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All she had planned for the night-talking to Leif, being more open and honest-had been swept away. She'd left Leif in that auction room, feeling hopeless. But five seconds after walking out, she'd wanted to kick herself. Leif hadn't put that sketch in the auction. Why had she doubted him for even a second? Why had she let the old ghost of who’d she’d been come back to haunt her?
"Mom, I'm sorry.”
“I am, too. We have some things between us we have to fix, honey, and that might take some help from a therapist who can help us understand each other better. I have to go. You go to bed.''
“But I love you, Mom, and I’m so sorry.”
''And I love you. But that doesn’t mean you won’t have repercussions. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
She'd hung up, briefly told Cal what their daughter had done, and then apologized to her father, who gave her a kiss on the cheek, and told her she'd never embarrassed him.
Abigail had never loved her father more than at that moment.
Then she'd gone to find Leif …only to catch Everett Orgeron leaving the bar looking stricken. Leif had risen and hurried away as if a demon nipped at the rather quirky Converse high-tops he’d worn with the dinner jacket. Something told her Leif had found his father ...and it hadn't gone as well as hoped.
Now Leif stared at her as though she was too late to apologize...too late to declare her love.
“I’m sorry the whole town saw the painting,” he said.
"I'm not."
Leif crooked an eyebrow. "So where did you put the Abigail I know? 'Cause she'd have a shit fit at all of Magnolia Bend Country Club seeing her half naked.”
“Maybe the old Abigail would.”
He deadpanned. “TheoldAbigail? Is there a new one around anywhere?” He shaded his eyes glancing around like a true smart ass.
“Yeah. She’s right in front of you.”
Leif studied her. “Look, I wasn’t trying to change you. You don’t have to be an old or new version of yourself. It’s obvious that we see things differently. Our values aren’t the same. I don’t care what people think, and you do.”
Abigail tilted her head. “You care a little.”
“But only a little.” Leif ran a hand through his hair. The gold strands caught in the moonlight, soft waves that framed his rugged jaw. His light eyes mirrored hurt but there was a hint of something. Maybe humor. He was such a remarkable man, hard in some places, soft where it mattered.
He sighed at her perusal. “Look, I’m getting out of here. I know I had some duties tonight, but I can’t deal.”
“Running away?”
He stilled. “No… Maybe.”
“Well, I’m not running away and I’m half naked in there,” Abigail jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. “Why don’t you stay? Why don’t you stand right next to me?”
“Because you don’t want me. You won’t let yourself be anything other than this image you’ve created for yourself. I know you’re embarrassed of me. I know you’re ashamed of that painting, and though part of me understands, it still hurts. It just sucks to be rejected on every level.”
Abigail reached behind her back and unzipped her dress, letting the shoulder straps fall to her arms.
His eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
“Proving that I don’t care what people think,” she said, allowing the dress to fall to the pavement before kicking it aside. She stood there wearing only her strapless bra and a pair of nude Spanx. “You told me the next time I should go without panties, but it was a pretty tight dress.”
"You're crazy,'' he said, moving toward her, casting a glance around to see if anyone might be watching. A beam of headlights swung past them, reminding her of the night when Leif first kissed her. She'd been so paranoid. And now she wasn't... because she was determined to prove to Leif that she needed him in her life more than she needed her precious reputation.
Abigail reached around and unhooked her bra. "Yeah, crazy for you."
"Stop that,” he said, catching her hands as she released the krakens and tossed her bra to join the dress. Wrapping his arms around her, he dragged her into the shadows. "Your father's a preacher. And you have a daughter."
“I thought you didn’t care about what people think. I’m showing you that I don’t either. Because what does it mean if you think I would choose a life of Talbot loafers and high necked sweaters over you? What does being the PTA president and competing for Mom of the Year mean if underneath I’m living a lie? If I’m pretending that I don’t want you. Let everyone know I have lost my mind. That's what this feels like. I've been miserable since that night we broke up and I don't want to live that way.”
