Ashes & Embers Series Collection (Books 1 to 4)

by Carian Cole

  And what is he doing at my house anyway? How does he even know where I live?

  I want to go out there and interrupt them, but I can’t because Macy will be furious and embarrassed if I do that when she’s so obviously flirting with him. A sick feeling creeps over me as I think about what my daughter would say if she knew Lukas and I were friends, and possibly a little bit more. This is definitely not a situation I ever thought I would be in.

  Feeling guilty, I watch them talking until she spins around and comes back inside, smiling from ear to ear.

  She playfully fans herself with her hand as she comes through the door. “Wow, is he hot. Did you see the body on him, Mom?” My God. When did my daughter start thinking about men like this? She was five only yesterday. Wasn’t she?

  I smile weakly from behind my coffee cup. “Macy, he’s a friend of mine. He’s my tattoo artist.”

  Her jaw falls open in shock. “Oh my God, Mom, are you kidding me right now?”

  “Nope.”

  She pounces into a chair at the breakfast table. “Mom! Can you talk to him for me? Kinda set us up or something? I was hoping he’d ask for my number, but he didn’t.” Her face turns into a pout, just like it did when she was a little girl. “Is he single? Do you know?”

  The awkwardness of this entire conversation makes me queasy. “I think he is, honey, but I think he might be a little too old for you. He’s in his twenties.” And too young for me, I remind myself.

  She rolls her eyes. “The boys my age are lame, Mom. And they don’t have bodies like him. And those tats! Not to mention his hair and those eyes. And that lip piercing. He’s amazing.”

  All true, but I simply cannot even contemplate any of this with my daughter. Talking about men, and being attracted to the same man? No. Just no.

  I knew that by having her when I was just eighteen I would always be a young mom, but I am definitely not prepared to hear my teen daughter talk about how sexy a man is, especially one that just about kissed me senseless the night before and I’m still swooning over. I blame this new mess on Paul. His lust for Charlene has put us all in awkward positions.

  Macy jumps to her feet. “I’m gonna go upstairs to call Shelly and tell her about him. I’m gonna snap a pic of him from my bedroom window to show her.”

  “Macy, don’t do that!” I yell as she bounds for the stairway, but it’s too late. She’s already gone.

  I grab a sweatshirt that’s draped over one of the kitchen chairs, step into a pair of boots that are by the back door, and walk out to the back yard to find out what Lukas is up to.

  “Hi . . . What are you doing here?” I ask, squinting against the sun as I approach him.

  Smiling, he points to the shed, like I didn’t know it was there. “I fixed it.”

  “I can see that, and it’s really nice of you to do, but why? You shouldn’t be doing things like this for me. You’re not a handyman.”

  He shrugs and wipes his face with a bandanna. “I just wanted to do something for you. Now you don’t have to worry about it. It took like ten minutes. No big deal.”

  Again, he’s melting my heart. “That’s incredibly sweet but totally not necessary. I could have found someone to do it.”

  He takes a sip from the bottle of water Macy gave him. “Now you won’t have to.” He nods toward the house. “You have a really nice house. It’s big. Very suburbs.”

  “I honestly appreciate you doing this, but really, you didn’t have to. And as you can see, my teenage daughter has developed an insta-crush on you.”

  He twists the top back on the water bottle and actually blushes a little. “She’s cute but too young for me. I like older women, one in particular,” he tilts his head toward me with that adorable crooked smile on his face.

  How does he make me feel so wanted with just a few words and a smile? “Lukas, this cannot happen. I feel really bad that you came over here to do this, and I’m going to pay you.”

  He scrunches up his face. “No way. You can pay me by going out with me tonight.”

  I cross my arms. “I have plans tonight.”

  His eyes narrow at me suspiciously. “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “Okay, then,” he says, looking unhappy. “How about Sunday night?”

  Damn, he’s persistent! “I can’t. My son is coming home from his father’s.”

  “Next week then? Any night. You pick.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “I give you credit for your persistence, but I can’t. I like you, I really do. I just can’t. My daughter thinks you’re hot. I can’t even wrap my head around what she would say if she knew I went out with you. It’s way too strange for me.”

  He turns to close the shed door and latches it, giving me a great view of his broad back. I love how his hair falls down past his shoulders and his butt looks amazing in those faded jeans. He turns around to face me again, and I quickly look away. “Ivy, it doesn’t have to be strange. Just tell her the truth. She’ll be okay.”

  “What truth? There is no truth.”

  He reaches for my hand, holding it in the warmth of his. “The truth that I’m interested in you, and hopefully, you feel the same way. I mean, you were just checking out my ass, so that must mean something, right?” he teases.

  Pulling my hand away, I glance uneasily up at Macy’s bedroom window, hoping she’s not taking pictures and uploading them for the world to see. “Lukas, please. I can’t do displays of affection from a stranger in front of my kids. They’re confused enough already over their father and his new girlfriend. And I was not checking out your ass.”

  “You can’t punish yourself for what he did. He’s enjoying his life. You’re allowed to do the same. Eventually, your kids will see you with another man, just like they’re seeing him with another woman. I know it sucks, but unless you plan to stay single for the rest of your life, which would be a total fucking shame, then you have to let your kids see you around other men.”

  “I know that, but . . .”

  He pulls a pack of gum out of his pocket and pops a piece into his mouth. “But what?” he asks “Is it me you don’t want them to see you with?”

  I stare off for a moment before answering. “They would have a hard time with it,” I admit, trying to envision introducing him to my kids.

  Leaning his back against the shed, he blows a bubble, pops it, and looks at me. “With it? With me? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?”

  I hate making him feel like there is something wrong with him, because there isn’t, because he’s wonderful just as he is. He’s just wrong for me in this time and place.

  “No! Not at all! It’s just them seeing me with another man, and especially one that is younger and looks like a rock star. They’re used to their father. He’s clean cut, works in an office . . . I don’t want to throw too much crazy at them all at once.”

  His jaw muscles flex and clench. “Please don’t say that. I hate that term: rock star.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to offend you,” I stammer, knowing that I am offending him because I can’t find the right words to explain what I’m trying to say.

  “Ivy, I don’t care what other people think, and you shouldn’t, either. I’m not saying you shouldn’t care what your kids think, but I don’t think it’s a big deal to date a man younger than you, or one that looks like me. There are way worse things going on in the world they’re going to see.” He takes his sunglasses off the top of his head, runs his hand through his hair, and puts the glasses on his face. “If they were my kids, I’d want to show them that we should accept people for who they are, not what they look like or how old they are, or what they do for work.”

  I stiffen and back away from him. He’s right, but I don’t need some twenty-four-year-old kid with zero parenting experience lecturing me. Of course, I don’t want my children to be judgmental. I want them to accept people of all color, religion, career choice, and sexual orientation, no matter what.

  “You’re
right,” I agree. “But you really don’t know what it’s like. It’s just hard, being a parent. I’m trying to do the right thing is all.”

  “I’m sure it is hard. Now, what night are you going to let me take you out?” he asks as we walk across the back yard together toward the house.

  “You don’t give up, do you?”

  “No. Until you outright tell me you will never, ever go out with me, I’m gonna keep asking. You should go out with me just to shut me up.”

  I shake my head at him and feel my cheeks heating. “Why? I don’t get it. I’m boring. And difficult, as you can see.”

  He puts his arm around me and leads me to the side of the garage where we’re invisible from all the windows of my house. “I like challenges,” he teases. I wonder if he’s going to kiss me back here on the side of the garage, and if he does, I don’t think I’ll have the power to resist. He looks incredibly hot all sweaty, his hair messy, dark sunglasses covering what I know are sensual hooded eyes looking right through me. “Seriously, I like you, Ivy. I’m tired of dating all these bat-shit crazy chicks in the party scene. I’m not into it. I want to be with someone normal and settled down that I can trust.” He touches the tip of my nose. “Plus, you’re adorable. You even look great in the morning.”

  Oh, shit. I completely forgot that I came out here to talk to him right from crawling out of bed, with sweats on.

  I put my hands over my face. “Oh my God. I totally forgot I didn’t have any make up on and I look like a slob.”

  He grabs my hands and pulls them away to uncover my face. “You’re beautiful. Don’t hide.”

  I gently take his sunglasses off his face so I can see his eyes, and just as I expected, they’re dancing with sincerity and sensuality. “Lukas, you’re incredibly sweet.”

  He grins, and my insides melt like butter in a hot pan. “I know that, doll.”

  Resistance is so damn hard around him. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” I say again, trying to convince both of us. Even I’m getting tired of hearing myself say it.

  He takes a few steps away in frustration and then comes back to stand in front of me. “I think it’s a great idea, Ivy, but I’m not gonna beg. That’s just fuckin’ pitiful. But will you do just one little thing for me?”

  “That depends . . .”

  “Think it over and give me an answer when I see you at our next appointment. All right? I’m just asking you to have dinner with me. Nothing else. I’d love to kiss you again, but I’ll take dinner for now.”

  He must think I’m a freak. Who acts like this when a guy asks them out for dinner? Me, of course. That’s who. Because I’m completely socially inept. “Okay,” I agree. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Finally, some progress.” He smiles from ear to ear then backs up and does his little wave thing. “Later, gator.”

  I know I’ve got a silly grin on my face as I watch him walk away.

  CHAPTER 8

  LUKAS

  AFTER I LEAVE Ivy’s house, I drive to Gram’s house for a visit. Since I usually work on Saturday, I don’t get to visit her on the weekends when the rest of my family does, but I cleared my day today so I could fix Ivy’s roof and have a little downtime for myself. Thankfully, all my clients were really cool about rescheduling.

  Gram’s house is like the hub of the family; everyone comes and goes constantly. Her house has six bedrooms, so some of us sleep there at random times to keep her company or just to hang out.

  My brother Vandal’s sports car and a tricked-out pickup truck that I think is my cousin Talon’s new toy are in the driveway when I get there.

  As soon as I walk through the back door, I’m met with the smell of baking, because Gram pretty much cooks non-stop. Cookies, pies, stew, shepherd’s pie, lasagna, meat loaf—you name it. She’s either cooked it, is cooking it, or is planning on cooking it.

  “Uncle Lukas!” Vandal’s five-year-old daughter flies across the room and throws herself into my arms. Holding her high, I spin around with her in my arms as she giggles.

  “How’s my girl?” I hold her against my chest and plant a big kiss on her cheek.

  “Good! We’re making brownies!”

  I carry her toward the kitchen, where Gram and Vandal are standing over the center island.

  “Brownies?” I repeat. “My favorite.”

  Vandal nudges me with his elbow. “Yeah, not those kinds of brownies, man,” he jokes.

  I kiss Gram on the cheek as she’s stirring batter in a big bowl, and she smiles up at me. “Honey, what a nice surprise. Why aren’t you working?”

  I lower Katie down to her feet and watch her run to the kitchen table to play with her toys. “I had something to do this morning, so I rescheduled everyone to take the day off.” I grab a cookie from a big plate on the counter and turn to my brother. “You’re working next week, right? If you’re going to be out a lot with the band, we’re going to have to hire another artist.”

  He nods and runs his hand through his long black hair. “Yeah, I’ll be there. Lemme think about hiring someone else. I’d rather not. I wanted it to be just me and you, and not deal with the bullshit of employees.”

  “Language, Vandal,” Gram whispers, nodding over at Katie.

  “Me, too,” I agree. “But it’s getting really busy. I can’t do everything myself. I think we need a receptionist at the very least. I can’t keep stopping to answer the phone. It makes the customers nervous.”

  “Fuck that, we don’t need someone to answer the phone. Let it go to voicemail and call them back.”

  Gram smacks Vandal up the side of his head with the spatula. “Go put a quarter in the jar!”

  Vandal rubs the side of his head, where he has a smudge of brownie batter now. “What the fuck, Gram?”

  “Stop swearing in front of the baby! Now go put a quarter in the jar.”

  Cracking up, I watch him dig around in his pockets. “I don’t have a quarter,” he says. “I only have a twenty.”

  She shrugs. “I don’t care. Put it in the jar.” Gram is like a dwarf—maybe five feet tall, gray hair, little rimmed glasses, and usually dressed up wearing tons of jewelry. Her personality is a scream, and she keeps all of us guys in line, usually having us in hysterics. We all love her and would kill for her.

  The swear jar is completely stuffed with bills and just a few quarters. “Gram, what are you going to do with all that money you’ve extracted from all of us?” I ask her. I’ve lost about a hundred bucks in that jar myself.

  She puts the baking pan into the oven and sets the timer. “Never mind that. You boys swear way too much in front of Katie. Do you want her to start swearing and sounding like a truck driver?”

  “Yes,” Vandal replies, grinning at Gram. He loves to get her riled up.

  “Don’t make me smack you again,” she retorts.

  I watch Katie color a picture of a rainbow and a unicorn for a few moments, and she suddenly smiles up at me, her two front teeth missing. I ruffle her hair and lean down to kiss the top of her head. “This one is for you, Uncle Lukas,” she tells me in her sweet voice. “When I’m done, you can take it home and put it on your wall, or maybe tattoo it on someone.”

  “I would love to do that, Princess Katie.”

  Vandal crosses the room and sits in the chair at the table next to Katie. “Hey, I heard you dumped Rio,” he says, grabbing some crayons.

  Frowning at him, I lean against the wall and shake my head. “Yeah, I did. Is there anyone you haven’t screwed?”

  He tilts his head like he’s thinking about it. “Not many, bro. You may have to move to the west coast.”

  “Very funny.”

  He chooses a purple crayon and starts to color one of Katie’s pictures. “So why’d you dump her? She’s fun.”

  I grind my teeth to keep from swearing. I don’t want to lose twenty bucks. “I don’t want your leftovers. That’s why.”

  “You’re not gonna find a virgin, pal. Suck it up.”

 
“I’m not saying a virgin. Just someone you haven’t been with.”

  “Why? I can give you honest reviews. Like a critique service.”

  “I’m going to fucking punch you in the face in about two seconds,” I warn, even though I’m laughing. He’s such an asshole sometimes.

  Gram pipes up from across the room. “Lukas . . . you know the rules.”

  Oh, fuck me. I pull out my wallet. “You’re killing us, Gram,” I tease, shoving a five dollar bill into the jar.

  “Someday, you will both thank me.”

  “Someday, we’ll both be here for a loan,” Vandal shoots back.

  I saunter over to Gram, who’s rinsing the dishes in the sink. “Hey, Gram, I was hoping we could talk for a few minutes.”

  “Of course we can.” She grabs a towel and dries off her hands. “Let’s go in the other room.”

  I follow my grandmother to the den, which I know is her favorite room because it’s filled with all of my late grandfather’s most coveted things. I wish I could have met him before he passed away, and thank him for changing my life. But sadly, without his death, my father wouldn’t have had come clean about having two sons, and I wouldn’t be here now.

  Gram sits on the leather couch and pats the spot next to her. “Come sit by me, Lukas. You have a glint in your eye. Have you met someone?”

  I love my grandmother for so many reasons. She’s not just the sweetest and most caring person I’ve ever met; she is amazingly in touch with every single person in her family. She truly knows each of us and what makes us tick. Being the matriarch of a family of mostly male musicians and artists can’t be easy, but she keeps us in line and makes all of us feel loved and accepted, even when we’ve fucked up.

  I flop onto the worn leather couch and stretch my legs out in front of me. “I did meet someone, Gram. I need some advice.”

  She clasps her hands on her lap and beams. “I knew it! Okay, let’s see if I can help. Tell me all about her.”

  I sigh, feeling lost about how to explain my feelings. How do I explain that heart-stopping jolt I feel every time I see or touch Ivy? I hardly even know her.