Off Limits(41)

Abby got on I-85 and headed north, letting the horses under the hood of her car walk it out some. I wasn't sure exactly what she had, except that it was one of the newer Camaros, but I doubted she was running a factory standard motor under the hood. I'd heard enough engines in the near month that I was working at Lake Ford to know a tuned up car when I heard it. “I’m positive,” she said as she smoothly merged. “After today, I was thinking that no matter what, I’m going to tell Daddy we’re going to see each other. He’ll be so pissed off at me that I lied to him, but I don't care. After last week, I have to follow my heart, and it’s time for me to put a stop to him controlling my life. I’ve let it go on for so long that it has become second-nature to him.”

"So what did you tell him, anyway?" I asked, curious. I wanted to say something else, but didn't have the words just yet. "Just so that when he kicks in my door with his twelve-gauge ready, I’ll know what to say."

"Oh, he doesn't have a twelve-gauge," Abby said, then looked over at me. "He's got a ten-gauge."

I rolled my eyes, laughing. "Even worse. Although I guess it means more mess for the coroner to pick up. It's worth it, though. So what did you tell him?"

"Well, I was invited to a party by Chris Lake," she said, "down near the reservoir. Anyway, I didn't tell him flat out yes, but I did arrange for Shawnie to go in my place. She's going to say that I invited her too, and that I would meet her there. If Chris asks, I'll tell him that I had car trouble or something. Daddy doesn't need to know more about it, except that you and I were together instead of at the party like I'd originally told him."

The way she said together sent shivers down my spine, and I hummed, half nervously. "So, we're lying to both your father and to the man who is giving me a place to stay. This sounds like a dangerous game.”

"I'm willing to take the plunge if you are," Abby said. It was easy for her to say. She had never really experienced any consequences in her life. Not that I wasn’t in—I was all in—but I wasn’t sure if she would stick to it once the going got tough.

"Dane . . . my feelings for you are hard to put words to."

"Then let's wait until we get to wherever it is you're taking us," I said. “It's probably safer to drive when you're not searching for words."

We left Atlanta, heading out into the suburbs, until Abby took an off-ramp and drove me down a few winding roads to the side of a river. "I thought about a park. I even thought about us going to Six Flags, but I decided that I wanted something more private."

“Even better,” I said amiably as I got the picnic basket and blanket out of the back. "Ooof, this thing weighs a ton. What all do you have in here?"

"You're a big man, with big appetites," Abby teased, her meaning very clear. "I wanted to make sure we were both satiated today."

Abby led me down a narrow path to a clearing, where I spread out the blanket. "What is this place?"

"Just a fishing spot that Daddy and I would sometimes go to when the creek at the house was boring," Abby said. "It's special to him because it's the spot where he and Mom got engaged."

Abby spread out the blanket underneath a huge magnolia tree, the shadows from the wide leaves giving us plenty of shade. "It's beautiful today," she said as I took a seat.

"Abby, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course. Shoot.” Abby opened the basket and took out a sub sandwich wrapped in butcher paper. It was easily a foot long, and about as big around as my forearm. It looked like it could have fed a horse. "Sorry. I would have come up with something more homemade, but it would have looked funny. Thankfully, the picnic basket was in the garage, or else we'd be eating our picnic out of a plastic shopping bag."

"This is just fine," I said, unwrapping it to find a turkey sub with bacon and cranberry mustard dressing. Easily a half pound of turkey slices, probably an entire pack of bacon, and just a bit of cheese complimented the whole package. "It's a little Thanksgiving, isn't it?"

"You can always enjoy a good Thanksgiving," Abby said, taking out a can of Pringles and a bottle of Cheerwine. She handed them to me, then got her own, much smaller sandwich and sides out, along with the same Cheerwine. When I looked at her bottle, she raised it in a salute. "A Southern tradition, you know."

“I love it,” I answered, toasting her and opening both bottles. "I guess my question is, what happens next?"

"What do you mean, next?" Abby asked carefully, setting her bottle down. "Do you mean with me going to grad school? Well, I'm planning on going to GT for my Masters too, and after that, well, we'll just have to see. What do you think of North Carolina? Duke and UNC both have great Ph.D. programs."

"Last time I went to North Carolina, it was on leave," I said, thinking back into my memories. "I ran into some boys from the 82nd. When they found out I was 101st, we had a friendly discussion that ended up with my getting a black eye."

Abby laughed and sighed. "That's what I like about you, Dane."

"What?" I asked, taking a huge bite out of my sandwich. It was juicy and delicious, and I reminded myself to get the address of the shop from Abby, no matter what. "That I got my ass kicked? I mean, I gave as good as I got against three other guys, but that’s beside the point.”