Page 40 of Need You Now

And now here she was, naked and getting ready for another round of morning sex with Connor. And only a few days away from the grand opening of her place. She was afraid the house of cards she’d built would come toppling down.

“I’m starting without you, darlin’,” Connor called from the bathroom.

Brushing aside her worries, she joined him.

Fifteen minutes later, she emerged clean and thoroughly ravished. With her hair damp, she tugged on clothes and went to fix Connor a cup of coffee to bring with him.

Abby walked into the kitchen and stopped short at the disaster before her. The island streaked with ice cream, the container—empty—on its side along with the spoon, and clothes strewn all over the room. Connor’s tan shorts and boxer briefs had taken the brunt of the mess and sat in a pile on the floor where chocolate had dripped on them. She picked them up and set them next to the sink to rinse them out before washing them.

Despite the mess, Abby smiled at the memory of their night. It topped her list of erotic food exploits, for sure. After starting a pot of coffee, she reached into a cabinet to get a mug, but it slipped out of her hands and fell, shattering with a loud crash.

“Abs? You okay?” Connor called.

“Yeah. I dropped a coffee mug.”

She picked up the bigger pieces and was tossing them in the trash when Connor came in, freshly dressed for work.

“Wow, we did a number on your kitchen.” He planted a soft kiss on her lips. “Best night of my life.”

“Mine too.”

“Let me help you clean up this glass. You have a dustpan?”

“In the closet in the corner.”

While Connor searched, Abby grabbed a takeout mug and fixed the coffee the way he liked. When he hadn’t returned, she called out. “You find it, babe?”

She found him in the closet fixated on something in the back.

“What’s that?” he asked, and his voice held an edge that sent a shiver down her spine.

“What? The dustpan’s right here.” She reached past him to where it was on the shelf, pausing when she saw what had caught his eye.

In the corner, partially hidden behind a bucket and mop, were several cans of spray paint. Someone had done a poor job of trying to cover them up with a couple of old towels.

She wrinkled her brow. “I’ve never seen those before.”

“They’re the same color as the paint used when Erickson Pier was vandalized. And at both the mini-golf and the museum sites,” Connor said.

“It’s probably common spray paint. Most likely from the past owner,” Abby said, not liking the accusatory tone in his voice.

“But then there’s this.” He held out a newspaper. It was the front page of an old issue of the Pelican Bay Herald and covered an article about the renovation of Erickson Pier and the filming of Beach House Flippers. In the margin, someone had written the words GO HOME.

Abby remembered Connor mentioning similar wording being painted at the lighthouse.

“Oh my God. You think I’m responsible for the vandalism?”

He raised pained eyes to her. “Do you know how these things got here?”

“I just told you I don’t. Does that make me guilty?”

“You organized the protest about the pier expansion, Abby. You have to admit it’s a strange coincidence to find this in your apartment.”

“You have some nerve.” She stomped into the kitchen, wincing when she stepped on particles of glass she’d forgotten about.

“Dammit.” Hopping on one foot, she moved to the counter and bent over to pull out shards of glass.

Connor had followed her. “Fuck. The glass.”

---