Southern Comforts. Nan Dixon
didn’t answer.
Okay, he knew his request had sounded strange.
“Abby fell asleep in the kitchen. She looked so uncomfortable, I couldn’t leave her there,” Gray explained. “I carried her up to my room, and she didn’t even twitch. I want to be here when she wakes up.”
What an idiot. He should have left her on the love seat next to the fireplace.
Honesty smacked him in the face. He’d wanted her in his bed, even if he couldn’t be there with her.
“I’ll be there after I pick up that pizza,” Forester said. “Anything you don’t like?”
“Anything goes.”
* * *
ABBY ROLLED OVER and hugged her pillow. She’d been having such a lovely dream about the pine-and-sandalwood scent of Gray’s cologne. She stretched and looked around.
No! Why was she in the Kennedy room? How had she ended up in Gray’s bed?
The alarm clock next to her said nine o’clock. She’d lost three hours. Three hours! How would she get everything done?
Male voices filtered into the bedroom from the sitting room. She found her shoes and clutched them to her chest.
Abby tiptoed to the door but didn’t have a clear line of sight. When she pushed the door a little wider, it squealed.
“Abby?” Gray called from the sofa.
She bit her lip. Trying to act nonchalant, she entered the room. Not only was Gray on the sofa, but Daniel Forester sat in the chair across from him. As if she weren’t already embarrassed enough.
Gray stood and met her in the middle of the room. “Are you feeling better?”
He stood so close, she could whisper, “How did I get up here—in your bed?”
He stroked a finger under her eyes, down her cheek, and tipped up her chin. “You were sound asleep at the table. I couldn’t wake you, so I carried you upstairs where you could at least be comfortable.”
He’d hauled her up to his room? She inhaled a sharp breath, trying not to scream. “How could you? I have things I have to do. What if someone needed me?”
“Marion knows where you are. Take a break—you’re exhausted.”
She pressed her lips together, but couldn’t contain her anger. “I don’t have time to sleep. That’s why I was resting at the table.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “What gave you the right to interfere?”
She headed for the door.
He grabbed her arm. “I can help.”
“You’ve done enough.” She wrenched her arm free. “Your dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes.”
“Forester brought pizza. I’m good.”
Lord, now she wasn’t living up to her commitments.
“Don’t be mad. I was trying to help.” He leaned down so only she could hear. “Have you been avoiding me?”
“Hey, Abby,” Daniel called, looking away from the basketball game, concern creasing his face. “Everything all right? I heard you crashed and burned in the kitchen.”
She straightened her shoulders. “I can’t believe I slept that deeply.”
“I can. Aren’t you the sister that requires a dozen alarms to wake up?”
She mumbled a reply as she slipped her shoes on.
Over the years, the Foresters and Fitzgeralds had become close, sharing meals and holidays. Apparently too close, if Daniel remembered her problem with waking up.
“We still have pizza.” Daniel popped a beer. “A couple of beers left, too.”
“I just lost three hours.” She shot Gray an icy look. “I have to work.”
* * *
GRAY SAID GOODBYE to Daniel and shut the B and B’s front door. He checked his watch and saw that it was a little before ten o’clock. Would Abby still be in the kitchen?
He needed to apologize. He didn’t feel guilty for letting her sleep. She had to have been beyond exhausted.
He would offer to help. Again. Maybe there was something he could do to help her catch up. Hopefully she wouldn’t snap his head off this time.
His mother’s voice rang inside his head. You always assume you know how to run everyone else’s lives.
He straightened his shoulders and pushed through the kitchen’s swinging doors. Incredible aromas greeted him. Whatever Abby was cooking made tonight’s pizza, which had been a mighty fine pie, seem like cardboard.
All the tarts had disappeared. Now a massive pot bubbled on the stove. Piles of colorful sliced vegetables overflowed a cutting board.
“What do you need, Mr. Smythe?” Frost coated her Southern drawl.
He eyed the gigantic knife she was using. She waved it a little. He gritted his teeth—time to apologize.
“I’m sorry I messed up your schedule. I shouldn’t have interfered.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d apologized to anyone. It was hard to get the words out. “I should have worked harder to wake you up and find out what you needed. I shouldn’t have hauled you upstairs.”
She pointed her wicked knife at him. “No, you shouldn’t have. That wasn’t your decision to make.”
“You were exhausted.” He raised both hands in emphasis, which had to be better than shaking some sense into her. “And your neck was going to hurt.”
She went back to mincing the mushrooms, the knife a blur. “You should have left me where I was. Don’t overstep again, Mr. Smythe.”
She turned, dismissing him. If he was going to grovel, the least she could do was forgive him.
He moved up behind her. “Abby.”
She turned, her knife held out in front of her.
He jumped back. “I thought you’d only sleep an hour or so. The fact that you didn’t means you were exhausted. Next time, I’ll wake you after thirty minutes.”
Her mouth dropped open, and the knife waved. “There won’t be a next time.”
His heart raced. Her damn foot-long knife was too close to his stomach. He caught her wrist, pulled the knife out of her hand and set it on the counter with a clang. “I don’t feel like losing a body part.”
“Get out of my kitchen.” Her eyes reminded him of flashing northern lights.
He exhaled. Loudly. “Abby, I’m really sorry.”
He set a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off.
“Are you mad because I interfered with your schedule or because I let you sleep? Or because it was me taking care of you?”
“I don’t need taking care of.” She poked a finger at him.
“I know that.” But he liked taking care of her. He stepped closer and captured her hand in his. He just couldn’t stop touching her.
She looked up. There was more than anger simmering in her eyes. Desire?
He backed her into the counter. She smelled like herbs and flowers. The combination had him wavering between wanting to bite her or to carry her back upstairs.
“Gray...” She put her hands on his chest, and electricity shot through him.
Her pink bottom lip begged him to nibble it. Being this close to Abby was making him crazy. “Oh, hell.”
Abby’s fingers splayed across