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“No, I don’t mind,” Abby returned flippantly, remembering her impression last week—that Patty had a crush on him. “Why should I?”
“I…I just wanted to be sure.”
If Patty thought she’d get an award for softball, Abby was sure someone should nominate her for an Oscar. By the end of the game her face hurt from her permanent smile. She laughed, cheered, joked, and tried to suggest that she hadn’t a care in the world. At bat she was dynamite. Her pain was readily transferred to her swing and she didn’t hit anything less than a double and got two home runs.
Once, when Logan had patted her affectionately on the back to congratulate her, Abby had shot him an angry glare. It’d taken him only one day. One day to ask Patty out. That hurt.
“Abby?” Logan’s dark brows rose questioningly. “What’s wrong?”
“Wrong?” Although she gave him a blank look, she realized her face must have divulged her feelings. “What could possibly be wrong? By the way, Tate said hello. He wanted to be here tonight, but something came up.” Abby knew her lie was childish, but she couldn’t help her reaction.
She didn’t speak to him again.
Gathering the equipment, Abby tried not to remember the way Patty had positioned herself next to Logan on the bench and how she made excuses to be near him at every opportunity.
“You’re coming for pizza, aren’t you?” Dick asked Abby for the second time.
Abby wanted to go. The get-togethers after the game were often more fun than the game itself. But she couldn’t bear the curious stares that were sure to follow when Logan sat next to Patty and started flirting with her.
“Not tonight,” Abby responded, opening her eyes wide to give Dick a look of false candor. “I’ve got other plans.” Abby noticed the way Logan’s mouth curved in a mirthless smile. He’d heard that and come to his own conclusions. Good!
Abby regretted her hasty refusal later. The apartment was hot and muggy. Even Dano, her temperamental cat, didn’t want to spend time with her.
After a cool shower, Abby fixed a meal of scrambled eggs, toast, and a chocolate bar. She wasn’t the least bit hungry, but eating was at least a distraction.
She couldn’t concentrate on her newest suspense novel, so she sat on the sofa and turned on the TV. A rerun of an old sitcom helped block out the image of Patty in Logan’s arms. Abby didn’t doubt that Logan had kissed Patty. The bright, happy look in her eyes had said as much.
Uncrossing her legs, Abby released a bitter sigh. She shouldn’t care if Logan kissed a hundred women. But she did. It bothered her immensely—regardless of her own hopes and fantasies about Tate. She recognized how irrational she was being, and her confusion only increased.
With the television blaring to drown out the echo of Patty telling her about the fun she’d had with Logan, Abby reached for the chocolate bar and peeled off the wrapper. The sweet flavor wouldn’t ease the discomfort in her stomach, because Abby knew it wasn’t chocolate she wanted, it was Logan. Feeling wretched again, she set the candy bar aside and leaned her head back, closing her eyes.
By Friday evening, Abby was convinced all the contradictory feelings she had about Logan could be summed up in one sentence: The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. It was another of those clichés her mother seemed so fond of and spouted on a regular basis. She was surprised Glenna hadn’t dragged this one into their conversations about Logan and Tate. The idea of getting involved with Tate had been appealing when she was seeing Logan steadily. It stood to reason that the reverse was also true—that Logan would miss her and lose interest in Patty. At least that was what Abby told herself repeatedly as she dressed for her date.
With her long brown hair a frame around her oval face, she put on more makeup than usual. With a secret little smile she applied an extra dab of perfume. Tate wouldn’t know what hit him! The summer dress was one of her best—a pale blue sheath that could be dressed up or down, so she was as comfortable wearing it to a movie as she would be to a formal dinner.
When Tate arrived, he had on a pair of cords and a cotton shirt, open at the neck, sleeves rolled up. It was an undeniably sexy look.
“You’re stunning,” he said appreciatively, kissing her lightly on the cheek.
“Thank you.” Abby couldn’t restrain her disappointment. He’d looked at her the way one would a sister and his kiss wasn’t that of a lover—or someone who intended to be a lover.
Still, they joked easily as they waited in line for the latest blockbuster action movie and Abby was struck by their camaraderie. It didn’t take her long to realize that their relationship wasn’t hot and fiery, sparked by mutual attraction. It was…friendly. Warm. Almost lacking in imagination. Ironically, that had been exactly her complaint about Logan…
Tate bought a huge bucket of popcorn, which they shared in the darkened theater. But Abby noted that he appeared restless, often shifting his position, crossing and uncrossing his legs. Once, when he assumed she wasn’t watching, he laid his head against the back of the seat and closed his eyes. Was Tate in pain? she wondered.
Abby’s attention drifted from the movie. “Tate,” she whispered. “Are you okay?”
He immediately opened his eyes. “Of course. Why?”
Rather than refer to his restlessness, she simply shook her head and pretended an interest in the screen.
When they’d finished the popcorn, Tate reached for her hand. But Abby noted that it felt tense. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he was nervous. But Abby couldn’t imagine what possible reason Tate would have to be nervous around her.
The evening was hot and close when they emerged from the theater.
“Are you hungry?” Tate asked, taking her hand, and again, Abby was struck by how unnaturally tense he seemed.
“For something cold and sinful,” she answered with a teasing smile.
