Abby's Christmas
Lynnette Kent
Noah's come home!Abby Brannon and her father, Charlie, run the Carolina Diner–the place where everyone in town comes for Abby's special brand of TLC. Abby longs to travel, to see other places–to have someone take care of her for once. And she has someone special in mind for that job. The trouble is, no one knows what happened to Noah Blake after he disappeared from New Skye fifteen years ago.Noah's return sends a shock wave through the town–especially when everyone starts talking about where he's been. But should Abby believe what she hears, or should she trust her heart?
A dropped pin would have sounded loud in the absolute silence
Noah felt half the room staring at his unprotected back. The other half stared at his heated face. He couldn’t leave the diner without paying for his breakfast, or he would have been gone.
“What are you talking about?” Abby pushed between the chairs and the tables, arriving at Officer Hayes’s side. “I think you’ve been drinking, Wade.”
The officer shook his head and gave her a righteous smile. “Nope. Haven’t touched a drop all week.”
Her face set in a skeptical frown, Abby crossed her arms and stared up at the big man. “So what are we talking about here? A speeding ticket in one of those traps you guys like to set up in small towns?”
“No, ma’am.” Hayes looked around, making sure he had everybody’s attention. “Noah Blake was paroled from a state of Georgia correctional facility in Atlanta on Monday morning after serving three years of a seven-year sentence.”
“For what?” Abby’s voice wobbled.
“Manslaughter,” Hayes announced. “Mr. Blake, here, killed a man in Georgia. And he went to prison for it.”
Dear Reader,
After “Where do you get your ideas,” the most frequent question an author hears is “How long does it take to write a book?” The idea for the AT THE CAROLINA DINER series came to me in 1999 as I was writing other stories. I got the go-ahead from my editors in the summer of 2000 and submitted the first completed book in January of 2001. So in one way or another, then, I’ve been working on Abby’s Christmas for more than five years.
All that time I’ve been visiting a diner of my own—a small “restaurant/deli” near my home, where they cook a good breakfast (including grits) and keep my iced-tea glass full. The waitresses know me by sight and can usually predict what I’ll order. (I change my mind occasionally, just to keep them on their toes.) They call me “honey” and sometimes “darlin’” and they remember I want unsweetened tea. During the thirty or forty minutes I spend with them, I feel cosseted and cared for. Mothered.
Abby Brannon mothers her customers at the Carolina Diner. She longs for adventure, but accepts the chains of friendship and love binding her to her hometown…until Noah Blake returns. Noah’s had enough adventure to fill several lifetimes. Now he’s looking for a connection to the places and people of his past. Abby is definitely a part of that past. But is he part of her future?
I hope you enjoy the time you spend with my friends in New Skye, especially Abby and Noah. I love to hear from readers through the regular mail and by e-mail. My personal Web site is in transition, but you can reach me—and other great Superromance authors—at www.superauthors.com.
All the best,
Lynnette Kent
PMB 304
Westwood Shopping Center
Fayetteville, NC 28314
Abby’s Christmas
Lynnette Kent
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
A friend who talks me through my fears and doubts and celebrates my successes without reservation.
A writer who pushes me—and my characters—in the right direction with one little word: “Why?”
A woman who blesses my life and my work.
For Pam, with love
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER ONE
THE BELL ON THE DINER’S front door jingled, and Abby Brannon glanced up from the miniature Christmas tree she’d just started to drape with a string of shiny red beads.
A man stepped out of the bright December sunshine, then halted for a moment just over the threshold, blinking his eyes against indoor shadows. His black hair had been cut short, without much skill or style. He looked a little sunburned across his arrogant nose and high cheekbones. His broad shoulders filled out a scarred leather jacket, while dusty biker boots and lean hips in faded jeans completed the bad-boy-drifter picture.
The beads slipped through Abby’s fingers to clatter on the counter. Noah Blake.
Only when the newcomer looked at her across the empty room did she realize she’d said his name aloud. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head slightly. “Is that you, Abby?”
At the sound of his husky voice, her heart jumped like a startled frog. She swallowed. “Who else would you expect to find at the Carolina Diner in the middle of the afternoon?”
She rounded the counter and confronted him where he stood, grabbing the lapels of his jacket to shake him a little. “You’ve been gone a long time, but things haven’t changed that much. Welcome back!”
His hands closed over her shoulders and he grinned down at her. If she hadn’t been stunned by his sudden arrival, she certainly was at that moment. Noah’s one-sided grin was a sugar high she’d never been able to resist.
“Thanks.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek, then let her go. “Kinda quiet in here, isn’t it?”
Abby fought to keep from touching the kissed cheek with her fingertips. “The usual lull between late lunch and early dinner. Come sit down. You look a little chilly—what can I do to warm you up?” Good thing she’d turned away before she asked that stupid question, so he couldn’t see her blush. “Coffee? Tea?”
“Got any hot chocolate?”
When she glanced at him in surprise, he shrugged. “I haven’t had some in…a long time. I just thought it would taste good.”
“Well, sure. I can make you hot chocolate. Give me a couple of minutes.” She stepped through the kitchen door, then poked her head out again. “The menu hasn’t changed since you left, but in case you don’t remember…”
Propping one hip on a stool, Noah pulled the plastic folder out of the clip on the counter. “Right here.”
“You got it.” Abby smiled, then went into the empty kitchen to hyperventilate.
I can’t believe he’s here. She drew hot water from the pot and blended in cocoa powder and sugar until they melted. I thought he’d have got himself killed by now. Or arrested. Adding vanilla, then milk, she heated her brew on the burner. Why has he come back? Should I ask him? There’s no way it could have anything to do with me. Right?
The suggestion left her too shaky to pick up the mugs of cocoa. She bought time by squirting whipped cream on the tops, then dishing up a couple of cherries for decoration. When she thought her hands could handle the strain, she grabbed a thick white mug in each hand, dragged in a deep breath and headed back to the counter.
“Here you go.” Setting his drink in front of him, she backed up against the service counter and took a sip from her own. “Enjoy.”
Noah toasted her with a lift of his cup. “Thanks.” After one taste, he looked at her in surprise. “How’d you make this?”
“Cocoa, sugar, water, vanilla and milk. A little salt. Is something wrong?”
“I just…expected the usual powder.” He shrugged. “Not many people make hot chocolate from scratch.”
“I’m an old-fashioned girl, I guess.” She felt her cheeks heat up. Again. “So, how long have you been in town?”
Noah squinted at the clock over the counter. “Almost thirty minutes now.”
“You came here first? You haven’t seen your mom?”
“Not yet.”
Surprised in her turn, she raised an eyebrow. “She doesn’t know you’re coming, does she?” When he shook his head, she nodded. “I talked to her just yesterday, when I took her to the grocery store. No wonder she didn’t say anything.” Noah’s mother was not the kind of person to enjoy surprises. “Would you like to call her from here? Give her a little warning?”
Now he was the one with flushed cheeks, and a storm in his dark gaze. “You think she needs warning?”
“This will be a pretty big shock—you showing up after fifteen years away. And she’s been sick. Did you know that?”
“Uh, no.”
“She’s supposed to use her oxygen all the time.”
“I—”
“It’s not good for her to get upset.”
In a sudden hurry, Noah downed the last of his chocolate and stood up. “This was a bad idea, after all. I think I’ll just keep going. Don’t mention I was here.” His long strides quickly took him outside.
Abby rushed after him and found him standing beside a big Harley. “Noah, I didn’t mean… Noah!” She grabbed his arm as he jerked on a glove. “First of all, you owe me one-sixty for the hot chocolate.”
He shoved his bare hand into the pocket of his jeans.
“More important, you can’t run away like this.”
“Who says?” He crammed a couple of dollars into her fingers, still wrapped around his sleeve. The leather was cold, the bills warm from his body.
“You’ll hate yourself if you do.”
“So what’s new?” His mouth hardened into a straight line.
She squandered the only leverage she had left. “You can’t let your mother die without ever seeing her son again.”
He stared at her a long time. The resistance in his expression made her want to weep. “She’s…dying?”
“She’s got diabetes, heart and kidney problems. Her health has been precarious for several years now.”
They stood still, gazes locked, while the sharp wind whipped up dust in the gravel parking lot. A small, dirty dog trotted to the bike, sat by the rear wheel and lifted a paw to touch Noah’s leg.
“You’ve got a friend.” Abby let herself be diverted. “He wants a lift.”
“Yeah, I helped him out of some trouble back in South Carolina. Now he thinks he owns me.” Noah pulled out of her grasp. He bent to pick up the animal and stowed the dirty little guy in the backpack hanging from the bike’s seat.
“You brought him here with you?”
“Didn’t have much choice.” Swinging the backpack onto his shoulders, he threw his leg over the bike and pulled on the other glove. “If I’d left him, the kids would’ve shot him to death with BB guns.”
Abby shuddered. “Where are you going?”
He gave her a resigned look as he buckled his helmet. “Where do you think? One-fifty Boundary Street. I’ll ride slow, in case you want to call and announce me.”
She smiled, but before she could say anything, he revved the engine and left the parking lot with a spray of gravel. Abby watched as he waited for the traffic light at the corner to change, then saw him head up the hill across the highway, toward his mother’s house.
Her heart sang. Noah is home!
Back inside the diner, she punched in the familiar telephone number, then hung up before the first ring. Noah’s mother might need more than just a call to warn her. She’d been in the hospital last week with her insulin wildly out of control. Maybe somebody should be there when Noah got home in case something happened.
By the time she’d finished thinking things through, Abby had the diner doors locked, the Closed sign on the door and her keys in her hand. She would stay just long enough to be sure Mrs. Blake was all right, then rush back to her usual routine.
Come to think of it, though, with Noah Blake in town, her life might never be usual or routine again.
NOAH GLANCED ACROSS the street at New Skye High School as he waited through the traffic light over the intersection beside the Carolina Diner. Not much had changed since his time, except for a row of portable classrooms added along the side. Hard to believe he’d ever been confined inside those orange brick walls. With a shake of his head, he left the school behind, rolling through the intersection, accelerating up the hill toward Boundary Street.
The rough, run-down neighborhoods he passed through hadn’t changed all that much, either. Some of the beer joints bore different names, some were gone, and others had opened since his time. More of the advertisements in the store windows were in Spanish and most of the men loafing in the parking lots and on the street corners looked Latino.
Passing through a business district of bars, pawn-shops and gas stations, he caught a yellow light and rolled to a stop with time to spare before red. The driver in the truck behind him sat on the horn, but traffic stops threatened trouble. Noah preferred to avoid any unscheduled encounters with the police.
A glance to the right showed him a parking lot stretching down the side street, deserted but for a white Toyota parked next to an overflowing Dumpster. As Noah watched, a little kid stood up in the front passenger window, fingers curled through a space between the top of the glass panel and the door frame. The child put its face up to that crack of air.
In a second of relative quiet, Noah heard the kid’s cry. “Da-a-ade-e-e!”
He turned the bike down the side street and parked in the empty lot, a short distance from the car. With the Harley locked and the keys in his pocket, he approached the vehicle slowly, giving the child a chance to see him, hoping not to cause a panic.
But the little boy stopped crying as Noah got closer, and stared through the window with the tears still wet on his thin, dirty face. His hair was cut too short, his head practically shaved. He wore a cheap quilted vest, an orange T-shirt, jeans, mismatched socks, but no shoes. The afternoon was chilly, with a temperature somewhere in the fifties, but the windows of the car had steamed up, so the little guy probably wasn’t cold. Noah remembered how warm a car could get if you cried enough, jumped up and down on the seats, beat on the windows.
He tried the back door handle and swore when he found it unlocked. At least his dad had locked him in.
Noah poked his head inside. “Hi,” he said quietly. “My name’s Noah.”
The child hiccuped and sniffed but didn’t speak.
“What’s your name?” No answer. “Where’s your mommy?”
“Mama,” the little boy said, and shuffled sideways to lean against the back of the seat he stood on. “Mama.” His movement stirred up the air in the car, along with an aroma of sweat, onions and wet diaper. “Mama.” He smiled, showing new teeth.
“Are you here by yourself?” Noah didn’t expect an answer.
But the boy said, “Daddy. Da-a-ade-e-e.”
So maybe the dad was somewhere nearby. And maybe he should be punched for leaving his kid alone like this. Or maybe he could just suffer when he came back to the car and the kid wasn’t there. Then again, a kidnapping charge would spell disaster for Noah.
And when had he ever let something like that stop him?
On the thought, Noah straightened up and opened the front passenger door. “Want to go for a walk?” he asked the kid. “We can find your dad.”
Again that smile. “Daddy.” Without hesitation, the little boy held out his arms to be picked up.
Rolling his eyes, Noah did just that, settling the child easily on one arm. The dog in his backpack hadn’t so much as stirred.
“Right.” Noah shut the car door and turned toward the street. “Let’s see—”
“Hey! Hey, put him down!” The shout came from behind. “Leave my kid alone!” Noah pivoted to see a man running toward him from the alley behind the building across the street.
“Daddy,” the boy in his arms cried, laughing now. “Daddy!”
“Hurt him and I’ll kill you,” his dad yelled. Nothing about him seemed dangerous—he was just a guy in sneakers, jeans and a dark blue windbreaker.
“I’m worried,” Noah yelled back. “Real worried.”
The man slowed as he reached the back of the car. “Just put him down. Tyler, come to Daddy. Come on, Tyler.”
Noah didn’t doubt that Tyler recognized his father. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to leave a child with such an irresponsible jerk.
He walked back toward the car. “Are you crazy, leaving a little kid alone like that? You’re lucky he didn’t just get out and wander away. Or that some pervert didn’t steal him.”
“He was okay. I was only gone a minute.” The guy looked beyond Noah to the street, then over his shoulder in the direction he’d come from. “Put him down.”
“He was crying his eyes out. And the doors were unlocked, for God’s sake.”
“I thought I locked the door. Just give me my kid and butt out, damn it.”
Noah put Tyler on the ground, steadying the little body until he got his balance. Tyler took off across the broken, rocky pavement, straight for his dad. “Daddy!”
The guy scooped up his kid. “Let’s go home, Ty.” Without another word to Noah, he buckled the kid into the car seat in the back of the car, slammed himself into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Gray smoke belched from the tailpipe and the motor ran rough. But within five seconds, the car shot across the lot, turned into the street and disappeared.
Noah went back to his bike, put on his helmet and headed toward Boundary Street. Abby had wanted to warn his mother. He’d sure given her plenty of time.
Thinking about that meeting in the diner, he shook his head in wonder. Whatever kind of greeting he’d expected when he came home, Abby’s generous welcome had totally surprised him. Her gold-green eyes had sparkled like polished topaz, and her smile had been genuine, without a trace of malice. He recalled the smoothness of her skin against his lips. She wasn’t slender, but who wanted slender when he could have a woman with such wonderful curves? His hands clenched as he thought about playing with the thick, reddish brown hair curling softly on her shoulders.
Slow down, son. Noah shifted on his seat. His body reacted to just the hint of sex with more enthusiasm than the circumstances warranted. Then again, until this week he hadn’t even seen a woman for a long, long time, let alone been with one, so maybe he could be pardoned for an overactive imagination.
He laughed at himself. Pardoned. Now, there was a word. No pardon had come down for Noah Blake. Just early parole and time off for good behavior.
And, maybe, a chance to start over.
Just below the top of the biggest hill in town, Boundary Street performed the function for which it was named, cleanly separating the already-haves in New Skye from the wish-I-could-gets. The north side of the street was heavily wooded, sheltering the upper class from the harsh realities of life on the south—and poor—side.
Noah pulled the bike to the curb in front of a little house midway along the south side of Boundary. The white siding cried out for paint, the blue shutter on the right side of the living room window hung by one nail, and the roof needed replacing. But the chain-link fence, rusty and sagging though it was, still enclosed the well-tended flower beds that had always been Marian Blake’s pride and joy. Neatly raked and weed free, the garden displayed flowers even in December. Camellias bloomed pink, red and white. Pansy faces danced in pots on the steps, while ivy and periwinkle twined underneath the azaleas.
With his helmet braced under his arm, Noah stared at the garden he’d spent hundreds of hours on. He struggled for a deep breath, but a pair of giant hands seemed to have closed down on his windpipe.
Across the street behind him, a car door slammed. With quick steps, Abby joined him. “She loves her garden. There’s always something blooming, which is a miracle as far as I’m concerned.”
Noah cleared his throat. “I…I’m surprised she keeps it up.” He pulled himself together. “What are you doing here?”
“I wondered if even a call might be upsetting. So I thought I’d—”
“Introduce me? Like a butler or something?”
Abby put her hands on her hips. “I’m just trying to help.”
“I don’t need any help with my own mother, thanks.”
She returned his glare without flinching. “I didn’t for a minute think you did. But maybe she needs some help with you.”
Without waiting for his answer, she pushed open the lopsided gate and marched up the sidewalk to his mother’s front door. The bell hadn’t worked fifteen years ago. Judging by the fact that Abby used the knocker, it still didn’t.
After what seemed like a long time, the door creaked open. Noah heard his mother’s voice—high, a little hoarse—and Abby’s warm tone. Like it or not, he was being introduced.
In the pack on his back, the dog wiggled, fighting to get out. Noah shrugged out of the bag, stepped into the front yard and secured the gate, then let the dog run free.
The few steps he took along the front walk required more guts than Noah had expected. Finally, he came to a stop just behind Abby and looked up into his mother’s face. He might not have recognized her if he’d met her anywhere else. Her skin was pale, and not just from shock at his arrival. She’d gained forty or fifty pounds since the last time he’d seen her. Once a warm brown, her unkempt hair was now streaked with white and faded to almost beige.
She stared at him, eyes wide, mouth a circle of surprise. “Noah?”
He managed a smile. “Hi, Ma. How are you?”
“I can’t believe…” she said faintly. Then she looked beyond him. “Get that dog out of my flowers! What the hell is he doing in my yard? Get him out, get him out!” There was nothing at all faint about the order.
Noah turned at the same time as Abby, and they both went after the dog. The mutt, of course, decided the chase was all a game. He dashed from corner to corner, wagging his tail and panting, refusing all pleas to come, to be a good dog, to get the hell out of the flower bed.
Marian Blake stood on the porch step, yelling instructions. “There he is! He’s heading toward the back—don’t let him run over the irises! Don’t you step on my daylilies, Noah Blake!”
Vaulting over the fading lily leaves, Noah bent to crawl under the camellias next to the wall of the house. “Stupid dog. I’m gonna strangle you when I get my hands on you.”
“That’s not incentive.” Abby crawled in beside him. “I wouldn’t come if you talked to me in that voice.”
“Yeah, you’ve been real successful in getting hold of him so far.”
“I came closer than you did.” She eased farther down the house wall, peering under the bushes, crooning, “Come on, sweetie. It’s okay. Nobody will hurt you.”
The dog sat halfway between them, among the fallen camellia blossoms, feinting one way, then the other, every time one of them reached for him.
“I’ve had enough,” Noah growled.
“What are you going to do?”
She gasped as he lunged toward the house. He slammed his shoulder into the concrete block foundation, but he came up with an armful of dog. “Don’t hurt him,” she cautioned.
“I’m not going to hurt him,” he told her irritably. As proof, the dog proceeded to lick as much of his cheeks and chin as he could reach. “Stop it.” Noah pushed the scruffy head away. “Yuck.”
Abby started to laugh, then stopped suddenly. “You’re hurt.” Holding the dog’s head away, she pressed with her fingertips to turn Noah’s cheek toward her. “You must’ve scraped your face against the wall. Does it hurt?”
“No.” He pulled his head away from her scrutiny, from her touch. “This is nothing. I’ve been punched by some of the best.” He walked ahead of her, wondering how much worse the day could possibly get.
His mother had come down to the sidewalk and was surveying the garden anxiously. “I hope he didn’t dig something up. I bought some new daffodils this fall, just got them into the ground.”
“I don’t think he had time, Ma.” Noah moved up beside her. “He’s a pretty small dog.”
She turned toward him and glared at the dog. “What are you doing with a dog, anyway? You know I don’t like dogs.”
“Sorry. I forgot.”
“Like you forgot to call and tell me you were coming? Like you forgot to come home since you were eighteen? Like you forgot to let me know you were still alive for the last four years?” She snorted and turned toward the house. “You have a serious memory problem.”
Noah took one step in the same direction.
“And don’t think you’re bringing that dog into my house,” she said, without looking back. “I won’t have any filthy animal in my home.” The screen slapped shut, then the front door.
The dog squirmed in his arms, but Noah stood still. His first impulse was to run as far and as fast as the full tank on the bike would take him. His second impulse was to slam inside the house and tell the bitch exactly what he thought of her, then take off for the farthest corner of the country.
“Noah?” He’d forgotten Abby entirely. “Noah, I’ll take the dog.”
He looked over at her, not understanding. “What?”
“I’ll take the dog home with me. We’ve got a fenced yard and an enclosed porch where he can sleep.”
“I can just—” He didn’t really have another option. “I guess that’ll work for tonight.”
“What’s his name?” she asked, reaching around the dog so that she was practically in Noah’s arms. He got a whiff of the sweet flower scent in her hair. When she drew away, with the animal cuddled against her own chest, he missed her warmth.
“I don’t know.”
Her eyes widened. “You didn’t name him?”
“No. I didn’t—” This might not be the best time to confess that he hadn’t planned to keep the mutt. “I didn’t have time to think up a name.”
“I guess not.” Her smile was a flash of brightness in the darkening afternoon. “We’ll work on that tomorrow. See you then.”
“Sure.” She made tomorrow sound like something to look forward to. Noah watched her leave the yard and cross the street to her car, an old red Volvo, where she settled the dog on the passenger seat before getting in herself. The sound of the engine, when it finally started, called for a major tune-up, but Abby gave him a cheerful wave and another smile before she pulled away from the curb.
As she left, Noah realized his first impulses had weakened, letting a certain degree of reason take hold of his brain. He wasn’t going to run out on his mother again. Not before they’d had a chance to…settle things. Not before he made sure she would be taken care of for as long as she needed. He owed her that much.
So he opened the screen and pushed back the door into the house. A wave of heat hit him—the thermostat must be set at eighty degrees—along with the scent of onions and hot grease. His stomach churned, but he forced himself to walk to the kitchen.
His mother glanced at him. “I was beginning to think you’d just run off again.” With a tilt of her head, she directed him to the table by the window. “I was cooking when you showed up. Sit down. Go on, sit. This’ll be done in a minute.”
Noah eased out of his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. Even his sweatshirt was too hot. Since he wasn’t sure he was staying, though, he wouldn’t take it off.
“There.” A plate thumped onto the table. She still used the same dishes he remembered from fifteen years ago, made of unbreakable white glass, with blue flowers around the edges. Two hamburgers anchored the meal, framed by a pile of potato chips and a couple of pickles.
“Here’s some rolls.” A bowl of hamburger buns plopped onto the table. “I’ve got mustard and mayo. No ketchup.”
“This is good, Ma. Thanks.” He only hoped he could eat without choking.
She set a soda can by his plate, and then brought her own dinner plus a cola to the table and joined him. Her eyes closed. “Thank you, Lord, for this day and the blessings it has brought. Amen.”
Noah barely got his own eyes shut before she finished, and was a little slow in opening them. The first thing he saw was his mother’s fork, carrying a piece of dull gray hamburger, pointing into his face.
“So why don’t you tell me,” she suggested, “just where you’ve been for the last fifteen years?”
He took a deep breath.
“And why the hell,” Marian Blake continued, “you bothered to come home now?”
CHAPTER TWO
The Diary of Miss Abigail Ann Brannon
September 2, 1981
Dear Diary,
The first day of fifth grade was just like the last day of fourth grade. We got our books and they all look boring. Why do we have to study North Carolina history? We live here, so what’s to learn? I want to know about England and Africa and Japan. No such luck.
They mixed up the kids in different classes, like they do every year. Dixon and Rob and Jacquie are with me in Mrs. Davis’s room, but Adam and Pete have Miss Lovett for a teacher. We get to see one another at recess and lunch, though.
Mrs. Davis made us sit in alphabetical order. How stupid is that? The boy in the desk next to mine is Noah Blake. He’s shorter than me and really skinny. I heard he went to Porter Elementary but got transferred to New Skye Elementary because he caused so much trouble. I didn’t see him do anything wrong today. His T-shirt was too big and his jeans were too short and his arms were covered with purple bruises. He didn’t say anything all day, and sat by himself at lunch and recess. I think he’s scary.
And I think Dixon has a crush on Kate Bowdrey. I’m glad it’s not me—boys are too much trouble.
April 1, 1982
Dear Diary,
Mrs. Davis assigned partners for our end-of-the-year project today. April Fool’s for me—I have to work with Noah Blake. He hasn’t said a word to me all year long, now we’re supposed to work together on the biggest project all year. We have to pick a historic building, make a model and write about it. A North Carolina building, of course, not something neat like the Taj Mahal or the Eiffel Tower. We got fifteen minutes at the end of the day to talk about what building we want. Noah just shrugged when I asked him what he wanted to do. But when I named some buildings—the state capitol, the courthouse here in New Skye, the lighthouse at Cape Hatteras—he rolled his eyes or sneered. He doesn’t like my ideas, but he doesn’t have any of his own. Stupid boy. I don’t think he has lunch money—I hardly ever see him eat.
June 4, 1982
Dear Diary,
This was the last day of fifth grade and the worst day of my life. I stayed up until almost midnight writing the paper for my history project with Noah. He built the model of Fort Fisher at his house and was bringing it in this morning for our presentation. When I got to school, the model was on my desk—smashed to pieces, like somebody punched their fist into the fort about ten times. Noah didn’t show up for school. I read the paper to the class, and Mrs. Davis said she wouldn’t take marks off on the model—you could tell it had been beautiful, made out of little sticks like the boards at the real fort, with bunkers covered by green felt for grass and a flag and cannons. I don’t know what happened to it. I’m wondering if Noah’s okay.
August 13, 1982
Dear Diary,
I saw Noah at the county fair tonight. I was behind this guy in line, and something about his shoulders, about the way he stood, made me sure it was him. But he was with a girl—she looked like she was about sixteen. I didn’t say anything to make him turn around. I decided I didn’t want a funnel cake after all and went for a pretzel instead.
He looked really cute.
September 4, 1982
Dear Diary,
The first day of middle school was weird. Changing classes freaks me out—I’m sure I’m going to be late every time. I have at least one class with just about everybody I know, but I only have lunch with Pete and Adam and Rob. Dixon still stares at Kate like he could eat her up, and she doesn’t even realize it.
Even weirder than the classes was when Noah came up behind me at the water fountain after lunch. I turned around and—boom!—he was there. I had water dripping off my chin, of course. He grew about six inches over the summer, because he’s taller than me now. His jeans weren’t too short. He had a black eye, and his hair was longer.
He said he was sorry about the history project last June—he’d tripped when he was carrying it in and smashed it all up. I said it was okay, because I got an A on the paper. He said Mrs. Davis made him write a paper on his own and he’d managed to pass. I asked him about the black eye, and he said he got hit by a baseball he meant to catch. Why do I feel like that’s not how it happened?
I thought about him a lot this summer, and I can’t stop thinking about him now that I’ve seen him again. But we don’t have classes together and Dad wants me to start working afternoons at the diner to give Mom a break, so unless Noah comes over after school, I probably won’t see him at all this year.
He won’t miss me. And I shouldn’t miss him. But sometimes when Mrs. Davis would say something really silly, I’d see Noah trying not to laugh. I’m going to miss sharing the laughs.
I’m going to miss Noah, period.
STOPPED AT THE RED LIGHT two blocks from home, Abby glanced down at the dog on the passenger seat. “What am I going to do with you? You’re too dirty to let into the house, and I’m pretty sure you have fleas, because my arm itches. Where can I get you a bath?” He hunched his skinny shoulders but wagged his tail at the same time. “That’s not an answer.”
In the end, she left Noah’s dog with Carly Danvers, a friend from high school who’d built a nice little business grooming and boarding dogs. Carly promised to bathe and dip the little guy and then leave him on the porch at the Brannon house when he was dry, with food and water and a soft dog pillow to lie on. All he needed now was a name.
That would be Noah’s contribution, Abby hoped.
She returned to the diner well before the dinner rush started, to find her dad stressing out over her absence.
“You just lock the place up and disappear?” Charlie Brannon stood in the kitchen with his hands on his hips, a squarely built man with the posture and haircut of a marine drill sergeant. “You don’t call or leave a note? I was looking in the broom closet, expecting to see your body headfirst in the mop bucket.”
Abby winced and went to fold her arms around his bulky shoulders. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think I’d be gone long enough for you to notice.” To be strictly honest, though, she hadn’t given him a thought since Noah had walked through the diner door.
“Yeah, well.” His voice softened with the hug. “Where’d you go?”
To gain some time, she shrugged out of her coat and went to hang it up in that same broom closet. “Um…I went to see Mrs. Blake.”
“Weren’t you there just yesterday? She call you and complain, as usual?”
“No, no.” Abby took a deep breath. “Actually, Noah stopped by this afternoon.”
“Noah?” Her dad’s heavy dark brows drew together. “You mean Noah Blake?”
“That’s right. He’s come back.”
“What’s that troublemaker want here? I thought he was gone for good.”
“He’s not a troublemaker, Dad.” The accusation made her furious.
“I don’t know what he’s like now. But when you kids were in school, he raised more hell than this town could handle. Including burning down the school two weeks before graduation.”
“He did not burn down the school.” She stomped into the cold room, brought back the pot of stew she’d made for tonight and slammed it onto the burner. “Nobody burned down the school—there was a fire in the principal’s office, that’s all. And Noah didn’t set it.”
“Of course he did. I saw his motorcycle over there not ten minutes before the fire truck showed up. So why is he back now?”
“He didn’t say.”
“And why did you go to his mother’s house? Did he forget the address?”
Abby bit her tongue. “He thought he would…surprise her. But I thought Mrs. Blake might need a little support, since she’s been sick so much. So I went along to…smooth the way.”
“Did you?”
Trust Charlie to ask the really hard question. “I…don’t know.” Bitter and sick, Mrs. Blake was never easy to get along with. But her reaction to Noah’s arrival hadn’t been anything like Abby expected. “Noah brought a dog with him, a stray he rescued on his way here.”
Charlie snorted in disbelief.
“And the dog got loose in the flower beds—”
“And Marian Blake started squealing.”
Abby sighed. “Something like that.” With belated guilt, she realized she should probably warn Charlie about the dog.
“Doesn’t surprise me,” her dad said, starting on the salads for dinner. “Bad enough the boy didn’t let her know he was coming. Showing up with some mutt has to be the stupidest thing he’s done in a while. I was there the day in third grade when Marian got chased across the playground by a dog. German shepherd, it was.”
He shook his head. “Dog just wanted to play and when Marian ran away screaming, it thought she’d invented a new game. By the time the rest of us kids got there, the shepherd had her flat on her back under the pine trees and was licking her face off. She didn’t come back to school for a week, she was so hysterical.”
“That’s horrible.” Abby stirred the stew and then went to the pantry for cans of green beans. Noah couldn’t know his mother’s story, or he wouldn’t have brought the dog home with him. But there was obviously no hope of convincing his mother to take the poor animal into her house. Which meant…
“So you chased the dog off, and then what?”
“We didn’t exactly chase him away.”
“Well, Marian didn’t change her mind after all this time.”
“N-no.”
Charlie glared at her. “Don’t tell me that.”
“What?”
“Don’t tell me you kept the stupid dog.”
“You don’t know it’s a stupid dog. You’ve never even seen it.”
“I don’t have to see a stray to know I don’t want it.”
“He’s sweet, and scared to death.”
“If he’s in my house, he’s got a good reason to be scared.”
Hands on her hips, Abby glared at her dad. “I live there, too. And I’ll put my dog on the sunporch with a blanket and a bowl of water and some food.”
“It’s not your dog, it’s Noah Blake’s dog.”
“I’m keeping it.” She’d had no intention of doing any such thing when she took the dog home, of course.
Charlie pinned her with his drill-sergeant glare. “Abigail Ann Brannon, I will not—”
Out front, the bell on the door jingled once, and again, and yet again. The dinner rush was starting.
“We’ll discuss this later,” he promised, and left the kitchen. Abby heard his brusque voice out in the dining room, greeting familiar customers. She stood still for a few seconds longer, recovering from the argument with her dad. When was the last time she and Charlie had seriously disagreed?
Never, was the first answer that came to mind. Sure, they argued a lot. And he could be hard to get along with sometimes. But she hadn’t seriously defied her dad since she was fifteen and wanted to attend a summer camp in Wyoming. Her parents had said no—they needed her to work in the diner. She’d given them the silent treatment and sulked through the entire summer until she went back to school and saw Noah again. They hadn’t talked much, except when she passed him a few sheets of paper if he needed them, or a pen when he didn’t have one. Just seeing him had always made a major improvement in her day.
And she hadn’t seen him in fifteen years.
“Fried chicken, stew and meat loaf,” Charlie announced as he came into the kitchen. “Hamburger, cheeseburger, tuna sub, grilled cheese and soup. Two more stews.”
Abby shook herself from head to toe. Time to get to work. “Right. I’ve got the grill. Two burgers and a grilled cheese, coming up.”
NOAH FOUND IT AMAZING that his mother still watched the same roulette-wheel spelling show and supply-the-question quiz program after dinner as she had when he’d been in high school. The sitcoms that came afterward had changed actors, if not story lines, but after half an hour of watching, he felt sick to his stomach. Or maybe that was the hamburger.
“I’m gonna go see a couple of people,” he told his mother during a commercial break. “I still have my key, unless you changed the locks.”
She stared up at him for a long minute. “No, I didn’t change the locks.” As he crossed to the front door, she said, “Do you want breakfast?”
He looked back over his shoulder. “Sure.” He hadn’t been given the choice for years. “That’d be good.”
“You better show up in the kitchen at eight, then.”
“I’ll be there. ’Night.” If she responded, he didn’t hear her.
Standing outside the chain-link fence, he stopped to take a deep breath of cold, dry air. He hadn’t remembered the house being so small, so…so tight. On the other hand, he must have had some reason for running away, right? Besides knowing that if he stayed, his life would be over before it began.
With the Harley rumbling underneath him, Noah admitted to himself that he didn’t really have anywhere else to go. Most of the guys he’d hung with in high school were probably in jail. Even if they weren’t in the joint right now, they surely had been, and seeing them could constitute a violation of his parole. Not a smart move for his first week of freedom.
The nightly rituals in the neighborhoods south of Boundary Street hadn’t changed in fifteen years, either. And they differed not at all from the usual agenda on the “bad” side of most towns he’d ever been in. The bars did a booming business. Working girls lingered on street corners and beside alleys. He fielded a couple of waves as he waited at a stoplight, remembered how long it had been since the last time, and gave the possibility a second’s consideration—until Abby’s sweet face appeared in his mind’s eye.
Suddenly, a hooker in black leather and chains didn’t seem to be what he needed. With a shake of his head and a lift of his hand, Noah rolled on down the hill, to another light and through an intersection, then into the gravel parking lot of the Carolina Diner.
The lights were still on and half a dozen cars sat in the parking lot. He’d be safe enough going in for a cup of coffee, maybe a piece of pie. He remembered liking Charlie Brannon’s chocolate pie.
As the door shut behind him, he realized he’d made a mistake. Every table in the room was empty except for a few square ones pushed together in the center, where people sat with papers spread out in front of them, working.
Working, that is, until they all stopped and turned to stare at him. Noah felt his cheeks heat up at the same time as he started to recognize the faces. The names popped into his head a second or two later.
Abby got out of her chair and came toward him, one hand extended. “Noah! It’s good to see you again.” Before he could back out, she caught his wrist in her cool fingertips. “I’m sure you’ll remember almost everybody here.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt….”
“You’re not.” The tall, brown-haired guy at the end of the table got to his feet, offering a handshake and a grin. “Welcome back, Noah.”
“Dixon.” Noah gripped Dixon Bell’s hand. “Thanks.”
Dixon turned to the woman in the chair next to him, who was standing as well. “You remember Kate Bowdrey? She’s now Kate Bell.”
“I remember she was the smartest person in the class.” He smiled at the slender and beautiful Mrs. Bell. “How are you?”
“Glad to see you again.” To his surprise, she gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You’ve been gone too long.”
All of a sudden, he was surrounded by people he’d gone to high school with, returning handshakes and hugs, trying to catch up with a lot of changes very fast. Kate’s sister Mary Rose, as blond as her sister was dark, had married Pete Mitchell. Adam DeVries, who didn’t seem to stutter anymore, was the mayor of New Skye and married to a woman named Phoebe. Jacquie Lennon was now Jacquie Lewellyn and shoeing horses for a living, which meant she must still be horse crazy.
And Abby was still Abby. “What can I get you to drink?” With her hands on his shoulders, she leaned forward as he sat in the chair she’d just left. “More hot chocolate? Iced tea? Coffee?”
“I came for coffee. And—” He glanced around the table to see that most of the others had enjoyed some kind of dessert. “And some chocolate pie?”
“You got it.” Her hands tightened for a second before she let go. Noah noted a sudden hollow in his chest where his breath used to be. He turned to Adam, on his right. “Looks like there’s some serious planning going on tonight.”
“We’re the committee for the big Christmas Dance. Or maybe it’s called the Reunion Dance.”
“Holiday Reunion Dance,” Jacquie put in from across the table. “Our fifteen-year high school class reunion is gonna be a holiday bash.”
“Fifteen years?” Noah said. “Hard to believe it’s been so long.”
“Or that we’re so old.” Abby set a mug down by his left hand. “I still feel eighteen.”
“I usually feel like I’m eighteen when I get up in the morning,” Pete said with a grin. “But by the time I get home, it’s a lot closer to thirty-three.”
After more than two years in prison, Noah felt as if he was closer to fifty. “Uh…sounds like a good time. Do you expect a big crowd?”
The question did what he’d hoped, which was to get all of them talking, explaining the plans for the dance, the guest list, the decorations and music. All he had to do was nod and listen and try to make sense of this unfamiliar world he’d stumbled into.
Abby brought him his pie and then sat in an empty chair across the table. Between bites—the pie was every bit as good as he remembered—Noah took the opportunity to watch her with her friends. She’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail, so he could see the long column of her throat and her delicate pink ears, dusted with the same freckles that sprinkled her face. Her hazel eyes glowed as she talked, and a smile always hovered around her sweet, full lips. She was the most alive woman he’d ever seen. And the most desirable.
Not in this life. He gave himself a mental punch and refocused his attention on the discussion.
“What we need to decide is how to decorate the gym,” Jacquie said. “People will feel like they’re supposed to play basketball if we don’t do something.”
“We can hang mistletoe from the hoops.” Dixon winked at his wife, who blushed.
“It’s drafty in there, too.” Mary Rose pretended to shiver. “My dress has short sleeves and a low back.”
Pete put an arm around his wife and gave her a squeeze. “That’s why we’re going to do lots of dancing. Slow dancing.” Noah noticed for the first time that Pete’s left arm was in a sling, under which he wore a cast from shoulder to fingertips.
Abby rolled her eyes. “After two years, you two still act like newlyweds. Consider the rest of us who aren’t so besotted, why don’t you? Noah, what do you think?”
He put his hands up in defense. “I don’t have a clue about stuff like this.”
She frowned at him. “You’re not helping.”
That was supposed to bother him? He started to shrug, then realized he didn’t like disappointing Abby. “Well, you could make a smaller space within the gym, if you used dividers of some kind.”
“Dividers? Like screens?”
Noah nodded. “Yeah, or curtains. I think there are curtains on stands you can rent for that kind of thing.”
“Or we could build something easily enough,” Adam said. “Plywood sheets and two-by-fours would do the job. Paint them whatever color you want and make a room within a room. Good idea, Noah.”
“Red and green for the season?” Pete suggested.
“We could do holiday designs.” Mary Rose sat forward to look at her sister down the table. “Or use wallpaper.”
“Or wrapping paper. Or…” Kate thought for a second. “Or we could paint a whole scene on the boards. A party scene, with Christmas decorations and trees and people—”
“A snowy landscape,” Jacquie said, “with horses and sleighs and lighted houses.”
“We could do a street scene—downtown New Skye all decorated for a white Christmas.” Abby’s face shone with pleasure. “We haven’t had snow at Christmas here since I was six. But we could paint one, and maybe even scatter snowflakes on the floor and hang them from the ceiling. Coach Layman is making us put mats over the floor as it is, so piles of fake snow shouldn’t be a problem. And we could dance in the snow without getting cold!”
By the time the meeting broke up at almost eleven o’clock, a contest had been decided on. Individuals or groups could register to paint a Christmas-scene panel. The entry fees would add to the budget for the dance, Abby pointed out, and prizes would be awarded to each participant.
“Some can be gag gifts, like ‘Most Glitter.’” Abby grinned at Noah. “I love glitter.”
“‘Colored Inside the Lines,’” Noah suggested. “That’s the best some of us can hope for.” Abby and her friends burst out laughing, and he stared at them in surprise. His reputation did not include being funny.
Folks said good-night as Abby gathered up the dishes from the table and walked them into the kitchen. Before leaving, Dixon put a hand on Noah’s shoulder. “Speaking of basketball, we have a friendly game going on Saturday mornings about seven, over at the school. Pete usually plays with us, but he got hurt on the job a couple of weeks ago, so we’re short a man. Want to join us?”
More surprises. “I’m not sure—”
Dixon nodded. “Give me a call, let me know. Or just show up. Good to see you.”
“You, too.” He stared after the Bells for a minute, then followed Abby into the kitchen with the glasses and mugs from the table. “You don’t have to stay and wash up, do you? It’s late.”
“There’s a dishwasher.” She nodded toward the contraption in the back of the kitchen. “Load and run.”
Once she’d flipped the washer switch and locked the back door, Abby turned off the lights. With the only illumination coming from the dining room, the shadowed kitchen felt small. Intimate.
One-track mind. Noah leaned his hips back against the stainless-steel counter, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I haven’t seen your dad. He still work here?”
“He does, but I make him go home for a couple of hours in the afternoon and for good about eight o’clock. He’s just not as young as he was.” She pulled the dark red coat he’d seen her in earlier out of the nearby closet, then turned to smile at him. “None of us are, I guess.”
“You work by yourself all the rest of the time?” He made a conscious decision not to help her with the coat, though she was struggling with the inside-out sleeves.
“I have help until about three in the afternoon. Billie Underwood comes in to cook up vegetables, pot roasts and stuff while I make the desserts. She goes home to take care of her grandkids after school, but still does a lot of baking and cooking for us then, too.” Still fighting with the coat, she blew a frustrated breath off her lower lip. “Would you please come over here and untangle this stupid cloth from my arm?”
Warily, Noah straightened up and stepped close enough to catch the collar of the coat and the end of the sleeve. “Why don’t you just stopping wiggling for a minute?”
Abby dropped her hands and was still. She’d gotten him where she wanted him, finally—alone in a dark room. This was the moment she’d been dreaming about for most of her life, at least since the first time she thought kissing a boy didn’t sound like the grossest idea on the planet.
But now she wasn’t sure what to do next. She’d never seduced a man before. As he dragged the coat off her shoulders and arm, she turned to face him, without stepping back.
He did, though, holding out the coat to the side and pulling the arms straight. “There.” He pushed the coat toward her. “Now you can put it on.”
Abby turned her back to him, extending her arms in a demand for help. After a pause, Noah sighed very loudly, slipped the sleeves over her hands and pulled the coat up. She didn’t take any responsibility for getting the collar up to her neck, and he huffed again as he settled the wool over her shoulders.
For a moment, nothing happened. Abby feared she’d lost.
Then she felt the lightest of touches in her hair. A slight tug told her he’d wrapped a strand around his finger. She could hear his breathing, rough in the dark. When she didn’t move away, he stroked his knuckles over her head, just above her ear, then his fingertips. His shaking fingertips.
Now she could turn, and did, setting her palms on his chest. She’d always wondered how far she would have to look up to see his face when they were this close. He was taller than she remembered. Taller than he looked. The perfect height for kissing, her head just level with his shoulder.
One of his hands had tangled in her hair. The other traveled down her arm to cup her elbow. His dark eyes were narrowed, suspicious. “What are you doing?”
“Welcoming you home,” she whispered back. Then she went up on tiptoe and pressed her mouth against Noah’s.
For a few miraculous seconds, he took everything. She offered comfort and he seized it all. Desire and his need flamed over them both. His mouth was firm, agile, demanding. Abby sank into the kiss, sank into Noah until his hands, his body were all that kept her upright. She would have given him whatever he wanted.
Abruptly, he shoved her away, with enough force that she stumbled backward and probably would have fallen if she hadn’t backed into the wall.
“I don’t know what kind of game this is. But I’m not playing.” His voice grated like sandpaper on her skin.
“No game.” She caught her breath, fought back tears. “I’m not a tease. I wanted to kiss you.”
“Why?”
She straightened up. “Because I care about you, of course.”
“Yeah, right.” He paced to the door of the kitchen, then came back. “What’s the problem, Abby? Are you tired of the good ol’ boys in town? Looking for something different? A little excitement?”
“That’s an obnoxious thing to say.”
“Or do you come on to every single guy who walks in the door?”
“I don’t know that you’re single.” She wiped her hand across her mouth. “I just offered a kiss.”
“You offered a hell of a lot more than that, and you know it. But I’m not taking.”
“Obviously.” Trying for dignity, she stalked past him without a glance, picked up her purse and keys off the counter and left the kitchen.
At the front of the diner, she turned off the lights for the dining room and took a great deal of pleasure in listening to Noah stumble against tables and chairs in the dark. Still swearing, he brushed through the door as she held it open, but the touch only chilled her. Or maybe it was the cold night wind.
He watched from his bike as she bolted the door. “You lock up by yourself like this every night?” His growl took her by surprise. “In the dark? With nobody around?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.” She started toward her car and heard the bike rolling along behind her.
“Your dad lets you do that?”
“I’ve never had a problem.”
“Dumb luck. You should never be here alone. Especially at night.”
“Don’t lecture me on safety, Noah.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke. “You don’t know the first thing about this town or my life. You haven’t been here for fifteen years. So just…just put a sock in it.”
He was silent as she unlocked the Volvo and got in. But before she could close the door, he was looming over her.
“You probably think New Skye is a sweet little place where nothing bad ever happens. But I’m telling you, there are nasty people here, like everywhere else. And if you aren’t careful, one day you’re gonna find that out the hard way. Your friends and your family should take care of you.”
Abby stared up at him. “Yes, I guess they should, friend.” She pulled on the door with both hands and, when he stepped out of the way, slammed it shut. The engine started with a purr, thank goodness. Engine trouble would have been too mortifying. Needing to get away, Abby shifted gears and set her foot on the accelerator.
But then a thought struck and she rolled down the window. “Come get your dog,” she yelled.
Noah turned and stared at her. “I don’t want the damn dog.”
“Well, if you don’t come get him, I’ll send him to the shelter. My dad doesn’t want to keep him.”
“What’s your dad got to do with it?”
“I live in his house. He makes the rules.” She couldn’t believe they were shouting at each other across the parking lot in the middle of the night.
Noah wasn’t shouting now. He’d gone quiet, and stood still as he gazed at her. “You live with your dad?”
Abby nodded.
“Damn,” he said distinctly. He dropped his head back and stared up at the sky. “Damn, damn, damn.”
Then he got on the Harley, gunned the noisy engine, and roared off into the night.
CHAPTER THREE
NOAH MISSED BREAKFAST. After finally falling asleep as the sun came up, he stumbled into the kitchen at ten to find a pot of cold coffee and his mother’s note.
“Drs appt. Back sometime.”
“Love you, too,” he told her. He had no business feeling resentful, since he was the one who’d been gone for fifteen years. A warm welcome was the last thing he deserved.
Especially a welcome like the kind Abby had offered last night.
He groaned and rubbed the heels of his hands into his burning eyes. He’d put up with a lot of punishment in the last few years, but last night just hadn’t been fair. He shouldn’t have been required to turn down a generous, willing woman like Abby. He would have made sure she enjoyed the night as much as he did. They both could be feeling pretty good this morning.
Instead, he felt like hell. Nothing new there. He flicked the switch for the coffeemaker to warm up, then bent over to rest his folded arms on the counter and hide his face from the bright light coming through the window. A hangover would be bearable. This ache inside him was too much.
The phone’s ring interrupted his pity party and Noah straightened up, reaching automatically for the place on the wall where the phone hung. His hand met air, then wall. No phone.
“Damn.” He tracked the noise into the living room and pounced on a cordless model set up by his mother’s chair. “Hello? Hello?”
“Good morning, Noah. It’s Kate Bell. How are you today?”
Best to settle for a polite answer. “I’m good, Kate. How are you?”
“Just fine. But I have a little problem you could help me with, if you would.”
He dropped into the chair. “I’ll do what I can.”
“Thanks so much. After your brilliant idea last night, Dixon volunteered to take some measurements in the gym to determine how large the painted panels should be. But when he volunteered, he forgot that he’s flying to Nashville this afternoon on business. Since he can’t be here, he wondered if you would take those measurements for him. We want to give people plenty of time to sign up and complete their paintings.”
“Nashville?”
“He writes songs—rock, country. You’ve probably heard them on the radio. Every so often, the folks in Nashville want to see him up there, and this is the week.”
“I’m impressed. You’ll have to give me a list of his songs. But—”
“He also wanted me to remind you that you’re expected at the basketball game Saturday morning. Seven o’clock.”
“I appreciate the offer. But—”
“I know Rob Warren will want to see you—y’all spent time together in high school, didn’t you? Rob’s just married a really lovely woman with two children. He was married to Leah Rodes—do you remember her?—but she died having their baby, Ginny. So it’s great that he’s found somebody to share his life again.”
“Sounds really nice, but—”
“Then I’ll tell Dixon to expect you on Saturday. And if you don’t mind, get those measurements to me as soon as possible. I’ve got a flyer ready to print and send out, as soon as I figure out the size of the panel.”
“I’ll get that done today, Kate. But—”
“Thanks so much. I really appreciate your help. I’ll give you a call soon and have you over for dinner. I’d love you to meet my children, Trace and Kelsey. Till later, then. Bye.”
She clicked off before he could say another word, but Noah continued to stare at the phone.
What had just happened? People like Kate Bowdrey and her sister had barely given him the time of day in high school—now all at once they wanted him to help out with their dance? Maybe Abby was behind this sudden friendliness, trying to make him fit in somehow.
He clenched his back teeth at the idea of being anybody’s charity project, especially Abby Brannon’s.
Then he remembered the welcome he’d received last night at the meeting, from Dixon and Adam and Pete. So, okay, Abby wasn’t trying to treat him like the stray dog she’d taken home and now wanted him to retrieve.
With a groan, Noah slammed the phone back in its cradle and headed for the shower. Kate had given him an assignment—measure the damn gym floor. There were other chores ahead of him, too, like checking in with his parole officer and his new boss.
Life hadn’t been this complex in a long time. Until three years ago, he’d done what he wanted, when he wanted, without consulting anybody else. In prison, he’d had no choices, so no complications. Now he was trying to do the right thing, not sure what the right thing really was.
If he’d expected coming back to be so tricky, he might have chosen to serve out his sentence. In jail, at least, he knew what he was in for.
Since he’d come “home,” he didn’t have a clue.
KATE SHUT OFF HER CELL PHONE and looked across the table. “I have never sounded like such an airhead in my life.”
Mary Rose grinned. “And I loved every second.”
“Oh, hush.” Kate pretended to frown at her sister. “I hate to strong-arm anybody, but I do think we owe Noah the opportunity to be part of the community. He didn’t get a fair break in high school—from the kids or the teachers, certainly not from Principal Floyd and the police. Dixon and I want to let him know we trust him.”
Beside Kate, Jacquie Lewellyn pushed her breakfast plate away. “I could tell last night—he expected pretty much the same treatment he got back then. Why are kids so cruel?” She sighed, then shook her head. “I hope I can count on Erin to behave better. In the meantime, we’ll just work on making Noah part of the gang. He won’t know what hit him until it’s too late, and by then he won’t be able to leave.”
“And won’t want to,” Mary Rose added. “That’s more important.”
Abby caught part of their comments as she brought fresh coffee and hot water for tea. “What schemes are y’all hatching this morning? Who’s leaving where?”
“Oh…I—I’m planning a surprise for Rhys,” Jacquie said. “A Christmas present.”
“What kind of present?” Abby rubbed her eyes with the back of her wrist as she poured more coffee into Kate’s mug. “And what’s it got to do with hitting?”
“Oh, no. No,” Jacquie said, blushing. “I was talking about boxing. Boxing lessons for when he gets tense and hard to live with.”
“I’m sure you’re not referring to me.” Rhys Lewellyn walked up to the table. Wearing riding breeches, tall boots and a blue sweater that matched his eyes, he was definitely the best-looking man in the diner at that moment. “Because there’s no one easier to get along with than I am.”
“Oh, of course.” Jacquie reached up to hold her husband’s hand. “There’s never been a cross word at our house—not even when Andrew decided to try out pierced ears.”
“I only said what I thought,” Rhys said, smiling.
“Along the lines of grounding him until the age of twenty-one.”
“A reasonable reaction, in my opinion, to earrings on my son.”
Abby smiled. “Spoken like a father. Charlie would have skinned me alive for doing something like that without permission. As a matter of fact, I never did get my ears pierced.” Her dad had been furious to find the dog on his sunporch last night, and he’d been prepared to rant about the problem for a good long time after Abby came home.
But she’d been so worn out, so sad, that she hadn’t added fuel to the fire. She’d drifted to her room and Charlie’s rage had leaked away.
“I remember last year when Erin dyed her hair red.” Jacquie shook her head as she slid out of the booth. “I have never been so pleased to see a haircut as when the last of that red hit the floor.”
Mary Rose and Kate got up, too, and soon said their goodbyes. Abby loved her friends, but she was very glad to see them leave this morning. They tended to understand without needing an explanation. Today, Abby had too much to hide.
Although nothing had actually happened between her and Noah. Really, it had just been a kiss. She had been kissed before, many times. After all, she was thirty-three years old.
But Noah’s kiss had been more than she’d ever known with any other man. More than she’d dreamed. And over so fast, she felt as if he’d slapped her.
She moved through the rest of the breakfast shift in a kind of daze, half smiling at the customers she knew, half conscious of their orders and the flow of business in the diner. The crowd gradually thinned, until she was actually alone in the place. Pouring herself a glass of iced tea, Abby slid into a booth where the sun warmed the green vinyl seat and propped her head on one hand to stare out the side window. A little caffeine and a few minutes off her feet seemed like heaven.
But it wasn’t to be. The doorbell jingled, announcing someone who wanted a late breakfast. Dredging up a smile, she looked across the dining room into Noah’s distant gaze.
He cleared his throat. “Hi.”
She didn’t have the first idea of what to say, so she just stared.
He looked away, and then back at her face. “Could I get a cup of coffee?”
Abby felt too weary to stand up, but she pressed her palms into the tabletop to push herself to her feet. “Of course.”
At that moment, Charlie came out of the kitchen. He leaned back against the service counter with his arms crossed over his big chest, the marine tattoo on his hand clearly visible.
“What can I do for you?”
Noah held the gaze of the man across the room, but it took more will than he wanted to admit. Despite a bum leg earned while tangling with a land mine in Vietnam, Charlie Brannon was not a guy to mess with. Back in high school, Noah had known better than to come within sighting distance of Charlie if he had something to hide.
Just like he should have known better today. “Good morning, Mr. Brannon. I thought I’d get a cup of coffee.”
Charlie looked him up and down but didn’t budge. “What are you doing back in town?”
“I came to see my mother, that’s all.”
“You waited long enough.”
Not having an answer for that one, Noah shrugged.
“And when you do show up, you palm off a mongrel that kept me up all night whining. God only knows where that dog’s been. But now he’s in my house.”
“I…” He glanced at Abby for some help. She was staring at him with her chin up, her eyes defensive, her fists clenched.
In the second that their eyes stayed connected, hers melted. She closed her eyes and shook her head, then got to her feet.
“I told you, Dad, that I wanted the dog. Noah didn’t impose anything on you. Or me.”
Which was an outright lie. Noah remembered those minutes in the kitchen last night. He’d imposed a hell of a lot on Abby and would have been glad to extend the damage.
Charlie snorted, as if he knew the truth. Maybe Abby had told him?
Noah waited, prepared to die.
But Abby’s dad just turned to the coffeepot. “I’m not happy having you in here. But, hell, your dollar’s as good as the next guy’s.” He set a filled mug down on the counter. “Drink up.” With a shrug, Charlie returned to the kitchen.
Thanks didn’t seem necessary. Charlie wouldn’t care if he was polite. As Noah went toward the counter, Abby moved in the same direction. They ended up facing each other across the long, stainless-steel surface.
“How is your mom this morning?”
“She went to the doctor. I haven’t seen her yet.” He sipped at the strong, hot coffee, digging up words. “Did the dog really whine all night?”
Abby nodded. She sure looked like she hadn’t slept much—her face was pale, her eyes tired. Under the white button-down shirt, her shoulders weren’t as straight as they’d been yesterday.
The dog might be part of her problem. But after a sleepless night himself, he suspected she’d had other reasons to lie awake.
“I’m sorry about last night.” Meeting Abby’s gaze took even more courage than confronting Charlie.
“The dog, you mean?”
“And…other things.” He wasn’t about to go into details with Charlie in the building.
She looked in every direction but his. “No apologies necessary. It wasn’t your fault. Just come get the dog, and everything will be okay.”
“I can’t take the dog.” He seized the chance to argue about something practical. “You saw my mother yesterday. She won’t have a dog anywhere near the house.” Noah couldn’t help grinning. “And when it comes to a knockdown, drag-out fight, I’m betting on my mother over your dad.”
Abby’s full lips twitched in an almost-smile. “No way.”
“Oh, yeah.”
He took another draw of coffee while she wiped the counter down and then adjusted the drape of red beads on the fake Christmas tree at the far end. For a few minutes, there was actually peace in the air.
Until she glanced at him from the other end of the counter. “So when will you come get the dog?”
“What am I gonna do with the dog if I get it?”
“What did you think you were going to do with it when you brought it with you?”
An uncomfortable question. “I didn’t think,” Noah admitted. “I only knew I wouldn’t let a gang of kids kill him just because they could.” He waited a beat. “Why can’t you take care of him?”
“What makes you think I want the dog?”
“Don’t you?”
She blew out a breath. “Whether I do or not doesn’t matter. It’s Charlie’s house. He makes the rules and he wants the dog gone.”
“Well, what the hell are you doing still living with your dad, anyway?” That question had been one of many bothering him last night. “You’re an adult—you should be out on your own.”
Abby froze in the act of refilling a napkin canister and stared at the man across the counter. He looked fierce, formidable. She was suddenly very aware of the strength in his hands and arms, the tension in his every move that spoke of experiences she didn’t know, couldn’t imagine.
“You don’t have the right to ask me that question.” She fought to keep her voice steady. “You don’t know anything about me. You never did, never wanted to.” Slamming the napkin holder onto the counter, she crumpled the empty napkin wrapper in her hands. “Leave a dollar by the register when you go.”
“Abby—” Noah stretched out a hand.
But she’d had all she could take for the morning. Ignoring the gesture and the tenderness in his voice, she stomped into the kitchen and back to the office behind it, slamming the door for good measure. Then she plopped down in the desk chair and clutched her hands in her hair, pulling until tears burned her eyes.
He might have been gone a long, long time, but as far as she could tell, Noah Blake was just as hard to handle as he had been fifteen years ago. Why in the world had she spent even one moment hoping for anything else?
WALKING INTO NEW SKYE HIGH was a lot like walking into a Georgia correctional institution for the first time. Noah took a deep breath, but there didn’t seem to be enough air to fill his lungs. He glanced behind him, just to be sure there were no chains on the door, no bars on the windows.
In the front office, he introduced himself to the young woman at the desk, someone he didn’t know.
“That’s right,” she said with a flirtatious smile. “Dixon Bell called just a few minutes ago to say you’d be coming in his place. Since he’d already spoken to Mr. Floyd about visiting the gym, I don’t think there’s any problem with you going on down there.” She nodded toward the closed door on her right, with its Principal Floyd sign. “He’s in conference with parents and a student. If you’d like to wait—”
“No, that’s okay.” Noah hid his appalled reaction to the idea of meeting the principal. “I’ll just walk down, do my job, then clear out.” He gave her the smile she wanted. “Thanks for your help.”
“Oh, you’re welcome.” As he reached the door, she said, “Are you sure you know the way? I could take you to the gym.”
Another smile, not quite so friendly. “I remember the way.” He stepped out before she could try again.
The bell for changing classes rang above his head—had it always been so loud? The halls filled with bodies and noise as kids exploded from every doorway. Noah passed through the crowd like a ghost, without really being seen. At the gym door, he met a swell of students pouring out of their daily class, their relief demonstrated by the rush. Standing to the side, waiting for the hall to clear, Noah reflected that he’d always liked gym class, welcomed the chance to blow off steam. He’d been good at sports, but never had the grades to make a team.
Which pretty much summed up his whole life.
Inside, the gym was blessedly quiet. He stood at the edge of the basketball court, fingering his industrial-size tape measure and taking in the banners hanging from the rafters that proclaimed New Skye High championships. Pictures of individual students who had exhibited special success hung on the wall. He recognized Rob Warren’s picture among them, with Rob as a tall, lanky basketball player. Though he’d been one of the “good” kids, Rob had also been Noah’s friend. Probably his only friend who invariably stayed on the right side of the law.
On that thought, Noah decided to start the job he’d come to do. He didn’t expect or intend to attend the dance, which made explaining to himself what he was doing here tough. But he’d agreed to help Kate Bell. The only virtue he claimed in life was sticking by his word.
He was down on one knee, recording the measurements he’d taken, when quick footsteps echoed at the far end of the gym.
“What are you doing in here?” Noah didn’t have to look up to identify the speaker. “Who gave you permission to enter the school building unescorted?” Principal Floyd stood over him, a heavy man breathing hard, red-faced and sweating.
Noah couldn’t get to his feet without shoving Floyd out of the way or crawling back. He wasn’t ready to do either. “The secretary at the front desk gave me permission. You know that, because she’s the one who told you I was in here.”
Floyd clenched his fists. “Dixon Bell had my permission to enter the school building. You, of all people, did not.”
“Dixon couldn’t come. If you get out of my way, I’ll be done in a couple of minutes and then I can get out of yours.”
“What are you doing back in town, anyway? I thought we’d gotten rid of you for good.”
Tired of looking up, Noah heaved to his feet, forcing Floyd to take a couple of steps back. “This is my hometown. Why shouldn’t I come back?”
“Because we don’t want you.” The principal stood with his fat hands on his dumpy hips. He’d gone bald in the last fifteen years. “Because you’re a troublemaker, and if you stick around, there’s going to trouble for everybody. Nobody in New Skye needs you.”
Noah had to admit the truth of that statement. “Don’t have a stroke, Mr. Floyd. I’m not interested in making trouble.” He ignored the flash of memory that gave him back the sweet, rich taste of Abby’s mouth.
“I’m going to stand right here until you’ve finished whatever it is you think you’re doing. And I’m going to keep my eye on you until you get off this campus. Don’t plan to come back. We do have security guards, and I will be leaving orders that you should not be admitted to the grounds or the building.”
“Knock yourself out.” Noah finished his measurements as slowly as he could, for the pleasure of watching Floyd fume. He only regretted the job didn’t take longer.
The walk back to the front of the school, however, seemed to take a century. Floyd didn’t actually handcuff Noah, but in every other way he acted like a prison guard, to the extent of waving off the kids who came at them with curious faces. They didn’t stop at the office, for which Noah was thankful, but continued through the front door onto the steps outside.
“Don’t come back,” Floyd warned again. “You’ve got no business at my school.”
“You’re right about that.” Noah took his time getting down the steps. At the bottom, he turned back. “I don’t suppose too many of the teachers remember me. But I did expect Ms. Lacey to be here for the rest of eternity. Did you fire her or did she finally get fed up with your pompous attitude and quit? She was a pretty good secretary, over all. Not to mention easy on the eyes.”
Floyd’s face turned an even darker red. “Your mouth was always one of your biggest problems, Blake. Ms. Lacey left us years ago, to be married. Now, get off school property before I call the police.”
That was a threat Noah took seriously. He didn’t rush to the bike, but he didn’t hesitate or falter, either. His unavoidable appearance at the police department would come all too soon.
“And stay off,” Floyd yelled over the rumble of the bike’s engine. Noah buckled his helmet, gave the principal a wave and wheeled out of the parking lot.
ANDY FLOYD HELD TRUE to his promise, watching until Noah Blake’s motorcycle had disappeared in a swirl of dust on the highway. Inside the warm school building, he scanned the halls for tardy students, but wasn’t lucky enough to see any he could nab. They had probably seen him first, and were hiding until he went back to his office.
When he reached his desk, he dropped into the chair and rubbed his hands over his face. The last person he’d expected or wanted to see this morning was Noah Blake. Nothing but trouble, he’d been, since the day he first set foot on school grounds.
Worse was the trouble he brought with him. Floyd grabbed the phone and pressed an auto-dial number. “Hey,” he told the man who answered. “We’ve got a problem.”
“What now?”
“Noah Blake is back.”
“Who?”
“Noah Blake. The kid who ran away before the 1989 graduation, remember? After the fire?”
“Shit.”
“Exactly.”
“What’s he want?”
“Who knows? But he looks like he usually gets whatever he sets his mind on. A real tough character.”
After a second, the man on the phone laughed. “A tough character, is he? Good for him.
“Because I’m a pretty tough character myself.”
FRIDAY MORNING, NOAH WENT to see the one person in town who knew the truth about him, the one person who had expected him to show his face in New Skye again.
Rob Warren lived in a peaceful neighborhood on the north side of downtown, in a comfortable-looking house surrounded by plenty of grass and trees. A green pine garland draped the porch rails, tied to the posts with big red bows. Lightbulbs twinkled in the garland and on the holly trees beside the front steps—nighttime would bring on a terrific light display, sure to please the kids. He’d always enjoyed Christmas lights himself.
Noah rang the doorbell, then stared at the huge wreath on the front door until the panel swung back with a draft of sharp, sweet pine scent and the jingle of small silver bells.
“Hey, Noah, good to see you. Come on in.”
Warm and simple, cinnamon-scented, Rob’s house immediately felt like home. Not any home Noah had ever experienced, but somehow he knew this was the way life was supposed to be. The Christmas tree by the front window stretched from floor to ceiling and, even in the daylight, shone with hundreds of lights, as well as ornaments of every kind. A nativity scene took up the entire mantel over the fireplace, complete with camels, cows, sheep, donkeys, chickens, dogs and angels. Noah smiled when he saw an obviously hand-made dog near the manger.
“Yeah, the kids wanted Buttercup, my sister’s golden retriever, at the stable,” Rob explained. “I whittled and Valerie painted her.” He shook his head. “Good thing we never thought about being artists. I don’t think we can claim a thimbleful of talent between us. Have a seat.”
Noah sat on the reclining armchair in the corner. “Looks like y’all will have a very merry Christmas morning.” Presents wrapped in colorful paper and decorated with ribbons and bows were piled high at the base of the tree.
“We’ve gone overboard, I guess. It’s so much fun to be a family—not two single parents with kids—that we’re a little crazy.” Rob shrugged, and his grin displayed not one morsel of regret. “That’s what credit cards are for. Want some coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’m great.” Between anxiety over this interview and the need to choke down his mother’s scrambled eggs, he’d downed four cups this morning.
“Okay, then.” Rob folded his long body onto the couch. “Thanks for coming here. My daughter Ginny had some surgery last week, and she’s still recuperating in bed.”
“I hope she’s okay.” Noah couldn’t imagine coping with a child who needed surgery. Maybe Rob didn’t have such an ideal life, after all?
“She’ll be better in a few months. Ginny has cerebral palsy, and as she grows the doctors want to make adjustments in her tendons and muscles. We don’t always agree with what they suggest, but she’s been through a growth spurt recently and it seemed like the right thing to do. Even this close to Christmas.”
Noah started to get up again. “Maybe this isn’t a good time—”
Rob waved him down. “No, no, we’re fine. This just happens to be my day to stay home—Valerie and I are alternating. Next week, my sister Jen will be off duty as an EMT, and she’ll stay with Ginny.” He smiled. “We’re blessed with family who help out. And each other—I don’t know what I’d do anymore without Valerie. Plus Grace and Connor, who will play with Ginny for hours while she’s in bed. When they’re not squabbling, of course.”
Rob picked up a file folder lying on the coffee table and paged through it. “So let’s get business out of the way and then maybe Ginny will be awake and I can introduce you. I haven’t told anybody you were coming back—haven’t mentioned, even to Valerie, that we’ve talked about this job. I figure your past is your business, and you’ll decide what you want people to know and when.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“I’ve got a lot of paperwork here, forms to be signed and then delivered to your parole officer, forms I’m supposed to keep, information you’re required to read. I guess we’ll go over it one page at a time, make sure we’ve got everything covered. But first…”
Setting the folder back on the table, Rob braced his elbows on his knees, linked his fingers and then looked straight into Noah’s face.
“First, I want to hear what you’ve been doing the last fifteen years or so. Tell me where you worked, where you lived, what you did in your spare time. Explain to me how in the world you ended up in prison.
“And then, give me one good reason I should trust you with a job.”
CHAPTER FOUR
ABBY CLOSED THE DINER at nine Friday night and went home. As soon as she turned the last corner, she saw the big Harley parked by the curb across from her dad’s house. Noah sat in the saddle, arms folded over his chest. He’d come for the dog, or to argue about the dog. She hadn’t yet forgiven him for the argument yesterday morning.
“What are you doing here?” She bumped the car door shut with her hip.
“I came to get the dog.”
“To do what with him? Your mother won’t let him in the house, remember?”
“I’ll hide him in my room.” His smile gleamed white for a second. “She’ll never know.”
Now she crossed her arms. “Are you crazy? Of course she’ll notice.”
“She never knew about the mice I kept, or the lizards. I had a rabbit for a couple of years without her finding out.”
“How in the world did you do that?”
“Kept my room clean, clothes washed, bed changed. She didn’t have a reason to come in and snoop, so the rabbit stayed in the closet except when I was there and locked the door.”
Abby couldn’t help but laugh. “All these years, the teenagers of the world never realized the secret to true privacy was simple neatness.”
“Give people what they want and they pretty much leave you alone.”
“Words of wisdom.” She stared at him through the darkness for a moment, watching the streetlight beam shimmer across his hair. “Well, come on in. Dad’s usually in bed by now, so the coast should be clear.”
She could have taken him around the back of the house to the sunporch. But she didn’t want to sneak Noah in, as if she were ashamed of him. Noah Blake was as good as anyone else in town.
Still, she was thankful to see no sign of her dad as she led Noah through the front rooms. When they reached the kitchen, she could hear the dog snuffling on the other side of the door to the porch. As soon as she opened that door, the little guy was all over Noah.
“Hey, buddy.” He knelt by the door so the dog could lick his face. “You’re looking pretty good after a couple of days of inside digs. You even got a bath.” Noah looked up at Abby. “That must have been fun. He can’t have had too many in his life.”
“I took him to a friend of mine who runs a dog-grooming business. She said he did okay. Maybe he belonged to people at one point and got lost.”
“Maybe. Thanks, anyway.” Cradling the dog against his chest, Noah got to his feet. “You’ve been a big help.”
He intended to go, and take the dog with him. They would both disappear from her life. After the way Noah had acted, she should be glad. But…
“Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”
He’d reached the door between the kitchen and the hallway. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”
“Hot chocolate?”
Noah stopped and turned back. “That’s a low blow.”
“Does it work?”
“As long as your dad won’t come in and yell at me.”
Abby closed the doors to the hall and to the dining room. “He’ll never know you’re here. Have a seat at the table. This’ll just take a second.”
Noah set the dog on the floor and took a chair. He observed the kitchen while she worked. After a few minutes of companionable silence, he said, “Let me guess—your favorite color is red.”
She grinned as she poured milk and cream into the chocolate mixture. “Can’t put anything over on you.”
“Red pots and pans, red-checked curtains, red apples on the table and a red rug on the floor. I’d have to be pretty dense.”
“Red dishes, too,” she pointed out, taking two big mugs out of a cabinet. “Add green napkins and I’m all decorated for Christmas.”
When the chocolate started to simmer, she moved the saucepan off the burner and poured the beverage into the cups. She handed him a mug, then sat across the table with her own. The dog settled between them on the red rug, his chin resting on one outstretched paw.
Noah took a sip of chocolate. “You sure do work miracles—this is even better than the stuff you made the other day.”
“At home, I can use expensive chocolate and cream. At the diner, I have to remember cost control.”
“It’s worth the price. Maybe you could put Abby’s Special Hot Chocolate on the menu and charge more.”
She shook her head. “Charlie’s pretty rigid about keeping prices down. He’s the boss.”
“So open your own place. Charge anything you want.”
“And compete with the Carolina Diner? I don’t think so.”
“You’ll just stick with the status quo?”
“I haven’t been offered any other options.” Beside them, the windowpane rattled in the wind. Abby glanced down at the dog. “It’s a cold night to take him out on the motorcycle. He doesn’t have too much hair.”
“I brought the backpack. He’ll be warm enough.”
“And he still doesn’t have a name.”
“No.” Noah stared down at the mutt. “Spot?”
She huffed in frustration. “He doesn’t have spots.”
“So?”
“A dog’s name is supposed to mean something. Everybody’s name should mean something.”
“Who says?”
“I do.” Holding her mug with both hands, she closed her eyes. “Loner? Ranger?”
“The Lone Ranger?” He grinned at her disgusted stare. “Why make such a big deal? Call him Harry.”
“But he’s not. How about Scruffy?”
“I’m not hanging around with a Scruffy.”
“I don’t see you hanging around with him at all.”
Noah glared at her over the top of his mug, then took a long swig, effectively hiding his face. They dropped the argument long enough to enjoy the hot chocolate, and Abby gathered the courage to ask a question.
“So tell me…where have you been for the last decade or so, anyway?”
“Around.” He set the drink on the table, pushing the handle of his mug with the pointer finger of one hand to the other, and back again.
When she didn’t say anything, he seemed to realize he hadn’t given enough of an answer. “Atlanta, mostly, for the last few years.”
“What do you do?”
“Do?”
She slapped her palm on the table. At their feet, the dog jumped and sat up. “You’re infuriating! You have to eat, right? What do you do to earn money?”
He chuckled at her temper tantrum. “Calm down, Abigail. I’ve worked a lot of different jobs over the years. Landscaping, moving furniture, construction, restaurant work—”
“Really? What kind?”
Noah gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Short-order cook, maître d’, dishwasher, waiter. I did some sous-chef work at one place in Florida, but didn’t stay long enough to get anywhere.”
“You’ve been to Florida? And Georgia. Where else?”
When he shook his head, she insisted. “Come on, Noah, tell me where all you’ve traveled. I’ve been stuck in this little town since the day I was born, and as far as I can tell, I’ll be here till I die. But I love hearing about other people’s adventures.”
Still, Noah hesitated. Abby didn’t really want to know about the majority of the adventures he’d had—too many low-rent apartments and bar fights, too much experience with the police and the prison system, too few good meals to eat and good people to talk to. Wherever he’d been, he hadn’t spent time on the right side of the tracks.
But he tried to give her what she wanted. “I hitched my way to California when I left here. Learned to surf and do some in-line skating.” The entire two years had passed in an alcoholic haze. “Then I went to Wyoming and learned to ski at Jackson Hole. I was a lift operator for a season.” He pretended to shiver. “Talk about cold.”
“I can’t imagine that much snow. And the Rocky Mountains—are they just spectacular?”
Somehow, she got him to describe what he’d seen of the Rockies…and Hawaii, where he’d only been able to afford a couple of months. He had stuff to tell about New York, Chicago, Dallas and San Antonio, too.
“And yeah, I have been overseas,” he said finally, getting to his feet. “But it’s after midnight and I need my beauty sleep. I’ll just take the mutt and go on back to my mom’s.”
“Wait.” Abby put her hand out as he bent to pick up the dog. “I—I feel bad about deceiving your mother.”
Noah straightened up, leaving the dog on the floor. “You wouldn’t be. Don’t worry about it.”
“But—” She grabbed his arm and held on tight. “Noah, why did you come home?”
“I…” He glanced away, rubbing a palm over his chin. “What difference does it make?”
“Because if you came to make peace with your mom, sneaking a dog into the house is not the way to go about it.”
He put his palm over her fingers where she clutched him. “Abigail, this isn’t your problem.”
Her hand turned, linking their fingers. “I’d…like to see you stay around. For…a while.”
Dangerous words. Her gold-green gaze searched his face, and Noah didn’t know what to say.
The next moment became even more dangerous, as Abby stood, stepped closer and brought the fingertips of her free hand to his cheek. She tilted her face up, looking at him through half-lowered lashes. “Would that be so bad?”
“I—” Resisting temptation had never been one of his strong points. The sane half of his brain fired every possible weapon of logic in an attempt to keep things from going any further. But Noah touched his mouth to Abby’s, and sanity popped like a soap bubble on the point of a pin.
She filled his arms sweetly, her generous breasts soft against his chest, her back supple and warm under his hands. Her kisses invited anything he chose to give, and Noah explored the entire spectrum, from tender to harsh, innocent to erotic, testing, playing…hell, resurrecting feelings he thought he’d killed years ago.
He came back to consciousness with one hand tangled in Abby’s hair and one hand under her shirt, cupping her breast, while he could feel both of her hands gripping his butt.
“Abigail.” He closed his mouth, settled for a few more innocent kisses, managed to drag his lips across her cheek, into her hair and finally away. “Not smart. Not smart at all.”
“Who cares about smart?” She pressed a deep kiss against the base of his throat, and he felt his knees start to shake.
“You. Me…maybe.” He groaned as her teeth nipped at his collarbone. She could devour him right here, right now, on her dad’s kitchen floor….
Shit. With a growl, Noah jerked his head back, gripped Abby’s shoulders and pushed her away to arm’s length. “Stop it. Just stop.”
She closed her hands around his wrists. Her lips were swollen, probably bruised, her eyelids heavy with desire. “Why?”
“Because your dad could decide to get a glass of water, for God’s sake. Because it would be criminal—” What a word to choose. “It would be ridiculous for this to go any further.”
Abby lifted her chin in defiance. “I’m not pretty enough?”
“What? Where’d that come from?”
“Not sexy enough? Talented enough? What does it take to catch Noah Blake’s interest?” She shook her head. “I wondered all through school what was wrong with me, that you wouldn’t actually ask for a date. I finally decided you just didn’t want to be seen with me in public.”
Noah swore again, dropped his hands from her shoulders and walked to the other side of the room. “Believe me, Abigail, you would have been a lot more miserable—then and now—if I had asked.”
He shut the hall door silently behind him, the front door not quite so gently. Only when he reached his bike did he realize he’d completely forgotten to take the dog with him.
ABBY USUALLY LIKED getting to the diner early on Saturday mornings to enjoy the peace and quiet before the big crowd started arriving around eight. Even in December, folks in New Skye got up early on Saturday to get breakfast before they went shopping, before the golf match or the horse show, before they spent the day decorating the house and yard for Christmas. And Abby usually enjoyed hearing about their plans for the day. This morning, after yet another sleepless night courtesy of Noah Blake, she didn’t want to wait tables, didn’t want to cook or clean up, didn’t want to hear about other people’s lives. She wanted to crawl back into bed, pull the blanket up to her eyebrows and sleep the day away.
Not an option, of course, especially when the rush started almost an hour early.
“If you’re cookin’, you’d better get hoppin’,” her dad ordered as he came into the kitchen. “I got two over medium, bacon, two scrambled, sausage, pancakes and ham, biscuits.”
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