Oy, her professors would think she was having a seizure and send her back to pre-dissertation comp exams for sure.

“Besides,” he continued, “we’ve already begun the detox process to do without our Abby fix for a few weeks. Sure, we’ll be strung out since you’ve gotten us all addicted to your greatness, but we’ll be fine,” he assured softly. “Really.”

A wash of tears stung her eyes. “Okay. Well you tell Skylar I’m never too busy for her. Or her dad.”

“Sure thing.” The awkward pause that followed had him quickly clearing his throat. “Alright, my prep period’s almost up so I better finish eating. Happy writing, babe.”

Abby hung up the phone with a pinch of sadness. Three whole weeks without talking to Brian on a daily basis?

Huh.

Ten-to-one odds he’ll crack first.

* * * * *

ABBY EYED THE OMINOUS black clouds that had appeared out of nowhere sometime during her last meeting of the day.

“Great,” she muttered, rubbing her bare arms. Arizona’s unpredictable monsoon season at its finest.

In a mocking curtsy, Mother Nature smoothly edged out the last tiny bit of blue in the sky and dumped a city-dousing waterfall of rain onto the ground within a six-second window.

Lovely. Not even a nice drizzle to give her a head start. At least she had on sneakers today.

“Don’t you even think about it!”

Abby spun around to see Evelyn Ramirez, the English department head, running down the hall with a fire hydrant yellow Piñon Pine Middle School rain cloak. “You were going to run out in that downpour, weren’t you?” she accused as she slapped the school spirit poncho into Abby’s grateful hands.

Abby smiled sheepishly. “I don’t live that far away.”

A disapproving headshake was all she got back as she donned the thin plastic, glad that it was long enough to cover the book bag at her hip. “Thanks Eve. I’ll return it tomorrow.”

“You most certainly will not. You’re not coming in, remember? That dissertation isn’t going to write itself, missy. And if you come around after school one day with your big bleeding heart, these kids will pounce and suck you dry.”

At Eve’s fierce look, which was at least half serious, Abby laughed. “Okay, I’ll keep it as a reminder of just that.”

A crash of thunder made them both jump. Eve studied the courtyard through the sheets of rain coming down. “That’s a storm, alright. You better just make a break for it now.”

Abby was thinking the same thing. After a final thanks, she darted out into the pounding rain.

Exiting the school premises, she cut to the shortest route back to her house, resigned to splash through ankle-deep road puddles to save time. With just under a block left to go, however, she slowed down when she spotted a girl huddling under an anorexic sidewalk tree, trying in vain to stay dry.

“Skylar?” she called out, wiping the water out of her eyes to make sure she was seeing correctly.

The girl’s guarded stranger-danger expression dissolved into a relieved smile. “Abby, hi!”

Running over, Abby again cursed the fickle Arizona weather when she saw that Skylar was similarly not dressed for the rain. “Why aren’t you at your Uncle Connor’s? You promised your dad you’d walk straight over there right after school.”

“I stayed back after school for a little bit to sign up for some clubs. But then out of the blue, it started pouring like crazy. I’ve been trying to call my dad because I figured he and Coach Bill canceled fall football tryouts today but he isn’t answering his cell.”

“Your dad had a faculty meeting before practice today so he probably doesn’t have his phone on.” Without thinking twice, Abby immediately yanked off her new sunbright rain barrier and slipped it over Skylar’s head.

“What are you doing?”

“I have way more padding than you, hon. You need this more than I do to stay warm.” While Skylar was busy trying to find the poncho’s elusive armholes, Abby rustled around in her bag for one of the plastic bags she usually kept in case she needed to carry library books when she was doing research.

Finally fnding one, she wrapped up her book bag to protect it from the rain. “Okay, there are no two ways about it, we just have to make a mad dash for your uncle’s house.” She gripped Skylar’s hand. “Ready?”

Skylar’s wary ‘not really’ was still hanging in the air under the tree when Abby yanked her out into the rain and started them on a frantic six-block sprint uphill in the opposite direction of her own home.

By the time they got to Connor’s mini McMansion, Abby was sure she looked like a drowned stray cat. She certainly felt like one.

Racing up his absurdly long driveway, she wordlessly pointed to the side yard, knowing she’d never be heard over the drumming rain. Skylar just nodded and followed her around the house to the back porch. The night of the party, Abby remembered seeing a mudroom of sorts at that entrance. As waterlogged as they were, she didn’t want to go near the grand front entry.

“OMG! That was insane!” screeched Skylar when they finally managed to dive under cover.

Chortling in agreement, Abby clutched her side and tried to catch her breath.

A long distance sprinter she was not.

As soon as she was physically able to speak without gasping, she pushed Skylar into the house. “Go in and get warmed up. I’m sure your uncle has an old t-shirt and drawstring swim trunks you can borrow while you throw your wet clothes in the dryer. If he doesn’t, or if they look to be made out of some fancy materials worth more than your iPod, text me and I’ll drive back over here with some spare clothes.”

“Wait, you’re going? You can’t walk back to your house in all this rain. Come in and wait it out.”

Abby shook her head. “I don’t think it’s going to let up, kiddo. I’ll be fine. A few more minutes of rain won’t kill me.”

“Well at least let me find you an umbrella. I’ll go check the closets.” Skylar bounded down the hall, clearly knowing where she was going in this museum of a home.

“Don’t track water onto the carpet!” Abby hollered after her, marveling over the echo that bounced off the crown molding and pristine marble floors.

Why a hardcore bachelor like Connor needed such a huge, extravagant house was beyond her.

Realizing that she was dripping all over the nice flagstone porch, she went over to the covered walkway near the garage to wring out about a gallon of desert rain from her hair.

Normally, she loved having long, thick hair that could knock out an innocent bystander if she attempted to do a shampoo commercial hair flip.

Today was not one of those days.

Bent over and focused entirely on squeeze-drying the wet blanket of hair cloaking her face, Abby almost toppled onto her head when a voice sounded out from above, “What are YOU doing here?”

Abby shut her eyes and shivered.

Not because she was soaked and freezing her ass off. But because she was suddenly hot. Very hot. Tear-your-clothes-off broiling. And the dangerous spike in her temperature had everything to do with that low, raspy growl.

Or rather, the man behind the growl.

Connor.

She dragged in a slow breath and let the heat of his deep voice warm her like a luxurious fire for a beat…until it occurred to her—a few brain-foggy seconds later—that his clipped question earlier had been absolutely dripping with disdain.

Startled, she looked up to confirm her suspicions.

Sure enough, Connor was standing there positively glaring at her, his lips curled in a contemptuous sneer, well into the territory of hostile.

“Don’t worry, Abby, I’m not going to introduce myself to you again today.” He eyed her up and down. “So what’s the story behind all this? Did you somehow get lost on the way to Brian’s? Or did you perhaps follow the yellow brick road here thinking it was paved with gold?”