Free Runaway Groom by Virginia Nelson Page A

They accept cash and credit here. Least they did last I heard, right, Braxton?”
    “Yep, Earl. We don’t trade cake for tools. What can I help you with today, Abs?”
    His smile was easy as he slid his gaze over her. It only made her madder. “Do you know what this cake is, Braxton Dean?”
    “Not sure. Earl, do you know what that cake is?”
    Earl scratched his chin. “Smells pineappley. I would guess it was Watkins’ upside-down cake, myself.”
    “No, it isn’t upside-down cake. This is seduction cake. The entire town is trying to shove us together. And this cake is a seduction cake.” She jabbed a finger at the Tupperware lid as she spoke. Braxton raised his brows.
    “Never heard tell of a seduction cake,” Earl said.
    “Me either. What do you suppose the ingredients are in one of those?” Braxton attempted to open the lid and Abigail smacked his fingers.
    “This isn’t funny.”
    His lips curled. “I’m finding it pretty amusing. So what you’re here for is to tell me to stop people from giving you cake?”
    “Not cake. Seduction cake.”
    “Earl, would you mind if Manda helped you while I had a word with Abs here?”
    “Not a problem, Dean. Uh, before you go though, could I get a slice of that cake to take home to the missus?”
    Chuckling, Braxton snagged the cake and her arm and tugged Abigail out of the store.

Chapter Twelve
    July 9, 2005
    Abby,
    I came back.
    Yeah, not a lot else to say but that.
    I was going to say hello. Actually, I had this whole dumbass speech lined up. I was with Dad up at the tool store. I saw you out on the street. I rushed forward and…
    It was like you knew I was there. You shot a glance at the store like it disgusted you and turned and walked the other way.
    I feel like a fucking idiot to still be writing you. You had to know I was in town. I mean, in this town, who doesn’t know when someone else farts? And that look on your face…
    I’ll stop bothering you.
    If I could, I guess I would stop loving you. If I thought it would make you happy.
    But you’re my best friend. I can’t see that actually happening, even if I lied and said I would try.
    But, the letters? Yeah. This will be the last one.
    B
     
    “Carnie told me what you’ve been doing.” Her tone was chilly, her eyes hot, and she snatched back the cake and clutched it to her chest like some sort of Tupperware armor.
    “And what is that, Bigfoot?” The use of the nickname flushed her cheeks and she blinked up at him, almost stunned. Today her smooth hair was ruffled a bit, like the feathers of an annoyed bird. It made him want to dive his fingers in it. He hadn’t tasted those ripe lips for over a week now and…
    “You fixed Mrs. Watkin’s porch. You went over to the Jenkins’ and worked on her plumbing. You built a wheelchair ramp for the Demshars. You’ve somehow managed in the past couple days to help every one of the gossiping matrons in this town in one way or another.” Holding the cake in one hand, her other finger poked at his chest.
    Carefully guiding her toward a more private venue as she ranted, he let her finish and then agreed with her. “Well, someone should. I’m able-bodied. They needed some things done. Can’t see why that would have you storming into my store, fire in your eye.”
    Actually, he knew exactly why she was pissed and found it pretty funny. She wanted to play chess and use the town for pawns? Fine . Lou pointed out that the best way to romance a small town was one old lady at a time. The power lay in the hands of the women.
    And he used it against her. He should feel bad. As he continued to steer her toward the park in the middle of town, he noted that he wasn’t swamped with any guilt.
    “And now they’re giving me cakes. Cakes. This is only going to get worse. I’m not sure how this plot to make an entire town of people that I live with daily and will have to continue to see when you leave—”
    “Now, just a damn minute.” They entered the gazebo and