The Last in Love (Ardent Springs Book 5) Read online

  “I was bidding against Becky Winkle,” she replied. “No way was I letting her near that hot tamale. Not when you saw him first.”

  Jealousy flared through Abby’s blood. Becky Winkle had been hunting for husband number four since number three ran off to Vegas with an exotic dancer he’d met in Nashville. After finding out Jessi was her half sister, the spoiled harpy had been horribly mean, calling the new mother everything from a gold digger to a white trash tramp. Though the girls’ father took Jessi’s side, putting Becky in her place during a rather public scene, Abby still wanted to rip every teased piece of hair off her head.

  “In that case, I’m glad you saved him.”

  “Technically, you saved him,” Haleigh said, slipping her hands into her lab coat pockets. “If you’d refused the date, he would have gone to the next-highest bidder.”

  “Then we saved him,” Abby insisted. “I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

  Haleigh tapped the box. “You’re out of work, remember? Anyway, it’s all paid for.”

  Brown eyes twinkled as a satisfied smile split her friend’s face. Abby knew that look.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I hate that I can’t keep secrets from you.” After chewing on her lip for half a second, she confessed. “We took up a collection before the auction. I had a thousand dollars to spend.”

  Doubting her ears, Abby said, “People gave you money to buy me a man?”

  “When you put it that way . . .”

  “What other way is there to put it? A bunch of people decided that I’m so lonely and pathetic that they pitched in to win me a date? A date I expressly told you I did not want to go on.” Furious, she charged off toward her car.

  “Come on, Abby!” Haleigh yelled after her.

  Abby kept walking.

  Justin nodded along to Fall Out Boy playing in his earbuds while digging up his fourth monkey grass plant of the morning. Eight of the things dotted the front of Abby’s house and had likely been planted when the place was built. Her enthusiasm for color seemed to be a new development, if the neglect he was about to repair was any indication.

  He’d already loaded three bags of ancient mulch and winter debris into the Chevy’s truck bed, working up a sweat even in the cool April air. After more than a month of unemployment, he appreciated the work more than expected. Not as exciting as closing a multimillion-dollar deal, but respectable all the same.

  As Justin turned the earth, familiar smells filled his head. Fresh dirt. Wet grass. A hint of pine from the cones littering the flower bed. He’d saved three snails and two slugs so far, and would likely find several more before the day was out. Choosing a nice spot on the side of the garage, he relocated the first two monkey grass plants to create a new home for the displaced wildlife.

  On his knees and his back to the street, Justin failed to see Abby’s car pull into the drive or hear her slam the car door, thanks to the music blaring from his iPhone. Which, when she smacked him on the shoulder, resulted in the least manly scream he’d ever emitted. Heart racing, he dropped onto his ass and snatched the earbuds from his ears.

  “What the hell, Abby? You just scared the shit out of me.”

  “I yelled your name twice.”

  He waved the white cord. “I had music playing. Jesus.” While struggling to catch his breath, a realization dawned. “What are you doing here? I thought you had to work.”

  “So did I.” She shook the box tucked under an arm. “But now I’m in the same boat you are. Freaking unemployed.”

  Without explanation, she stormed into the house. Justin remained on the ground for several seconds, feeling as if he’d been caught in the swirl of a tornado. Did she say unemployed? Leaping into action, he jogged into the house after her.

  “What do you mean, unemployed?” he asked, locating her at the island in the kitchen, which sported a temporary plywood top. “They fired you?”

  “Why does everyone keep saying it that way?” she snapped, removing two bottles of wine from the box and slamming them onto the plywood. “They’d need cause to fire me. No, I got laid off. Iva says the hospital is making cuts. She’s really sorry. Yada yada yada.”

  “Man, Abby, that sucks.”

  “Doesn’t it, though?” She crossed to the drawer next to the fridge and whipped out a corkscrew.

  Aware of the delicacy of the situation, Justin kept his tone calm as he asked, “Isn’t eight thirty in the morning a little early to start drinking?”

  “Look,” she snarled, pointing the utensil his way. “In less than a week, I’ve set my kitchen on fire.” A hand waved wildly toward the missing stove. “Lost my job. And now I find out that my friends care so much about me that they felt the need to buy me a man. I don’t care what time it is, I’ve earned a damn glass of wine.”

  The cork gave way with a dull pop, and Abby took a swig straight from the bottle. Carrying the wine with her, she barreled past him into the living room.

  Once again staring after her, Justin murmured, “Bought her a man?” He didn’t like the sound of that at all. And then the truth dawned. They’d bought him.

  “Can we rewind for a minute here?” he said, attempting to piece things together. “Let’s start with the job. Tell me what happened.”

  Abby slouched on the plastic-covered sofa, bottle at her side, free hand over her closed eyes. “In the middle of unclogging a catheter, I got a message that my boss wanted to see me.”

  Justin suppressed that mental image. “Is that unusual?”

  “No.” She rolled her head from side to side. “They kink all the time.”

  “I meant, is it normal for your boss to call you into her office?”

  She snorted. “Iva never takes anyone off the floor during morning rounds.”

  “So you knew something was up.”

  “Nope. Walked in clueless.”

  Damn. At least he’d known the ax was coming long before Chesterfield pulled the trigger. “Why you and not somebody else?”

  Abby placed her head on the arm of the couch. “Because I’ve been with the department for the shortest amount of time. And it’s not like I’d want to see someone else go. I mean, she said she was laying off two people, and I don’t know who the other person is, but I don’t wish this on any of them. Maggie is a single mom with two kids. Sharlene’s oldest is in college and the youngest is headed for UT in the fall.” Tucking the bottle against her chest like a teddy bear, she added, “Sweet Delbert is only two years from retirement. He’d be completely screwed if they let him go now.”

  She made it sound as if she deserved to go before the others. “I’m sure those are all nice people, but you aren’t disposable because you don’t have kids to put through college.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said, opening her eyes and rolling to face him. “It’s done and I’m screwed. Just not the kind of screwed my friends think I need.”

  A crude transition, but Justin went with it, if only to distract her. “I thought Haleigh did the bidding. Why do you keep saying friends?”

  Abby sat up and took a long swig from the bottle before wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “They took up a collection. A bunch of people who claim to care about me got together behind my back and plotted to buy me a date. A date I’d already told Haleigh I absolutely did not want to go on.”

  That didn’t hurt his ego at all. “Since it worked out in my favor,” Justin said, “I’m not sorry they did it, but I don’t see the point. You could have any guy in this town. You sure as hell don’t need to buy one.”

  She leaned her chin on the top of the bottle. “I haven’t been on a date since Kyle died. Haven’t even been asked. So while I appreciate your faith in my feminine wiles, no ‘guy in this town,’ as you put it, sees things your way.”

  If she hadn’t dated, then she hadn’t . . .

  “Two years?” he said. “For real?”

  She frowned. “For real. So if you don’t mind, I’m going to drink this wine, take a lo
ng nap, and then have the other bottle for lunch.”

  Justin couldn’t get past the two years thing. He’d never gone without for two months, let alone two years. In fact, the two-month mark would hit in a couple of weeks. No wonder he’d been feeling antsy.

  And what kind of idiots lived in this town? Talk about losing faith in his fellow man. Abigail Williams should be fending men off with a shovel, not setting celibacy records. Unless she talked about clogged catheter lines with all her dates.

  Plastic crunched as Abby tried to get comfortable.

  “Do you want me to find you a blanket?”

  “Go away,” she said, tucking her legs beneath her. “Let me drown my sorrows in peace.”

  The last thing she needed was to be alone, especially with a full bottle of wine, but at least he wouldn’t be far away. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

  She waved him off as her eyes drifted shut.

  Chapter 7

  Abby woke from a deep sleep with a crick in her neck, plastic stuck to her face, and a mouth that felt like the inside of a sock.

  For one nauseating moment, she couldn’t figure out where she was. Wiping the grit from her eyes, she gently rose onto an elbow and heard a thud. With one eye open, she leaned forward to see what it was, felt her stomach roll, and quickly leaned back. “That’s not good,” she mumbled, taking several deep breaths.

  Once the threat of vomiting subsided, Abby slowly glanced over the edge again to find an empty wine bottle on the floor. All at once, the morning came back to her. With a groan, she threw an arm over her face.

  “I put a couple pain pills on the coffee table,” said a baritone from behind her. “And a bottle of water.”

  “Bless you.” Taking her time, she gingerly turned, sliding her feet down to the floor as she sat up. Tossing both pills into her mouth, she tried the cap on the bottle but couldn’t get it to turn. Holding it in the air, she said, “I need hep.” The pills made her sound like a toddler.

  Justin unscrewed the cap without comment. Once the pills were washed down, reality began to creep in.

  “What time is it?”

  “Twelve thirty,” he answered.

  “Wow.” She scooted forward on the couch. “I can’t believe I slept that long.”

  “Does the world look any better now?”

  Abby closed her eyes. “Not one bit.”

  “Didn’t think it would.” Taking the chair at the end of the coffee table, Justin set a pair of gloves over his thigh. “Not sure if you intend to stay with your meal plan, but I highly suggest you have something for lunch other than that second bottle of wine.”

  He could shove his suggestion up his fire hose. “I’m not in the mood for a lecture, thank you.”

  “No lecture coming,” he assured her, palms up. “But if you feel as bad as you look, that second bottle might send you back to the hospital as a patient.”

  A hand shot into her hair to find her ponytail dangling loosely on the right side of her head. After dragging out the hair tie, she shook the strands free, paying a hefty price for the thoughtless movement.

  “If I wasn’t a medical professional, I’d swear my brain just broke in half.”

  He chuckled. “Do you do this often?”

  “Do what? Get drunk and pass out on my couch? Not since last fall when I drank way too much at Lorelei Pratchett’s—now Boyd’s—bachelorette party.”

  “The name sounds familiar.”

  Abby slid the hair tie onto her wrist. “Lorelei told the whole town to go to hell at a Main Street Festival about fifteen years ago.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Justin said. “I definitely remember that. But didn’t she leave town right after?”

  Desperate to rid her mouth of the invisible cotton, she took a long swig from the water bottle before answering. “Yep. Came back nearly two years ago, and last fall she married her high school sweetheart, Spencer Boyd. Now they’re living happily ever after.”

  “You don’t sound all that thrilled for them.”

  Abby didn’t begrudge Lorelei her happy ending. She and Spencer had always been meant for each other. But they’d been the ones to set off a steady pattern of people Abby knew who followed their lead, finding love and ending up passionately content. Even her mother had gotten in on the act.

  “Did you know that my mom is getting married?” she asked.

  Justin took the tangent in stride. “Yeah, my mom told me. How do you feel about gaining a stepfather?”

  How did Abby feel about her mother’s beau? Her parents’ marriage had been rocky at best, with Dad choosing the bottle over his family on more occasions than Abby cared to count. Until the day he drank himself to death at what most would consider a young age. Still in her fifties, Mom deserved to be happy, and Bruce Clemens seemed like the guy to make that happen.

  “I like him,” she said. “Mom practically glows when he’s around. It’s kind of cute, really.”

  “I sense a but in there somewhere.”

  “Not a but,” Abby replied. “Not really. It’s just that in the last two years, I’ve watched five different couples get together. Ten people obnoxiously happy while I’ve experienced the complete opposite. So while I’m tickled pink for all of them, I can’t help but covet a little of what they have.”

  Leaning forward, Justin balanced his elbows on his knees. “That’s pretty deep for a woman as hungover as you are.”

  To her surprise, Abby laughed. “How’s the saying go? I’ve got layers like an onion.”

  “Is that what I smell?”

  Abby tried to throw a pillow at him but they were all out being cleaned. “I should probably take a shower.”

  Justin rose to his feet. “Good idea. When you’re done, come out and see the work in progress. I want to make sure you’re happy with the placements before I get too far.”

  He stepped around the couch, heading for the front door.

  “Hey,” she said. “Thanks for listening.”

  “Any time, Abby.” Justin placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “Any time.”

  Standing back to assess his work, Justin debated whether to put the blanket flowers on the left and the delphiniums on the right or vice versa. Or better yet, the hydrangeas on each end, the blanket in the middle, and the delphiniums between them on each side. That was probably the better way to go. Decision made, he reached for the shovel as his phone went off in his pocket. Sliding off a glove, he checked the screen. The name Quintin Culpepper flashed across the top.

  “I don’t think so,” Justin said, ignoring the call. Twenty seconds later, the notification came for a text message. He hadn’t heard from Q since they’d both been fired six weeks before. At the time, Justin had cleaned out his office, turned in his company badge, and then informed his former college buddy that they’d speak again once hell froze over. Though April had been chilly so far, he doubted that Hades had hit an ice age.

  All of which meant he ignored the message as well. But three angry shovelfuls later, curiosity got the better of him.

  I need to talk to you, bro. Potential deal in your neck of the woods. Could put us back in the game.

  Justin stared at the cell in his hand. “You’ve got balls, Q. I’ll give you that.”

  “An interesting statement.” Abby strolled toward him in sweats, a hoodie, and a pile of wet hair atop her head. She’d never looked sexier. “Do I want to know what you’re looking at on that little screen?”

  He slid the phone back into his pocket. “A message from a former coworker. Nothing important.”

  “Does he have a job lead for you?”

  “He seems to think so, but this isn’t a reliable source. I doubt I’d be interested.”

  “I see.” Taking in the long flower bed to her left, she shaded her eyes as she said, “Where are all my little monkey plants?”

  Justin pointed to the bags in the back of the truck. “Most of them are in there. I put a few around the side of the house for the snails and slugs.”

&nbs
p; Dropping her hand, Abby flashed him a broad smile. “You relocated my snails?”

  “The ones I came across, sure.”

  “That was very considerate of you.” Green eyes went soft as her mouth tilted higher at one end, making Justin long to run his thumb across her bottom lip. “Now what’s the new plan?”

  Dragging his brain back to the conversation, Justin cleared his throat. “I’ve decided to anchor the ends with the hydrangeas, center the blanket flowers, and then place the delphiniums between them on each side. The holly will fill the empty spaces so you’ll get dark green throughout, with pastels on the ends and the brighter blooms in the middle.”

  As if attempting to picture his vision, Abby chewed her bottom lip as she stared at the blank canvas of dirt, redirecting Justin’s focus once again. His body reacted to the erotic gesture, forcing him to use the shovel to hide the evidence. If this kept up, he’d need something more substantial than a skinny wooden handle.

  “I like this idea,” she said, taking his arm to pull him away from the house with her. “But maybe we need to add one more type of flower. It feels like there’s going to be too much green.” Abby leaned close enough to brush her breast against his elbow. Which made thinking damn near impossible.

  “I don’t . . .” he started, unable to form a coherent thought. “You could . . . maybe . . .”

  “Am I screwing up your idea?” she said, contrition in her tone. “You’re the expert. I should let you decide.”

  “No,” Justin said. “It’s your flower bed. The customer makes the final call.” Putting space between them, he forced his upper brain to once again take over. “We have white on the outside, then the light blue coming into the bright red with yellow tips. Adding one more option to smooth the transition is actually pretty smart.”

  “Great. But what should we add?”

  He pondered the color scheme, running various choices through his mind, dismissing them all until he landed on the perfect solution.