Obviously, there was a lot more to that story and Abby cringed at the thought of hearing it. It was too late at night and she'd already caused enough trouble for one day. h.e.l.l, for one year. Still, her curiosity about the length of the relationship was piqued. How long had they been involved? Had Carter known?

"You were-" She looked from one wrinkled face to the other.

Becky throttled her head from side to side. "No! Of course not. I loved Carter's dad and Gavin loved Maggie too. It wasn't like that. In fact, we spoke very little until my husband went into the hospital with cancer. Gavin came to check on me a lot after I brought him home; we kept up. All of us. We'd been through a lot over the years and ... "

Dr. Bernard joined her at the table and placed a hand on her shoulder. Abby was unsure what to do. She hardly knew these people and certainly wasn't on the best footing with Carter, yet they'd just divulged something not even he knew. Too much information, actually.

"You don't need to explain to me. It's none of my business." Abby stood, set the half-empty cup by the sink and turned. "I'd better get going. I guess I don't need to tell you what the pharmacist said, do I?"

Becky glanced at Dr. Bernard and laughed with hesitation. "No, but it's comforting to know you cared enough to come out. It's also just past sunset and way too late to make a drive back to the city. You'll stay in Carter's room."

Huh? What? No way. After several attempts at refusal, Dr. Bernard managed to wrestle her purse and keys away. Before she knew what hit her, Abby was wrapped up in navy sheets with basketb.a.l.l.s on them and smelling something that drove her crazy. Him. Odd because he'd been overseas for a month. What did he do-plaster his DNA into the fabric along with the accompanying detergent scent?

Chapter Twenty-Six.

The light of day always seemed to bring clarity to the worst of problems. Abby had not only created the biggest farce of a personality by continuing to communicate with Carter after she knew who he thought her to be, but also by deceiving his mother. And now the doctor too. Today she'd come clean. To everyone: Becky, the doctor, and even Carter if she could track him down and get him to answer her. She'd start with his mom.

Abby was disappointed when she walked into their kitchen. Her hope to have a good talk with the couple was dashed. The room smelled of cinnamon and toast, yet it was empty. A note sat on the counter by a coffee cup.

Good morning! We forgot to tell you we were leaving early this morning to attend a craft fair in Fort Bend County. Make yourself comfortable. There should be plenty of things to eat in the fridge and there's coffee in the pot. We'll be back this afternoon-hope you can stay long enough to visit then.

-B So much for that talk. Abby picked up the note and ran through it again as if it might change in the re-read. Hmmm. She wasn't about to snoop through Becky's fridge but the coffee smelled good. She poured a cup then padded barefoot to the bathroom. A quick wash up and she'd head home. She looked in the mirror and grimaced at the reflection staring back. Frazzled hair, smudged eyes, and wrinkled clothes. Ugh. Why had she decided to drive like a bat out of h.e.l.l to see a woman she barely knew who parented a guy that now hated her?

She pulled open a drawer and rummaged for a toothbrush and toothpaste. Thankfully there was a new set waiting there and she took advantage of it.

"You want to tell me why you're in my bathroom using a toothbrush-in my mother's house?"

Abby jolted around and screamed. Carter leaned against the doorjamb, hand on his hip, staring at her.

The toothbrush in her mouth fell to the floor. Clank. Toothpaste oozed onto her chin. She couldn't answer.

"Well?"

"Um, you told the pharmacy to call me to check on her."

He grabbed a towel from the rod and tossed it at her. "No. I told them to call Jackson. Are you telling me he sent you?"

Wow, that was harsh. Abby wiped the toothpaste from her chin, leaned over, and slurped water then swirled and spit. She needed a few seconds. What should she say this time? The truth was getting more and more complicated. Would he believe it? Did it even matter? As much as she enjoyed their time together, this was more convoluted than her life needed to be at the moment. It wasn't worth the strain. Fortunately, she didn't have to go into details because his mother swooped in behind and grinned.

"Carter? I'm so glad you're here! And you're still here too, Abby. That's great. We made it into town and decided to come back and see if you wanted to go with us. I mean, you probably have to get back and all but still, it would be nice."

Carter's eyes darted between his mother, Abby, and the red-faced Doctor Bernard standing in the hallway. "Mom, you're walking?"

She grinned sheepishly. "Uh, yeah, I am. Quite well in fact. You remember Gavin Bernard, don't you?"

Carter raised a brow and stepped from the bathroom, nodding. He didn't speak but offered a hand.

"He's been kind of helping me get around and well, I'm doing great. See?" Becky held out her hands and displayed her newfound balance. "So, you two want to go with us to the craft fair? Did Jackson come too?" She glanced around.

"I don't know, Mom." Carter smirked at Abby. "Did he?"

Becky slapped his arm lightly. "Well, he didn't come with her. I know that much. She rolled in last night and scared the bejeezus out of us." She clamped a hand over her mouth. "I mean me."

Carter was dumbfounded. "Last night? Exactly why are you here, Abs?"

Becky grabbed him in a big hug. "She was checking in on me. Isn't that sweet? Who cares? Let her clean up and join us. Then we'll head into town. I'm so glad you came. What time did your flight get in?"

Carter responded as he was pushed through the doorway and away from Abby. Good. She needed to collect her thoughts and speak calmly as she unraveled the mult.i.tudes of mistaken conversations and ident.i.ties. Something she had no intention of doing with his mother and her boyfriend present. It was embarra.s.sing enough.

Abby was hoodwinked into a craft fair along with Carter. Fortunately for him, Dr. Bernard chose to make a beeline for the concession stand after thirty minutes. Abby stifled a smile when Carter said he'd better accompany him in case he needed anything. Yeah, right. She only wished she'd thought of it first. Her feet started to ache after an hour of following Becky around. What was she thinking when she a.s.sumed the woman was feeble? There was nothing weak about this lady if she could handle a crowded fairground.

After admiring more quilts than she could stand, she excused herself for a drink of water and to sit. She managed to scope out a quiet and dark corner under a tree and sighed with relief as she rubbed the arch of her left foot.

"Need some help with that? Or does Jackson take care of it for you? Or maybe some other dumb guy."

She squinted at Carter standing over her. "I imagine you'd rather cut it off right now."

"You got that right. There's a dart board in the game room at home-don't plan on standing too close to it."

"Nice. Look, this whole thing is just a big mix-up. I made a mistake." She lifted a hand and pulled on his arm. "Sit down. My neck can't crane that far up and the sun is blinding me."

"So, my mom is dating the doctor apparently. And your boyfriend sent you here instead of coming himself. Does your boyfriend know about me, about us?"

Her phone buzzed on the surface between them and he knew he shouldn't have checked but he glanced to see the display. Unfortunately it was facing down. She ignored it.

"Speak of the devil. You're not going to answer that?"

She shrugged. "I don't want to talk to him at the moment."

Jesus, she played a lot of games. Here with him while Jackson called looking for her? How many others were being strung along? The phone rang again and he reached out and s.n.a.t.c.hed it, hitting the b.u.t.ton to answer before he got it to his ear.

"Stop." She bolted both hands to grab it, but he turned away and listened for a familiar male voice.

"Hey, Jackson." He narrowed his eyes on her face as she shook her head.

The unfamiliar voice on the other side startled him. "Uh, hi-Who is this?"

Oops. Not who he thought-he lifted the handset away and looked at the name-her-dad? "Um, I'm Carter-a friend."

"Of Abigail's? I didn't know she was seeing anyone. How long has that been going on?" Wow, that was pretty condemning.

"We're not-" The phone was yanked from his hand before he finished. He mouthed the words your dad? Panic mixed with anger as she nodded.

"What do you want, Dad?" She strode away with the phone, spoke a few words, then put her phone away.

Carter dragged a foot across the ground and shoved his hands into pockets. "Sorry-I thought it was-"

She darted her eyes skyward. "I know who you thought it was. You know, you should try trusting me. Maybe I'm not really as bad as you think."

"Trust isn't something I do very well."

"Yeah, I gathered that."

"You could have talked more. I wouldn't have minded."

"Well, I mind. My dad is a pain in the a.s.s right now, right behind my mom. Every time I call, there's always something I haven't done or at least haven't done right. I keep telling myself they have good intentions, but right now, I need a lot more than that. I need-"

"Some confidence?"

She shrugged. "From them? That's asking more than they know. Not happening."

"They're just trying to protect you."

"Maybe." She leveled her eyes on his. "I could use someone to have a thread of faith in me right now. You know, faith I can do this. I want to be successful so bad I can taste it. Maybe I don't need a rich boyfriend to survive, even though they struggle to believe it. I mean I'm smart. Capable. Can't they see that?"

Wow, were her parents really that backward thinking? It never occurred to him her family wasn't in her corner, rooting for her success.

"Trust is a hard thing for most people." He wasn't referring to her parents either-he was as guilty in that respect as they were. His adult life had been riddled with women and friends that said one thing and did another-people that hid the simplest of things rather than expose themselves to potential pain.

Abby's heart toasted her insides a bit. He sat, beer in hand, and drank in silence, watching the crowd move around them. She was worn out from all the confusion but even tired, she wanted to wrap her arms around his neck. Which really p.i.s.sed her off. She should have never gone to Sotby's that night and she definitely shouldn't have answered the texts. Or let Caroline do it on her behalf.

"Look, I haven't got a clue what you're doing here, but it's wrong." His voice was more a growl than words. So much for the warmth she'd briefly felt.

A popping noise caught her attention and she shifted to look behind. "How are you with a shotgun, Carter?"

"Huh?"

She hooked a thumb at the toy gun booth. Sure, it was set up so kids had entertainment while their parents shopped, but why not? "Want to take a little target practice? We can pretend the targets are each other. Winner has to spill their guts. You up for it?"

"Spill their guts? As in what?"

"Honesty. Tell something totally honest about themselves. Think you can handle it?"

"You're serious? I'd think that was way too close to the fire for you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She lifted a brow and had the familiar urge to touch him.

Carter shrugged. "Honesty doesn't seem to be your thing, but I'm game if you are." He rose and strode toward the small counter. A row of pop-guns sat waiting for takers, each with a small rope anchoring it to a makeshift tripod.

A comment like that should have burned because she always thought herself incredibly honest. Under the circ.u.mstances, she had little defense. How could she blame him for his thinking? Still, she'd set him straight and give him a chance to vent in the process.

The entire exchange was destined to be indelibly imprinted on her mind; the monotonous carnival music chorded as a set of fake birds flitted across the backdrop. They disappeared, only to return seconds later and repeat their route. She had been preoccupied, thinking of the right way to say what she'd so completely botched before. Over and over. Now, studying his clenched muscles, she had to admit-he was hot, in multiple ways. His anger, the humid day, and just watching him made her temperature spike.

When Carter bent to aim the pop-gun, his back hip taunted her with memories of being locked against that hip. His T-shirt stretched up and bared the indention of his lower spine just above the waist of his shorts that hung loose on those delicious hips. She wanted to reach out and touch that spot, stroke a circle around the slight hollow, then follow it to other even hotter spots. She bit her lip, clenched her fist then started-to-reach.

Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop.

The sound jolted her from the daydream as each pop was followed by a ting sound. He turned and grinned. "I hope you brought your A-game. You'd better get started-I'm already up by two hundred points." He swung the gun barrel at his score, displayed in red lights on the wall above the birds under the words Player A. Then he proceeded to lightly pummel the trigger until he'd sprayed the targets and drove his score up higher.

She let out a sigh and laughed. "Oh, I brought it, all right. Prepare to be blistered into submission."

He darted a raised brow at her over the barrel then, without turning back, flipped the trigger three more times. Hitting something each time. Should she be intimidated? Not unless she was concerned about winning, which she wasn't. In fact, she planned to lose.

Abby plunked two quarters into the slot and picked up the pop-gun. She leaned over at the waist, knowing her shirt had dipped as his did and revealed even more skin. She hoped it affected him as much.

He sucked in air. "I am sooo going to whip your a.s.s, Abs. So, do I get to pick the subject of this honesty exposure or are there certain things off-limits?"

She pulled the trigger five times, speaking as the two targets flopped down. "No limits."

He kept shooting right along with her. She missed. He hit. She hit. He hit. Seconds ticked along until his rapid-fire trigger clicked, signaling the end of his turn. He set the gun down and came up behind her. Leaning over her back, Carter's entire body weighed against her, hard and warm. "Don't choke," he whispered in her ear.

Abby choked. But not because she couldn't shoot.

She squinted into the sight, tried calming her jangled nerves, and sprayed the remaining shots across the terrain of targets. When her gun clicked, she set it down. The score glared at them in red lights. Player A: 1150, Player B: 650 "You cheated." She feigned a protest.

"How can you cheat at pop-guns?"

His body pressed into hers and she swore she felt him breathe. "You're distracting me. How am I supposed to hit anything when you plaster yourself against me every time I pull the trigger?"

He chuckled. "All's fair in hate and war. You said no rules."

"You misquoted that, didn't you?" She pushed a hip back and forced him off her.

"I said what I meant. Exactly how are we going to do this honesty thing?"

She ignored his remark and turned to lean against the counter. Crossing her arms, she considered that question. Haven't really thought that far ahead. "I want a rematch."

Mimicking her, he crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "I think I should probably tell you I used to hunt a lot with my dad. We also spent a lot of time at the gun range and, in case you didn't notice, that score is pretty near perfect." He pointed at the red light.

Yeah, she'd noticed. That and more.

"I think I should tell you I have a concealed handgun license." Not that she ever used a handgun. She owned one and went to the range about once or twice a year, mainly because her father insisted.

He grimaced. "I should have known you'd welch."

Okay, maybe baiting him when he was already angry probably wasn't wise. "Okay, I was kidding-I meant it. Ask me whatever you want."