A Place to Call Home. Kathryn SpringerЧитать онлайн книгу.
of sight but definitely not out of mind.
“I’m sure he’ll work out…fine.” Abby dumped out the contents of the bowl and a cloud of flour rose into the air. She wrinkled her nose to subdue a sneeze.
“Uh-oh.”
“What?”
“You’re making bread, aren’t you?”
Abby put her hands protectively over the mound of yeast dough, as if Jessica was looking over her shoulder. “Maybe.”
“Maybe,” Jessica repeated. “So that’s a big yes. You know you only make bread when something is bothering you.”
“That’s not true.” At least, not always. But Jessica was right. There was something very therapeutic about pummeling—kneading—bread dough.
“So, what’s this new carpenter like? What’s his name?”
“Are we playing Twenty Questions?” Abby asked. “Because I prefer I Spy. Or Scrabble.”
“Hold on a sec, Abbs.” Jessica didn’t bother to muffle her voice. “I’ll be right there, honey. I’m on the phone with Abby. She’s making bread.”
“Uh-oh.” Tony’s baritone boomed in the background.
“Okay, I’m back. Continue. New carpenter…”
“Quinn O’Halloran.” Abby punched down the dough with a little more force than necessary.
“What’s he like?”
Reserved came immediately to mind. Confident. Incredibly good looking…
Abby put the brakes on her thoughts, refusing to let them continue down that path. Too dangerous. “He works faster than Daniel, so the cabins might be ready for the grand opening.”
“Then what’s the problem…” Jessica’s voice trailed off, replaced by an audible smack as her palm connected with her forehead. “I’m sorry. Stupid question. Sometimes I forget.”
“Don’t apologize,” Abby said quietly. “I want you to forget.”
She wanted to forget.
“Does he make you uncomfortable?”
“Daniel recommended him.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Abby hesitated. She knew what Jessica was really asking but wasn’t sure how to answer. Did Quinn make her uncomfortable? Yes. But not in the way her friend assumed.
“I’ll talk to Tony.” Jessica drew her own conclusion from the silence. “We can take a few days off. Drive up for the weekend.”
Abby was touched by the offer. “And if you looked in the rearview mirror, you’d see Alex’s Viper right behind you. We can’t let him think that I’m afraid and calling for reinforcements.”
“You’re right,” Jessica muttered. “He’d dispatch the deprogrammers and you’d be back in Illinois before sunset.”
Somehow, her friend always managed to make Abby smile. “You should get back to Tony. He must be feeling neglected.”
“It makes him appreciate me more.”
The distinctly masculine snort that followed the comment made them both giggle.
“I’m praying for you,” Jessica whispered.
“I know. I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”
“You give me way too much credit. You’re there because you listened to God and faced your fears.”
Listened to God, Abby hoped so. Faced her fears? That was more difficult. Especially when they kept popping up like targets in a shooting gallery.
“One step at a time, remember?” Jessica said, as if she’d read Abby’s mind. “And if this O’Halloran guy makes you nervous, you can find someone to take his place. It’s okay.”
“He doesn’t make me nervous. Not like that.” Abby had worked hard to overcome her wariness of strangers but there were times it crept back in, especially if she was in a confined space with someone she didn’t know. Or if someone turned up when she wasn’t expecting them.
With Quinn, it had been both.
The strange thing was, Abby had felt as if he’d somehow sensed her unease. There were times she could have sworn that he’d stepped away from her on purpose. Given her some space. And the few times they had been in close proximity, instead of feeling vulnerable, Abby had felt…safe.
She hadn’t experienced that before.
That was what made her nervous.
Quinn flipped over on his back and swam leisurely to shore, letting the cool water flow over the kinks in his muscles. He’d replaced the last window in the cabin as the sun began to sink into the horizon, making the trees look as if they’d been planted in liquid gold. Venus, the first planet to appear in the evening sky, winked at him through a tear in the bank of apricot clouds above his head.
After working in the hot sun all afternoon, Quinn had looked forward to cooling off in the lake with a relaxing swim. The cooling off part was successful. The relaxing part, not so much. His thoughts weren’t cooperating.
Not with Abby Porter all tangled up in them.
Two weeks. That’s all I can spare.
The words he’d said to Alex came back to mock him. Because less than eight hours later, he was ready to bolt. Faye would understand about the air conditioner….
Who was he kidding? If that was the only thing at stake, he would be on his way back to town by now.
Reaching the dock, Quinn grabbed on to the ladder and pulled himself up. By the time he toweled off and started back to the cabin, the low drone in the bushes made him glad he’d repaired the hole in the screened porch.
There was no sign of Lady. She’d wanted to swim out to the raft with him but Quinn had made her stay behind. Because what the little dog lacked in size, she more than made up for in volume. If a car pulled into the driveway, Lady let him know about it. No one could get past her without sounding the alarm. Because she rivaled the best system O’Halloran Security had to offer, Quinn was willing to turn over guard duty to her for a while.
He’d never worked as a bodyguard with the intent of staying as far away as possible from the client before, but Quinn was up to the challenge this time.
Whenever his traitorous thoughts had started to conjure up Abby Porter’s smile or her laugh, all Quinn had to do was squelch them by recalling the phone conversation he’d overheard through the cabin window. A glimpse into the woman’s true nature. She was like so many of the people who’d hired him when he was with Hamlin. Sweet and personable as long as everything went their way. Ready to use the weight of their name and bank account number when it didn’t. Like Serena Raynes.
Quinn’s stomach rumbled suddenly, chiding him for turning down Abby’s offer to cook for him. He ignored it. There was nothing wrong with a good old-fashioned can of sodium-saturated broth with pieces of mystery meat floating in it.
He stopped short as he entered the kitchen. And then looked around to make sure he hadn’t walked into the wrong cabin by mistake. Nope. The canvas duffel bag containing his clothes was on the floor where he’d left it; flannel shirt tossed over the back of the sofa.
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