“It isn’t a rental, Abby,” Sam said slowly.
“Jack replaced his truck? Because of that little dent I put in it?”
“Nope. He replaced your car.” Sam stood back. He gave her a charming smile and patted the car.
“He bought me a car?” Abby tried to process the information. She sighed. “That is sweet, Sam, but my car is fine. It’s paid off, and it still runs…most of the time.”
“Abby, it has WHORE painted on it,” Sam pointed out.
“So, it needs a paint job.”
“Even with a paint job, it’ll always be your whore car,” Sam reasoned. “You’ll never be able to look at it the same way again. You’ll always see it right there on the hood of your car.”
Abby rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a drama queen, Sam. My car’s honor hasn’t been impugned.”
“Oh, yes it has.” There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “It’s completely ruined in the eyes of society.” His hands slid across the top of the Benz lovingly. “But this baby is pure as the driven snow.”
“You’re insane,” Abby declared flatly. “I want my car back.”
“Not really possible. Jack thought you might want your whore car back, so he had it crushed.” Sam held his hands about two feet apart. “It’s this big now, Abby. It’s a nice little cube.”
“Jack cubed my car?”
“You’ll find that Jack thinks ahead. He figured you might be a little stubborn about the whole car thing, so he took care of it for you. Now you can feel free to enjoy the pristine beauty of the Benz, since you can’t exactly drive a cube.”
Abby felt her face flush. He really had cut her off at the knees. She wasn’t so stubborn as to throw the car back in Jack’s face. They were getting married, and he had caused her beloved Oldsmobile to meet its sad demise. He owed her a car. She just worried about the expense. Jack needed to understand that she wasn’t some princess who had to have the best of everything. She was willing to work with them to grow the ranch. Abby’s pointing finger came out, and Sam took a little step back. “Jack and I will be having a discussion about this tonight.”
“I will look forward to it.” Expectation lit his blue eyes. “Please don’t start in on Jack until I have a front-row seat.” Abby started down the sidewalk, and Sam followed. “I think I’ll pick up some popcorn because that is going to be one entertaining discussion.”
Abby let the doors to the local grocery store swing open in front of her. She thought about getting a cart and shopping leisurely, but decided a quick guerilla assault was more likely to work. Abby tried not to notice that everyone in the store was staring as she marched in. The girl at the register immediately picked up her phone and called for Mr. Gunderson.
Let him come, Abby thought.
She stalked through the store until she found the aisle with the feminine hygiene products. She grabbed a big box of tampons, and when she turned around, she nearly collided with a pimple-faced kid who couldn’t be much past seventeen. He dropped the box he had been carrying and packages of maxi pads went flying.
Abby sighed and bent over to start helping the kid pick them up.
“You’re Abigail Moore.” He was staring at her. Abby was pretty certain he wasn’t looking at her eyes.
“Yes.” She was not able to keep the surly tone out of her voice. This kid hadn’t even been alive when she’d left town. She wasn’t putting up with his crap. “Do you have a problem with that?”
He quickly shook his head. “No, no problem, ma’am,” the kid stammered. “My mom says now that you’re back, you’ll probably corrupt every teenage boy in town.”
“Do you listen to everything your mama says?”
He shook his head. “Not usually. I just thought…maybe I could take you out some time, Miss Abigail. I have some money left over from my birthday. We could go to someplace nice.”
Abby heard a man snort and saw Sam bent over in the aisle, laughing his ass off. Abby stared at the boy. He looked back with the earnest expression of a boy who wanted desperately to be corrupted. “Should I expect further invitations from the town’s high school boy population?”
He shrugged. “Most likely. We all decided you’re just the hottest thing this town has seen since Lisa Donald brought back a string bikini from her aunt’s house in L.A.”
Abby sighed and walked around the boy, completely ignoring his invitation. She narrowed her eyes at Sam as she walked by. “You’re supposed to defend me from things like that, Sam Fleetwood. Some fiancé you are.”
“Hell, Abby, the high school boys of Willow Fork have spoken,” Sam managed to wheeze. “You are their goddess. Who am I to stand in the way? Besides, baby, he weighs all of ninety pounds. After the way you handled Melissa Paul last night, he’ll be a breeze.”
Abby frowned at him and marched straight up to the checkout stand. Greg Gunderson stood waiting. He had relieved the clerk and stood panting from the exertion of running all the way from his office in the back of the store. He was about fifteen years older than Abigail, and she still remembered the first time he’d told her to get out of his store. He’d put on about fifty pounds since the last time she’d seen him. He still wore the tackiest ties, though.
Slamming the box of tampons on the counter, Abby looked Gunderson straight in the eyes. “I would like to purchase that, please.”
Unlike the last time, Gunderson looked slightly apologetic. “I can’t, Miss Moore. You know I can’t have you in here.”
A crowd of young mothers was gathering with their children in tow. Abby recognized Jan Echols among them. Walter’s wife smiled at her encouragingly. She looked back at the grocery store owner. She’d come too far to walk out defeated now.
“Are you telling me I cannot buy a box of feminine necessaries in your store?”
Gunderson sighed. “You know I can’t sell it to you.”
“You’re the only grocery in town, Mr. Gunderson,” Abby pointed out. “Where am I supposed to go?”
He stammered as he realized there were a whole lot of female eyes watching him. “Well, there’s always Tyler.”
“You expect her to drive to Tyler for a box of tampons?” Jan asked flatly. Abby looked back, noting a slightly unholy gleam in the eyes of many of the women there. It was as though the entire crowd sensed the distress of the man and was waiting eagerly to pounce.
“Obviously the man has never had a period,” said a young brunette with a baby strapped to her chest. She shook her head indignantly. “Is she just supposed to hold it until she can get there?”
“Now, this is certainly not a fit conversation for mixed company.” Gunderson’s eyes darted around, seeking out the first man he could find.
He wouldn’t get any help from Sam, Abby knew. Sam looked like he was having a grand old time. He stepped back with the women. “If he can refuse to sell poor Abby Moore her much-needed tampons, what is next, ladies? He’s a man on a mission to oppress the women of Willow Fork.”
“That is completely untrue.” The round man seemed to sense his Monday afternoon shoppers were about to turn into an unruly mob.
“We should protest,” someone from the back said. “We could get signs and everything.”
Jan Echols smiled. “I think, perhaps, tomorrow Mr. Gunderson might discover his store window covered in maxi pads. They stick, you know. We could line the whole store front with them. Don’t think of it as vandalism, sir. Think of it as artistic outrage.”
“That’ll be five dollars and ninety cents.” Gunderson looked down at his cash register.