Wreck (Sphere of Irony 4)

I pull the SUV into The Black Barn, a small, family-owned pub in WeHo just a few miles from my place. There’s no valet, which is one of the reasons I like coming here. It’s unpretentious, has good food, and the paparazzi don’t seem to know it exists. I hurry around to open Abby’s door and help her down from the truck. Her shoes are pretty tall and the SUV is a good distance from the ground. All I need is for Abby to twist her ankle because I’m a shitty date.

But this isn’t a date.

The thought hits me like a punch to the gut. Do I want it to be a date? We’re friends, right? I agreed to it at Dax and Kate’s even though I knew it would be difficult to be around Abby platonically. But this is what she wants, and I’m willing to take whatever scraps of attention she throws my way. Besides, I’m still a fucked-up asshole. Nothing has changed. Why I have to keep reminding myself of that is a mystery.

I open the door and hold out a hand. Abby’s eyes flick from my face to my hand and back. Her mouth quirks up in a small smile as she slips her soft hand into mine. The contact reignites the fire that began in the car when Abby squeezed my thigh. I swear my dick hasn’t been that hard in a long time.

“Thanks.” Our eyes meet, our heights nearly even with Abby wearing tall heels that make her legs look sinfully long.

I realize I’m still holding her hand and yank it away. Fuck. She’s got me all tangled up and confused. I need to get my shit together or this friendship is going to be over before it can start. Embarrassed, I clear my throat. “So, how’s work? I assume you’re a counselor now?”

Of course, I already know that she got her PhD and has an office in the city. No way will I admit to cyber-stalking Abby on and off over the years.

“I’m a clinical psychologist, actually.”

I open the door to the restaurant and follow Abby inside.

“Hawke! Great to see you.”

“Bob, how’s it going?” I greet the tall, gray-haired man with a handshake that he inevitably turns into a hug and an air-kiss on my cheek.

“Great, as always.” Bob releases me to turn his full attention on Abby. He takes her in and his eyes go wide. “And who’s this gorgeous lady who is clearly too classy for the likes of you?”

I roll my eyes. “Bob, this is Abby Kessler. Abby, this is Bob Darling. He owns this shack.”

“Shack?” Bob makes a rude sound and pushes me aside. “Don’t listen to him, Abby.” He pulls her into a hug, giving her the same air-kiss treatment he gave me. “This is a superb eatery. I allow him in even though he’s not classy enough to eat here.” Bob is grinning and Abby is trying to hide her amusement behind her hand.

“Fine. You’re classy and I’m the dregs of society,” I deadpan. “Can we eat?”

“Of course. Don’t be silly.” Bob puts his arm around Abby’s shoulders and leads us to my usual table. It’s tucked in a corner and can’t be seen from most of the other tables.

“Thanks, Bob.” I drop into the booth opposite Abby.

Bob leans in close to Abby, giving me a mischievous look while he mock-whispers to her. “Listen, honey. I don’t know you, but you must mean a lot to Hawke for him to bring you here. I’ve never seen him with anyone but his uncle and that gorgeous Gavin Walker.” He flutters his lashes dreamily when he mentions Gavin.

“Okay, thanks a lot, Bob. Mission complete. I’m embarrassed as hell. You can go now.” Heat floods my cheeks. If looks could kill, Bob would be dead from the dark glower I shoot his way.

He merely raises an eyebrow before turning to leave. “Have a nice lunch, you two.”

“Sorry about him,” I mumble, still feeling the sting of humiliation from Bob’s verbal diarrhea.

Abby giggles. “It’s fine, Hawke. He’s hilarious. I know he’s only teasing.”

I give her a sad smile. If she only knew how true his statement about her is. She does mean a lot to me. She always will.

Somehow, we get through lunch without too many awkward glances or pauses in conversation. There are a few brushes of feet under the table that make my dick hard all over again, but by the time we’re ready to leave, I manage to have myself under control.

When we stand up, Bob rushes over, looking completely freaked out. “Hawke, I’m so sorry. Someone must have leaked it to the press.” His hands are frantic, gesticulating all over the place.

I put my hands on Bob’s shoulders. “Calm down for a minute. What are you saying?”

Bob winces. “There’s a bunch of reporters out front, cameras and everything.”

Abby gasps and I instinctively pull her in close, tucking her under my arm.

“Shit.” I try to think of a way out of this. I don’t want Abby exposed to those unethical sharks. Not only could she get injured by their pushing and shoving, but she doesn’t need to be subjected to their questions or have her image printed all over those crappy rags, especially linked to a tabloid fuckup like me. “Is there a back door?”

Bob nods, his expression becoming less panicked. That’s good. Someone needs to be calm because I am freaking the fuck out inside. I turn to Abby. “Stay next to me, close.”