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Authors: Ophelia London

Tags: #Romance, #Contemporary

Abby Road (22 page)

BOOK: Abby Road
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The rest of their cryptic conversation continued in Italian. I recognized a couple of words but was clueless of their context, because Todd was speaking so quickly. His eyes moved to me a few times, flashes of a smile. After he hung up, he stood by the phone, one hand at the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” he offered when he returned, looking slightly scarlet. He sat on the coffee table. “My father’s been across the pond for a week. She’s lonely.”

I loved that he was blushing; it helped me feel a little less insecure about my similar tendency.

“That’s sweet,” I said, wondering if my eyelashes had really just fluttered.

“There’s blood on your shirt.” He tugged at the clothing in question. “You look like you’ve just murdered someone. Let me give you one of mine to change into.”

He made a move to stand, but something in my expression kept him seated. For another few moments, it was quiet.

Never had I felt so comfortable being with someone in silence, just feeling how my heart beat inside my chest, knowing he was near.

Suddenly, Todd slapped his hands on his knees, and I jumped about a foot.

“Okay,” he said in a nervously tense voice that made him even sexier, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to talk now. What I need from you, Abby, is to please just sit here.” He reached out, forcing my shoulders back into the couch. “And let me say a few things. No interruptions. Okay?”

“I can’t leave anyway.” I smiled, flexing my damaged foot.

Todd chuckled lightly, eyes rolling to heaven. But then, it was like his entire demeanor changed. First, his spine lengthened and straightened, and then his shoulders squared, all while an unmistakable expression of conviction took over his face. He wasn’t joking around anymore. Lieutenant Camford, USMC, in the flesh.

Oh, baby.

“A few months ago, I made a conscious decision to take more chances in life, not to fall back on that safe bet. I’m a Marine at heart. I deliberate strategically; that’s how my brain works.” He exhaled and leaned back a bit.
At ease
. “But while speaking on more tender subjects, you should also know I can sometimes be longwinded. I apologize for that in advance.”

I was about to speak, but he lifted a hand, probably sensing that I was going to say something inappropriately sarcastic to lighten the atmosphere.

“Abby. I really like you,” he stated, locking eyes with me. “And when I say you, I mean
you
, not Abigail Kelly the rock star.”

“I’m hardly a rock star,” I mumbled.

“I like what you’re about,” he resumed. “I like what you laugh at, what you cry at, what’s important to you.” My bones were beginning to feel all ribbony at his words. He tilted his head to the side, noticing my new expression. “The way you smile with your whole self. Like right now.”

I couldn’t help grinning, though a bit self-consciously.

He cleared his throat and adjusted my bandaged foot. “I told you to keep this elevated.”

After another moment, he sighed loudly, as though frustrated about something. “I never knew I could have so much in common with someone like you. Yesterday was one of the most refreshing days I’ve spent with a woman in quite a long time. Lately my dating experiences haven’t been very positive.” His focus seemed a little strained as he looked away. The clock above the mantel ticked. “Like I was saying down on the beach, we’ve known each other only two days—barely enough time to start anything.” He was lacing and unlacing his fingers between his knees. “That being said, I have no qualms at telling you that I have a feeling about this. About you and me.”

I swallowed, trying not to melt into a puddle.

“I hope I’m not taking my delicate male braggadocio into my hands when I assume that you have a feeling about me, too?” He hesitated.

I nodded.

“Good.” He nodded in return, with a smile. “Because I think we’ve got something here.” His index finger made a little motion, pointing to me and then to himself. “I know we’re still pretty young, so it’s only fair to warn you.”

The way he was grinning at me made his warning seem more like a delicious challenge.

“I
am
looking for someone, Abby. Someone to be on equal footing with, someone to balance me.” He stopped again to chuckle at something private. “It’s pretty amazing that we understand each other so well. On some level, I feel like I already
know
you.”

I wanted to tell him I felt exactly the same way. I wanted to say
something
, but I knew he wasn’t finished.

“I see the drive and commitment in you. You’re loyal to a fault, and your passion for life shows in everything. That’s incredibly attractive to me.” He turned to look out the window. “Last night, you said you laughed more with me than you had in a year.” His lips smiled but his eyes did not, as if he were thinking about something else. “You don’t know how good it makes me feel that I can do that for you.” He didn’t go on right away, perhaps running the complexity of our scenario through his business-school brain one last time.

“You’re interesting, Abby, and inspiring, and . . . well, I suppose that’s all I have to say.” He shrugged. “I just thought you should know how I feel before this goes any further.”

He slapped his hands on his knees again, which was probably a signal for me to start talking. But I had nothing ready. Nothing, at least, as lyrical or poignant as his words had been. I’d grown lazy, too, used to having my responses written out for me, singing what was placed before me as my answers to the world’s questions.

“Interesting and inspiring?” I couldn’t help repeating. “Is that what you were mulling about over the last hour?”

“Maybe.”

I laughed quietly, tucking some hair behind my ears. I may not have had a speech prepared, but there was one thing I
was
sure of, and the man sitting across from me should have been aware of at least that much.

“I want to stay here,” I began. “I do. More than just about anything.”

Todd didn’t so much as blink at first, but then he exhaled and dropped his chin. When he looked up, he was wearing a relieved expression. For the first time that day, he looked truly calm.

“But,” I quickly added, “I suppose it’s my turn to say my just-so-it’s-out-there stuff.”

“Please.” He leaned back. “I’m all ears.”

As I took a moment, my gaze moved to the window. Gray clouds were blowing in from the west. It looked like rain was coming, which only meant the streets and air would be clean and refreshed in a matter of minutes. The great thing about tropical climates was that bad weather hits, but the effects usually
improve
conditions.

I wondered if the same could be said for people.

There was something more I needed to get off my chest. And I was totally dreading it. From miles away thunder rolled, as did the pit of my stomach when I began to speak. “Todd,” I said, looking down at my lap, already feeling ashamed, “if you want me to stay because you’ll get your picture in the paper, it’s not worth it. Being around me is more of a hassle than anything. Believe me.” When I looked up, he flinched, his brows angled.

I knew it was an unfair thing to suggest, because there wasn’t a bone in my body that believed Todd wanted fifteen minutes of fame out of me, but that kind of thing had happened before. More than once.

I ran one hand across my eyes, forcing myself to go on. “It’s just . . . nowadays, I don’t always know who my real friends are. I don’t know who wants me because of
me
or because of who I am.” I stared at the wall across from me, my voice growing louder. “It really, really sucks. Now it’s nearly impossible for me to trust any—”

He cut me off by sweeping his hand through the air, rising to his feet, and grumbling in a foreign language that was unfamiliar to me. It wasn’t too difficult, however, to recognize the universal tone of swearing.

“I don’t mean
you
, necessarily,” I amended. “I’m—”

“Just . . . give me a minute, please?” he muttered. I couldn’t see his face, but his voice was strangled as he made his way to the red punching bag in the corner. He stood in front of it, staring, and then he took a few swift jabs. A few more. Soon he was whacking away at the thing like Mohammad Ali.

“Todd?”

“One more set.”

I gasped, hoping his bloodthirsty tone wasn’t directed at me. I sat still, a silent countdown going on in my head.

Finally, exactly twelve pummels later, he stopped. I was nearly blown away when he turned to me with a little smirk twisting his lips. “I’ve got this temper thing,” he said, scratching his ear with the back of his hand. “Which I’m working on.” He gave the bag a gentle tap. “Huh. A few months ago I would’ve torn this thing from the hook and smashed it through a window.” His smile flattened as he exhaled. “I’m sorry—that had nothing to do with you. Something about what you said.”

“I’m sorry I said anything.”

“Don’t be.” He reached one hand behind his neck, kneading the muscles. “There were similar problems with my last relationship. We were engaged, and she . . .” He trailed off, his shoulders slumping an inch.

I, on the other hand, leaned forward. I was curious to hear about his ex, of course, but more so, I felt compassion for this man I’d just met but who I felt I already knew as well as anybody.

While he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, I noticed how his stare sank to a lower point out the window, like he was reliving something unpleasant. And suddenly, it took everything in me not to run into his arms and promise that everything would be all right, promise that his ex—whoever she was, that
greedy woman
, that
evil cow
—would never hurt him again if I had anything to say about it.

Almost as an answer to my undeclared promise, Todd spoke. “I know it’s not fair to drag baggage from past relationships into new ones.” Deep creases lined his forehead. “But my memory serves me far too well. That’s in my nature, too.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“My family,” he said, looking away, “has quite a bit of money. Some people enjoy taking advantage of that. I’ve been used before, too.”

I blinked, finally understanding. More importantly, relating.

“So I perfectly understand why you have to protect yourself.” He turned back to me. “We both do. And yeah, it sucks.”

So we were in agreement. Fabulous.

I looked away to stare at his bookshelf, forcing myself to read a plaque he had received from some entrepreneur group. Next to it was a framed document with the United States Marine Corps seal at the top.

After a minute I said, “There’re some other things we have to talk about.”

Todd nodded. “I know.”

“But why don’t we wait till you calm down some more?” I grinned, enjoying how our roles had reversed.

Todd grinned back, if only for a second. “I am perfectly calm, Abby,” he stated, but the vein popped out on his neck told a different story. He lifted his bandaged hand, noting his bright red knuckles. “Maybe I overdid it a bit.”

“This is just as new for me as it is for you,” I explained.

Todd held my gaze, his injured hand dropping to his side.

“We have to make up the rules as we go.”

“Rules. Right.” Some more foreign swearing went on as he took another hard punch at the bag. I guess he wasn’t as calm as he’d proclaimed. “This whole thing really does suck,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting to like you so much.” He shot me a playful glare. “It’s really irritating.”

“Thanks.” I tried not to laugh. “You irritate me, too.”

Todd finally smiled, a deep, genuine one, all the way to his bright green eyes. Seeing it made the bonfire flare in my chest. I fought to stifle it. Now was not the time for unpredictable female hormones . . . no matter how helpful they may be.

I pushed on before losing my nerve. “Even if I stay here all summer, I’ll have to leave eventually—in September. You have a house here, a business, and Sammy. Your life is
here
, not there.”

His smile dropped.

“I know,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ve been thinking about that.” He made a fist, ready to take one last whack at the bag, but he looked at his bandaged fingers, grimaced, and flicked the bag with his other hand.

“It’s only three months.”

“I can count,” he replied with a half grin.

We both chuckled, but it faded quickly.

“So I’m guessing the time for all hedging has passed?” he asked.

I snorted at his major understatement.

“Okay. What’s the plan?”

I sighed and moved my gaze out the French doors, considering potential reactions to the new plan I had in mind. For starters, Lindsey would be thrilled, but she’d shower me with
I told you so’
s. Max would be pissed, even though he’d
claimed
it was totally up to me whether I went to work that summer. Everyone else, I realized, would manage just fine without me for three months.

BOOK: Abby Road
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