Sweet Talking Man by Liz Talley

Author:Liz Talley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-06-11T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ABIGAIL TALKED LEIF into staying put and letting her walk home alone. The fire pit couldn’t be left burning unattended.

And she needed space.

The night air was crisp, making her breath fog. The bared trees framed both the path and the full moon hovering above. The night was hard—cold edges with silver gilding. Such a contrast from the warmth of the man she’d left behind.

Good gravy, she’d entered into a FWB relationship like she was a twenty-five-year-old Manhattan salesgirl and not a forty-year-old divorcée soccer mom. And to think last week she hadn’t even known what a FWB was. She’d be proud of herself if she weren’t so nervous about keeping her heart out of the mix. Somehow what she’d shared with Leif seemed not so run-of-the-mill. So how did modern girls keep from growing attached? How did they keep sex and love two separate things?

Stepping onto her hibernating Saint Augustine lawn, still mulling over the situation, she felt a movement beside her.

“Oh, crap” she yelped, jumping back and raising her fist in self-defense.

“Whoa, whoa. It’s just me,” Cal said, throwing both hands up in a nonthreatening posture.

“Oh, good gravy, you scared me to death.” Her heart sounded in her ears. “Jesus, Cal, is your mouth broken? Next time say something.”

“Sorry,” he said, showing her the glow of a cigarette. “I was having a smoke. Birdie fell asleep during some animated movie she sang all the words to.”

“Yeah, once she likes something...” Abigail started moving toward the house. Her hair still felt damp and the cold weather made her chilled. “When did you start smoking? Thought California inspired healthy lifestyles.”

He fell into step beside her. “Not when you’re working in clubs. Kept me awake and focused when I was playing a set. I don’t smoke much. Just when stress eats at me.”

She didn’t want to engage Cal but she was curious. “And you’re stressed?”

“Try living with your parents, relearning a job that’s changed and getting a divorce.”

“Try being a single parent, remodeling a plantation house and having everyone feel sorry for you. No picnic. Wait, you married Morgan?”

Hurt flashed across his craggy face. “Last year. A justice-of-the-peace thing.”

“You never told me. Or Birdie.”

Cal raised his shoulders in a semishrug. “Didn’t figure you’d want to know. But I shouldn’t have married her. Thought it would keep her with me. Pathetic, huh?” He gave an embarrassed smile far removed from the Calhoun Orgeron who dunked the football through the goalposts after winning the LHSAA-Class 2-A championship his senior year.

Abigail started toward the porch. “Who you date or marry is none of my business.”

Cal grabbed her arm and at the same time flicked the cigarette to the ground, putting it out with his boot heel. Abigail frowned at the butt and he wisely stooped to pick it up. “Can I have a sec?”

“I’m tired,” she said, removing her arm from his grasp. “And it’s cold out here.”

“Your hair’s wet.”

She raised a hand to the tangled mess. “Yeah.”

He waited as though expecting

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