Welcome To Corbin's Bend Page 35

  But when she contemplated sharing the news, then dissecting what went wrong her chest seized up. Nor would the pain end there. She still had to return to Corbin's Bend where she would no doubt run into Harris over and over. Eventually you saw everybody in town. And he owned the only car wash.

  "I'm never going to be able to get my car washed," Abby murmured.

  "Why not?" Susanna stared at her.

  Abby stirred her tea and watched the ice go round and round like her indecision. She knew the appropriate course of action. Break up. Crystal clear. To her head, anyway. Only her aching heart refused to accept it. As painful as talking about it would be, maybe with her friends' support she could beat her emotions into submission.

  "I've been seeing someone," she admitted.

  "What?" Susanna and Piper burst out together.

  "You're getting ready to leave, and now you tell us?" Piper glowered.

  Susanna narrowed her eyes with concern. "Is something wrong?"

  Abby twisted her napkin. "Well, it's over. We, uh, split up right before I came here." She lifted one shoulder.

  Piper's eyes rounded. "Is it because he's a spanker?"

  A derisive snort bubbled up in Abby's throat. Her friend's preoccupation with spanking made her wonder if perhaps she wasn't a closeted spankophile. "He gambles," Abby said. "He plays professional poker."

  "Oh. That's no good then." Piper's curls flopped as she shook her head.

  "Does he do well?" Susanna asked.

  "Pretty good, I think. He's also a businessman. He owns the Wash and Go."

  "Ah!" Susanna nodded with understanding. "Now I understand the car comment."

  Abby poked the ice in her glass. "He's quite successful. Level-headed. Even-handed." Heat singed her cheeks as she remembered the even-handed way he spanked her ass. She inhaled. "I just can't believe after everything I went through the first man I date turns out to be a gambler."

  "What's he like personality wise?" Piper asked.

  "He's protective. Disciplined. Dominant, as you would expect of a man living in Corbin's Bend." The feeling of warmth already in her face spread. She didn't dare make eye contact with Piper. "I know where I stand with him. Where I stood, I mean."

  Until she'd run out. She'd assumed the breakup had been her decision, but maybe after she'd hauled ass he would wipe his hands of her. Her throat ached with the pressure of unshed tears.

  Susanna clasped Abby's hand. "Sweetie, you and Dale were kids when you started going together. It's hard to judge a man based on who he was as a teenager. People change when they grow up." She glanced at Piper. "Most of us believe the best thing that ever happened to you was the day you left Dale."

  Piper nodded. "Susanna is right."

  "Something about Dale struck me as being unstable right from the start. If he hadn't gotten tied up in gambling, it would have been something else."

  Abby's jaw dropped. She'd had no idea her friends had felt that way. "How come you never said anything?"

  "How do you tell the bride you have a feeling the groom is wrong for her?" Susanna shrugged. "You had been together for years. I told myself you knew him better than I did."

  Aunt Quincy and Uncle Joe. Susanna and Piper. It seemed everybody but her had misgivings about Dale. If she'd been so far off the mark, how could she trust her judgment?

  "The way you described your new man, he sounds different from Dale. Gambling can be an addiction, entertainment, or a profession. It depends on the person."

  "I'm not sure she should risk it," Piper shook her head. "Isn't there a saying that insanity is doing the same thing, but expecting different results? Harris could be in control of his gambling now, but how can she predict what will happen later? Maybe he'll get sucked in like Dale did. You have good reason to be cautious."

  Crazy how her friends offered viewpoints opposite what she would have guessed, with impulsive Piper urging caution and methodical Susanna seeming to suggest she give Harris a chance. But together they mirrored the battle raged within her.

  Go for it? Or end it?

  Abby buried her face in her hands and moaned. "I don't know what to do." She lifted her head. Maybe it was moot anyway. She'd run out on him. Ignored his call, had not returned his stern voice message delivered yesterday: "I expected to hear from you by now. Let's talk about this. Call me, Abigail." She patted her pocket. Empty. She must have left her cell in her car.

  "And the other issue," Abby said, "is he's not interested in a long-term relationship. He's said point blank commitment is not in the cards."

  "Well, then, maybe you should go for it," Piper reversed herself. "Just date. Have a little…fun." She waggled her eyebrows. By fun, she meant spanking, Abby could tell. "If it's going to end anyway, what's the problem?"

  Susanna glanced at Piper. "The problem is, she'll be hurt. Abby already cares too much." Her friend sighed, and her gaze narrowed with concern. She lifted her shoulders sheepishly. "We're not much help, are we?"

  None. But Abby smiled. "Your support means the world to me."

  The waitress appeared. "More tea?"

  "No, thank you," Abby said, and her companions shook their heads. After the waitress left, Abby checked the time, and looked at her friends. She twisted her mouth ruefully. "I'd better hit the road. I have a long drive."

  They scooted out of the booth.

  Abby hugged Piper. "Good luck. Keep us posted," her friend said.

  "I will."

  Susanna embraced her next. "I trust you'll make the right decision."

  "Thank you," Abby responded. "I wish I had that kind of confidence in myself."

  Her friends departed for home, and Abby ran to use the ladies room. When she emerged from the restaurant, her friends' vehicles were gone. Her car sat alone. Abby unlocked her vehicle, got in, and sighed. Her phone rested in the console cup holder where she'd left it. Picking it up, she called her aunt. "I'm leaving Denver now," she said when Aunt Quincy answered.

  "Did you have a good time?"

  With her friends? Definitely. But her emotions were nowhere near settled. "Yes. I'll tell you all about it when I get home."

  "Have you spoken to Harris since you've been gone?"

  "No. He left a message. I, uh, didn't return it because I didn't know what to say." Not very mature, but how else could she protect herself?

  "He called here."

  Abby's heart thumped. "He did?"

  "He seemed concerned you hadn't contacted him."

  Abby wet her lips. "What did you say?"

  "You'd gone to Denver for the weekend to visit friends. If you're not planning to see him anymore, you need to be honest with him, Abby."

  "I'll be home in about an hour and a half. I'll call him then." Maybe the right words, a decision, would come to her by then.

  "Okay. Drive safely."

  Abby tucked her phone into the cup holder and exited the parking lot.

  Continue with Harris or break up? She'd survived one painful dissolution already; could she handle another? Would it even be her choice anymore? Her rejection might have angered Harris, and he might spurn her now.

  Why did loving have to be so hard?

  On one hand she had Dale who'd always loved her. But he had serious problems and could not give her the stability she needed. And she no longer loved him.

  Harris caused her heart to zing and her body to burn. Everything about the man demonstrated stability and discipline. Everything. She clenched her glutes. Except for the gambling—but even there she'd witnessed no signs of instability, of addiction.

  They complemented each other. Harris made her feel good about herself, and his discipline could help her grow too.

  If he was willing to consider doing it long term.

  Women's magazines advised a woman to listen to what a man said. When they warned you off, confessed their faults, pay attention. Dale had waved those red flags in their relationship.

  "I probably enjoy gambling a little too much."

  "I could get a
ddicted to winning."

  And his emotions had swung from high to low.

  Harris had shared his family history and warned he did not do happily ever after. But Aunt Quincy thought he was worth the bet.

  Who could she believe? Harris himself or a matchmaker and her own heart that urged her try? But her emotions had led her astray before, and she couldn't endure the hurt again. So are you never going to get involved? Are you never going to take a chance on love? What in life is a sure thing?

  Abby sighed, her chest aching. She would arrive in Corbin's Bend no closer to an answer than she'd been before she'd left. Soon—too soon, she'd have to make a decision. The highway onramp wasn't much farther, just around the corner. Preparing for the turn, Abby checked her rear view mirror.

  A man's face stared back at her.

  She screamed and swerved.

  Chapter 11

  Damn it!" Harris hit the clear key on the calculator. Three times he'd tallied up the receipts for the bank deposit with different results. He prided himself on his ability to filter out distraction and focus on the task at hand, but he'd lost concentration because of Abby. His strategy to give her time to process the information had backfired. Could he have made a worse move? He tossed his pen on the desk in disgust and flopped back in his chair.

  Harris had felt like some sweaty-palmed teenage boy, but after calling her cell and not getting a response, he'd called Quincy Lauder.

  "She's gone to Denver to see her friends," Quincy had said. He could fill in the blanks. Friends meant one in particular. Her ex.

  "Oh, that's right," he'd lied through his teeth. He felt stupid he didn't know she had left.

  "I'll tell her you called," Quincy had offered.

  "That's all right. I'm sure I'll speak to her soon. I have her cell." The last thing he wanted was for Quincy to tell Abby he'd gone begging for her affection.

  Abby had dumped him, but didn't have the guts to tell him to his face.

  Harris shoved back from the desk and strode to the water cooler. After gulping down a couple of swallows, he crushed the paper cup and flung it in the waste basket. "Damn it all to hell."

  How could she equate what he did with what her ex had done? He approached gambling with a cool head and heart. He'd invested his wins in the car wash, stocks, bonds. And he was a member in good standing of Corbin's Bend. On the Chamber of Commerce. Donated to the local charities. He and her ex were as similar as a zebra to a duck.

  But she had history with the duck—who had declared his love for her.

  Which Harris hadn't done. No, he'd pretty much told her the opposite in word and deed. Don't get stuck on me, babe, 'cause I won't be there. Why would she take a chance on a guy who offered nothing more than sex and spanking? Had she felt used by what they'd done?

  Harris raked a hand through his hair. Probably.

  He'd told her he expected to lead their relationship. A piss poor job he'd done too. One had to have a relationship to lead it.

  He gathered the receipts and locked them in the filing cabinet. He could complete the deposit form tomorrow. The bank wasn't even open on Sunday. He checked his cell. No messages. No missed calls. No texts.

  Damn her.

  With a controlled jerk, Abby avoided sideswiping a parked car and managed to stay in her lane. "You scared me half to death!" She glared at Dale. "What are doing here, and how did you get in?"

  "I still have my key." His red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes met hers in the mirror. He looked like hell. Stubble darkened his jaw, and his greasy hair appeared restlessly-finger combed. Not a good sign. If nothing else, Dale had always showered and shaved.

  She flicked on her blinker and slowed to make her turn, when it hit her: she couldn't take a stowaway back to Corbin's Bend. She released the brake at the same time her ex said, "No, go straight."

  She bypassed her street, and searched for a spot to pull over and dump his ass. He could find his own way home. Dale was starting to creep her out, exhibit stalker tendencies. Spying a fast food restaurant, she signaled. She'd leave him at the burger joint, and he could do whatever. Not her problem.

  "Don't stop. Keep going."

  "I beg your pardon!" Abby lifted her eyes to the mirror to glare at him and found herself staring down the barrel of a pistol. Her stomach dropped to the floorboard.

  Her ex waved the gun. "I said, 'Don't stop.'"

  Abby's knuckles around the steering wheel blanched. "What are you doing?" Visions of headlining the late night news as a murder-suicide reeled through her mind. Breathe. Stay calm. Breathe.

  His next words did not reassure her. "Hand me your cell."

  Her phone in the console offered her only chance for rescue—other than her pepper spray—which was out-of-bounds inside her zipped her purse on the floor of the passenger side. The spray might very well have been sitting on her dresser for all the good it would do her.

  "Now!" he shouted.

  Her hand shook as she passed the cell over the headrest.

  He snatched it, and she recoiled at the touch of his fingers scraping her palm. The back window rolled down, and Dale tossed the phone onto the street. He raised the window.

  Abby focused on the road, clutching the steering wheel in a death grip. This couldn't be happening. "Let's go someplace and talk," she said as calmly as she could, while she scanned the traffic for a white cruiser. If she spotted a patrolman, she could blow a red light, get him to pull her over.

  "Oh, now you want to talk?" He gestured with the pistol. "Keep driving. I'll tell you when to stop."

  Abby swallowed her fear and gripped the steering wheel.

  "You're the only woman I ever loved."

  Why did that sound like a goodbye? She choked back a sob of panic and swept the road for a white cop car while trying to act like she wasn't doing so. Damnit! Roll a stop sign, and a patrolman is Johnny-on-the spot with a full light show. But have an ex-husband on the brink of postal in your backseat, and there's not an officer to be found within twenty miles.

  Worse, she was making all the green lights. If she could stop at an intersection, maybe somebody would glance over, see Dale, notice the gun, and would call for help.

  The only thing she could do was agree with him. Build his trust. Maybe then she could convince him to put down the pistol. Throw it out the window like he did her cell phone. She swallowed a rancid lump of fear. How could this be happening? They had been boyfriend and girlfriend. Lovers. Husband and wife. Friends. And now he threatened to kill her? He hadn't announced that intention, but what else did it mean when a man trained a gun on you?

  Tell him what he wants to hear. "I love you too." The lie tasted bitter.

  Dale slammed his hand—the one holding the pistol—on the seat back. "Don't fuck with me!" he screamed.

  Abby flinched. Her heart pounded. Oh god, he's going to kill me.

  "I saw you with him! That spanking freak from Corbin's Bend." In the mirror, she watched his face contort. "'Call me when you get home, Abigail,'" Dale mimicked Harris's message in a sneering tone.

  He'd listened to her voicemail! Dale had been following her, stalking her, and she'd been oblivious. What might he have seen? She searched her brain. Had she and Harris hugged in public? Held hands? Kissed? Had Harris ever playfully swatted her bottom?

  Harris, so handsome, authoritative, but with such a mischievous little boy grin, filled her mind's eye. In a flash, the river of dissention between them dwindled to a trickle. She might never see him again. Her throat thickened. Her life could end in this vehicle. And if Dale shot her while she was driving, other people could be injured or killed too.

  Don't go there. You can get through this. You will see Harris again!

  Abby glanced at the gas gauge. Three-quarters full. How many hours would the fuel last? Three? Could she hold herself together that long? And what would happen when the gas ran out? Would he kill her then?

  She raised her eyes to the mirror. "What do you want from me?" Her voice trembled.

&nbs
p; Dale punched the seat again. Confusion and pain darkened his eyes. "I want things the way they were!"

  They had been good together once. A long time ago. But she took a breath and a chance. "We-we had a lot of good times. R-Remember how we used to go camping?"

  "We hiked. Brought only one sleeping bag," he said.

  She kept him talking, recounting the moments they'd shared, trying to reestablish a rapport, build on his sympathy. But after an hour of driving around Denver she was no closer to freedom. Sooner or later they would exhaust the pleasant memories, and the others would crop up. Between driving the car and steering the conversation around potential landmines, her nerves felt like an overextended Bungee cord. She didn't know how much longer she could last.

  She had to try something else, or she would end up a special report on the evening news. Think, Abby, think. What could she do to draw attention? She sat up a little straighter in her seat when an idea came to her.

  She would have to approach from the back, from a roundabout way, avoid all the signs so Dale didn't realize where they were headed. As casually as she could with a crazed ex holding a revolver inches from her head, she eased into the left lane.

  "Why are you turning here?"

  "I'm just driving like you said." She lowered her chin, avoiding the mirror, afraid her guilt might be visible. She had no practice lying to Dale. She'd always been honest with him.

  "All right. Don't do anything funny."

  "No."

  She made the turn, her heart hammering like a crazed drummer lived in her chest. What if Dale recognized the route? What if he snapped and shot them both?

  If you don't do something, he's going to kill you anyway.

  Abby cruised four blocks and then swung a right. Surreptitiously, she depressed the buckle on her seatbelt, but kept it around her. Careful not to slow to reveal her intention, she watched for the gate. She spotted the sign prohibiting entry into the staff parking lot of the police department. Taking a breath, she laid on the horn and jerked a hard right into the lot.