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“I truly am sorry about your wrist. Never in a million years would I ever wish pain upon you, but . . . I wouldn’t trade these last couple of days for anything. I meant it when I said I don’t want this to be over. I want to see you again soon. And any time you want to come to Horizons Valley, the house is open for you. Just shoot me a text, let me know, and leave some of those apple strudel cupcakes on the counter.” He gives me a small smile.
“I appreciate that, thank you.” I think back to my reaction last night to that call, and suddenly I feel stupid. He has a life. He’s surrounded by people, just like I am. It was wrong of me to just assume the worst. After all, he wouldn’t knowingly open his home up to me if he was with someone else, would he?
He brings my hand back to his mouth, kisses it again, and then places it on his leg. I wish there wasn’t a console in between us; I’d unbuckle and slide over just to be close to him again.
Pulling into the airport, Ash parks the truck at the Delta curb, and neither one of us moves. There’s an electrical current running between us, and with each second it seems to be getting stronger. It isn’t a sexual one, granted after his kiss from last night I’m thinking I wouldn’t be opposed to it, but it’s more like an electrical connection where we’re drawn to each other in an inexplicable way.
Letting out a sigh, he opens his door, and sneezes as the sun hits his skin.
“Bless you,” I say smiling at him. As rugged and manly as he is, it really is adorable every single time.
“Thanks,” he says, flashing me one of those dimples, opening the door to the back seat. He grabs my suitcase and Tank, then slams it shut. As he walks around the back of the truck, I watch as he takes in a big breath of air before he lifts his head to face me.
Neither one of us says anything, but both of us are searching for answers to the questions we agreed not to ask. And even though he says he wants to see me again, my eyes burn with the knowledge that I might not—he may change his mind—and I have to fight to hold back the tears.
Setting Tank’s travel bag down, Ash steps closer, tucks a few pieces of hair behind my ear, and runs his thumb down my cheek to my jaw.
“Don’t do that,” he says.
“Do what?” I bite on my bottom lip to try and stop the tears, and he reaches over and pulls it out. My lip burns at his touch.
“Look so sad. I can’t take it. Keep it up and there’s a good possibility I get on that plane with you.” My hand finds his hip and holds on tight.
“Would you, if I asked you to?” I study his face to see if his eyes stay clear with the truth.
“Yes.” He lets out a sigh, and they do. This makes my heart leap with hope. “Give me a couple of weeks to take care of some work things. I’m behind and people aren’t happy with me. Once the dust settles, I’d like to see you again, maybe over the holidays?” His eyebrows lift in question.
Over the holidays!
He just made the hope I’ve been holding on to tangible, and I’ll take it.
“I think I’d like that.” I’m so happy I could burst.
“I think I like you. I think I more than like you.” His cheeks tinge pink and I find it charming that this man just got nervous.
My breath catches as he leans down and just barely brushes his lips against mine. Standing on the curb, neither one of us is moving, just our breaths as warmth mixes with the cold air slipping between us.
Willing him to move closer, just one last time, my hand moves up from his hip and my fingers graze the shirt covering his stomach. He feels the faint touch and his muscles contract underneath.
He groans against my lips, moving one of his hands around to my lower back, pulling me to him; and he moves his other into my hair, holding my head.
Heat from his body surrounds me, along with the fresh scent of sandalwood, clean laundry, and musk. It’s a smell that is so distinctly him, it’s comforting and intoxicating at the same time.
His fingertips tilt my head backwards, and my lips fall open and invite him in.
Ash doesn’t kiss me like he did at the concert, instead, he holds more restraint and kisses me tenderly. His lips savor mine, his tongue gently caressing mine, and I find myself getting lost in the moment.
Yes, we are standing in plain sight for anyone to see, and I just don’t care.
I take what this man is offering and give back just what he wants.
Changing the angle of my head, his hand slides down to the back of my neck and tightens. One by one, his fingers imprint me and my world goes black. No longer is he intimately holding me, he’s clamped on to me . . . no, he’s squeezing me . . . no, he’s pinching me . . . no, he’s digging his fingers in, bruising me. How did he find me? Fear consumes me, and I start shaking all over.
“Ava,” I hear in the background.
It’s such a calming voice, behind closed eyes I search past the pounding of my heart to hear it again.
“Ava, open your eyes,” says the voice and I do.
