Free Twice Her Age by Abby Wood Page A

man.” Barb pushed her toward the door.

    “Here’s your purse.” Doreen held out the oversize bag. “Good luck.”

    She laid a hand on her stomach. “Oh God. What if he doesn’t take me back? What if I totally blew it and he tells me to go away? I was a major jerk.” She paced in front of her friends. “Immature, selfish, spoiled, angry—”

    “You love him.” Juanita folded her arms across her stomach, and her face tightened. “I’m suddenly not feeling too well either.”

    Barb stood up and wrapped her arm around Juanita. “Go, Deb. Tell him you love him. He won’t be able to turn you away. You’re irresistible.” She glanced down at Juanita, who gagged. “Ugh, we’ll take care of her. Go. Go.”

    Fifteen minutes later she pulled up to Mick’s house. All the lights were out, and the drapes pulled. Maybe she should have called him first. She tapped her hand against the steering wheel. No. If she stood on his doorstep and refused to leave until he heard her out, he’d have to listen to what she had to say.

    Before she lost her nerve, she left her vehicle and ran through the rain to the front door. She pushed the doorbell, shook the drops from her hair, and took a deep breath. The chime of the bell sounded inside.

    Debbie shifted back and forth on her feet. “Come on. Come on. Answer the door.”

    She mentally counted to thirty and rang the bell again. What if he looked out one of the windows, spied her car, and refused to come to the door? No, he wouldn’t. Would he?

    She rifled through her purse in search of the key chain with a gold heart that Mick gave her the night she moved in. She’d forgotten to return the house key when she left. Her hands shook, and she struggled to fit the key in the lock.

    “Mick?” She peeked inside the house. “Mick?” she yelled a little louder, pushing the door open and stepping into the foyer.

    Not a sound filled the house. Running up the steps, she headed toward the bathroom, thinking she might have caught him in the shower. If that was the case, she’d go back out to her car and wait.

    Not finding Mick in the bathroom, she left the bedroom. She forced her feet to carry her back downstairs and out to her car. He’d never gone to the office on a weekend when she lived with him.

    “Think, Deb.” She sat down behind the steering wheel. “Where would he go?” She snorted. “God! Listen to me. I’ve gone insane, talking to myself, and my love for him has turned me into a stalker.”

    Debbie started the car, shifted the gear into drive and stopped. Returning the lever to the park position, she knew exactly how to find him. “Yes!”

    She grabbed her cell phone and pushed the button for Mick’s office. She inhaled deeply and hoped this was one of the weekends his secretary was working.

    “Hello?” She sat up straighter. “Yes. Hello, may I speak with Mick Reed, please? It’s urgent that I get to speak with him today.” She forced herself to listen to the woman’s answer, thanked her, and threw the phone onto the passenger seat. Dammit.

    Mick planned to depart up the coast to his business meeting today. With no idea if he’d left or not, she pulled the shifter back into drive, floored the gas pedal, and headed for the marina. Please, please be there, Mick.

    * * *

    The waves crashed against the side of the yacht, and Mick’s body rolled back and forth on the bed. He grabbed the bedspread to stop the nauseating motion, but even moving that much killed his head. How much had he drunk, anyway?

    He lifted his head and squinted around the room in search of the whiskey bottle. Spying it on the chair, he groaned. Not a drop remained.

    The blast from an air horn sent him hurtling to his feet. He pressed his body against the cabinet and willed the bottom of his stomach to settle down. He’d slept too long. The fishing boats were already sailing out to sea.

    Working his way across the room, he braced himself against the counter and set about