Love Me: The Complete Series (24 page)

“No.”

“Then text him. Send him a message. Tell him to go to hell. I don’t care. Say something.”

“You’re really obsessed with this threesome thing we have going on, aren’t you? You play him when you’re with me and you play me when you’re with—” The fingernails sank in and hell if she hadn’t drawn blood. “Hey!”

“Don’t say it. Not about me. It’s not true about me.
I
am not with Jackson,” Abby hissed.

Holy shit, was water pooling in her eyes? She extracted her claws from his arm and nearly ran down the hill. Damned if he knew what her problem was. Other than being certifiably crazy. So she wanted him to call Jackson? Okay. Fine.

He dialed.

• • •

Abby was breathless and almost made it to the long driveway when her cell burst into action. Why the hell couldn’t it have done that earlier? Why had this po-dunk country place chosen to lose the signal right when she needed one? What sort of crazy fate made stupid things happen the way they did? She glanced at the display and stopped running. She stopped walking as well.

In fact, she stood dumbfounded, staring at the display for two seconds. Then she hit the button to answer.

“It’s about time you called.”

She turned and looked up the hill at an equally dumbfounded but extremely sexy man. Who had just been hit by a brick wall.

“You?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

“How am I supposed to know? You’re the one that started it. You sent me a message.”

He trudged toward her down the hill. She retraced her steps up.

“I sent you a message?”

“I believe your exact words were … ‘she broke up with me, you idiot. The tickets were a shit idea.’”

Seconds ticked before he spoke again. “I called information for Jackson’s number but you can’t get a cell number there, so I asked Roger to give me his number along with several others of our friends. He must have written it down wrong. Or I … ”

“You got it. Your friend Roger gave you my number instead.”

“Why would he do that?” There was less than fifteen feet between them and he closed it in three steps.

“You need to ask him that question but according to Jackson—”

“So, you are involved with Ja—”

Abby threw a finger up. “No! He wanted me to understand what happened in that meeting. He came by the store to explain it but that was after you’d already quit talking.”

“Uh, sorry. So, all this time I’ve been texting and e-mailing Jackson—it was you?”

She nodded. “Pretty much.”

“And you never said a word? You let me think you were him? Why?”

Uh, oh. Well, that was the question. She had no idea.

“I didn’t intend to. You just … kept going. And things got more and more messy. Then … ” She hadn’t a clue how to tell the story in full. There was too much to tell.

“Then?”

“We met and I didn’t know you were the same guy sending the messages
or
the same guy that I had fired. Not at first.” Abby kicked a rock and it tumbled down the road as they ambled toward Becky’s drive.

“Wait. So, you knew it was me when I was at Sotby’s? You were there intentionally?” His frown deepened.

“No. I went to Sotby’s because I was going to meet … ” Who? What should she say?

“Me.” He clenched his lips together and stopped walking. “This whole thing was a game, wasn’t it?”

“What? Of course not. I went to Sotby’s because this random guy that was texting me thought he was meeting the person on the other side of the conversation. So, technically I was invited. After all he’d been through, it seemed wrong to let him sit alone.”

“There was no blind date?”

Abby grimaced. “Ugh. No. I never go on blind dates. Way too complicated.”

Carter leaned over, picked up a rock from the road, and stood to toss it into the trees. “No, you just date friends of friends. And pretend to be someone else. And kiss one guy when you’re sleeping with another. Or maybe it’s more of a booty-call one night here, one night there thing? Yeah, nothing complicated about that. Simple as hell.”

Abby growled and stomped a foot. Dust flew from below her shoe. “Look. I haven’t done any of those things. I was just trying to be nice.”

His eyes popped. “Nice! You’ve
got
to be shitting me. That’s nice? Which part? Damn, you really have a skewed sense of etiquette.”

“I didn’t want to be the one to tell you about Jackson. It wasn’t my place to do that.”

“Right. Who am I to want to know the girl in my bed was in his the day before? Why should that matter?”

“I wasn’t in his bed the day before. Or the day after. Or any day. Ever! I don’t even know Jackson. Other than the day I doused him with water and the day he came into the store for the wedding … ”

“Wedding?”

Abby threw a hand to her mouth. What an idiot thing to say! Hadn’t she already complicated it enough? Now, there was
that
? No. More. Lies. “Yes, he’s going to be in a wedding and we’re doing the arrangements.” Okay, it wasn’t perfect but still accurate.

She stomped to Becky’s porch and tried the door, hoping to escape his scrutiny. It was locked, so she dropped to the step and stretched her legs in front. It was time. “Carter, I’ve lied to you since I met you. Well, technically, since right
after
I met you because you texted me the same day you ran over me with Ruckus. You thought I was Jackson and I never told you—you just kept sending messages. At first, I tried to stop it. Then, after that day in the park … well, you were talking about me. Then you said how much you hated dishonesty and I knew you’d never forgive me. I thought maybe once we had a little more time, it would be easier. I was—”

“Spying.”

She shrugged, unable to look at him. “Sort of, but it wasn’t intentional.”

Carter stepped up to the porch and dropped next to her. “How do you figure that?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. In fact, none of that matters. Here’s the thing. Whatever you think I have or haven’t done, it’s probably not true. The key part being that you
think
it, you don’t
know
it. Everything that’s happened between us in person, not through messages, that was real. You
know
that. I
know
that.” She put a hand over his as it rested on his thigh. “Trust that. It’s the real part … the truth. Okay?”

He squinted and leveled his gaze on her mouth. “Is it? Was it?”

Abby looked away then slapped her hands to her thighs and stood. “You’ll have to decide. I have to go home now. I only came because I thought Becky was in trouble. I need to get back. I have to work tomorrow.”

“Your keys are inside on the counter, remember?”

She had forgotten to pick her keys up when Becky rushed them out. She tugged hard on the doorknob. “Dammit. I feel like I’m being held hostage.”

“You are. She slid your keys to the side of the counter when you weren’t looking. I noticed but it didn’t really register until now. That’s how my mother resolves things. She’s always been like that, which is why I chose not to come home after Carley died.”

“Carley was your sister?”

“Yeah. My mom’s good at expressing herself. She’s big on communication. That was her way of getting past the loss. She
talked
about it. All the time, in fact. I hated it. Every time I came home, everything we said and did revolved around Carley. It was like a mosque in this house.”

“I bet that was stifling for you. You felt unimportant.” How sad his parents had been so swept up in their grief, they forgot to love their remaining child.

“No, that wasn’t it.” He picked a twig from his pants and tossed it in the grass. “It was like we were all supposed to want to stop living simply because she did.”

What?
Abby swiveled and stared at the back of his head. Had his sister committed suicide? Was that what haunted him? “What are you saying? She wanted to die? She did it on purpose?”

His shoulders were stiff and the hair flitted over his head, tossing the strands around at will. “No. People don’t do what she did on purpose. It just happened.”

“What exactly did she do?” This was why the texting had turned into such a fiasco—he spoke in riddles and innuendo.
Yeah, right. Dump the blame on him.

Carter shoved off the steps and trudged toward the backyard, ending the conversation before it became too intense. “I think Mom used to hide a key on the back step. Let me check.”

Abby saw no choice but to follow. She hopped to the ground and jogged to catch him. “You didn’t answer my—” She rounded the corner.

He tiptoed to retrieve something from the overhang of the door.

“Wow, there’s some great security.”

He slipped the key in the lock and turned—or at least attempted to. It didn’t budge. He tried again with no success, then removed it and returned it the hiding spot. “I guess she changed the locks.”

“When was the last time that key was used?”

Carter shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe eight years ago?”

“If it doesn’t work, why did you put it back?”

“Good point.” He left it and hopped to the ground, slipping his hands in his pockets.

Abby did a one-eighty of the yard. “So, any other possible places to look for a key? A secret stash somewhere?” A group of ducks bolted to the air behind the shed where Abby had first seen Becky. “Look!” She raised a finger toward the birds.

“We get a lot of them out here. Mostly green heads.”

“So, that hunting you did with your dad, was it here? In the fields behind the house?” She imagined a young boy that spent his days running through the fields in the summer and hunting ducks in the fall. It must have been a paradise for a child explorer.

“Sometimes. When I was younger, we went out there.” He pointed past the barn. “But after Carley was gone, we went on hunting trips. I always thought Dad had to get away from it just as badly as Mom wanted to memorialize it.”

“How old were you when she died?”

“Fifteen. I had almost finished my freshman year. She was eighteen months older, a sophomore.”

“Oh, I thought she was—”

“Little? Nah, she’d just gotten her driver’s license a few months earlier. She wasn’t one of those who rushed to get it, mainly because she had no need. There’s not a whole lot to do here.”

“Tell me about her.” Abby half-expected a snarling comment.

He simply walked away, toward the barn.

With his hands still in his pockets, Carter strode softly across the thick grass. “Why don’t I walk you around the place while we’re waiting? Feel like seeing farm life up close?”

Hmmm. They had just walked eight miles to get to the house. Wasn’t that close enough? The wind whipped his hair away from his face as he turned in profile. Okay, up close with
that
might be nice.

“Sure.” Besides, there wasn’t anything else to do and she obviously made him uncomfortable with the questions. So uncomfortable he had no desire to sit and talk any further.

They walked in silence toward the shed, veering to the right on an almost hidden footpath, and made their way toward the field beyond.

When they cleared the structure, her breath caught in her throat. “Oh my God, you had
this
in your backyard and can’t understand the allure of flowers?”

They stood at the crest of a hill looking toward a meadow that was ringed by trees. The entire area was carpeted with bluebonnets, starting just below their feet. The only break in the sea of blue was real water, as in a small pond with a dock jutting into it. The darker greenish blue of the pond seemed dismal compared to the vibrant color of the flowers. Abby sucked in the scent. She didn’t bother to stifle a moan of pleasure.

Carter shrugged. “It’s a little overwhelming, isn’t it?”

“That isn’t exactly the word that comes to my mind. More like beautiful, amazing, or something straight out of a Hallmark card. I don’t understand. How can you see this day in and day out for weeks every year and not find it the most exotic and enticing thing ever? I could pitch a tent out here and stay for days.”

He snickered. “Not unless you want to get stung by a hundred bees … or worse, mosquitos.” He trudged forward into the tall sea of blue, unconcerned for the survival of the beautiful stalks.

“Watch out, you’ll trample them.” She reached for his arm, attempting to hold him back.

He walked straight over the state flower with no concern. Wasn’t there a law against that?

“Aren’t they protected or something?”

He turned with a humorous glint in his eyes. “People always think that. They also think you can’t pick them. It’s not true. Sure, you’re not supposed to dig them up or go tailgating through them doing figure eights in a car but it’s not illegal. Someone might get pissed and beat you up, but other than that, it doesn’t matter. It’s okay to pick them and it’s okay to occasionally
step
on one or two.”

Carter’s glance dropped to the hand on his arm, which she withdrew. Damn, if that hadn’t sent a spark through her—
again.

“No, it’s wrong to pick them. They’re the state flower. I know that’s not—” She stopped when he plucked a handful of the stalks then stepped toward her.

“Here. Turn me in if you want, but no one cares. This is private property and the flowers are only protected in the manner that private property is.”

The clump of flowers he thrust to her sent a burst of the most heavenly scent through her brain. When he jiggled the bunch again so she’d reach up, she didn’t. He stepped closer and bent to her face. Waiting.

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Are you seriously telling me you don’t want them? Come on. Aren’t you the girl who told me about the aphrodisiac qualities of flowers in general? This has got to be right up your alley. Besides, don’t you trust me? Surely, you’ve broken worse rules than that in your lifetime?”

Okay, he had her there. Especially if one took into account the past weeks. She’d broken a lot of rules in her communication with him, but none of those were illegal. She glanced toward the house, fully expecting the town sheriff to roll up and handcuff them both.

Carter threw his head back and laughed. It wasn’t much of a laugh, but still more than she’d seen in a long time. “I don’t know what’s funnier, seeing you splayed on the ground with your panties in full view for the town or you standing there thinking you’ll get arrested for taking a few flowers from me. Abby, trust me on this. It’s okay.”