Rock Wedding (Rock Kiss #4) - Nalini Singh Page 0,77
deep breath. “At least I look good.”
“You always look good.” Abe tucked her hair behind her ear. “Why do you straighten your hair? It’s so pretty curly.”
Sarah had never thought of her hair as pretty. It turned into a tangle if left to do what it would. One of the charity workers had given Sarah her first set of straighteners, an old pair that the woman’s teenage daughter had decided to replace. It had been a revelation to see that her hair could be corralled, could be sleek and shiny.
“I don’t want to look messy,” she admitted.
“Sarah, your messy is blow-off-the-roof sexy.” A deep rumble of sound, his chest vibrating against her touch.
Things melted inside her. “I won’t straighten it after I wash it tomorrow,” she promised him. “But I refuse to go out in public with crazy hair.”
Abe snorted, as if the idea of her with crazy hair was simply impossible—and the man had seen the crazy hair any number of times. “Let’s go get these groceries. Ignore the vulture.”
Locking the SUV, Abe took her hand in his and they walked through the parking lot to the store. The photographer—who really did look like a vulture with his pasty white face and black handlebar mustache—suddenly popped up from behind his camera to give Sarah an oddly delighted smile. “Finally!” He fist-pumped the air. “I get to have a payday. Basil, this is your lucky day!”
Astonished, Sarah paused, making Abe halt. “What?”
“A rock ’n’ roll reunion,” Basil said in his unexpectedly refined English accent, snapping away. “No one’s broken this story yet. I get to have an exclusive.” He gave her an ingratiating look. “How about a kiss, love?” He held up his camera. “I mean, it’d make the story.”
Sarah was about to shake her head when Abe spun her into his arms and, bending her over, laid one on her. A hot, possessive one. She gripped at him in surprise even as her brain short-circuited, was still breathless when he let her up.
“Now scram,” he told Basil. “Go get your exclusive.”
The photographer, his eyes near delirious, was already pulling out his phone. “I’m scramming and I’m going to be rich! Rich!”
Sarah didn’t find her voice again until they were nearly at the entrance to the grocery store. “What was that?” Abe didn’t play to the media, didn’t have the patience for it.
“What the hell—the man already had photos. Why not make things clear?” A searing glance that set her aflame just when the air-conditioning inside the store had begun to cool her overheated cheeks. “I want the world to know you’re mine.”
CHAPTER 26
SARAH SAT IN HER GARDEN a couple of hours after lunch, Abe’s words still echoing through her head. He’d gone home to change into fresh clothes but promised to be back by four thirty so they could take Flossie for a walk along a dog-friendly beach.
Right now Sarah’s dog was dozing beside her garden chair, protected from the sun by a wisteria-covered wooden awning she’d put up herself after buying the necessary items at the hardware store. It had been hard and she’d made several time-consuming mistakes, but now, each time she glimpsed it, it reminded her that she was strong, that even alone she could survive and thrive.
That didn’t mean she didn’t still fear loneliness. She always would, the scar too old and too deeply set into her psyche—but she was no longer held hostage to her need. Her friendship with the woman who sat opposite her, a pitcher of fresh lemonade on the small wooden table between them, had been the first step in Sarah’s journey to build a social life outside of the man with whom she was in a relationship.
She’d finally confessed to Lola about her renewed relationship with Abe four days ago, but had said nothing about the pregnancy. She couldn’t, the fear of speaking too soon and losing her baby keeping her mute. As if the two were connected. It wasn’t rational, but Sarah wasn’t rational on that point.
Taking a deep, quiet breath, she returned to her earlier thoughts. “If I’d been the woman I am now during our marriage,” she said to Lola, “I think it would’ve had a different outcome.”
Lola’s face, small and gamine under a cap of exuberant fire-engine-red hair, soured. “That ex of yours making you question yourself?”
Sarah shook her head, because this wasn’t about Abe. “No, it’s just that I was so passive back then, so afraid of rocking the boat and losing my only anchor