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Her second thought was at how absolutely naked she was.
"Oh, my God," she whispered.
"Yeah," Matt breathed behind her as everyone in the room, Hilda included, watched her.
Abigail swallowed the shock, the hurt, the out and-out horror, scrambling for how to handle the sight of herself tangled in sheets, nude, and sated …on display in front of friends and family. In front of her cousin, who was the mayor. In front of her first grade teacher. In front of...
Oh, God.
Her father.
Dan stood with a cluster of people he ministered to every single week.
Abigail thought she might faint again. Matt pressed an arm in the middle of her back, keeping her from sagging.
Her father came to her, a smile on his face. "Hey, baby, you look pretty as a bluebonnet."
Dropping a kiss on her cheek, he gave her shoulders a little squeeze. Matt's hand dropped away.
"Daddy," she managed to say, her eyes still on the painting.
Her father turned, his arm around her shoulders. "I think the piece is simply stunning. Like something Michelangelo might have painted. Just has such an intimate, surreal quality to it. Honestly, I've never seen you look lovelier," her father said, holding her firmly so her trembling couldn't be detected.
Abigail took a breath and tried to talk without breaking into tears. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and said, "You know, I love it."
"Just so you know, I've already bought it," her father said, his voice loud enough to be heard by everyone in the room.
Abigail managed a nod and a blistering smile. She couldn't look her father in the eye. If she did, she'd break, shattering into a million pieces.
And it was at that exact moment Leif arrived, looking like a contestant onThe Amazing Race,jacket open, eyes wild, breath coming in great spurts.
LEIF BARRELEDinto the silent auction room, trying to look as if he hadn't sprinted from the other side of the tennis courts, where he'd parked. A fresh speeding ticket poked out of his breast pocket and he knew sweat trickled down his face.
But when he saw Abigail standing there clasped against her father's side, pale and also quite stunning in a short navy dress, he nearly dropped to his knees.
Sitting in the middle of the display on a large easel was the piece he'd done of her.
"Oh, God," he breathed.
Everyone in the room grew so quiet he could've heard a mouse fart.
Abigail merely stared at him, disappointment mixed with shock shimmering in her eyes. And there, too, he saw the accusation- she thought he'd intentionally entered the intimate rendering of her in the auction.
Didn't she know him better than that?
"Leif," she said finally, a tremulous smile on her face.
Hilda crossed the room, smiling at him and then her cousin. Turning to the picture of Abigail twisted in his sheets, she said, "You really ought not to have been so modest with this one, sweetheart."
Her remark was teasing, her eyes sparkling. Her approval, along with the good reverend's nod, broke the ice and the other people in the room returned to their wine spritzers and polite conversation.
Leif moved next to Abigail, his heart in his throat, "Can I talk to you, please?"
Her father gave him a stern look. "Maybe later, Mr. Lively." His mild tone tempered his expression. "My daughter has to take a phone call from her mother."
Leif glanced at Abigail, who stared at his buttons and said nothing.
"Please," he whispered to her.
