She’s breathing fast. "Sorry," she says, wiping away the tears in her eyes. "I just, I got scared for a second there."
I shake my head, pulling her to me, wrapping my arms around her. "You don't have to apologize for anything." I kiss the side of her head protectively. Something shook her up, and she is probably traumatized after the guys attacked her yesterday. "Did you get your wallet?"
She nods, looking up into my eyes. "Yeah. Darla was at the police station. I guess Graham doesn't come in until later in the day."
I smile. "She's a nice lady, right?"
"Yeah, she seems to have lots to say about you and your brothers, and your cousins, the Rowdy boys."
I take Abby's hand and walk down the sidewalk with her, Hijinx next to us on the leash. "Well, I think you'll figure it out pretty quickly that lots of people around here have opinions on the Roughs and Rowdys."
Abby shakes her head, looking up at me again. "I feel like you are this make-believe family. You're all way too good to be true."
"We're not as perfect as you might think. Every family has their skeletons, right?"
"You have skeletons in your closet?" Abby says. She rolls her eyes. "I don't believe it."
"Yeah? Well, my Great Grandpa Wilby Rough, he was born in 1910, bootlegged whiskey out of his barn here in Home with his wife, Margaret."
"That sounds like an urban legend," Abby says with a laugh.
"Apparently the cops shut him down because he was selling more liquor than anybody else on the west side of Washington."
Abby shakes her head. "I think this is a family story, not the real history of Home."
"Well, I guess we could always go to the Home History Museum and find out if it's truth or fiction."
Abby laughs. "There's a Home History Museum?"
"Of course there is. My Great-Great Grandpa Homer settled this town."
Abby groans. "Oh my God, you really are perfect, aren't you?"
"Stop it," I say, my hip hitting hers. "We're not using that word today, okay? I feel like there's too much pressure wrapped around it, and I don't want to spook you again like you got spooked last night."
Abby's fingers lace through mine a little bit tighter. "Yeah. Well, if I was spooked at first, I sure came around, didn't I?"
I chuckle. "Yeah, you certainly came around more than once."
"More than twice," she says with a laugh as we walk up to the Home Cookin’.
"You want some lunch?"
"It's a little early for lunch, isn't it?" Abby says.
I shrug. "I'm always hungry. I'm a big-ass mountain man."
"I guess you are, aren't you?" Abby smiles. "What should we do with Hijinx?"
"Maybe my sister, Lemon, could watch him a bit."
"Does she live around here?"
"Remember, she lives right next door to the bed and breakfast."
"Right," Abby says. "I think I'm still getting mixed up around town."
"Well, the town's not that big, but there are a lot of us Roughs. But let me give her a call real quick."
A few minutes later, after we’ve dropped Hijinx off at Lemon's so we can enjoy our lunch together, Abby and I settle into a booth at the only diner in town. Menus in hand, I ask her what she's having.
"Um, I think I'll take the grilled cheese and tomato soup," she tells our waitress, Cassidy.
"And what'll you have, Bartlett?" she asks.
"The usual," I tell her.
"Sounds good. Anything to drink?"
"Coffee," I say.
"Water's fine," Abby says. "Thank you."
Once Cassidy leaves, Abby smirks. "So they know your regular order here?"
I chuckle again. "I'm telling you, I was born and raised in this town. Yeah, Cassidy knows my order. I've known that girl since we were in grade school. Well, I was probably in junior high when she was in grade school. But yeah, same difference. Everyone around here has known each other forever."
"It's so crazy," Abby says. "I've never experienced anything like that."
"So your family was always on the road?" I ask her, wanting to get a better idea of what her family actually did on the road.
"Yeah," she says. She opens and closes the flip phone in her hand.
"Hey," I say, "you got your phone fixed?"
"Yeah," she says. "Harold at the sports store had a bin full of old chargers. That's all I needed."
"I'm surprised he had a charger that would work for a phone that looks like it's 10 years old," I say, teasing her.
"Hey," she says, "if it ain't broke, why fix it?"
"Fair enough," I say. "So he had a charger that works and you're good to go?"
Abby nods. "Yep. Good as new. So now I'll have to get your phone number and put it in my phone."
"That old flip phone can hold contacts?"
Abby rolls her eyes. "And now you're messing with me. Yes, I can even text on this thing," she says. Just then, her phone buzzes. She opens it and she reads whatever message has come through. Her eyes darken as she reads the screen, and she quickly closes it and shoves it in her coat pocket.
"Anything important?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "Nothing important."
"Is it your family looking for you?"
"Something like that," Abby says dismissively. "So, winter in Home is pretty cold," she says. "My cheeks were freezing the entire time I was walking Hijinx on the trail. You ever feel like you're freezing your butt off out here in the mountains?"
I laugh, but I’m still pretty aware that she's been changing the subject every time I try to talk about where she's come from, where she's headed. As much as I'm falling for this girl, I know Rye's right. I don't know much about her and I need to if I want to see this going anywhere. "So what are your plans, Abby? I mean, I know you said you came through here when you were younger and you always wanted to come back when you got a chance, but are you planning on settling down in Home?"
Her eyes meet mine as Cassidy brings us our lunch, my BLT and French fries, her grilled cheese and soup. "Thanks Cassidy," I say as she walks away.
"I think I could see myself here," Abby says apprehensively, picking up half of her sandwich and dipping it in the red soup. "I'd like to believe I could stay here. I need a job, and I need a place to live. Harold said I could talk to his son, Dale, about getting a car."
I nod, listening, wanting to believe she wants to settle down here. But I've known her a day. I don't want to get spun up in someone that might not be here tomorrow.
"What?" she asks. "You don't think I'm sticking around material?"
She's literally read my mind. I frown. "I didn't say that."
"I know you didn't say that," she presses, "but it's what you're thinking. I mean, you're Bartlett Rough. It's like Darla said at the station. You’re pretty much the epitome of the perfect package. Even Cassidy's looking at you like she wants you."