“Something on your mind?” he asked.
“Oh. No.”
“Come on out and watch the crowd, then.”
“Yes. Yes, I think I will.”
She followed him out and settled at the bar, where she watched him work. A handsome man, she thought, but not…not Luc.
“Abby?”
The voice, so familiar she felt it in her belly, couldn’t possibly be real.
“Abby? Could I speak with you?”
She spun around in her seat. And there he was, looking flushed and disheveled and so much better than she remembered.
“Hi” was all she could manage, the vodka and marinara threatening to come back up. She was intensely aware of her clothes, stained despite her best efforts, the flat, white sneakers, scuffed by whoever had worn them before, the hand-me-down jeans, and…everything.
“You are well?”
Abby forced a smile, powered a big breath in, and nodded. “I’m great. Great, thanks. I’ll just… What are you—”
“I just wanted to—”
“Oh,” Abby said, turning to hide her embarrassed smile. “You go ahead.”
“Youareworking here.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Ah.” He glanced over her shoulder—avoiding her eye?—and back, straight at her in a way that proved how wrong that theory was. His voice lowered to a whisper. “How is your…?” He motioned over his shoulder.
“Better. I’m… It’s… George was finally convinced that I’d healed well enough to leave. So…”
“Good.” He looked down. Definitely avoiding. “Good.”
“Yes. The beauty of modern medicine.”
“I’m glad you’re well.”
“So.” She let her eyes slide to look at the people behind him. “What brings you here?”
“Just came in for a drink.”
“Shift’s over, Abigail, my darling.” Rory appeared by her side, his voice quiet but sharp as he eyed Luc in a decidedly unfriendly manner. “I see the Cape Cod’s not to your taste. What’s your poison?”
“My poison?”
“What do you like to drink, dearest?”
“She likes a good Bordeaux,” Luc answered, his focus shifting to Rory in what looked like a challenge, before returning to her.
“How about a cheap Chilean red?” Rory asked.
“If that’s what you”—think I should drink, she’d been about to say, which was ridiculous; instead, she finished with—“have, then that’s what I’ll take.” And then, because she couldn’t help it, she added, “But if you ever decide to upgrade, I know of a wonderful local vintage.”
Luc’s blush intensified at those words, and he looked away when Rory eyed him. “Shall I get this man a drink, as well?” he asked her, waiting for her nod before taking off to serve their drinks.
