him, he’d snapped a second, and the third one had her flipping him off.
He grinned at her as he lowered the Nikon to his lap. “I should sell that last one to the tabloids.”
“Oh, bite me.”
“What’s going on, Abby?”
She flicked him a look. “It’s not like you don’t have a clue. You’ve already talked to Zach. That’s why you were bugging me at midnight last night, because he was hassling you.”
“Hey . . . I was bugging you because I was a little worried myself,” Zane pointed out. Putting the camera down, he came off the couch and moved to stand next to her. Catching her hair in his hand, he tugged on it gently and then slid an arm around her waist, hugging her. “Yeah, I talked to him, but he didn’t exactly explain what was going on. I know you’re pissed off at him, otherwise you wouldn’t have driven six hours to glare at me. Now why don’t you tell me why you’re mad?”
She wiggled away from him and started to pace, her gaze locked on the floor. “I’m not mad . . .” Then she snorted. “Screw that. I am mad, but that’s not exactly why I drove here. I could handle the mad part in Tucson.”
“Okay . . .” He suspected he needed more coffee for this. Circling around, he waited until she made another circuit and then he caught her arm. “Maybe we should have this discussion in the kitchen.”
She slid him a sidelong look. “I’m not hungry.”
“Me, neither.” Then he smiled. “But I want coffee. I’m not tracking this conversation and I’m hoping the caffeine will help.”
She muttered, “I’m thinking alcohol might.”
“Well, I’ve got that, too.”
She settled herself down at the island, one foot hooked on the rung of her chair as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He needed to brew another pot the way he was going. But instead of worrying about that now, he turned around and stared at Abby from across the kitchen. “Okay. I’m getting caffeinated. Spill.”
He took a sip and waited.
“Is Zach in love with me?”
He choked and sprayed coffee all over the floor. Slamming the cup down on the counter, he pounded a fist on his chest while his eyes watered. Strong coffee, windpipe, shock: bad mix. Once the burning stopped, he snagged a paper towel from the counter and wiped it across his face. “Abby . . . shit. Don’t you think that’s a question you should ask him?”
“Hmm. Let me rephrase . . . has he been in love with me for . . .” Her voice trailed off.
Lowering the towel, he looked at her through his lashes and tried to figure out how in the hell to answer that. He knelt down and wiped up the coffee he’d almost choked on while a hundred different delaying tactics rolled through his head.
“Abby, why aren’t you talking to Zach about this?” he asked softly.
“I’ve tried.”
He flicked a glance at her.
She was staring at nothing while one hand rubbed at something under her shirt. Over and over. “He . . .” She stopped and bit her lip, like she was thinking something through. After a second, she looked back at him. “I had this plan, you know.”
“Abby, you always have plans.” He crooked a grin at her and shrugged. “That’s nothing new.”
“This was.” She reached into the bag she dumped on the counter and pulled out a ragged, rather tattered book. And then, before he could even stand up, she threw it at him. “Hey, look . . . I did another thing from the book!”
He barely caught it. “Watch it,” he said, looking down at it for a second without really seeing it. The he stopped and looked at it again. He’d seen this in bookstores before. “Wreck This Journal?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “Zach bought it. I’m . . . well, I’m not writing in it much. I think I’m doing too much journaling and worrying, not enough living. But I had a plan. It’s on one of the early pages.”
Cocking a brow, he waited.
“Go head.” She squirmed a little on her seat and took up a rapt interest in the surface of his island.
Curious, he flipped it open, grinning a little as he saw the first set of instructions. “Must have killed you to crack the spine.”
“Zach did that one,” she said softly.
“Ahhh . . .” He kept flipping until he came to a page where he saw the handwriting. He had to assume it