“It’s nice.”
Frank grimaced. “Don’t know how nice it is if you’re used to livin’ in a city. ‘Less you been born here, I can’t see there’s much reason to stick around.”
“No, really, I like it,” Ash insisted. She turned to look out the plate glass window behind them. “The square, and all the little shops downtown, and…” Her voice drifted off, and suddenly, Eddie felt sorry for her.
“Guess every place has some redeeming qualities, huh?” he finished for her.
She glanced up at him. “Guess so.”
“Hey, how’s this for a crazy idea?” he said after a minute.
“What?”
“Let’s have a party.”
A furrow appeared between her eyes. “What kind?”
“A regular party. At our place. With lots of food and lots of beer and—” He pulled off his baseball cap and rubbed his head. “It’ll be like a housewarming party. We can have it outside, on the porch roof.”
She thought a minute. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Jen told me it was the perfect place. I think it needs some work, though. There’s loose boards in that one corner, and the big patch with no paint...”
He shrugged. “No biggie. We can do some repairs.”
“Jen's brother Lucas is really good at all that. I could ask him if he could come up for a day. I mean, so you don't have to worry about it.”
“Either way's fine.” He grinned, loving the idea already. “So it’s settled.”
“Do it for Fourth of July,” Frank suggested.
Ash cocked her head. “I like it.” Her gaze met Eddie’s and washed over him.
He cleared his throat, and though he wanted to say something else, wanted to keep the connection hovering between them, he didn’t have a chance. The bell on the front door rang, and Cassandra Perkins breezed in, with a sweep of auburn hair and a perky little ass sashaying below it. Eddie cringed.
Cass. Great. The last person he needed to see. Too much history there. He wished suddenly he could rewind the day, just five minutes in reverse, so he could lock the door and keep that part of his past where it belonged. Then he could watch Ash laugh, watch the way she tucked her hair behind her ears, and spend the rest of the afternoon remembering her smile and thinking about the way it burned him clear through to the core.
* * *
The buxom redhead wiggled her way across the office, leaving a cloud of cloying perfume in her wake. Ash inched back in her chair, to give the scent and the woman attached to it some room.
“Hi, darlin’.” She bent over and planted a kiss in the center of Eddie’s forehead. Pendulous breasts swayed from a tube top that had inched its way down from almost-modest to porn star wannabe.
Eddie turned almost purple with discomfort. “Hi yourself, Cassandra. What the hell are you doing here?”
The redhead tossed her hair. One hand tugged at her top. The other dropped to her hip and hung there. “Stopping by to say hi, that’s all.” She pushed out her lips in a faux pout. “It’s been a while. You haven’t stopped by the salon.”
Eddie shrugged. “Don’t need a haircut.”
Cassandra plopped herself onto his lap. She twined one arm around his neck and began running her fingers through the waves that fell around his ears. “Oh, I might argue with that,” she purred. One leg crossed over the other, and she gave a throaty laugh. “Been longer than six weeks, hasn’t it?”
Eddie placed two large hands on her hips and steered her back to a stand. “Lunch break's over. I gotta work.”
Undeterred, the twenty-something siren twisted a lock of hair around an artificial fingernail, painted bright pink. “I’m still waiting on that rain check you promised me.”
Ash’s chest tightened. She tried to look away and couldn’t. For a few moments during lunch, she’d almost felt as though she belonged here, in Eddie’s world. Talking to him, laughing with Frank, watching the same mothers roll the same strollers back and forth down the sidewalk, she’d almost felt a niche begin to carve itself out. In the last few weeks, she’d begun to know her way around Paradise. She’d begun to understand the flavor of the people who lived here. And part of her—a big part of her—had begun to like it.
But one look at this woman reminded her how far she was from home.
“Aw, get off him, Cass,” Frank said. “Can’t you see he’s got a friend here?”
For the first time, the woman turned toward Ash. A long look up and down, through heavy-lidded eyes drenched with mascara, and her smile disappeared. Without saying a word, she tossed her hair again. This time, though, the motion held less flirtation and more simmering jealousy.
“So? I can’t stop by and say hello to my boyfriend during his lunch break?”
Eddie stuffed his baseball cap back onto his head as he stood. “I’m not your boyfriend, Cass.”
Sidling up to him, she wound one arm through his and leveled an unmistakable look at Ash. “Maybe not at the moment, sweetheart. But even the best lovers need some time apart, hmm?” Her chin lifted, and she stood on tiptoes until her lips brushed his cheek. Her next words were a stage whisper, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.
“Don’t forget who was there for you that night. Don’t forget who held your hand when the doctors told you there was nothing else they could do. And don’t forget what you told me the morning after. Take as much time as you need. When you’re ready, I’ll be here.”
Chapter Twelve
Eddie felt her gaze on him before he awoke, beyond the twitching and the feeling of falling that always plagued him in these dreams. Nightmares, he corrected himself in the fog of sleepiness. Not dreams. No dreams could haunt him, day after day, night after night, the way these did. Behind his eyelids they played: one red light, like the eye of an indifferent god, changing to green—he was sure it was green—and then glass shattering and the wail of a siren. Finally, his brother’s moans.
Eddie lunged up from the loveseat, eyes wide open, fingers damp with perspiration punching into empty air. Ash sat next to him and stared.
“Eddie?” Her voice was quiet, fearful.
He sank into the cushions, took a deep breath, and tried to push the nightmare away.
“What was that?” Her eyes grew larger as he fought to breathe normally.
“Ah, just a bad dream.” He tried to laugh it off.
“In the middle of the day?”
He loosened his fingers from the fists they’d tightened themselves into. “Sometimes.” Maybe someday he’d tell her about the horror that had haunted him the past three years. Maybe. Right now it was still too painful to revisit.
“Sorry I dozed off.” He glanced at the television. Bottom of the eighth inning. How long had he been sleeping? Twenty minutes? Longer? Since the Sox were up in the sixth.
“Don’t be,” Ash answered. “You’ve been working twelve-hour days all week.”
Eddie rolled his head, neck stiff. “No kidding.” He checked his watch. Almost four. “You working tonight?”
“Yeah. Told Marty I’d come in around five-thirty. He hired another new girl, asked me to train her.” She paused. “Can I ask you something?”
Eddie winced. He hoped whatever question Ash had worked up during his nap wasn’t too probing or painful. Just thinking about opening the memory of Cal again, a rusty tin can with sharp, bloody edges, stole his breath. That’s what he got for falling asleep. She’d figure out what had happened sooner or later. If he didn’t tell her himself, she’d guess from the nightmares.
But to his relief, Ash’s question didn’t have anything to do with that. “What’s the story with that woman from the shop?”
Eddie’s cheeks heated up. “Cassandra?”
“The redhead who stopped in the other day, yeah.”
He cocked his head, not wanting to answer right away. “Why? You jealous?”
“Please.” She narrowed her eyes. “So what’s the deal?”
“We dated a while back.”
&nb
sp; “So I gathered.”
“And then we broke up.”
“Does she know that?”
“She should. She’s the reason it happened.”
* * *
Eddie had let himself in the back door of her apartment, the same way he always had when he stopped by after work. This time, though, Cass wasn’t waiting for him. She wasn’t standing in the kitchen, frying pork chops in her black bra and his red plaid boxer shorts. She wasn’t sitting in the living room, a glass of wine in one hand for her and a cold beer in the other for him. A strange stillness filled the apartment for a fraction of a second. Then he noticed the sounds.
They came from the bedroom, low laughter and the swish of fabric on fabric. Eddie looked at the clock above the sink, the dishtowels below it, the cutting board, unwashed, lying on the counter. The laughter changed to soft moans, and a humming grew in his ears. He flipped on the hall switch, and too-bright light chased shadows from the pictures Cass had hung on the walls from last summer’s vacation. He’d walked down the hall and stopped in the open bedroom doorway. A man he didn’t know lay in bed on top of his girlfriend. Cass took one look at Eddie and yanked up the sheet.
She’d yelled at him as if it were his fault he’d walked in on them. He wondered how long it had been going on, and how stupid and blind he’d been not to see it sooner. She’d tried calling him at work and later at his parents’, but he wouldn’t talk to her. He returned to the apartment only once, to get a few lousy things he thought probably belonged to him, and that was it.
He hoped he never saw the bitch again.
* * *
Ash raised her eyebrows as Eddie finished the story. “Rough. Sorry.”
“Me too. Doesn’t matter.”
“You sure about that? Looks like she’s interested in a second chance.”
He shifted on the couch. One bare ankle brushed Ash’s, and he drew it back before his mind went in directions it shouldn’t. “Damn sure. Cass might want to get back together, but I’m done with her.”
Don’t forget who was there for you that night. Don’t forget who held your hand when the doctors told you there was nothing else they could do.
Eddie hoped Ash wasn’t thinking of what Cass had said the other day. He couldn’t explain. He couldn’t tell her, that yeah, Cass had come to the hospital the night of the accident. She’d waited for him to wake up, and then she’d held his hand when the doctor came in and told them about his brother. She’d wiped away his tears when he couldn’t find the strength to do it himself. She’d let him sleep at her place for days at a time, pulling the blankets over him when he kicked them off in nightmares so violent he’d wake up shivering. But so what? She’d cheated on him, too, less than six months later, so what did that say about her devotion?
Ash was asking him something. Eddie fought back the fog of anger and tried to focus. “Sorry. What?”
“I just wondered if you’ve ever had a serious girlfriend. In your life?”
“Depends on how you define serious. “Not really. Cass was close for a while, but…” He didn’t know how to finish. What good did it do to get attached to someone, if you knew that someday they’d betray you, turn their back and leave? Everyone left at some point. Girlfriends. Family. Even the people you thought you could count on forever, like brothers. Especially brothers.
“What about you?” he asked, filling the silence.
She dropped her gaze, same as always. Ash never wanted to talk about herself. She just wanted to finesse other people into telling all their secrets. Just like a lawyer.
“Serious boyfriend? This one you just broke up with?”
She shrugged. “I thought so.” She picked at a hole in the arm of the loveseat. “Guess I was wrong.” Sadness filled the spaces in her face that before had held light.
“His loss,” Eddie said.
“That’s what I keep trying to tell myself.”
“You decide how long you’re staying in town?” He tried to convince himself it was a casual question, that it didn’t matter to him one way or the other who lived upstairs from him. Truth was, though, Eddie couldn’t imagine anyone but Ash tripping down those stairs in the morning, letting herself in after dark, tossing a toy for the kitten to play with. He couldn’t picture anyone else on the other side of this door, anyone else stretching out on the rooftop, anyone else arguing about whose turn it was to drag the trashcan to the corner.
She’d gotten under his skin.
“I don’t know,” she said after a minute. “I only sublet through the summer, so when September rolls around…”
She didn’t finish, and Eddie wasn’t sure he wanted her to.
“Well, you’ll figure it out,” he said and left it at that.
She laid her head against the cushions and closed her eyes. “I hope so,” she said, but the words were so quiet he wondered if she’d meant to speak them aloud at all.
Chapter Thirteen
“Marty had to go outta town,” J.T. informed Ash as soon as she walked into the restaurant that evening.
“Oh. Okay.” She wasn’t sure what that had to do with her.
“He said you’re supposed to be in charge ‘til he gets back.” J.T. stuck a toothpick into his mouth and wiped down the empty bar.
Ash stopped. “What are you talking about?”
The bartender flipped a glass and slid it into place on the shelf. “Here.” He fished in his front pocket for a slip of paper. Ash recognized Marty’s scrawl on the back of the wrinkled receipt as J.T. handed it over.
Ash, please take over tonight. You know where the keys are. Money goes in the safe. Be back tomorrow. M.
She sagged onto a stool. “Why me?”
The bartender shrugged. “Why not?”
Ash dropped her head onto one hand and stared at the note. Take over? Well, how hard could it be, really, to empty out the two registers at the end of the night and lock up the money? She knew the rest of the routine: how to wipe down and secure everything in the kitchen, where to put the trash out back, how to set the alarm when she left. Marty had shown her all that weeks ago. Bobby V., the kitchen’s head cook, had worked at the place longer than Marty had run it. And J.T. was in charge of the bar.
“Okay.” She headed for the kitchen. She’d give it a try. Tuesdays never drew a big crowd anyway. And it didn’t look as though she had much choice. How much could she screw up in a single night? “You all set out here?”
J.T. winked when she glanced back at him. “All set, boss.”
She gave him a dirty look and decided not to answer.
* * *
“You did good,” the bartender said a few hours later. They sat across from each other and stared at an infomercial scrolling across the television screen.
“Yeah? Thanks.” Exhausted but secretly pleased with herself, Ash reviewed the night. Only a handful of tables, but that wasn’t unusual for a weekday, and J.T. had done a decent business at the bar. She’d even managed to handle Betty June, the widow who complained about everything from the temperature of her steak to the number of ice cubes in her drink. By the end of her meal, thanks to a couple of questions about her cats and a compliment of her wide-brimmed hat, the woman had practically beamed at Ash as she left.
“You should be in charge more often.” J.T. stacked glasses. “You’re damn better lookin’ than Marty, anyway.”
“Maybe he’ll give me a raise.”
The bartender laughed. “Keep dreaming, honey.”
Ash laughed too. “I guess you’re right.” Still, she wouldn’t mind the extra responsibility. It had been nice, moving about the dining room, checking on customers, answering the phone, and organizing the kitchen in a way she didn’t dare when the manager hung over her shoulder. It made her feel like she wasn’t completely wasting her summer.
Part-time night manager at Blues and Booze? Not a bad way to spend the next few weeks. Maybe she’d talk to Marty about it after all.
* * *
The following nigh
t, Ash lay in the bathtub and ran a washcloth across her stomach. Bare toenails peeked at her from beneath the bubbles. She balanced her head on the edge of the tub and let her hair float on the water around her chin. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the waves of raspberry from the candles that flickered on the windowsill. Etta James sang to her from the living room. She hummed to the music and let herself float until the water began to cool.
She hadn’t seen Eddie at all today, but she guessed he’d probably agreed to a double shift at the shop, since he was taking tomorrow off for their party. She couldn’t wait to tell him about the manager position. She’d asked Marty about it earlier, and he’d nearly fallen over in agreement. The stingy guy had even agreed to pay her fifty cents more an hour. Ash smiled and wondered what her sisters, with their six-figure salaries, would say if they knew. She sank lower in the tub and decided she didn’t care. For the first time in her life, she’d chosen her own path, one that curved away from the Kirk family one. So what if it only lasted for a month or so? She still liked the way it felt.
The ring of her cell phone woke her. One wet hand emerged from the water and lifted it from the bathmat. Jen, probably. Ash didn’t bother to look at the screen. She’s probably checking to see what time she and Lucas should get here tomorrow. Or maybe it was Eddie, remembering one more thing he wanted to bring for food. Ash smiled.
“Hello?”
For a moment she heard nothing but silence on the other end of the line. Then a too-familiar voice spoke her name. Her real name. “Ashton?”
Colin. Oh my God. Her eyes flew open, and she sat up in the tub, shaking. Ash stared at the phone as if it had suddenly grown a mouth all its own. For a moment, she thought about hanging up. She didn’t owe Colin anything. He hadn’t called her in almost two months. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing her voice.
But she couldn’t hang up. Instead she sat there, dripping, hand frozen to the phone.
The Promise of Paradise Page 8
