Marion Lennox - Abby and the Bachelor Cop / Misty and the Single Dad - Abby and the Bachelor Copy / Misty and the Single Dad

How had she got into this mess?

It had just … happened. The car crash. Philip, always here, supporting her parents, supporting her. Interested in everything she was doing. Throwing himself, heart and soul, into this town. Throwing himself, heart and soul, into her life.

She couldn’t even remember when she’d first realised he intended to marry her. It was just sort of assumed.

She did remember the night he’d formally asked. He’d proposed at the Banksia Bay Private Golf Club, overlooking the bay. The setting had been perfect. A full moon. Moonbeams glinting on the sea. The terrace, a balmy night, stars. A dessert to die for—chocolate ganache in the shape of a heart, surrounded by strawberries and tiny meringues. A beautifully drawn line of strawberry coulis, spelling out the words ‘Marry Me'.

But there’d been more. Philip had left nothing to chance. The small town orchestra had appeared from nowhere, playing Pachelbel’s Canon. The staff, not just from the restaurant but from the golf club as well, crowding into the doorways, applauding before she even got to answer.

‘I’ve already asked your parents,’ Philip said as he lifted the lid of the crimson velvet box. ‘They couldn’t be more pleased. We’re going to be so happy.’

He lifted the ring she now wore—a diamond so big it made her gasp—and slid it onto her finger before she realised what was happening. Then, just in case she thought he hadn’t got it completely right, he’d tugged her to her feet, then dropped to his knees.

‘Abigail Callahan, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

She remembered thinking—hysterically, and only for the briefest of moments—what happens if I say no?

But how could she say no?

How could she say no now?

Why would she want to?

Because Rafferty Finn had kissed her?

Because Raff made her feel …

As he’d always made her feel. As if she was on the edge of a precipice and any minute she’d topple.

The night Ben died she’d toppled. Philip had held her up. To tell him now that she couldn’t marry him …

What was she thinking? He was a good, kind man and next Saturday she’d marry him and right now she was going to sit in front of the television and stitch a last row of lace onto the hem of her wedding gown. The gown should be finished but her mother and Philip’s mother had looked at it and decreed one more row.

‘To make everything perfect.’

Fine. Lace. Perfect. She could do this.

She let Kleppy out of the bedroom. He seemed a bit subdued. She gave him a doggy chew and he snuggled onto the couch beside her.

She’d washed him again. He was clean. Or clean enough. So what if the occasional dog hair got on her dress? It didn’t have to be that perfect. Life didn’t have to be that perfect.

Marriage to Philip would be okay.

The doorbell rang. Kleppy was off the couch, turning wild circles, barking his head off at the door.

He hadn’t stirred from his spot on her bed when Philip had rung the bell. Different bell technique?

She should tuck Kleppy back in her bedroom. This’d be her mother. Or Philip’s mother. Philip would have reported the headache, gathered the troops. It was a wonder the chicken soup hadn’t arrived before this.

Her mother would be horrified at the sight of Kleppy. She’d just have to get used to him, she decided. They’d all have to get used to him. The chicken soup brigade.

But it wasn’t the chicken soup brigade.

She opened the door. Sarah was standing on her doorstep holding a gift, and Raff was right behind her.

See, that was just the problem. She had no idea why her heart did this weird leap at the sight of him. It didn’t make sense. She should feel anger when she saw him. Betrayal and distress. She’d felt it for ten years but now … Somehow distress was harder to maintain, and there was also this extra layer. Of… hope?

She really didn’t want to spend the rest of her life running into this man. Maybe she and Philip could move.

Maybe Raff should move. Why had he come back to Banksia Bay in the first place?

But Sarah was beaming a greeting—Raff’s sister—Abby’s friend—and Abby thought there were so many complexities in this equation she couldn’t get her head around them. Raff was caught as well as she was, held by ties of family and love and commitment.

His teenage folly had killed his best mate. He was trapped in this judgemental town, looking after the sister he loved.

For ten years she’d felt betrayed by this man but she looked at him now and thought he’d been to hell and back. There were different forms of life sentence.

And he’d lost … her?

He’d never had her, she thought fiercely. She’d broken up with him before the crash. If she even started thinking of him that way again …

The problem was, she was thinking. But the nightmare if she kept thinking …

Her parents … Philip … The way she felt herself, the aching void where Ben had been …

She was dealing with it. She had been dealing with it. If only he hadn’t kissed her …

‘You’re home,’ Sarah said. She was holding a silver box tied with an enormous red ribbon. ‘You took ages to answer. Raff said you probably weren’t home. He said you’d be out gall. Gall …’

‘Gallivanting? ‘

‘It’s what I said but I guess that’s the wrong word,’ Raff said. ‘You wouldn’t gallivant with Philip.’

She ignored him. She ignored that heart-stopping, dare-you twinkle. ‘Hi, Sarah. It’s lovely to see you. What do you have there?’

‘We’re delivering your present,’ Sarah said. ‘But Raff said you’d be out with Philip. We were going to leave it on the doorstep and go. But I heard Kleppy. Why aren’t you out with Philip?’

‘I had a headache.’

‘Very wise,’ Raff said, the gleam of mischief intensifying in those dark, dangerous eyes. ‘Dinner with the Flanagans? I’d have a headache, too.’

‘How did you know we were going out with the Flanagans?’ She sighed. ‘No. Don’t tell me. This town.’

‘Sorry.’ Raff’s mischief turned to a chuckle, deep and toe-curlingly sexy. ‘And sorry about the intrusion, but Sarah wrapped your gift and decided she needed to deliver it immediately.’

‘So can we come in while you open it?’ Sarah was halfway in, scooping up a joyful Kleppy on the way. But then she faltered. ‘Do you still have a headache?’ Sarah knew all about headaches—Abby could see her cringe at the thought.

‘Abby said she had a headache,’ Raff said. ‘That’s past tense, Sares. I reckon it was cured the minute Philip went to dinner without her.’

‘Will you cut it out?’

‘Do you still have a headache?’ he asked, not perturbed at all by her snap.

‘No, but.’

‘There you go. Sares, what if I leave you here for half an hour so you can watch the present-opening and play with Kleppy? I’ll pick you up at eight. Is that okay with you, Abby?’

It wasn’t okay with Sarah.

‘No,’ she ordered. ‘You have to watch her open it. It was your idea. You’ll really like it, Abby. Ooh, and I want to help you use it.’

So they both came in. Abby was absurdly aware that she had a police car parked in her driveway. That’d be reported to Philip in about two minutes, she thought. And to her parents. And to everyone else in this claustrophobic little town.

What was wrong with her? She loved this town and she was old enough to ignore gossip. Raff was here helping Sarah deliver a wedding gift. What was wrong with that?

Ten minutes tops and she’d have him out of here.

But the gift took ten minutes to open. Sarah had wrapped it herself. She’d used about twenty layers of paper and about four rolls of tape.