checked her watch. By her calculations there was still ten minutes before the assigned dinnertime. “I’ll only take a second, I promise. I was wondering if anyone’s called the house looking for me.”
“No one except your boyfriend, that is. He lost your new work number, and figured I knew it.”
Mystery solved. “Mom, I told you Warren and I broke up.”
Same way she had when Abby told her about the breakup, her mother disregarded the comment. “Warren explained how that was all a big misunderstanding.”
“No. It was a breakup. I moved out of the apartment. Remember, I explained to you?” Along with the rest of the sordid story.
“I know what you said, honey, but I figured you’d changed your mind. Warren was so polite on the phone. And he’s doing so well. You’re lucky to have a man like that interested in taking you back.”
Because that’s what mattered. In Joanne Gray’s eyes, a lousy man was better than no man at all. Didn’t matter how miserable or mistreating—
“Joanne!” Abby’s stepfather’s bellow came through so loud she had to jerk the receiver from her ear. “What are you doing, talking on the phone?”
“I’m sorry,” she heard her mother reply. “It’s Abby. She had a question.”
“She should know better than to call when it’s dinnertime. Hang up. I’m hungry!”
There was some shuffling and her mother’s voice came back online, a little more ragged than before. “I have to go, honey.”
“Sure, Mom. I’ll call soon.”
Whether her mother heard the promise or not, Abby didn’t know. She’d hung up, leaving her daughter on the line, with a headache and a sense of defeat. Some things weren’t ever going to change. Not her mother. Not the way her mom viewed life.
“I was right,” Abby said, letting the phone drop in her lap. “Warren called her.”
Talk about ironic. When they lived together, Warren had no use for her parents. Called them useless white trash. He’d spoken to her parents no more than three times at most.
But of course, her mother would cave with the phone number. Warren, salesman that he was, would hardly break a sweat sweet-talking her.
Abby rubbed her suddenly aching head. “I honestly thought that, after six weeks, he’d move on.”
“Well, some guys just don’t like to give up what they think is theirs.”
Carmella should know. Her ex had torched their apartment during a fight. Thankfully, Warren never did more than twist Abby’s arm or deliver a swift backhand.
The silver bracelets lining Carmella’s arm shimmered against her dark skin as she pulled back the curtain covering the window. “Any chance he followed you?”
“No. He, um...left.” Aided by a field jacket and aviator sunglasses. “Hopefully, he got the message and won’t be back.”
“Yeah, right. And I’m gonna be on the cover of Vogue next week. You’re kidding yourself if you think he’s giving up now that he’s tracked you down.”
That’s what she was afraid of, Abby thought, rubbing her wrist. The marks had blossomed to full-blown bruises. Annoyance and shame rose in her throat. She was mad. Mad at Warren. Mad at her mother.
Most of all she was mad with herself for believing that living with him was the best she could ever do in life. For letting him take over her entire world, until she’d lost control and herself.
Well, no more. She’d rather be alone for the rest of her life than lose herself in a relationship again.
Why her mind drifted to Hunter at that moment, she didn’t know. Correction. Hunter Smith. She’d read the name off his credit card. Now that she thought about it, she was mad with him, too.
A new emotion joined the others already warring inside her: embarrassment. She’d worked long and hard to escape Warren’s clutches and start her new life. Last thing she needed was her action-hero customer thinking he knew her secrets. Or worse, sending her pitying looks with those steel-colored eyes of his.
It’d be too much to ask that he leave town by morning, wouldn’t it?
Knowing her luck, he’d be back at his table tomorrow, with that field coat and those big broad shoulders. Checking the bruises on her wrist.
She’d rather face down her ex.
* * *
“Eggs over easy, wheat toast, side of bacon.”
Abby held her order pad in front of her face like a shield. If she didn’t look at Hunter’s face, she wouldn’t have to see his expression. Bad enough that the mere thought of facing him gave her stress dreams.
Given everything that had happened yesterday, she’d think Warren would be the one haunting her subconscious. But when she closed her eyes, it was Hunter who invaded her thoughts.
She knew why he was on her mind. It was because he knew her dirty little secret. For so long, keeping secrets was how she’d lived her life. Her mistakes—and man, did she make some whoppers—were hers to hide. To think that now someone else knew—saw—the evidence... Part of her wanted to crawl into a hole. Another part wanted to tell Hunter to take his sympathy and shove it. She settled for focusing on the two-by-three square in front of her face.
“You going to write the order down?” Hunter asked.
“Not necessary.”
There was a long, drawn-out pause. “You sure?”
Against her better judgment, Abby lowered the pad to stare at him. “You don’t think I can remember?”
“Did I say that?”
His silence said so for him. Granted, she’d forgotten a few orders in the beginning, but she’d improved a lot since then. “You’ve ordered the same thing for twelve days,” she told him.
“Nice to know I’m so memorable.”
More like predictable, she wanted to say. Though that wouldn’t be quite true. She certainly hadn’t predicted his behavior yesterday. “I’ll go get your coffee.”
“How’s your wrist?”
Exactly the topic she hoped to avoid. “Fine,” she replied in a stiff voice. Her fingers twitched with the urge to tug on her cardigan, to hide the gauze bandage peering out from beneath the cuff. The bruises were darker this morning. Dark enough that simply wearing long sleeves wouldn’t be enough to hide them, so she’d covered them with a bandage. Her plan was to tell anyone who asked that she burned herself. Didn’t it figure, the first person to say anything would be the one man she didn’t want to hear from?
“I’ll be back with your coffee,” she said, turning on her heel.
Damned if she couldn’t feel him watching her walk back to the counter.
