Lakeshore Candy: The McAdams Sisters (By The Lake Book 4) Page 7

  “Really? I must have been having a nightmare.”

  He wants me to stay!

  His hand moved down her throat and lingered. “I don’t want you to go home.”

  Oh my God! Am I dreaming?

  He lifted his body and the blanket she’d covered him with fell to his waist exposing his muscles.

  Oh my God!

  Both of his strong hands found the sides of her face. Please don’t be dreaming? “I would ask you if you want to go home but I can’t seem to get rid of you, so I already know my answer.”

  Abby would have laughed at his teasing, but she couldn’t push anything past the desire to kiss his lips.

  His head was dipping. His head was dipping!

  She parted her lips for his and their tongues met in the middle. He tasted like a warm, sweet croissant. The kiss was slow, but deep, exploring and short. Much, much too short.

  When he pulled away he smiled, a real smile that lit her toes.

  “We probably shouldn’t do that,” he said.

  He was right! It will just lead to you trying to get in my pants. Oh try now...I will let you.

  He chuckled.

  Try Riley, just try. The last two days of all your emotions are turning me on and the off button seems so far away.

  “Do you want me to sleep in my bed?” he asked. “Alone,” he clarified.

  Shut down.

  “No.” She turned and laid her back against his front pulling him down with her to prevent anymore making out, even if that’s what her whole body wanted. She pulled his arm around her, curling her hands around his and closing her eyes.

  “It’s going to be weird in the morning,” he said.

  “We are weird.”

  She felt his chuckle again and wished she could sleep like this forever.

  ***

  THE SMELL OF frying bacon in a hot pan of butter embraced Abby into the early morning and she inhaled deeply with her eyes still closed.

  Yummy, bacon. Bacon?

  Gran used to cook bacon, sausage, ham with eggs and homemade home fries sprinkled with the most delicious spices that would drag even her lazy self out of bed before seven in the morning.

  Stretching her body solo on the couch, Abby peeked out of one eye and saw Riley in the kitchen...cooking.

  That was a first.

  He was fully clothed and showered, looking like he had a great sleep, but why wasn’t he downstairs at the bakery helping Mrs. Calvert with the morning rush?

  She sat up. “What are you doing?”

  He glanced over while stirring the pan of sizzling bacon. “Making us breakfast.”

  Making us breakfast? Making us breakfast!

  Why was Riley cooking her breakfast? Why did the tightening in her chest at the vision of him cooking her breakfast excite her to her bare toes?

  The kiss. If her face was anything like her older sister Sydney, whose emotions ran free across her face like a dog off a leash, than Abby would be cherry red after remembering that kiss.

  Kiss with Riley.

  The tender spot between her legs reminded her, which irritated her. For one, it was way too early to have to worry about being turned on and two why was it heating over Riley! Riley was her friend. Riley was her companion. Riley had kissed her.

  Ugh.

  Too early.

  Abby stood, wrapping the blanket around her and sat on one of the high stools on the island. The stove was directly across and she watched Riley heat up breakfast while her insides were heating. He was facing her, but his eyes stayed on the food.

  I could reach across and touch your arm, spark some heat so you would have to look at me.

  She didn’t dare, but she was growing irritable with each passing second of silence. If he had just gone down to the bakery they both could forget that kiss. Forget that kiss? I don’t want to forget that kiss. I wouldn’t be able to even if I tried. That kiss was heating her body and burning questions through her mind. What did it mean? Were they going to do it again? Did he want to do it again? He had initiated it in the first place. What did it mean!?

  Riley set a mug of steaming coffee on the island for her with the sugar pourer. When did he grab that? She was so lost in her thoughts she hadn’t noticed he had moved? Oh boy! Her brain was going into morning overload zone.

  “This is not making it weird between us,” she snapped sarcastically, more harsh than intended. When really, it was making it very weird.

  He didn’t comment, but he acknowledged it by looking up at her with his wide awake eyes and nodded.

  “Why are you making us breakfast if you know it’s going to make it weird?” she asked.

  Did he want weird? Did he want more and that was what was behind the breakfast? What was more? What was more!

  A grin tugged his lips, a tiny, adorable grin only for her. “You eat like a child let loose in a candy shop. It’s disgusting. You’re going to get gut rot.”

  Hmm. No mention of the kiss.

  “I didn’t know you cared.”

  He ignored her sarcasm, filled a plate, slid it across the counter, then walked to the door.

  “I thought you were making us breakfast?” Why was her anger suddenly turning to disappointment that he was leaving? Talk about mixed signals.

  He turned. “I already ate and I really have to help Mrs. C.” Oh course he did. “But Abby...”

  “Yeah?”

  He grinned bigger. “You kiss like a slobbery dog.”

  His smile melted whatever anger remained and he left before she could retort.

  Slobbery dog?

  She laughed out loud, sticking her fork into the scrambled eggs, not feeling weird anymore.

  Chapter Ten

  ABBY TAPPED HER foot on the hardwood floor listening to the loud thud of her flat black studded ankle boots tell her what a ridiculous idea this was. Her fingers drummed a hum in the tune of her racing heartbeat along her folded arms, restraining her from grabbing the kitchen chair she’d dragged into the hallway for her mission. Her head angled above contemplating whether or not to pull the short string hanging from the miniature doorway in the ceiling that led to the attic.

  The attic.

  This was the basis of her dreams...more like night terrors...for weeks that woke her up and grew worse each passing night. So bad she’d ended up in Riley’s bed, and then kissing him on the couch the same night. Kissing his deliciously warm gentle lips that sent excitement like no candy could ever accomplish to every womanly part of her body that longed for him to touch her again all morning.

  She shook her head.

  Forget that kiss, focus on the attic, and focus on sleeping alone in your own house.

  He’d told her that he didn’t want her to go home, but that had been in the heat of the moment. Heat of the moment. Something tickled her stomach at the thought of having a heat of the moment moment with Riley.

  Lord, she needed a distraction from her own thoughts and going into the attic was the solution.

  Then go up.

  Her feet stopped moving and planted themselves against the hardwood.

  Chicken.

  For whatever reason this attic that she’d never stepped foot in, and Gran, were haunting her sleep and she felt compelled to face it head on.

  Pull the string.

  That wasn’t the excuse she’d given Kate after showing up on time, again, for work. Abby had convinced her sister that the manufacturing area in the soap store wasn’t inspirational like Gran’s kitchen where she’d developed her other scents. It was partially true, she hadn’t created one good scent in that back room. Since Kate was waiting impatiently, she’d happily helped her pack supplies and even carried them to the house with a hug and wish of good luck before she left.

  The supplies sat untouched on the kitchen table and Abby stood convinced there was something in this attic that Gran wanted her to find. Alright, she knew that sounded a bit crazy even for her, but why else was she having attic nightmares involving Gran?


  Abby scraped the chair along the floor and climbed on top. Her trembling hand reached up and she gave it a shake before pulling the string leading to the attic door. It dropped open and the ladder landed on the floor beside her. This was it.

  What’s up here Gran? What’s so important that you won’t let me have a good night’s sleep?

  Taking a deep, nervous breath, she filled her lungs and released the air a bit at a time with every unsure step she climbed.

  The smell hit her first: mothballs, antiques, old. It was like an attic from a movie with old antiques people kept from their childhood displayed under a sloped-beam ceiling. Broken brick walls surrounded Abby on both sides and light strained to get through each stained glass window that was covered in cobwebs and dust.

  The contents were overwhelming, boxes spilling over, piles of paper, clothes, garbage bags sitting on top of furniture all covered in layers of dust.

  Abby took a few steps, stopping at a body form, taking the pearl necklace off and draping it around her neck. She dusted off a bright red felted hat, planting it on her head, and looked around...not sure where to begin looking. What she was even looking for? She could easily get lost in this attic of treasures.

  Sydney would love the vintage look of the old wooden boxes in one corner and the rickety rocker. Abby found solace in rocking back and forth against the creaking wood floor.

  “Gran where do I even begin?” And what would people think of me talking to the air?

  Hours passed like minutes, as she became lost in all the wonderful treasures around her. She started near the vintage sewing form dressed in an old outfit and it began a digging game. She pulled a travelling trunk open, clothes spilled out with jewelry and trinkets hidden in the pockets.

  Sitting in a corner surrounded by old crates, she pulled out egg cartons full of old glass and tin Christmas decorations in a bright array of colors, some delicately painted. She admired the work put into the amazing pieces.

  In another area, designated to what she assumed was her grandpa’s corner, he’d died before she was born, were old tools, magazines, clothes, and more. Automobile magazines, Avon cologne bottles, vintage hats and ties began to form his personalities in front of her.

  As she opened a photo album excited to see the black and white photos of her grandparents, she heard a knock on the front door proceeded with opening and slamming.

  Riley.

  He was going to think she was crazy.

  Or would he want to kiss her? Did he want to kiss her again? Did she want him to kiss her again? Yes I do!

  Abby scrambled down the ladder and as she reached the last step her intruder appeared in the archway to the kitchen. The tall, dark, handsome guy was not Riley, but her heart fluttered in surprise...a very different type of flutter than that reserved for only Riley.

  “Avery!” Abby squealed, running the short distance and right into her twin brothers arms. “What are you doing home?”

  She pulled away and looked him over as if to make sure he was really standing in front of her. He looked wonderful, tired but handsome, a little slimmer than usual but well-built and his hair was trimmed shorter than when he left. She sensed something different about him right away, from the lacking of tightness in his hug to the smile that hadn’t reached his eyes, to the feeling she just got sometimes with him.

  Something had happened. She knew it.

  They’d been that way their entire lives, knowing when something wasn’t right with the other. It was a connection she didn’t share with her sisters.

  “I said I was coming home.”

  She hadn’t heard his low voice in months and it sounded fantastic compared to the texts they shared every day.

  “You didn’t say today!”

  He shrugged and she playfully slapped the leather jacket covering his arm. “I wanted to surprise you.”

  “I love this surprise. Did you tell the sisters?” The sisters were the nickname only they shared regarding their other siblings.

  He shook his head.

  She smiled. “That means I get you all to myself.”

  He touched the red hat on her head and his eyes glanced past her up the attic stairs. “What are you doing?”

  I think Gran’s sending me a message through my dreams so I was looking for a clue...

  “Nothing.”

  He frowned. “I wanted to stop by Gran’s grave. I didn’t get to say goodbye, but I didn’t want to go alone.” He’d been away touring and his career couldn’t afford to miss a gig. “I thought maybe me and you could go.”

  Abby was a regular visitor at Gran’s grave, where the grass was trimmed and other stones surrounded her, Abby talked to Gran aloud, uncaring if anyone heard and yet felt crazy doing it from the attic. Did it make a difference? It was the fact she was going on a scavenger hunt for something a dead woman told her about in a dream that made the difference.

  “Yes. I would love that. Let’s stop by Anne’s flower shop. She always has gladiolas. Gran’s favorite.”

  Abby left the attic door open with full intentions of heading up there later. She grabbed her purse and keys, excited to spend the day alone with her brother.

  Why did she find her head watching the back of the bakery all the way to the vehicle? Because you’re hoping for even just a small glance of Riley. She was never going to get him out of her head.

  Chapter Eleven

  RILEY FINISHED WORKING at two that afternoon, his usual quitting time. He always stuck around during shift change to make sure the staff showed up and they didn’t need an extra hand. Then he usually went for a quick shower and either sat around his apartment or at the beach. Today he wanted to get on his bike and drive to the top of Blake’s stairs on the same cliff he’d climbed with Abby two mornings earlier. He planned on scolding himself for initiating that kiss with Abby and figuring out a way to remain friends with her without hurting her.

  Abby wasn’t the woman looking to hook him into a relationship and strap him down, but she wasn’t the woman he wanted to have a one-night fling with either. What kind of woman was she? What do you want with her? The answers were easy: she was a friend and he wanted a friendship with her.

  Bullshit. She was sexy hot and he wanted to kiss her again. All he could think about was kissing her, her lips, her body...everything about her.

  These thoughts were exactly the reason he needed time to himself. They were friends. Period. Done. He needed to be able to talk to her and stand that ground, not allow her lips, her touch, simply her presence to distract his thoughts.

  On his way out the door, Mrs. C caught him, surprisingly heading out herself. Mrs. C worked five days a week, all day and Sunday afternoons after church and rarely left mid-afternoon. Owning and operating the bakery wasn’t a job to this lady, it was her life. She mingled, talked, and caught up with people, leaving them with the softness of her smile and always a nice word.

  “Riley. I’m glad I caught you. Will you to join me for dinner tonight at the Cliff House?”

  He sensed this had to do with Abby. He’d hoped they’d moved past this. Then you went and kissed Abby and confused everything.

  He’d never say no to Mrs. C even if he needed space to sort out his mind and his feelings. He didn’t remember feelings ever being so difficult to sort out before he moved to Willow Valley, but then again the feelings of a selfish, driven workaholic didn’t leave room for whatever these feelings were.

  Riley smiled at her, deciding he would make time later to hash out the Abby situation. “What time?”

  Her smile reached her eyes. “I will be waiting for you out front at four.”

  “Four?” That was early to have supper.

  She shrugged. “I like to eat early.”

  No, she didn’t. There was something she wasn’t telling him, but like him she was good at masking what she didn’t want others to see.

  “Why don’t I pick you up?” he offered, not minding driving her around and giving her feet a break. She was on them all d
ay long.

  She shook her head. “That’s alright. I like to drive. Four o’clock.”

  “Four o’clock.”

  Riley had a quick shower and changed into what he had in his closet that he considered nicer clothing, leaving the denim and t-shirt for black pants with a button up...a plain black button up shirt.

  The closet at his house was lined with designer clothes, rows of button ups, vests, ties, and dress pants. He’d never been a jean and t-shirt kind of guy. Staring at his reflection now, the black shirt form fitting his trim body and the pants falling perfect to his feet, he remembered why he liked these outfits...he looked good. He looked at his medium-length hair and stubble, a trim in both these departments and he would look just like the man he was three years ago. He wasn’t the man he was three years ago and he almost tore the clothes off, but for Mrs. C he left them on.

  Riley stopped at the foot of his bed and stared at the empty space where the covers were still pulled and the sheets wrinkled from Abby’s body. He didn’t like how content he felt sleeping beside her and he certainly wasn’t a fan of the longing pulling at his chest to do it again.

  He moved to the side of the bed and grabbed the sheets to rid those images and feeling out of him but the strong smell of oils that clung to Abby from her store stopped his fingers. Her real smile played in his mind, so did the haunting look she’d had standing in his doorway.

  Riley felt like no matter which way his thoughts went he couldn’t win.

  He left the sheets the way they were and went into the living room searching for his keys only to find a half-eaten bag of black licorice in the coffee table drawer right beside his keys.

  Abby.

  She was everywhere. Still touching the keys in the drawer, but not moving, his eyes fell on the sofa. The sofa where he had kissed Abby, not the other way around.

  He cringed at his loss of self-control, but it had felt so good to let the wall down and go with his gut feelings. Gut feeling. His gut feelings usually consisted of the best band for his label and not how he felt about a woman.

  Riley grabbed the keys, gruffly and started toward the door, his head turning to the kitchen where Abby had cleaned breakfast. That also surprised him, but it was the surprised feeling of excitement her sleepy smile had caused after he told her she kissed like a slobbery dog that he remembered most. He knew she’d enjoy that and he’d wanted to break the awkward bubble forming around them. Her kiss was anything but slobbery.