Text Me Page 13

  He strode into the office and slammed the paper on Roger’s desk. “Take a look.”

  Roger jolted. “Good morning to you too.”

  Carter punched a finger at the picture. “That is Jennifer Jeffries. The Jennifer Jeffries that killed my project and sent me packing. She is also Abby Jeffries, a.k.a. Abigail Jeffries … a.k.a. Satan.”

  Roger picked up the paper calmly and shook the page to straighten it. Carter stared at his face which had gone almost as white as the paper. “Um, yeah, that’s definitely her. She looks good, don’t you think?”

  “Good?” Carter thought his head would split open. “Good!” He tried to think of words. None would come. He sputtered for a second, then turned on his heels and strode away.

  Chapter Twenty

  Abby tied her running shoes then slipped the ear buds in. The sun hung low over the trees outside. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten in a few miles and she needed it desperately.

  Lifting the screen to choose her playlist, she noticed the flash of a chat message. Should she respond? Another glance out the window answered the question. She grabbed her keys and headed to the park.

  She planned for three laps and was nearing the end of the second when she looked up. Shit. Carter. Good. He’s talking to the dog. Maybe he won’t notice. If she just took a long drink of water as she passed, maybe he’d think she hadn’t seen him either? Too late to do a U-turn.

  She lifted the bottle and drew on it. Four steps more and she’d be past and could drop the camouflage. She drew another sip and got—air. Rats. Empty. She forced her attention on the pavement and tossed the empty bottle at the trash receptacle as she passed.

  Yay. Awkwardness over. She picked up the pace to make a fast retreat.

  “Hey! Pick that up!”

  Ignoring the sound, she slipped an earbud lose but kept running.

  “Get back here and pick up your trash, woman.”

  Abby slowed to a stop and turned to see the empty water bottle roll into the grass. She’d missed the can. “What’s your problem?” She dropped a hand to her hip. Sweat trickled down the side of her face and a light breeze cooled the dampness away.

  Carter approached. Abby checked the path behind. Should she back up and run? His face deepened to a ruddy shade.

  “I don’t have a problem. You do. Do you always toss your trash all over the park and leave it for someone else to trip over? Or maybe for a dog to choke on?” He thrust a forefinger at the empty water bottle that glistened at the edge of the sidewalk. “Pick that up.”

  When he loomed over, she stumbled backward. “Good grief. It’s just a water bottle. I missed. I wasn’t trying to put it there.”

  “Just a water bottle. Right. And if everyone threw them on the ground, the entire park would be covered in trash.” He wrapped his fingers around her forearm and yanked her toward the offending bottle. When he stopped, her toes were against it. “Pick it up.” He repeated.

  Seriously? He was going to force her as if she were ten years old? Not happening. Abby yanked her arm free, stuck her nose in the air, and turned. She took three steps and tossed a response back. “Pick it up yourself if you’re gonna get all Godzilla about it.”

  Abby slipped the earbud in place and increased her speed to get the last lap in before dark. The sun was barely a sliver behind the trees when she rounded the corner and returned to the spot he’d accosted her. She glanced around, half expecting Carter to be there.

  He wasn’t. Neither was the bottle.

  She let out a whoosh of air and relaxed.

  Bang. Thunk. Her head stung, then her arms, then—oh my God. A rain of debris fell over her shoulders and head. Something wet and sticky trailed down her neck then dripped to her arm. Gross. She kicked a few things as she slowed and they bounced and rattled. The clatter startled a group of people standing nearby and their mouths fell open.

  “What the hell?” Abby whirled to see—Carter’s chest. His arms were above his head shaking the contest of the trash receptacle. All over her. She growled and yanked the plugs from her ears. “Are you CRAZY?”

  Carter dropped the can to the ground with a thud. “No, just sick of people like you who don’t see how every single piece of this adds up. One bottle here. One bottle there. A candy wrapper,” he retrieved a McDonald’s bag from the ground, “a half-eaten meal. If we all throw our crap on the grass like you, this is exactly what it’d look like. Is that what you want? You happy?”

  Abby swiped the goo from her arm and threw it his way, then pulled her shirt free from her slimy, plastered skin. The sucking noise it made assured her there were plenty of un-empty beverages in that trash pile. “Seems to me this is more about you being happy, isn’t it? This isn’t—”

  “Everything okay here?”

  Abby whirled, ready to give the nosey onlooker a piece of her mind. Uh oh. Her face heated. A bicycle cop.

  “Yes, sir.” Carter’s voice held the respect she’d missed earlier. “I mean ma’am. We’re fine. Just was trying to help the lady clean up her mess.”

  Abby hitched a brow and threw him a glaring scowl. “My mess?”

  • • •

  Caroline rolled her eyes while she scraped the box cutter along the cardboard. “So, now you’re picking up trash in the park for a month?”

  Abby still smelled the garbage though she’d showered twice since. “It was that or pay the $500 littering charge. It’s only on Sundays so shouldn’t be a problem for work. What else was I supposed to do?”

  “And he’s going to be there too?”

  Hope not. “I don’t know. We can show up whenever we want to. I doubt he goes at the same time. He hates me.”

  “Of course he does. You slept with his best friend.”

  “Did not!”

  “As far as he knows, you did. Plus you lied to him about that AND about the ex-girlfriend. Kind of makes you sound a tad on the manipulative side.”

  “Or just plain crazy.”

  Caroline held up her hands and widened her eyes. “Wasn’t going to go that far.”

  • • •

  Without her nightly run, Abby should have been gaining weight and losing energy. Of course, to do that she’d have to actually eat once in a while, and not just work. Energy was highly overrated in her book; she chose to substitute pigheaded perseverance. Not to mention a few lengthy chat conversations with her unknown chat pal at night, which kept her away from the potato chips. Besides, the conversations were more fun. He seemed incredibly interested in her family and she described each of her siblings in detail. She attempted to pry details as well but was stonewalled.

  The only drawback to the excessive chats was waiting until almost midnight to take a shower and climb into bed. Not to complain, but the guy had said he was on a business trip to the other side of the world and it was morning for him. He was frustratingly chipper. She had to be nothing more than haggard, yet he didn’t seem to mind.

  The chats stopped after the fourth day and she assumed work took over. Of course, she stayed awake hoping for a message anyway and chided herself for caring. She had no time for a relationship. Especially one filled with unknowns.

  Caroline’s proficient advertising, blogging, and tweeting had sucked in quite a few more weddings, funerals, and even the occasional anniversary party or other event.

  It had been over a week since Abby spoke to Carter. Good riddance. She wished she could stop sighing though.

  She glanced at the time. She had a couple coming in just before closing to look at their bridal offerings. They’d also asked about catering options. Abby had never been into the food business and hesitated to get involved, but Caroline jumped in and took over the call when she started to decline. “Sure we can cater—we can do the whole thing. No problem.” She winked at Abby as she led the phone caller astray. That had been a week earlier. She’d led a few more down that path since and Abby cringed at the risk involved.

  “Why the heck did you tell them that? Neither
one of us knows shit about catering and the only thing you cook is Hot Pockets.” They’d lose the customer in five minutes when they showed up, but Caroline wasn’t to be discouraged.

  “Don’t get your panties in a wad, honey. My cousin is a fabulous cook, and she’s done a few weddings. Mostly for family, but she said she wanted to branch out. She just got a catering license. If we can get more business out of it, I say it’s time to branch.”

  Abby rolled her eyes and grimaced. The woman was prone to jumping off cliffs without a parachute. “Well, you know we can’t afford to lose a customer before we get them, right?”

  “Pshaw. Calm down. We aren’t losing anything. Have faith, girlie.”

  Easier said than done, but Abby caved when Caroline’s cousin, Samantha, stopped in and showed them her catalogue. Which was a photo album filled with all the things she had cooked before. Hopefully they were as yummy as they appeared.

  The door flew open and wind rattled the plants, ribbons, and wind chimes near the counter. Their couple had arrived. And so had Abby’s chance to get a piece of Carter’s friend Jackson.

  Her eyes popped and her heart plummeted. No way. Not them! She searched for a place to hide, noting the tall fern by the back door. “Caroline, can you take over for a minute? I need to—” Run for it. She ducked behind the fern and sidestepped to the back room. Holy shit. Now what?

  She looked at the calendar, registering the names, and realized she had no idea what Jackson’s last name was. And, of course, Caroline hadn’t bothered to get first names.

  Abby watched through the same window she’d used to spy on Carter as Caroline and Samantha greeted them. Her ears burned and the flush on her face made it impossible to concentrate on what was said. When Caroline excused herself and approached, Abby took several short breaths to calm the nagging dread.

  “What the heck’s wrong with you? Are you sick or something?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then let’s go talk to these people. It’s a big sale. Let’s get it done.”

  Abby threw a hand to her mouth as her throat clammed up. “I c-can’t. It’s them.”

  “Them who?”

  “That’s Carter’s ex. The one who dumped him! And that guy—is Jackson. The real Jackson. I dumped a can of water on his crotch! And I sent her hate flowers. I can’t go out there. No way.”

  Caroline peered through the glass at the couple holding hands and making goo-goo eyes then burst out laughing. Not just a soft chuckle either. A full throttle, loud and obnoxious, belly laugh.

  Abby grabbed some baby’s breath and tossed it in her face. “It’s not funny. If I go out there, there’s no telling what they’ll do—or say. I was horrible to them and I mean horrible.”

  Caroline laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks then she gulped a few times before stopping the tirade.

  Abby grabbed her arm and squeezed. “Knock it off. Get a grip. I can’t go out there.”

  Her best friend and business partner wiped the moisture from her eyes and sniffed. “Why not? How many times have you said you wanted to give him a piece of your mind? Tell him exactly what you thought of how he treated Carter? How she treated Carter? Well, here’s your chance. Go get ’em, honey.” With a wave of her hand at the one-way glass, she disappeared back into the room and spoke loudly to their new customers. Who would likely be old customers in the next few minutes. “I’m sorry. Abby will be out soon. She’s taking care of something. We’ll just wait.”

  Which they did for at least fifteen minutes until Abby finally stopped hyperventilating and got her wits together enough to make an entrance, since Caroline refused to let her off the hook. She tried to approach quietly and unobtrusively but her soon-to-be ex-friend nipped that in the bud.

  “Ahhh, there you are! It’s about time. This is our owner and manager, Abigail.” Caroline homed in on their faces as Amanda and Jackson turned. Well, if their expressions were any sign of their compatibility, they were made for each other. Both mouths bottomed out and their eyes rounded to the size of quarters.

  “You!” they both said in unison. Yep, two peas in a pod.

  Caroline attempted to maintain a straight face—unsuccessfully—while Samantha darted a glance around the group.

  Abby’s face went hot as a habanero, and she tried to smile. “Hi.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “You know her?” Jackson’s eyes changed from love-struck goo to dark frown.

  Amanda ignored his question. “You’re the hate-flowers girl. Don’t tell me you sent Jackson some, too.”

  Abby rattled her head back and forth then found her voice. “No, he got a bucket of water on his crotch.”

  Amanda’s brows followed suit and once again, the two were on the same wavelength, which happened to be a deadly stare-down of a soon-to-be-out-of-business shop owner. “Seriously?”

  Abby wasn’t sure where to start, or even if she should. “You two are engaged?”

  “We’re here to discuss a wedding, aren’t we?” The two broke their confrontational stance and Jackson shifted to look at the floor. “So, do you make a habit of sending hate flowers to ex-girlfriends, or pouring water on their boyfriends? Or did Carter just sweet talk you into it? Hmmm?”

  “Of course not. He didn’t talk me into anything. It was my idea. I met him at the restaurant and we had too much to drink, then we started talking about all sorts of things and he told me about you and how you ditched him for another guy then we started—I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Then I delivered the flowers and you started crying and saying what a great guy he was and you seemed like you missed him and I thought, wow, maybe she wants him back or regrets it. I didn’t know. So, I didn’t tell him what you said because—well—that’s your story and I don’t want anything to do with it. But he keeps texting and Jackson i.e. me keeps answering.”

  Jackson popped his head up. “I’m not answering anything. I haven’t heard a word from him since they broke up. I was afraid to talk to him. I went by there and tried, but you—doused me.”

  Caroline and Samantha had now imitated the same expression as the young couple and all four looked like they were about to belt out the high note in the church choir. Abby could have tossed a half dollar through each of those gaps. “I had to shut you up. You were telling him about our relationship and I was afraid he’d find out—”

  Amanda’s face went white and she spun around. Slamming a hand on her hip, she swung her head side to side. “Did she just say our relationship? As in you and her?” Her hair swayed as she pointed her perfectly manicured finger between Abby and Jackson.

  Jackson raised both hands and stepped back. “I don’t know what the hell she’s talking about. She’s crazy, if you ask me. I’d never seen her before I stopped by Carter’s office.”

  Abby stepped forward and punched a finger at him. “He thinks I’m you, dumbass.” She swung to Amanda and moved the finger her way. “He thinks I’m you, too.”

  Caroline popped up onto the nearby counter and swung her legs as she grinned. “This is getting gooood.”

  Abby growled, “You’re no help. You’re the one who started all this lunacy. Why don’t you tell them?”

  Caroline grinned. “Oh I think you’re doing great, partner. You’re on a roll. Don’t stop now. Just take a breath and keep going. Samantha, what do you think?”

  Samantha sidled up to Jackson and hitched a thumb his way. “I’m with him on this. I think she’s crazy.”

  “I’m not crazy. Gullible, maybe, but not crazy.”

  Amanda sighed. “So Carter thinks you’re Jackson, or me, or—what was it you said?”

  Abby rolled her eyes. “Check. Check. Check. You win the prize. He thought I was Jackson and he kept texting me. Only it wasn’t you,” Abby pointed to Jackson, “it was me. Then Caroline grabbed the phone and answered for me. Thanks for that, by the way. Remind me not to ever call you when I really have a problem. Then he thought I was you, Jackson, and kept texting.
I answered again because she had just dumped him and I felt bad for him.”

  Abby stopped for air. “Can you believe that? He sees me running at the park for what, five minutes, and now they all want to talk about the status of my breasts?”

  The two lovebirds gave each other a crazy-woman-talking glance.

  Caroline snickered. “Well, they are good ones—as far as breasts go. I mean, from what I can tell and all.”

  “How juvenile. So, I just texted them back that they weren’t fake. Only technically, it wasn’t me texting.”

  Jackson put two fingers in his mouth and whistled twice, then made the time out sign. “Whoa. You mean you’re the running chick from the park that he talked about?”

  “Oh, great! So, I say fake boobs and running in the park and you automatically know who I am? What the hell else has he said? Yes! I’m running chick. So, I answered his text. Only it wasn’t me answering because he thought I was you, and when I told him they weren’t fake—well, he put two and two together and figured I’d slept with you.”

  Amanda’s face shriveled up and she squealed. “You slept with her?” She threw her purse over her shoulder and marched toward the door.

  Two steps away, Jackson grabbed her arm and yanked her back. “Hell, no! I didn’t sleep with her. I don’t even know her.”

  Abby followed. “He’s right. He didn’t. Carter just thinks he did because your intended went down to his office and marched in and confessed.”

  Both of them turned. “Confessed to what?”

  “To being with me before Carter was, only—”

  Amanda thundered, “So you were with her?”

  “NO!”

  Abby continued, “Holy crap, you’re dense. Listen up, girl. He confessed—only it wasn’t me he was confessing about—it was you. Get it? When he said he’d met her before Carter, he was talking about you. Carter and I had been sort of seeing each other so Carter thought it was me—because of the texts. He hasn’t got a clue it was you, because I never had the heart to tell him. Apparently, neither has lover-boy here. When you cried over the flowers, I just—chickened out.”