Page 27 of Anything For This Love

“Do you have any plans for the holidays?”

“I have a fundraising gala to attend and then I’ll spend a few days with Abby and Chloe.”

Her smile falters briefly and she rests back in her seat. “That’s nice. Will you spend Christmas here, or back in…?” Her words trail off, indicating she’s forgotten where they live.

“West Virginia,” I finish for her.

“Right. West Virginia.”

“Neither, actually. I have something special planned for them.” I avoid giving her any details because I haven’t told Abby yet. She should be the first one to know what I have planned for us.

“I bet she’ll love it. She’s one lucky girl.”

Jerry finally returns to his seat, putting a halt to our conversation. “I think they need to get their plumbing checked. That water never got warm,” he complains with a shiver, rubbing his hands together vigorously.

We chat while eating sandwiches and nibbling on scones. When our lunch hour is nearly up, we leave the cafe to head back toward the office.

“Brrr,” Erin huffs, shivering. She crosses her arms over her chest, rubbing her hands over her shoulders. The light sweater she’s wearing isn’t enough to block out the wind. It’s picked up since we walked here earlier. She looks like she may freeze to death before we make it back, so I slip off my coat and drape it over her shoulders.

“You don’t have to do that. Won’t you be cold?” she asks with wide eyes.

“I’ll be fine,” I assure her. My suit jacket is enough to keep me warm until we get inside.

“Thank you.” Her face fills with gratitude as she slips her arms into the sleeves. She shrugs out of it once we’re back inside my office and hands it back to me, thanking me once again. The scent of her perfume clings to the silk lining. It smells like ripe melons and tropical flowers. The fragrance is pleasant, but I prefer the hint of sweetness Abby carries on her skin. I leave the coat off, not wishing to have another woman’s scent on me, and toss it onto the empty chair in my office.

Guilt tugs at my conscience. I should tell Abby about Erin. I would want to know if she was spending every day working side by side with an attractive, intelligent man. I’m not blind. I know how beautiful Erin is, and although her good looks mean nothing to me, they may come back to bite me in the ass.

Chapter Ten

Abby

“How much longer do youhave to use the crutches?” I ask as Ethan devours the biscuits I brought him.

“A couple weeks,” he laments through a mouth full of food.

“Are you getting around okay? Is your incision healing well?” I have ulterior motives for asking these questions. Tiff has been trying to take care of him since he came home from the hospital and I want to know how they’re getting along.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t take the bait.

“How’s Tiff?”

He lets out an exasperated sigh and pushes his plate away. “What do you want from me?”

“I want to know what’s going on between you two. I got her side of the story. Now I want yours.” He glares at me, his mouth clamped shut. I roll my eyes at his obtuseness. “She’s obviously trying to make up for what went down between you two. Can’t you find it in your heart to forgive her?”

“Can you?” he challenges.

“I’m working on it.”

“So am I.” He looks away and the muscle in his jaw tightens. He needs time to work through his emotions, so that’s what I’ll give him. I just hope Tiff is willing to do the same.

I head straight home after leaving Ethan, and when I walk in the door, I’m struck speechless. The house smells like fresh lemons and cinnamon. The floors are spotless and the normally disorganized mess that is our living room is picked up with everything in its place, Chloe’s toys in their designated bins, and DVDs lined neatly on the shelf. I walk inside and take off my shoes, afraid to step on the gleaming floor. Padding across the kitchen, I notice the counters and table are free of crumbs and everything is put away. A candle with a cinnamon roll pictured on the label burns next to the sink, creating the sweet scent that greeted me at the door. A dark head pops up from behind the table and I shriek, jumping back. My mom lets out a little yelp too, pulling the ear buds from her ears. The unmistakable sound of Angus Young’s guitar blares from the tiny white pods.

“You about gave me a heart attack!” she says, pressing a hand to her chest.

“Yeah, likewise.”

She stands and places her dusting rag on the table, pulling a cell phone from her pocket to silence her music. My eyes narrow on the device and its accessories, wondering if she came with them or if my grandmother shelled out the money for it.

---