R Is for Rebel (8 page)

“So… you and Will were star-crossed lovers, then? How romantic!”

Penny took a bite of her muffin and stared at Abigail. “It sounds romantic now, when you say it like that, but we eloped and it was more like the end of
The
Graduate
than anything else. So scary.”

“Oh dear!” Abby brought the palm of one hand to her cheek. “That bad?”

“I know! Can you imagine? My poor mother. Bless her heart. Those few weeks were probably the worst of her life. I was her only child and my father swore he'd never speak to me again.” Penny gave a quick laugh. “He was always one for blowing his top on Monday morning and then making amends by the weekend. But they were long weeks, I'll tell you what.”

“My mother can hold a grudge for months. Years even. You're lucky.”

Penny tipped her head to one side. “I've never met your mother, but Eliot mentioned she is… formidable.”

“That's an understatement! But go back to your mother and how you worked it out.”

“Oh. My father came around eventually. What else could he do? He'd raised me to be honest and trustworthy and all that, and Will was the man I loved.” She shrugged as if it had all been out of her hands. “So there really wasn't any way around it. I had complete faith in Will Cranbrook. He promised me he would always love me and that he was going to take his father's one truck and turn it into a hundred trucks.” Penny took a slow sip of coffee. “And that's just what he did. He started shipping for all of the department stores in the Midwest, and that's when we met Sarah's parents. And they were so sweet. Sarah's mother especially. You know how some people are just good? I remember Elizabeth James like that. I only met her a couple of times when we went to Chicago for a treat, but she was a doll. Just like Sarah. So sunny.”

Abby had a slight twinge of something resembling jealousy, that Sarah had made such a good impression on Eliot's mother. Not that anything had ever developed between Eliot and Sarah other than a professional friendship, but Abby still felt like she was a bit
un-sunny
by comparison.

“Oh. That's awkward, I'm sorry—” Penny blurted.

“No,” Abby interrupted, embarrassed that her twinge of something-or-other must have shown on her face. “No—”

“Silly me. I just meant that you're lucky to have Sarah as a sister now. And her mother was just all sweet and smiling, like Sarah was when I met her last year. But,” Penny inhaled, then continued in a lower voice, “I never thought she was the right type of woman for Eliot.”

Abigail blushed, silently damning her fair complexion for giving her up.

“Oh silly me. I'd better stop talking before I say anything else ridiculous.” Penny took a sip of her coffee and tried to stay quiet. But it just wasn't her way. “
You
are the right type of woman for Eliot,” she whispered, just as the back door flew open and drew their attention toward the kitchen. Penny winked at Abby as the two Cranbrook men strode into the sunroom.

Eliot's father walked straight to his wife and kissed her hello, right on the lips. She reached up one hand and placed it on his cheek as he pulled away.

“How are you this morning?” he asked, as if he really wanted to know.

Again, Abby felt like she was being exposed to something too personal, that she wasn't meant to see. She looked away, to give them privacy or something, and turned toward Eliot by accident. He was watching her watch his parents and he gave her a small sad smile, as if to say,
Now
do
you
see
why
I
think
people
are
meant
to
be
loving
and
kind
to
one
another?

“How are
you
this morning, Abigail?” he asked, echoing his father's kindness to his mother.

Abby lifted her mug. “Excellent. And you?”

“Great! Perfect day to walk the ditch. No trumpets or fancy horses and hounds here, but we still manage to bag a few birds. You up for it?”

“You know I am!” She stood up and felt all hot and bothered as Eliot watched her head toward the kitchen in the frumpy robe. “I'll just have a quick shower and we can head out.”

“Okay. See you in a few.” His eyes narrowed and he watched her even more closely.

“Okay.” She bounded off, suddenly thrilled at the prospect of shooting a rifle at some small innocent creatures in order to blow off a little pent-up sexual frustration.

***

Later that night, the January wind whipped in behind them as Eliot opened the door to the saloon and gave Abby a little shove to hurry her along. She laughed as he pushed her into the crowded space and steered her toward the back of the bar near the pool table.

One of the guys playing pool raised his cue and called out, “Hey! Eliot! Over here.”

Abby loved seeing Eliot in this world, surrounded by childhood friends who knew him as the nerdy straight-A student and track star. Of course, they knew he had gone on to make piles of money and was a successful international businessman, but he was the same person he'd always been when he was back in town. He was the same to everyone—whether he was chatting with one of his private jet pilots or the checkout girl at the Kum-and-Go.

She smiled at the memory of the Kum-and-Go. When they'd pulled into the convenience store to get gas that afternoon, Abby nearly fell out of the car laughing. “The Kum-and-Go? How can you keep a straight face?”

Eliot smiled that sweet, knowing smile that was starting to drive Abigail to sexual distraction on a minute-by-minute basis. “It's just the name of a chain of gas stations. What?” But his smile was wider and she imagined all sorts of suggestive, exciting, promising ideas crossing his mind. He was seriously going to stick to his guns about this whole making-her-profess-what-she-really-wanted nonsense, and she was beginning to think she wouldn't mind downright begging if he'd just give her a tumble already.

But she kept veering away at the last minute, seeing the intensity of something deeper in his eyes, something she just didn't think she could provide. Of course, she was tempted to risk going deeper with Eliot, but it felt like a devil's wager, the kind you accept because you are so sure you can't lose—when, in reality, you don't have the collateral to make good on your debt. It was better for both of them if she kept it light.

“Oh, nothing,” Abigail said. “Kum-and-Go. Shag-and-Dash. The usual.”

Eliot burst out laughing and stepped out of the car to put the gas in his dad's station wagon. This whole trip had initially seemed a little strange—joining Eliot for his grandmother's birthday in Iowa—but ultimately, Abigail had wanted to satisfy her curiosity, to see what type of world created a man like Eliot. A good man. So she'd come to the middle of America to have a look.

So far, the two of them had bagged a few pheasants (a form of shooting that was locally known as “walking the ditch”) and tried on an assortment of Carhartt overalls at the local tractor store. Abigail was charmed. Now, after a four-hour meal with Eliot's parents and cousins and aunts and uncles and great aunts and uncles and the ninety-year-old birthday girl, tradition dictated that the two of them head into the tiny town near where Eliot had grown up, in order for him to have a drink at the local watering hole and reconnect with his old middle school buddies.

They continued to snake their way to the rear of the bar, Lynyrd Skynyrd cranking in the background, and several people calling, “Hey, Eliot!” or “How you doin', Eliot?”

When they got back to his friends at the pool table, one guy gave Eliot a big bear hug and then pulled away. “How are you, man?”

“Good. You?”

“Good.” He smiled then turned to Abigail. “And who are you?” He reached out his hand to shake hers.

“Abigail Heyworth.” She gave him a firm shake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Lady Abigail Heyworth,” Eliot added.

“Feck off,” Abigail said, punching him on the upper arm.

“Nice to meet you too, Lady Abigail. I'm Jason Mercer.” He had a great smile, kind of shy and hesitant.

“It's just Abigail. Don't listen to Eliot about any of that lady-nonsense,” Abby said.

“Why not?” Eliot asked as he flagged down a waitress. “Two Buds and two shots of Jack, please.” Then turning back to Jason and Abigail, he said, “She always introduces me as Eliot Cranbrook, head of Danieli-Fauchard.” He turned to face Abigail. “See how it feels?”

“Okay, okay,” Abby laughed. “I won't introduce you that way anymore. Just Eliot, all right?”

Jason took a sip of his beer and watched the byplay between them. “So, how long have you two been going out?”

They both froze.

“We're not going out,” Abigail replied way too fast. Then she put an arm around Eliot's shoulders and gave him a collegial squeeze. “Just great friends.”

Eliot smiled at Jason. “Right. Just friends.”

“Yeah, right.” Jason said, then chalked his cue and took his shot. The other guy playing pool had been listening to their conversation and looked up at Eliot with a smile. “How you doing, Eliot?”

“Great, Mike, how about you?”

“All good. Just in town for a couple of nights to see my mom, then back on the road.”

They spent the next hour getting foxed. The Budweisers and the shots kept coming. Abby settled into the rhythm of the place, sitting on a stool next to Eliot as his old friends came and went, listening to how easy and sure he was. He
was
good. What was her problem? She wanted to be with him and he wanted to be with her.

His friend Mike was standing at Eliot's left and they were laughing about their friend from fourth grade who always used to trip when he was getting off the school bus. Abby was staring at Eliot; after a few drinks, she didn't care about the propriety or impropriety of just staring at Eliot.

Feeling her attention upon him, he turned slowly and looked right into her eyes. “What?”

“Nothing.” She looked away and took a swig from the beer bottle.

“Really nothing? Or something that you
wish
was nothing?”

She took a deep breath and faced it head on. Mike was still standing there, sort of half part of the conversation, smiling at her over Eliot's shoulder. It was probably a really bad idea to dive into the relationship pool, right in this tiny Midwestern bar surrounded by a bunch of Eliot's childhood friends. On the other hand, the discussion was less likely to get out of hand with an audience. “I feel like you're trying to best me somehow, and I don't like it.”

“Woooooo…” Mike gave a low sound. “She's got you there, man.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Eliot asked.

“Don't get defensive,” Abigail said, leaning her shoulder into his. “It's just I get this feeling sometimes that most guys just want to be the guy who gets the girl to quit liking girls.”

Mike choked on some of his beer with that one. “Dude. She's kind of right.”

Abigail smiled at Mike, feeling like she had scored a point in the Exposing Eliot finals. It was a low blow, because she'd never thought that about Eliot. He'd never once made her feel like her relationship with Tully was some sort of titillating appetizer to Eliot's main course. It was a deflection; she simply didn't have the courage to admit she was an emotional coward.

Eliot narrowed his eyes at her and then took a quick look at Mike. Turning slowly back to Abigail, he asked, “What do you think? That I'm turned on by the idea of you in bed with Tully… and then being in bed with me?”

Abby smiled and lifted her chin. “What do you think, Mike? Does it turn guys on to think of me with a woman… and then to think of me coming over to the dark side to be with a man?”

“No disrespect, but… yeah, totally.”

Abigail smiled, feeling victorious again, but it was short-lived. Eliot didn't look defeated and she was starting to feel a hint of worry. He was too good a debater, always getting her to look at a problem one way, only to show her why that point of view was totally screwed up.

“See, Eliot,” she pressed, “it's not as though I'm creating an unheard of scenario here.”

He took a considering sip of his beer and looked her in the eye. “So, you're saying only men are turned on by that idea?”

“Well—”

“Are you saying you wouldn't be turned on by the idea of
me
having been with a guy… and then falling for you?”

Abigail felt the floor drop out from under her and her heart started to hammer frantically—both from the Eliot-with-a-guy talk and the falling-for-you talk. “Well… since that…” she stammered. “I mean, Eliot… come on! That's just… so entirely unlikely!” She tried to laugh there at the end, but her face must have flushed and Eliot saw it. And he liked it.

Mike took a sip of his beer and raised his eyebrows. He and Eliot exchanged a glance and smiled at each other. Eliot turned back to face Abigail, but it was Mike who spoke. “I wouldn't say
entirely
unlikely.”

“Oh. I mean…” Abigail stumbled over her words. “It's not tit for tat…” But she was turned on by the idea. Really turned on. “Were you two ever… I mean…” Abigail blushed.

Eliot turned to Mike and smiled. “She gets tongue-tied sometimes. I think it's kind of hot.”

Shit
. Shitshitshit. Here she was feeling all I'm-gay-and-you're-not and suddenly it was looking like Eliot wasn't Mr. One Hundred Percent Heterosexual American Male after all. Damn her mother for calling her out on her reverse prejudices, because now it was endless. Abby felt like she was in a perpetual state of being hit over the head with how short-sighted and narrow-minded she really was.