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“Sweetheart, you know I don’t do snow. I’ll be in touch about the endorsements, they’ll be tricky with legal but we’ll make something work. I hope you know what you’re doing, Cass.”
Searching for any sign of doubt, I can’t find one, and I smile because of it. “I think I do. Or I’m trying to follow what makes me happy. It’s a work in progress, so I guess I’ll wait and see. Thank you, Yaren. For being an ally and a friend when I need you most. Not many agents would agree to this, and I’m really lucky to have you on my side.”
“When you do theSteel Heartsreunion tour in ten years, I’ll take a percentage off the top,” he jokes.
Trying to envision that seems futile because I don’t know what ten years will bring. I have dreams for it, about things that have nothing to do with movies or fame, but wishing for those now seems like I’m jinxing something.
Yaren and I click off after some more ribbing and heartfelt promises, and I eat my lunch with a show on. The activity might seem simple, but it’s so enjoyable that I realize I haven’t eaten lunch on my own terms in years. Normally, I’m on a diet, gulping a protein shake between takes, or so busy that I often forget to eat a meal.
I savor every last drop of soup and then reward myself with two strawberry jelly-filled macaroons.
Hours later, the sound of a mindless reality show gives way to a knock on the back door. A familiar face fills the window directly next to it, letting me know the person trying to see me isn’t a danger, and I wave him in.
“Hi.” Patrick walks in through the screen door, his tall frame filling the house and making my lady parts tingle with anticipation.
It’s only been a day since our canal walk, but that ended with ice cream from a roadside stand and a hot make out in his car before I said I needed to get back. Sure, we were both driving home to the same land, essentially, but I wanted him to take a long look at what I’d asked for.
Which is, for all intents and purposes, a relationship. I’m not asking him to out us to the entirety of Hope Crest, not right now, at least, but I’m making big decisions in this era of my life. Leaving acting, getting out of Hollywood, and finally pursuing something with the man I’ve been enamored with since he was a boy.
“Hi.” My smile can’t be hidden or dialed back. “How was work?” I ask, loving the complete normality of that question.
We agreed today while texting that he should come over to hang out. The more time we spend together, the more we get to test things out between us. Plus, after our steamy kisses last night, I had a hankering for more than we could do in a cramped car.
He shrugs out of his coat and hangs it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. It’s so domestic and simple, but I’m left breathless at the idea that this could be our every day. I know I’m romanticizing things, getting way ahead of myself, but that’s what a guy like Patrick Ashton does to you. A man who is hellbent on marriage and babies is, to me, a huge fucking turn-on.
“It was okay. Dad bitched the entire dinner service about wasted pasta, even though he’s the one who hand cuts it so he should know how much to make in preparation. Then one of our waitresses is in a bit of hot water with her home situation, and I found an error in the line items for last month’s orders. Which took a hell of a lot of time to correct. Sometimes my eyes go numb looking at those numbers, even though I love it.”
I’ve known Patrick handled the money since practically the minute I stepped back into town. You can’t go many places in Hope Crest without hearing someone talk about the Ashtons; they’re like Hope Crest’s first family. It’s idyllic that all the kids went out to learn their trades and then came home to implement them in the family business.
“Math and I don’t get along, so I could see how your eyes could glaze over. But you love it?” I pat the spot next to me on the couch, and Patrick sits, putting his arm over the back of the cushions until his hand touches my shoulder.
He squeezes, giving me a bit of a massage, and I sigh in ecstasy. There is nothing like an intimate touch that isn’t sexual. It’s comforting in the best way.
“I do. I love accounting, as nerdy as that makes me sound, but I love working with my family. I always knew I’d come back to the business, had no doubts or qualms of being pushed in that direction. It’s a legacy, one I want to own someday.”
“How is your family handling all that? I’ve always wondered.” I’m shameful in my need for inside track gossip on the infamous Ashtons.
Patrick grins. “You’d have to ask my dad. Old man claims he’s not handing over the keys till he croaks, but I know Mom will force him out before then. Not that I’ll fight my siblings for it, but whoever takes over needs to know how to keep the business moving in a modern direction. That takes money management skills. Which I have.”
I stroke my nails up and down his forearm. “But your brothers and sister want to own it as well?”
He shrugs, moving closer until both arms are around my body. “I don’t fully know, but I suspect there won’t be some easy discussions when the time comes. It gives me a headache just thinking about it. All day, the only thing I looked forward to was coming here to see you.”
“Kept you going when the numbers were giving you hell, huh?” I smirk, raising my eyebrows.
“Talking to you has become the best part of my day. How was yours, by the way?” he asks, his lips on my cheek.
Lust, hot and needy, runs down the back of my throat. I’m left thirsty and completely uninterested in conversation.
“Extraordinarily ordinary. The perfect lazy at-home day. I think you might need a dose of that.” My lips trace the shell of his ear.
“If I told you I had an absolutely horrible day, would it make you take pity on me?” His eyes go molten.
“What if we pretend it was terrible?” The corner of my mouth flicks up as I slink off the couch and onto my knees in front of him.
“Cassandra …” Patrick groans, one hand smoothing through my hair as I work his zipper open.
I’m more confident tonight than I was that morning after the police station visit. It’s been a week since the break-in with no sign of a repeat offense, things have been going well between us, and I’ve been mingling with Hope Crest residents like I’m actually a local. I finally laid it all out to Yaren, and that uneasiness about ending my career has lifted from my shoulders like a boulder being taken off. Between our texting conversations, calls, and the walk last night that I cut short due to giving us both some air, I’ve been needy and horny for days now. Patrick awakened a beast in me when we had sex that morning, and the number of pornographic dreams I’ve had since then is ridiculous.
