“I told you I wouldn’t be back.” Ash stared at her mother. “I told you I’d decided to run the roadhouse permanently. But you went ahead and planned a party anyway?”
“Apparently.” Her mother shrugged.
Ash blinked, then blinked again. “It was to be a celebration of my failure,” she whispered, as if that truth was dawning. “An event to commemorate the fact that I couldn’t make a go of the family business. That…that hurts.”
“Pfft.” Her mother dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. “Don’t be so excitable. Get control of yourself.”
Ash leaned close. “Are you saying I shouldn’t have feelings?”
“That was your sister.” Carol’s gaze was on her plate as she forked up another bite of fish. “You remember. Always too loud, always going on about her feelings.”
“And I shouldn’t be like her? Like my twin?”
“No,” Carol said, putting down her fork. “Maybe you should not. Your father and your sister cared only about themselves. That’s what—whom—they had strong feelings for. You, on the other hand, have done good, valuable work for others. Work, I might add, that doesn’t include serving beer and bad food.”
“Mother—”
“Do you really want to go to that seedy place night after night and fraternize with bikers and hikers and…” she flicked glance at Brody, “Builders?”
If there weren’t so many knives flying through the air he might have laughed. What a bitch.
“The charity you head, the life up north, it suits you, Ashlynn,” her mother continued. “That’s why I brought you with me when you were ten years old.”
Her daughter’s lower lip trembled for a moment, before she controlled the quiver. “What about Brae?”
Carol’s expression went from cold to frigid. “Your sister made her choices. And she never chose me—or you for that matter. Nor did your father. Has that crossed your mind? Did you think about that when you decided you wanted to continue with his business?”
Okay, Brody was done with this. Finished. He rose.
But Ash still had something left to impart. “You should know there’s going to be a celebration of life for them at Satan’s on Wednesday night.”
“I’ll be back at my home.”
For the first time, Phillip joined the fray. “Carol, we can change our flight—”
“We can’t change anything,” his wife said, her voice as firm as granite. “Not who we are, not where that takes us, not the consequences of our unwise decisions.”
Ash didn’t protest when Brody pulled her out of her chair. He reached for his wallet, but Phillip met his gaze and gave him a sharp shake of his head. Yeah. Fine. Instead of prolonging the disaster with a tussle over the bill, he hustled Ash out of the restaurant, handing over a lavish tip to the valet for double-timing to retrieve his car.
The trip back to Topanga was silent. He let her have her space for the drive. God knew he had plenty on his mind. Then they were back, in the gravel parking area beside her house. As he braked, clouds covered the sun, adding to the dismal mood.
He glanced over at Ash, who looked so much like a stranger in her snowy wool and bound hair. Oh, my love. “What are you thinking?”
Her eyes remained focused through the windshield and fixed on the quirky house. This was the only place that ever felt like home, she’d shared with him once.
“I’m thinking,” Ash said slowly, “that my mom might be right. It might be best if I go back to where I belong.”
Hell. Brody scrubbed his face with his hands, then looked back at the house. The little cat had curled itself on the front mat, as if waiting for an invitation to come inside. Perhaps the creature had dropped her defenses.
But not his Ash. He’d—finally—had a chance to assess the depth and breadth of the enemy, and it only left him with a bad, bad feeling in the pit of his belly.
Ash climbed out of the car, then took the footbridge to the house, aware of Brody following. Polite, Saratoga Ashlynn would have thought to vocalize an invitation right away—after all, he’d not even had a chance to finish lunch. She glanced at him over her shoulder as she climbed the porch steps. “Hungry?”
“No, I—” He frowned. “Damn. Your cat ran off. I thought we might have had a chance to coax her inside.”
The feline skittered around the side of the house, its tail high. Maybe it was better not to become further acquainted with the pretty thing. Ash wouldn’t be around long enough to appreciate the friendship.
Inside, she dumped her purse on a table, toed off her low-heeled pumps then wiggled her toes. Funny, how the shoes she’d worn all the time to the office in Northern California bothered her now. Brae’s cowboy boots had begun to feel like a good fit.
But the rest of Ash wasn’t suited to her sister’s life.
As she pulled the pins from her hair to free it from its confines, Brody put his hand on her shoulder. “We should have a serious talk.”
She froze. Not now. Not yet. The scene with her mother had been intense—ugly even—but she wasn’t prepared for a post-mortem. Instead, she wanted to forget about all that, if only for a little while.
One more time, she wanted to be in Brody’s arms and have him make her feel that wonderful way he could. Afterward, they would have a conversation. Afterward she’d tell him it was over.
“Ash? Talk?”
“Serious talk later,” she said, turning to face him as she shook out her hair. Then pasting on a carefree smile, she ran her hands up his chest. “Right now I want to share with you some new phrases I learned.”
His brows came together. “Ash—”
“Please.” Her pulse thrummed unsteadily. She needed a respite from reality. She needed him, desperately, one more time.
“What are you after?” he asked, cupping her cheek in his palm.
She nuzzled it, even as her own hands reversed direction and slid toward his belt. “I want your pillar of manhood.”
He groaned a half-laugh, but when her fingertips brushed the placket of his dark olive khakis, his penis jumped beneath her touch. She traced the hardening shape of him, squeezing in appreciation as it thickened and lengthened.
“I think it wants me back,” she whispered. Then she turned her face into his hand, kissing the heart of his palm and following it up with the tiniest tickle of her tongue.
He groaned again. “Are you expecting me to come up with my own purple prose?” His fingers wrapped around her wrist. “I can’t think when you’re doing that.”
“Anything with hot wet sheath will do,” she murmured, then went on tiptoe to lick his neck.
He sank his hand in her hair and held her in place for a ravenous kiss. “Portal to your femininity,” he said against her lips.
“Absolutely works,” she said, tracing a line of kisses along his jaw. “That’s exactly where I want you to put your powerful man muscle.”
He pressed his face to her hair and breathed her in. “I’ll be sure not to ignore your tiny sentinel of desire along the way.”
She lifted her head. “Is that what I think it is?”
His lips curved in a smile. “Your little man in a boat.”
“I think that’s a direction not a description, right?” she said. “More of a how-to.”
He laughed. “You win.”
“Only when I get to use the term slavering beast of lust.”
His brows shot up. “That sounds like something that requires a leash.”
She danced back and reached for the hem of her sweater to draw it over her head. “Sex missile.”
Already his fingers were working on the buttons of his shirt. “Love nubbin.”
She tossed away her bra then shimmied out of her slacks. “Swollen staff.”
He still had on his pants and was hopping on one leg trying to take off a shoe. “Honey haven.”
“Terrible,” she judged, sweeping away her panties. “Torrid tumescence,” she said, then took off running as he began working on remo
ving his second shoe.
“Hey, hey, where are you going?” he called out. “Bring back your perfect peach of an ass and those creamy, berry-topped mounds.”
Laughter bubbled from her throat. “You and your masculine sword will have to find me.”
She heard his good-natured cursing as she ran up the stairs. There were a dozen places she could hide in this house. On the second-floor landing, she dithered, trying to think of the best location to squirrel away, but that hesitation proved her undoing.
Suddenly two muscled arms locked around her and Brody growled in her ear. “The beast and I got ya.”
She mock-shrieked and fake-struggled against his hold but he didn’t let go. Instead he hefted her over his shoulder, fireman-style. “Where to, wench?” he asked, his big palm splayed on her naked butt. “Living room couch?”
“Bedroom,” Ash heard herself say. “Third floor.” And it was the perfect place, she decided. Being with him there would remind her of who she wasn’t. When they were finished, it would be easiest in that room to tell him they were finished forever.
There was no time for second thoughts when he tossed back the covers, then tossed her onto the mattress and followed her down. When she’d first moved to Topanga, Viv had come to the house and freshly made up the big bed for her with a quilt handmade by Ash’s grandmother and sheets and pillowcases worn soft with use. They held a faint lavender scent she thought she’d forever associate with this moment when Brody Maddox sifted his hands through her hair, studying her with a quiet intensity before he pounced on her with another teasing growl.
She played at trying to get away and then they were rolling around like puppies, laughing and kissing and moaning and nipping. There were her giggles and his muffled groans and for half a second Ash remembered Marcy discussing the “fun” of having sex. But that thought was chased away when Brody put her on her belly to place a chain of kisses down her spine.
Her back arched and he lightly bit the round curve of her ass. At the tiny sting, she glanced at him over her shoulder and saw he was on his knees, his hot blue gaze trained on her as he rolled a condom over his erection. Wetness trickled between her thighs and a pulse throbbed there.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, then he was lifting her hips and widening her legs so she was kneeling too, totally exposed and positioned for his first thrust.
But he made her wait, his hand tracing the cleft of her ass to the melting center of her body. His fingertips played there, gathering moisture that he spread upward. He tweaked her clit and she jerked at the jolt of pleasure.
“Your little man,” he said in her ear as he came over her. “My big masculine sword.” Then he was easing his girth inside her, the delicious angle of his penetration making her moan and arch again.
As they began to move together, the room darkened and the rain hit the roof, the pitter-patter and the shadows seeming to guard their privacy. His breath was ragged against her neck and she clutched at the pillow as a frantic, growing need to come overtook her. She pushed back into his body, working on his cock, and his fingers tightened on her hip.
Oh, she hoped he’d leave bruises.
Something she could look at, at least for a little while, when he was gone.
Then every muscle tightened as an electric tingle crossed her skin. “Brody,” she moaned, and maybe it was the signal he’d been waiting for, because his hand came back to her clit and when he circled it with a firm finger, her womb spasmed and pleasure, sharp and sweet, worked outward in widening rings of bliss.
He shoved his face against the side of her neck and whispered her name as he drove into her with near-violent thrusts. Then he stilled, and she felt his climax roll through him, his body twitching over hers. “God,” he said as they collapsed onto the mattress moments later. “You wore out the slavering beast.”
She was too sated to laugh.
He shifted off her for a moment and then was back, pulling the covers over them both. Ash didn’t move, drifting away on diminishing shivers of delight.
Time passed. She awoke from a doze to find Brody stroking her back from shoulder to waist, long sweeps that pushed the covers to the rise of her ass. If she’d been the little cat, she would have purred.
He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “We really need to talk.”
Still floating on good feelings, she turned her cheek on the pillow so she faced him. “About what?”
His hand didn’t stop its slow, drugging caresses. “You. Us.”
Her eyes squeezed shut as her mother’s voice replayed in her head.
Your sister made her choices. And she never chose me—or you for that matter. Nor did your father. Has that crossed your mind? Did you think about that when you decided you wanted to continue with his business?
Until that last question, what Ash hadn’t considered was whether her father would want her to head up Satan’s. Whether he would think twin Ashlynn could maintain the spirit of the roadhouse.
And now she had to wonder herself.
We can’t change anything, her mother had said. Not who we are, not where that takes us, not the consequences of our unwise decisions.
Her unwise decision was her determination to take over the roadhouse. The disastrous consequence was that she’d fallen in love with Brody Maddox. Because yeah, she’d done that.
“I-I have to go,” she said now.
“I thought Gus was on until six tonight. You have time yet.”
“I mean I have to go back north. Back to my real life.” A lump had lodged in her throat and she tried to clear it. “I’ll sell Satan’s, sell this house.”
His hand had stopped mid-sweep. “Why, Ash?”
She turned over and sat up, bringing the sheet with her to cover her breasts. “Because I’m a fraud,” she admitted. “I thought I could come down here and it would still be Satan’s with me behind the bar, but I’m not good at it. Brae and my dad wouldn’t want that.”
Brody frowned at her. “Why do you say you’re not good at it? You seem to enjoy it. The customers seem to enjoy you.”
“Because I pretend to be Brae. Sooner or later everyone will figure out I’m not like her.”
“Your twin and I never met—“
“She was exciting, entertaining, sometimes unpredictable. Brae embraced life and felt everything—openly, honestly—just like my mom said.” Brody took Ash’s hand but she slipped her fingers free of his. “The thing is, I’m…afraid to do all that…to be like that.”
“You’re afraid to get hurt. When you care about something a whole hell of a lot, you leave yourself vulnerable.”
She looked down. “I guess.”
“But there’s reward for the risk, Ash. Joy. Real love, not the kind wrapped up in expectations and rigid self-control.”
“Easy for you to say,” she muttered. “You’re doing exactly what you want.”
“Why can’t you? Keep Satan’s. Keep it in the family if that’s important to you.”
“Maybe I feel I lost my chance years ago.” She shrugged. “Am I cut out for the uncertainty and the frustrations of a business I hardly know anything about?”
“A little drama keeps you alive.”
Ash narrowed her eyes at him. “I thought you weren’t a fan of what a ‘little drama’ meant to your childhood.”
“I think I’m gaining a new perspective.” One hand shoved through his hair. “It could be wild and crazy but there was also an exuberance that comes from a life being well-lived. Subtract the self-destruction that was the byproduct of drugs and too much booze and…” He shrugged. “Maybe if the Lemons had ever grown up things might have been different. More positive than negative.”
The rain came down harder and he looked toward the window, his clean profile so handsome against the gray light. “But I’ve grown up, Ash.”
“Of course you have,” she said. “You have a business, responsibilities—”
“Emotionally grown up. I was engaged in my own self-sabotage, going off on bi
nges while trying to escape bad pieces of my past…and most of all myself.”
“We can’t change who we are,” Ash said, paraphrasing her mother. “Or where that takes us.”
“Bullshit,” he said, his head whipping toward her. “Before I met you I had stupid notions about all kinds of shit. Like what sort of romantic relationships I could and couldn’t have and what type of woman I’d allow into my life. I thought if I didn’t get too wildly involved I could keep my balance—something never in evidence at the Laurel Canyon compound, as you might guess.”
“It makes sense.” She thought of his tattoo, that carpenter’s level inked near his hipbone and wondered if he’d really lost a bet or if it had been a choice, a permanent reminder of what he was looking for.
“Yeah,” Brody agreed. “Maybe it was logical on the face of it for a man who’d seen what I had seen. But then…” His hand reached out and snagged hers, this time holding firm. “Then I fell in love. I fell in love with you. Deeply. Over my head. I’m drowning in it Ash, and it doesn’t make the slightest sense at all, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Her head reeled and her heart quaked in her chest. He was…he was in love with her? “No,” she said, pulling on her hand.
His fingers tightened on hers. “Yes, sweetheart. I’m in love with you, Ash.”
With Topanga Ash! Not with the sawdust Ashlynn who had lived for years under rules and edicts and the best of manners. “I’m going back home.” Because she didn’t think she could keep up her role as this new Ash, and when Brody found that out… Well, to have him and then to lose him was a pain she couldn’t bear.
“Don’t leave, Ash,” he said, his intent gaze meeting hers. “Stay with me.”
Stay with me. Inside her chest, her heart shifted again, but then, thank God, she felt it harden, more bands of steel wrapping around it, locking in the old pain and warding off the new. “No. I’m going home.”
He remained silent a long moment, then sighed. “And I’m not going to get anywhere, am I?” he asked, his tone wry. Then he looked away as he released her hand. “Maybe you do have to go back. Maybe then you might see what you’ve found here.”
Wild Child (Rock Royalty #6) Page 19
