Abby froze at the sound of the familiar voice. This could not be happening. She looked up to find Cal gazing down at her, seeming perplexed by the glass of wine sitting in front of her.

His eyes slid over the front of her dress, stopping at her chest and then moving back up to her face. He greeted the McCarthys and shook hands with Big Mac and Adam. “Could you spare me a minute or two?” he said to Abby. “I came all the way from Texas to see you.”

She had no idea what to say. Was she on a date with Adam? Would he understand if she left to talk to Cal? “I…um… We’re—”

“Go ahead,” Adam said. “We’ll wait for you.”

Only the tight set of his mouth told her he was unhappy with the turn of events. And was it wrong of her to be so glad that he was clearly dismayed by the appearance of her ex-fiancé? “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said to Adam, loud enough for Cal to hear.

“We’ll be here.”

“Excuse me,” she said to Mr. and Mrs. McCarthy, who seemed intrigued by the drama playing out before them. She hated playing the starring role. She hoped they knew that. When had her life turned into such a three-ring circus?

With that question foremost on her mind, Abby got up on trembling legs and let Cal guide her from the bar with a hand on her back. She wanted to tell him not to do that. She wanted to remind him that he no longer had a right to touch her in that proprietary way, but she was more concerned about getting out of there without making another scene.

“Better watch out, pal,” Les or Len said. “Her husband won’t take kindly to you touching her.”

Cal’s normally amiable expression turned hostile in an instant. “Her husband won’t, will he?”

“Come on, Cal,” Abby said, pushing him from the bar into the lobby. She headed toward a somewhat secluded arrangement of chairs in front of the fireplace and took a seat. Her stomach ached as Cal’s reappearance reminded her of all the hopes she’d once pinned on him—hopes that had been dashed when she saw him with his ex-girlfriend and discovered they still had significant feelings for one another. Don’t forget that.

Rather than sit in the chair next to hers as she’d expected him to, he stood, hands on hips, fuming. “What the hell is going on here, Abby? What was that guy talking about? What husband?”

“It’s something I told him to get him to leave me alone.”

“Why’re you all cozy with the McCarthys?”