From the Moment We Met(5)

“If you aren’t his wife, then you don’t lay claim to his beautiful statue.”

“Which means?”

“You don’t decide its fate, moving it or otherwise.”

“The ‘beautiful’ statue that is on my private property?”

“Well, there is that.” Rodney looked at his truck as though contemplating locking himself inside. Tanner felt for the guy. “I can call the lawyer who hired me, but even if I get his approval, I can’t move your husband today.”

“Ex-husband, and why not?”

“I don’t have the manpower or equipment to handle getting someone”—Rodney’s gaze fell to Richard’s boys—“his size back on the truck. So, I gotta come back with my other truck. Maybe Sunday.”

“Sunday?” Nora and Abby said in unison. Rodney looked skyward.

“As in almost a week from now?” Abby’s voice wavered a little as she took in the swelling crowd. Living in St. Helena was like living in a giant fishbowl, and right now Abby was the fish of the hour. “That doesn’t work for me.”

“Me either,” Nora said. “I got the Historical Preservation Council coming by to do their yearly inspection for the Memory Lane Manor Walk. We can’t have visual pornography marring up the neighborhood.”

Krug Court was home to some of the oldest residential buildings in all of St. Helena. With a dozen or more houses dating back as far as 1864, it was always a highlight on the Founder’s Day Memory Lane Manor Walk, which was to be held the first weekend in September.

“She’s gotta get a permit from the board if she wants to keep that thing here all week,” Nora said to the crowd, who uh-huhed and nodded their allegiance.

“I don’t want to keep it!” Abby defended, not a hint of darling in her voice. Oh no, the woman was 100 percent DeLuca. “He’s not even mine anymore. So why don’t you,” she slid the cell phone from Rodney’s belt clip and slapped it against his chest, “get Richard on the phone and tell him to come get his stupid statue?”

Rodney took off his hat. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but your husband is deceased.”

“Did you see Richard’s body?”

Rodney looked at the statue.

“Before it was placed in the vessel?” Abby clarified.

“No, ma’am. I was hired by his lawyer.”

“Then he isn’t dead.”

“If you say so.” Rodney looked at his phone. “So who do you want me to call?”

And that was Tanner’s cue to step in. Abby was a pint-sized bomb of frustrated and emotional female who was one redundant question away from an explosion of epic proportions.

Normally he would steer clear of a woman on the verge. But if he took that approach with Abby, he’d never see her. She tended to act all pissy and put out every time their paths crossed, which was often. Tanner made sure of it because he liked her, almost as much as he liked to drive her crazy. She was hot when she was in a mood. Hell, she was hot period, which was part of the problem.

To everyone else Abigail was sweet and accommodating, a real people pleaser. The DeLuca freaking Darling. With him, though, she was all spit and fire, a real look but don’t touch number who worked hard at appearing unaffected, distant, as though he hadn’t seen her naked once upon a time. Which only made him want to look and touch his fill until she was clawing mindlessly at his back and there wasn’t even a breath of space between them.

Scratch that. Until she was clawing mindlessly at his back—while naked—and there wasn’t even a breath of space between them—in his bed. Or hers. He wasn’t choosy.

But today he was a man on a mission. A mission to help Abby secure an important client for her budding interior design firm, which would get Tanner one step closer to landing that date he’d been dreaming about. Not to mention securing a talented designer would make his overstressed business partner’s life a whole lot easier. And Tanner was all about easy.

Abby being frazzled right now wouldn’t help his cause. She’d refuse his help to land a client then hide in her house to avoid a confrontation. So he did what any man in his shoes would do.

He stepped up, placed his hand on her shoulder in a sign of support, and whispered in her ear, “In case you forgot, I have the manpower and more than enough equipment to handle all of your needs, Abs. Just say the word.”

She turned and looked at him, her lips pursed, her eyes narrowed into two irritated slits of rage, and he could tell she had just the word for him. Several, in fact.

“Would I be stupid in assuming you’re just being neighborly and offering to haul that statue away?”