Married 'til Monday Read online

  “I have a VIP case for you,” he said. “Right up your alley. Wife suspects affair. High-profile, gated community. I need my best girl on it.”

  “I’m your only girl. What’s the TAT?”

  “Next weekend. I know that’s quick but—What?”

  Abby was shaking her head. Normally she could turn a case so quickly, but . . . “I’m leaving on Wednesday, remember? Road trip.”

  “Take a plane. I’ll pay for it. Heck, I’ll fly you first-class for what this lady’s paying.”

  It wasn’t the money that stopped her from flying. And she hated saying no when she was so close to that promotion. Lewis was going to ride this for all it was worth. But she’d had this trip on the schedule for weeks, and she didn’t want to disappoint her mom.

  “Sorry, but I can’t. You’ll have to put Lewis on it.”

  It really blew, handing the case over to her competition. She closed her e-mails and stood to leave.

  Frank grimaced, running his hand over his thick mustache. She could’ve sworn Dorito crumbs went flying. “Abby, I need you on this one.”

  She grabbed her purse off the floor. “Except I won’t be here.”

  “Flight plus a bonus. My final offer.”

  “Believe me, I wish I could, Frank.”

  “You really want Lewis to take this?” The subtext was clear. How badly do you want the agency in St. Paul?

  “I can’t get out of this. I’m sorry.” She opened the door. “See you in the morning, Frank.”

  “You’re killing me, kid,” he called just before the door swung shut behind her.

  The drive home was quick and painless. She pulled into her assigned carport and walked up her sidewalk. Boo’s face peeked out the curtains, her tiny paws on the low windowsill, the pink bow crooked on top of her head. Inside the building Abby drew in the savory smells of oregano and garlic. Someone was having a nice supper.

  She collected her mail, then unlocked her door. The Yorkie danced around her feet. “Hey, little Boo. Mommy’s home.” Abby picked up the dog and accepted the kisses from her squirmy friend, smiling at her exuberance. “Sorry I’m late, little girl. Let’s go potty.”

  Abby kissed the dog between her large pointy ears, then leashed her and took her outside. “Go potty, Boo.”

  Feeling guilty, she walked the dog around the apartment complex until the daylight was gone, then went back inside, thinking about the insurance fraud case she almost had wrapped up. As she heated up a slice of yesterday’s pizza, her mind drifted to the upcoming weekend, the party, her parents.

  Her dad.

  She’d dug her wedding set from her jewelry box last night. She hadn’t looked at the rings since the day she took them off, and seeing them had dredged up all the feelings. How gutted and raw and ruined she’d felt that day. It had taken so long to stop hurting. Even now the thought of Ryan opened a hollow spot deep in her chest.

  Stop it, Abby.

  She didn’t know what was wrong with her lately. Thoughts of Ryan were so close to the surface. This weekend was going to be even worse, with everyone asking about him. With those rings encircling her finger again. Bad enough she’d had to keep the last name.

  You wouldn’t have had to if you’d told them the truth.

  She’d tried. She really had. But imagining her dad’s reaction had always stopped her. He’d expected the marriage to fail. Had expected her to fail. She couldn’t stand the thought of proving him right.

  Besides, it wasn’t as if she and her parents even had a real relationship. A Christmas card, a voicemail a few times a year. Her mom had put him on the phone when she’d called to talk Abby into coming. He’d harassed her about Ryan, questioning her, that suspicious tone in his voice.

  If there could be anything worse than admitting her divorce to her dad, it would be admitting she’d been lying about it for three years. Lying to her dad carried a heavy penalty.

  He can’t hurt you anymore, Abby.

  She shouldn’t have let them talk her into this weekend. Now Lewis was going to have a chance to shine. She was jeopardizing her shot at her own agency. But she couldn’t cancel now. Her mom was counting on seeing her, and Lillian Gifford had suffered enough disappointment over the years.

  It would be the first time Abby had gone home since college. Summer Harbor, Maine, didn’t hold the same nostalgic feelings for her that most people’s hometowns did. She couldn’t deny the beauty of the rugged coastline or the bustling wharf with its handful of charming shops. But most of her memories centered around her unstable household, which only evoked feelings of fear and uncertainty.

  She shoved it all from her mind. She wouldn’t think about any of it until she had to.

  After eating dinner she settled on the sofa, catching a mystery that was just getting started. Boo curled in her lap, quietly snoring, her little body rising and falling with each breath.

  Twenty minutes later she was about to give up on the show when a knock sounded at her door. Boo was upright in an instant, diving off the sofa and charging toward the door with her sharp little yaps.

  Probably Mrs. McCauley from next door. The mail carrier was always mixing up their mail. Maybe Abby would invite her in for tea. She could use the company. The distraction. And the woman always seemed lonesome despite her husband and the teenaged granddaughter who’d come to live with them a year ago.

  “Shhhh. It’s okay, Boo.”

  The dog barely glanced at Abby, her brown eyes trained on the door, her yaps coming closer together.

  Abby reached for the handle and pulled the door, a smile on her lips.

  Her heart stuttered. Her breath filled her lungs and stuck there, unable to find release. Her smile fell away.

  His face was as familiar as her own. She knew every curve. Every angle. Every golden fleck in his chocolate brown eyes. Three years had done nothing to erase these details.

  “Hello, Abby,” Ryan said.

  Chapter Three

  IF THERE WAS ONE THING SHE’D BLOCKED ABOUT RYAN McKinley, it was his size. The breadth of his shoulders, his height. A good pair of heels put her eye level with most men, but Ryan’s stature insured she was always looking up at him.

  And now he towered over her in her stocking feet. She stepped back, putting space between them, the walls of her chest closing in.

  “Ryan.” Somehow it came out without a hint of the chaos inside.

  “It’s been a long time, Abby.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  The corner of his lip turned up. “Always right down to business.” His gaze flickered down to Boo, who had ceased barking and was sniffing the toe of his shoe.

  Abby drew a shaky breath while he was distracted, making her face a careful mask of indifference. Her eyes fell on the cracked-open door across the hall. Mrs. Doherty’s shadowed face peeked out.

  “Can I come in?”

  She quickly reviewed her options, focusing primarily on the short-term discomfort of being alone with him versus the longterm consequences of Mrs. Doherty’s big mouth.

  Darn it all.

  She opened the door all the way, giving him a wide berth. The smell of him assaulted her anyway, making all the red flags wave. The familiar woodsy scent mixed with musk and leather would hang around long after he left. Before she could stop herself she drew in a deep breath, the smell instantly taking her back to their dating days. Wonderful, beautiful, frightening days.

  She closed the door. Boo was quivering now, and Abby picked her up before she could tinkle on the floor. She cradled the dog in her arms, stroking her smooth head.

  It’s okay, baby.

  Ryan scanned her apartment. “Nice place.”

  “How’d you find me?”

  He hiked a brow. “You mean after you told me you were moving to Wisconsin?”

  She looked down at Boo. She had considered moving there. And maybe she hadn’t wanted Ryan to know she was only an hour and a half away. It was hard enough knowing it herself.

  H
e made himself comfortable, leaning against the sofa back, his thick fingers curling around the plush leather. He was still too darn handsome for his own good. Thick, dark hair. Chiseled jaw. Warm brown eyes.

  She probably had sofa head, and her makeup had surely clocked out hours ago, leaving her nose freckles on display.

  Normally she’d offer a chair, a drink, but she didn’t want Ryan lingering. Just seeing him again was disastrous enough to her well-being. She couldn’t think of a single good reason for him to disrupt her life like this. But then, he’d been disrupting her life since the moment he’d stepped into it.

  “Why are you here?” she asked again. There was a sharp edge to her tone. He seemed to bring that out in her.

  He looked at her for a long second before reaching into his jeans pocket. He withdrew his hand and opened it.

  Her lips parted, emitting a gasp. “Nana’s ring!” Their fingers brushed as she took it, and she tried to ignore the jolt it gave her. “Where’d you find it?”

  “Under your nightstand drawer.”

  She placed the ring on her hand and curled her fingers to hold the precious heirloom in place. She’d thought it was gone forever.

  “Found it when I was moving.”

  So he hadn’t stayed in their old place on Orchard. She didn’t know why that thought made her stomach sink. She always pictured him in their cozy little bungalow. They’d been happy there for a while. Until everything had unraveled.

  “I can’t believe you found it. Where’d you move?” And why was she asking?

  Something flickered in his eyes. He shifted, crossed his arms, his biceps plumping at the motion. “Closer to town.”

  He’d always felt claustrophobic on Orchard Street, having grown up on a farm. But it was all they could afford. She thought of their beautiful dream house on Main Street and felt a pang of sadness.

  She wondered suddenly if he’d remarried. Maybe that’s why he’d moved. She glanced at his left hand, the one she’d brushed. Relief flooded her at the sight of his bare finger. She chided herself for the reaction.

  He’s a piece of your past, Abby. That’s all.

  A piece that had caused a lot of heartache and misery. She’d never have married him if she’d known what a heart breaking in two felt like.

  But then, she hadn’t had much choice.

  Boo had calmed and was squirming for release. Abby set her down and stood, twisting the ring on her finger. The antique setting glittered under the light.

  “Your mom’ll be relieved to see it this weekend.”

  Her eyes shot to his. How did he know she was seeing her mom this weekend?

  “She called last week.”

  Her breath froze in her lungs. Did he know Abby hadn’t told them about the divorce? Did Ryan tell them the truth? Please, no. She tried to find the answer in his eyes, his posture, but he wasn’t giving anything away.

  Maybe Ryan didn’t even know her parents still thought they were married. Maybe her mom hadn’t given anything away. Maybe she’d only left a harmless voicemail.

  “You never told them, Abby?”

  Her face warmed under his perusal. He wouldn’t understand. How could he, when he’d been raised by the freaking Waltons?

  “I haven’t gotten around to it.”

  “In three years?”

  “Has it been that long?”

  He tilted his head, studying her the way he did in those early days when he was trying so hard to figure her out. Good luck with that.

  “I didn’t correct them,” he said.

  A load lifted off her, though she kept her expression neutral as she lifted her chin. “Why not?”

  “Figured you had your reasons.”

  None that she was telling him about. He knew more than enough about her. More than anyone else. She set Boo down, and the dog crept over to Ryan, timidly sniffing his shoes again.

  “So when are we leaving?”

  Her eyes darted to him. “What?”

  “Your parents invited me to the party.” Ryan squatted down, holding his hand out for Boo to sniff.

  She watched him. So nonchalant. So laid back. It had driven her crazy when they were married. “You can’t go to my parents’ house.”

  “Sure I can.”

  “We’re divorced.”

  “They don’t know that.” He wasn’t even looking at her. He was too busy stroking her traitorous dog on her belly.

  Why was he doing this? Just showing up at her door . . . inviting himself on her road trip. It was ridiculous.

  “Why would you even want to go?”

  “I haven’t seen Beau in years. He’ll be there, right?”

  “Of course he will. That’s not the point.”

  “I can get the time off, and I thought, why not?”

  Why not? Why not? She could think of about a million reasons, starting with their contentious marriage and ending with her parents.

  “It’s a six-day trip.” And it would feel like six hundred days if Ryan went along.

  “I’ve got the time. Or maybe you have a boyfriend who might object?”

  “No, I don’t—You’re not riding with me, Ryan.”

  He stood, leaning on the sofa again, crossing his ankles. “Well, your parents are going to think it’s awfully strange when we arrive in separate cars.”

  She opened her mouth. Closed it again.

  She didn’t know which would be worse. All that time alone in the car with Ryan or faking marital bliss for two solid days.

  She wished for her furry, quivering shield back. “Why are you doing this?”

  “It was too late to get a flight.”

  “You don’t want to go. You don’t even like my parents.”

  “I hardly know them.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I promised them I’d be there. And I want to be there for Beau.”

  “The way he was there for you?”

  Ryan studied her until she felt like a bug under a microscope. “I understood. He’s your cousin. He loves you. We’re past that now.”

  She hadn’t known they were back in touch, apparently bosom buddies. She was going to kill Beau. He’d been keeping her secret from her parents, from everyone, but she hadn’t known he had secrets of his own.

  “His dad’s death really threw him for a curve. He’s having a rough time.”

  This was not good. Not good at all. Their marriage ended for a reason. “We’d be bickering before we reached the Ohio state line.”

  “I think it’s safe to assume we’ve both grown up a little.”

  “We’re already bickering.”

  “Only because you’re being unreasonable.”

  She let out a growl, turning from the sight of him.

  He raised all her hackles. Always had. Somehow he’d still found his way into her heart—and then stomped all over it.

  “So are we leaving tomorrow? Or Wednesday? We can meet here at your place or you can swing down for me on the way, whichever you want.”

  She twisted the ring around her finger, already reverting to her old habit. Think. She had to think. She could not take a road trip with her ex-husband.

  But they couldn’t show up separately either.

  “We can take my truck if you want,” he said.

  “You can’t go, Ryan. This is crazy.”

  “It makes all the sense in the world. I’m going to Summer Harbor. You’re going to Summer Harbor. Why wouldn’t we save on gas and wear and tear? Plus, like I said, your parents will expect us to arrive together.”

  Arrive together. Eat together. Room together. Sleep together.

  She cleared the emotion from her face and turned around. Did he even understand the implications of this trip?

  “I’m staying with my parents.”

  “So?”

  “So, we’ll be expected to share a room.”

  “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  “You have an answer for everything, don’t you? This is a disaster in the making.”<
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  “You’re overthinking it. It’s two days with your folks. They’ll be busy with party stuff. We’ll blend into the chaos and head back home. Simple.”

  Simple? There was nothing simple about her and Ryan. Never had been. He was her opposite in every way. He was an optimist, she was a cynic. He was a saver, she was a spender. He was easy-going, she was deliberate.

  “I have my route planned out. Places I want to stop on the way.” Was she really considering this?

  “Fine by me.”

  “You’d have to get your own hotel rooms.”

  “Of course.”

  This was all a big, huge mistake. She crossed her arms over her chest, narrowed her eyes, studying him. Initially she hadn’t thought he’d changed. But upon closer observation she saw a fine network of lines fanning from his eyes. And his square jaw, which had too often been covered with stubble, was freshly shaven.

  “Look, Abby,” he said, using the quiet, tender voice that always broke her. “I know there’s a lot of water under the bridge . . . But we were kids. We got ourselves into a mess and things went sideways. We’ve grown up. We’ve moved on. We can be friends, or at the very least, casual acquaintances who are capable of sharing a ride.”

  He always did that. Made her feel like she was overreacting. Maybe she was overreacting.

  “We’d have to pretend we’re married,” she said.

  “Just for a couple days.”

  Beau had been going through a rough time since losing his dad. He was trying to juggle his job as deputy sheriff and his dad’s Christmas tree farm, and Abby suspected he wasn’t allowing himself time to grieve. Spending time with Ryan would do him a world of good. Her ex might frustrate her to death, but he was the best listener she’d ever known.

  And this could put a rest to her dad’s suspicions that all was not well between them. Maybe things would be different with her dad now. She was grown up. He wouldn’t resent her so much. There was no reason for him to hate her anymore.

  But there was that whole pretending-to-be-married thing. “Just till Sunday?”

  “I’ll drive if you want, or at least split the time with you. So you won’t get headaches.”