by Sara Allen
“Danny…” I waved him over. “Clear this. Even if she comes back for it, you know better than to serve a drink that’s been left up here.”
“Sure, Ash.” Danny scooped up the glass. “Can I get you anything?”
“No thanks,” I replied. “I’m still on duty.”
“No problem.” Danny moved away to serve another group who’d walked in off the street.
My mind took me away as I watched the small clusters of people interacting. There were the intimate connections of two people deep in their own world of private conversation and hand holding. You could see in their faces how they felt; the love or devotion that shone from their eyes, or made their lips curl upwards in a smile.
There were seats filled with rowdy young men, suit jackets thrown off and ties loosened or removed altogether. Their tables were filled with half-empty beer glasses and a number of shot glasses thrown in for good measure. If they didn’t get something to eat, I knew from personal past experiences that they’d have bitter regrets the next day. But seeing the dead expressions in their eyes, they’d probably had a hard day today and the forced joviality was a means of wiping away their demons.
A gentle cough. “Mr. Sherwin says I’m to arrange a time with you to meet… for tomorrow.”
There it was, that mellow voice again that had caught and held me like a glove. I turned to the source and found the architect beside me. How she’d approached without me noticing I’ll never know. The subtle aroma of her perfume surrounded me, and I closed my eyes to savor it. I stared at her for a full minute until she shifted her feet, clearly uncomfortable with my scrutiny.
Even in heels, she didn’t reach my shoulder. and craned her neck back to meet my eyes squarely. She had spirit, but I knew that from her interactions with Drew. Easing up on the intensity a touch, I leaned my elbow on the bar and looked away.
“Is that so?” My tone was teasing, playful in a way that wanted her to play too.
She clutched her forehead and exhaled slowly. “It’s been a long day, so can we keep this brief?”
I almost laughed. Almost. “I’ll meet you outside your office building at ten o’clock in the morning,” I informed her. “It’s a bit of a drive, so dress comfortably.”
I couldn’t wait for her to reply. I had to make my escape before I made another mistake. Pacing back to the private area and the other demon I’d spied watching from the foot of the stairs, gray eyes calculating mischief, I wished I was anywhere else at that precise moment.
3
Her
“So, where are we off to?” Simon asked. He lifted a clear prism paperweight off my desk and held it to the light, turning it to sparkle multi-hued rays off the walls.
“New project build,” I told him, taking the prism from his hands and laying it back on my desk. “I want to see the space.” Grabbing the notebook on my desk, I headed for the door. “Come on. He’ll be downstairs in a couple of minutes.”
Simon scrambled through the door behind me looking a little uncertain. “Who's gonna be waiting?”
I pressed the button for the elevator and ignored his question. After the conversation I’d had with Sherwin’s assistant, I wasn’t sure who would be waiting for us either. It just seemed as though the tattooed giant hadn’t wanted anything to do with taking me anywhere.
My mind flicked back to the day before and the meeting I’d had with Andrew and his fiancée, Sam. Their initial ideas on how they wanted to use the space had been practical and what I’d have expected from someone unsure about where they saw their dreams going. However, once they got a taste for the ridiculous, there was no stopping them. A healthy imagination was all well and good, but there would always be a clash between what could and should be included.
They’d had some good ideas on how they wanted to use the space, but I needed to know what we were working with, then the hard work would start in earnest. This was always the most difficult part of any project for me, from how much was riding on my interpretation of the client’s ideas and the space they had to work with.
There were clients who wanted to cram everything into a space too small, or those that had a huge space and didn’t know how to use it. I preferred the latter to the former. At least that person was open to suggestions. One of the things that scared me on this project was I had one of each. Sam wanted everything she’d seen on those trashy ‘My Crib’ reality TV shows, from the indoor cinema to the spa and pool, while Andrew simply wanted a space to call his own. Hopefully, there’d be room to mesh both ideas if we could get the space to work for us.
Those thoughts and more flashed through my mind as Simon grilled me on who we were supposed to be meeting and the location of the proposed property. Both of which I couldn’t answer.
Stepping through the glass double doors, I spied a sage green, fully jacked, Range Rover parked at the curb. The darkly tinted windows gave nothing away on who the occupants were, and I dismissed it and searched for Andrew’s bulky assistant, Ash.
My phone beeped with an incoming message, and I shushed Simon with a glance and read the text.
“Seems our ride is here,” I said, moving towards the car and knocking on the window.
The glass slid downwards and a not-so-cheerful, unsmiling face greeted me.
“Good morning,” I said, happy as could be. “This is the builder I work with, Simon Blackmore. He’ll be going with us because he’d have to go up there sooner or later.”
Ash’s face became stonier as he scanned Simon from the top of his loose loc’ed crown to the bottom of his booted feet. I got the feeling that he wasn’t impressed, and for a second, I had to breathe past my annoyance and remember that this wasn’t about the assistant. It was all for the client. The smile popped back up on my face.
“I hope that’s not too much of a bother for you?” My smile was slightly sarcastic, but some things couldn’t be helped.
Tapping my feet, I waited for the reply, but none came. The click as the doors unlocked had Ash turning his face to the direction his car pointed, his jaw muscles working under his pale skin.
“Cheerful sod, ain’t he?” Simon whispered as he opened the rear door and climbed in.
“Don’t you want to sit up front, Sy?” I asked in a panic.
He looked at me in shock and shook his head vigorously, scrambling into the rear seat and slamming the door after his boots cleared the sill.
In all the years I’d known him, I’d never wanted to throat punch him more than I did in that split second.
“Can we get a move on?”
The asshole didn’t even turn his head when he said it. I wasn’t sure he even moved at all, to be honest. My eyes looked back at my office building and wondered if I could make Simon go alone, but I dismissed it almost instantly at a solid glare from Ash. Reluctantly, I climbed into the front seat and made myself comfortable, gluing my eyes to the road ahead.
Ash cleared his throat. “The plot is in Watford, so get comfortable.”
I almost called the whole thing off. It was a two-hour drive by car, and this guy was going to test my patience to the max, not to mention I swore I could hear Simon settling himself to snooze. If he did that, I wouldn’t even have the pleasure of his annoying company on this long-as-hell drive either.
“No problem,” I replied and fished in my bag for my ear pods. Conversation with this man was a no-no. I had absolutely no intention of getting myself kicked out of his car halfway to where I needed to go or get myself in some other trouble. Preferring to play unconcerned, I flicked up my favorite playlist and pretended to watch London’s streets fly by.
Him
Knowing she would do it and witnessing it stirred my anger in a way I had to suppress before I made an ass out of myself. Watching as she glanced at the car and dismissed it, the thought played through my mind that she’d dismissed me along with my vehicle. As annoying as that was, it got to me on a level that I couldn’t quite understand. Maybe it had something to do with her underestimating h
ow capable I was of owning a vehicle like this over her deep-rooted judgments of me as a person.
The text I sent her twisted her face slightly as she looked back at the car and then turned to the guy that stood beside her.
A tiny spark of jealousy ate at me, but I squashed it flat like I’d do to any bug that irked me. This wasn’t my territory for me to be getting protective over, even if she sent urges to places that hadn’t stirred in far too long.
From her Timberland boots to the skinny jeans and baggy knitted sweater she wore, she was a contradiction to my understanding of how women wanted to present themselves. Her use of feminine mixed with masculine accents had me wondering how she’d play between the sheets. Would she also want to take the lead and climb on top or play the laid-back damsel? Whichever it was, she had my mind whirring until I looked up and she was right next to the door.
I slid the window down so I could get a better look at her and realized she wore a peaked cap over her cropped hair. Even though it was November, the weather wasn’t that bad and my mind wandered again.
The rear door slammed and shook me from my musings. The guy was stretched out along the back seat while she stood beside the front door. My mind replayed the last few minutes, trying to recollect if she’d been talking to me or just talking in general, but she looked a little apprehensive and I wasn’t sure why.
“Can we get a move on?” As soon as the words left my mouth I wanted to bite my own tongue off. I was annoyed and didn’t even know why. All I knew was I must have appeared like a moody teenager who’d been told to fix his attitude when that was the last thing on his mind. Keeping my head straight, I waited for her to sit and then dropped my bombshell.
“The plot is in Watford, so make yourself comfortable.”
I wasn’t sure what I was thinking when leaving home that morning. Whether I’d been hoping to have a pleasant trip with the architect, or if it would be all stony silences and misunderstood gestures. But one thing was sure. I’d been optimistic that she’d at least have asked me a question or two. So, when she reached into her bag and pulled out ear pods, flicking though her phone’s playlist, I was half-past pissed.
This was going to be one of the longest drives of my life ferrying her and the dude in the back who’d closed his eyes and conveniently drifted off to sleep. My fingers wrung the life out of the steering wheel as I took the main roads that would lead us north and out of London’s busy central area.
It took an hour and forty-five minutes to make the trip to the open grassland that Andrew had bought in a spur-of-the-moment deal with a property developer, despite having no notion of what he was going to do with it. I’d given him the idea of building his own home rather than buying one, a chance to put his stamp on the place, and for once, he’d followed my advice.
The plot of rural property was a picture-perfect piece of land with open fields bordering both sides and a forest at the rear of the estate line that was also up for sale. At this time of the year, the scent of rotting leaves and turned soil pervaded the atmosphere; that earthy, moist sweetness that clung to the roof of my mouth and made me swallow. It was the smell of years' end and settlement, a fullness of achievement from the land around that told how it had completed its chores for this year and now it was time to rest.
I peered over at my passengers who’d slept almost the entire journey, and couldn’t help the interest that sparked in me for the architect. In the light of day, she looked slightly different from the night before. With the peaked cap hiding her hair and framing her face, she looked even more boyish.
With full, cherry-tinted lips and a button nose, her closed eyelids held the minutest of makeup allowing the clear, mahogany complexion to shine through. Why my fingers itched to reach out and touch could only be because I wanted to check if it was as smooth as it appeared. She grimaced, and a dimple appeared in her cheeks that gave her a chubby, teenage look. The pulse that throbbed in her neck as she swallowed and wriggled her nose had me tearing my eyes away.
There were pettier things I could have done, but leaning on the horn, which blared to life like an angry war cry, was the best I could come up with. I hid my smile of satisfaction as the two passengers jumped awake, startled and wondering where they were.
“Did you have to do that?” she asked, rubbing the sleep from her face.
“Did you want me to kiss you awake, sweetheart?”
She blushed and looked away. “Of course not!” she snapped. “But that gave me a heart attack.”
I studied her and said nothing for a few seconds. “We’re here.”
That was the only announcement I could think of to give before I flicked the locks and went to open the gate to get my car off the road.
Breathing as deep as I could helped calm my rattled nerves. Unlocking the gate, I pushed it wide enough to get the car through. That little stunt of mine had me contemplating my actions, and why drawing her attention had seemed like a good idea. The more I thought about the reasons had my mind shying away from the realization of that too.
This was not the time or the place to be chasing a piece of skirt and this particular skirt was off limits. I’d told myself that a thousand times since seeing her last night, but it seemed my mind had flipped and gone offline. What I really needed to do was get a fucking grip or this would not play out well for either of us.
4
Her
The first view told me the location was perfect. Idyllic, gently rolling hills to the left and right, a forest at the rear and the view towards the front just dropped away to reveal the horizon. I stood on the last flat piece of land and looked out at the vista that would prove to be a focal point for the house I’d design for Andrew and his fiancée, Sam.
“What do you think?” a gruff, unused voice asked.
“It’s stunning,” I replied, awestruck.
The silence stretched on for so long that I turned to the side to find Ash staring at me like the last supper of a dying man.
“Is something wrong?” I touched the side of my mouth, thinking I’d been dribbling or something equally disgusting on the trip up and had drool marks across my face.
But his tattooed face remained impassive, coldly calculating with his pale eyes locked on my face. He stared, saying nothing in reply. A feeling of discomfort slowly crept up my spine until I could no longer stand still. I pivoted, almost knocking Simon to the ground in my haste to get away.
“Yo, slow down, girlfriend.” Simon held my arms and stared at me. “What’s the rush?”
Incoherent, grunting sounds came out of my mouth, and I pushed passed, snatching the camera off Simon’s shoulder as I went. I felt so ashamed of myself for the thoughts swirling around my head, especially when I wasn’t supposed to be thinking those nasty-ass things and certainly not with this guy playing the lead.
Everything about him was wrong, and I knew that. He oozed danger and hidden agendas, complications I could do without. His immense frame drew my attention as I snapped photo after photo to distract myself. It was the first time I’d ever been introduced to anyone as heavily tattooed as Ash was. The lines etched into his skin held a fascination for me, which I thought would never be the case. His hands were thick with intricate black lines of Indian ink. The fingers likewise were covered in thin criss-crossings that edged and highlighted the main design. The longer I looked, the more details emerged until my interest caused me to snap several photos of him without even realizing what I was doing.
Ash turned to face me and a slow smile crept across his mouth. “Are you taking pictures of me?”
“You’re in the way,” I said by way of an excuse.
“You could have asked me to move,” he stated. “I’m going to have to ask you to delete those.”
My mouth dropped open. “Are you serious?”
“As serious as failing to do your tax return.” He held out his hand for the camera, and a spark of defiance surged in my chest.
“I’m not going to use them for anything ne
farious. Good God!”
He put his large hands on his hips and studied me before reaching into his trouser pocket and withdrew his phone. He aimed and took a quick succession of snaps.
“What the fuck are you doing right now?” I asked in anger.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I think it’s only fair, right?”
My hands gesticulated, asking without words just what the hell was going on. “What?!”
“Well, you have pictures of me,” he informed me in a low voice. “I think it's only right I have a couple of you, no?”
“Ohmygod! Are you serious?”
“I thought we had this conversation already?”
I scratched my forehead, seeking calm. “Delete them.”
He stood flicking through the pictures with a determined look on his rugged face. His eyes flicked down at me before he aimed the phone and snapped again.
“Are you seri…” I held my tongue. “You know what? Whatever,” I said and smiled my biggest grin. “Just don’t sell them online.” I hefted the camera in a salute and marched off in the opposite direction.
Throughout the hour and a half we were on site, I had Simon running around taking measurements. Ash stood off to the side, either talking on his phone or watching us like a hawk. For as long as he leaned against the bumper of his robust vehicle I couldn’t keep my eyes from drifting in his direction. Even from this distance, his height was imposing.
Wide, burly shoulders and thick hips, which his jeans hugged like a friend for life. He was far too masculine, if that was even a thing. I had to wonder if everything he wore was etched with the cut and line of his long limbs. My eyes studied the form of his arms and thick, tatted neck, the muscles rippling against the confines of his thin sweater and across his shoulders and back.
Ash was rugged with a clean-cut, classic style to his wardrobe, an edge with a sense of dangerous adventure I could feel exude off his person. He acted like a player, but also seemed to be a hard nut to crack, not that I was thinking of cracking any nuts with the brute. The lightness that flew across my insides at the thought of attempting a tryst had me licking my lips.
