrist, shoving her hand under the cold stream.

She sucked in a sharp breath as water hit her throbbing wound. She tried to jerk away and rammed into his chest. “I’m okay.”

He held her hand firm, stepping closer, pinning her between the counter and his solid, muscled body. “Rinse it out some.”

She breathed in his soap as he bent closer, examining the gash, his breath heating the top of her ear as he turned her hand from side to side. She closed her eyes as sparks tingled along her skin, remembering the way his lips had trailed hot kisses along her neck, the way his hungry mouth had demanded she keep up with his frenzied pace.

“Looks like you got yourself pretty good.” He twisted off the faucet and grabbed a paper towel, gripping her finger between the ripped paper, holding it above her heart. “Firm pressure.”

“I was careless.” She turned, desperate for space, and managed to wedge them face-to-face and chest-to-chest. “I’ll be fine.”

His gaze darted to her lips then held hers. “You need a bandage.”

“I’ll get one,” she said breathily. Even after the whole Shelby thing, even after the way he’d made her doubt herself, she
still
wanted to yank that mouth of his to hers. What was
wrong
with her? “Excuse me.”

“Abby.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Can we clear the air?”

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I want you to talk to me.” He moved his palms down her arms and back up. “I want us to be the way we were in LA—when we used to have fun together.”

His casual touch was pleasure and pain. “Nothing’s the same. Ever since the photo shoot…” she hesitated.
Screw it
. She was sick of dancing around the truth. “My feelings for you aren’t simple, Jerrod. I didn’t realize things had changed until the photo shoot. I understand that only makes this more awkward…”

His eyes filled with regret as he gripped her arms tighter. “My job—I can’t offer you more, Abigail.” He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“So you’ve said.”

“Your safety comes first.”

She sighed, tired of his lame justifications. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Use your job as an excuse. You’re not interested. I understand ‘no thank you’ just fine.”

“It’s not an excuse, Abigail. It’s the truth.”

She tilted her head, her brows raised. “I’m perfectly safe here.”

“For the most part you’re right, but what about when we leave in a couple weeks? We’ll be stepping right back into the line of fire. They want you dead, Abigail, and I won’t let that happen. If keeping my distance
now
means you’re alive in six weeks because my focus is where it needs to be, I’m willing to make a few sacrifices.”

When he said it like that he made sense, but what about the rest? What about the way he’d kissed her? She almost asked, but couldn’t bear to hear the real answer as to why he’d stopped. “What if you weren’t my bodyguard?”

He slid his finger down a lock of her hair, skimming her cheek along the way. “You’re a beautiful woman.”

What kind of answer was that? “This is messed up—all of it.” She pulled his hands away. “I don’t want us to be like this, Jerrod. I don’t.”

He rested his hands on the lip of the counter, not budging an inch for her to move by. “I don’t either. I miss you. I miss the fun we used to have when it was just the two of us.”

“So do I,” she admitted. But what now?

“Okay. Good. Let’s make this easy. Do you want to catch a movie with me tonight? Lady’s choice, of course.”

She bit the inside of her cheek as she looked in his eyes, more confused than ever. How was
anything
about this entire situation easy? “Jerrod—”

“We could have dinner first.”

She shook her head. They’d done the whole dinner and movie thing numerous times before, but a once simple evening out now felt too much like a date—a date he didn’t want…or did he? She would compromise. “How about we rent something and watch a movie here?”

He shrugged. “Your call.”

Supposedly it was her call, but she felt like she was along for the ride—wherever Jerrod chose to steer them. “I need to get a band aid.” She pushed against him, assuming he would move, but he held his ground.

“Hold on.”

She huffed out a breath. “What?”

“Friends.” He held out his hand.

She hesitated, then took his, shaking it. “Friends.” Even if that wasn’t what she wanted. “I’m going to get that band aid.” She moved around him, starting toward the stairs.

“Can I fix you a sandwich or finish making your salad? We can have lunch together.”

The air was clearer, kind of, but she wasn’t ready to dive into the way things used to be, if that was even possible. She stared into his steady blue eyes, realizing her world had officially turned upside down—again. A situation she once had some semblance of control over was now out of her hands. Jerrod had been the man she’d relied on for the last six months of her life. He’d soothed her during some of her worst moments and kept her safe. Now he left her unsettled as she struggled to figure out how to navigate their strange new “friendship.”

“Uh, I’ll get something after I clean up,” she said. She took the stairs to the bathroom and grabbed a Band-Aid, covering her wound, then went to her room, pulling boot-cut jeans and a snug spaghetti strap black top from her drawer. Turning, she stopped, facing the window, staring out at the endless snowy fields and highway far in the distance as she took off her work clothes and put on her pants and top. Freedom. She dismissed the sudden yearning to be away from the house and Jerrod as she walked to the closet for her black button-down sweater and boots.

She slid soft cashmere up her arms and plunked her feet in buttery leather, glancing outside once again, looking to the horizon as her heart rate quickened and the stirrings of unease skittered along her spine. “No. No.” She breathed in and out, clutching the edge of the bed as the familiar grips of panic came back to haunt her. “You’re fine. You’re fine,” she assured herself as sweat popped along her forehead,  and Jerrod’s footsteps on the hard wood floors downstairs echoed like gunshots in her head.

Standing up straight, she grabbed her purse with a trembling hand. She had to go. She had to get out of here
now
—away from the farm, but more, away from Jerrod and all the confusion. She glanced down at her wrist and the watch she put on every morning before she started her day and unclasped it, leaving it on the side table.
I can find you anywhere with this.
The thought was typically a comfort, but today she didn’t want to be found, not by Dimitri or Victor, not by Jerrod either. She looked back at the pretty twists of silver and gold and left the jewelry behind, pausing in the hallway, glancing to the stairwell to her right, leading to the kitchen and Jerrod, then the stairs to the left, and turned, walking quietly down the steps, desperately trying to avoid any squeaks that would give her away.

She inched her way forward, careful to keep her heels from connecting with the floor as she moved closer to the front door, snagging the keys to Mary’s pickup when she made it. Closing her eyes tight, she twisted the doorknob slowly and stepped outside, breathing in the blessedly frigid air as she continued to sweat.