One Autumn Night

Chapter Ten

An hour and forty-five minutes later Abigail's Honda was packed, as was the cab of Beckett's truck, the entire capacity of Ben's SUV, and Danielle's Mini Cooper.

The rain had paused mercifully, letting through a sneaky streak of blue above the small town, but the threat of more crowded the edges beyond Stonebridge. Tall pines stood stoically throughout the tiny town, poking at the burgeoning roll of thunderheads in the distance as if to loosen and stir the strike of the storm before it arrived.

The dark was on its way just as more of the storm was, Abigail decided. Night crept closer to the day in autumn, and she liked it just like that. She'd always loved the season that ushered in the cool, the wet, the dark. She was fiery, feisty, and the season balanced her out like an old friend.

Like Declan, she thought as she changed into a black sweater, black slacks and put on an extra swipe of deodorant, wishing she'd left time in the schedule for a shower. But no one was paying her to be pretty, they were paying her to feed people and it didn't matter whether or not she was sweaty under her work clothes.

At least she wasn't wearing her usual ensemble of a plain T and jeans, she thought dully, knowing that's what she'd rather be wearing.

After zipping up her jacket, she grabbed an umbrella at the last minute then raced out the door.

And there was Declan, arms crossed, stray sprinkles misting around him, leaning up against the driver's side of his Porsche.

Polished, handsome. That's how she'd always remember him in that moment. Then when his mouth slid into a grin, her heart flipped over before she could calm it, knowing she'd not only remember him and what he looked like, but how he made her feel.

And that was the worst part. She didn't want to remember how she felt, mostly because she didn't want to feel anything at all. The night would soon start, then it would all be over, and morning would once again come along, ushering in solitude.

No, not solitude, she reminded herself as she turned, locked the backdoors to her place and the pub. She had a business, she had brothers and a staff, she had regular customers that she was happy to see every day for a pint and some Fish N' Chips.

She had a cozy home, a cozy pub, a crazy family, and it was all hers, she thought as she approached. "You're still here. The others leave?"

"Yep. Wanted to see if you needed anything else before I took off."

"That was nice, thank you." She indulged herself by walking up to him and pressing her lips against his, a farewell kiss she kept light in her mind and movements.

"That was nice, thank you," he said, making her laugh.

"See you at your house."

"I'll be the man in the tux in a sea of men in tuxes."

"You'll be you, and I'll be me," she said, seeing that invisible line that had always been between them. He'd be a guest at an incredible party, and she'd be behind the table serving those party guests.

"Thank God. I like that you're you." He pulled her back when she started away, planted another kiss on her lips then plied them open with another.

The teasing swipe of tongue, of breath, swept her under the rushing current, the song of it a warning that she was slipping toward a stream of hurt. But the temptation to taste, to feel, to devour, was too strong to resist.

"I've got to get going," she said finally, her breath clouding in the cool air.

"See you there."