They’d planned on four rugrats. Two girls and two boys, if they were so blessed. Sorene wanted a decent-sized family but not as many kids as her parents had created, while he just wanted more than one. Growing up an only child, he never had anyone to fight or plot with. If he had a brother or sister, dealing with Quinn’s illness wouldn’t be so hard. Someone could help, talk with him to. Grieve with him.
“Son, you look greener than grass. Make yourself a glass of my cure-all, hangover relief. The ingredients are in the fridge.”
He remembered the recipe of Quinn’s cure-all. Tomato juice, ginger, hot sauce, lemon, and a raw egg. His stomach churned again at the thought of choking down the concoction.
Yeah, he didn’t think so.
“What do you want for breakfast?” he asked Quinn instead.
“Don’t worry about me. Rea should be here in a few, and you need to stop in at the shop. There’s a big shipment of lumber being delivered today.”
He glanced at his watch.
Shit.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” He searched his pockets for his keys, and realized he didn’t have them. He’d left his rental at the Pump House. He’d have to borrow his dad’s beater pickup with its spring-broken bench seat, failing clutch, and cracked windshield. At least the heater worked.
“Get your ass in gear, boy. And you need a quick shower. You smell like puke and whisky sweat.”
Ash rushed up the stairs, hoping his head didn’t fall off. Or maybe wishing it would because then it would cease the relentless pounding.
He took a three-minute shower, forwent shaving, threw on jeans, and layered a t-shirt under flannel. Hair still wet, he rushed out of the house, passing a startled Rea who’d just arrived.
Good, he wouldn’t have to worry about his dad this morning. He needed to get in touch with Gideon and fished his phone out of his pocket. His call went right to voicemail, and he left a detailed message.
Pulling into the parking lot of Bleu Carpentry, he slammed out of the cab, regretting the action as the sound echoed in his head.
He found Bart inside the large shop, holding a clipboard and signing the invoice of lumber. He glanced up and then returned to the invoice. “Didn’t think you’d show today.”
Shit. He needed to apologize. “Listen, Bart—”
“Hey, we’ve all been there. Women, right?” Bart handed the clipboard to the driver of the lumber truck and struggled into leather work gloves. “Just so you know, I’m sweet on Sorene, always have been. You hurt her, and you’ll answer to me.”
“And what would Sorene say to that if she heard you?”
Bart barked out a laugh. “Probably to jump in the nearest lake and that she doesn’t need anyone watching out for her.”
Ash nodded his head in agreement, and then he had to close his eyes when pain flared from the movement.
Bart caught the action. “Need some Tylenol?”
“God, yes, and coffee.”
“Stay away from coffee. You need to hydrate. There’s some Gatorade in the fridge over there.”
Ash gladly helped himself, taking the pills Bart offered and swallowing them down with orange Gatorade.
“So, you here to stay?” Bart asked.
“For now.” He didn’t want to share with Bart anything more than that. It wasn’t like they were best buds. They’d gotten along fine in high school. Bart ran with the pigskin jocks, while he’d hung with the ice rats.
By all accounts, Bart had done right by Quinn, a valued and loyal employee. Just because he appreciated the same woman Ash did wasn’t a reason to be rude, exactly.
“About last night,” he started.
“Don’t mention it. We’ve all been there a time or two. I’d appreciate it if our quest for Sorene’s affections doesn’t impact the workplace.”
Well, Bart was more mature than he. “Sure,” he answered.
“Good. If your head can handle it, let’s get that truck unloaded.”
It took them an hour to unload and store the lumber. It was almost noon when he climbed into the truck and drove to the lake house.
He made a slight detour for burgers at Eat Your Heart Out. Now that his hangover had receded to a growl instead of a full-blown attack, the thought of a cheeseburger and fries didn’t nauseate him, and bringing lunch to Sorene might help smooth over whatever happened between them last night.
He remembered with clarity what had gone down at the Pump House. The drive home? Not so much.
He pulled up beside Sorene’s Jeep and smiled at the view that greeted him.
Sawdust dusted the air above Sorene as she carved with the chainsaw. Dressed in almost the same uniform of Carhartt and flannel of yesterday, she seemed lost in her own world. Blond tendrils had escaped her knit hat and floated around her when she moved, and she was constantly in motion. She’d fleshed out the bear completely now and used a smaller chainsaw to add in finer details.
Damn, she was talented.
He’d always known she was creative, but the work of art she carved before him belonged in a gallery. He wondered briefly if she had any idea of how good she was.
He doubted it.
She straightened as if knowing she was being observed. Cutting the engine, she turned, her face registering surprise and then suspicion at seeing him sitting in the cab of the pickup, watching her.
He grabbed the bag of food and climbed out of the truck.
“Hello, Sorene,” he said softly. What he wouldn’t give to greet her with a kiss like he used to every time he saw her when they’d been an item.
She pushed off her earmuffs and let them rest around her neck like jewelry. “I didn’t think I’d see you today,” she said, her tone stiff, almost wary.
Why would she need to be wary of him? What had he done on that drive home? “We had an appointment,” he reminded her.
She pulled back the cuff of her sleeve and glanced at her watch. “You’re late.”
“I know, sorry. There was a shipment of lumber that needed unloaded and it took longer than expected. I tried to call.” He gestured to the chainsaw she still clutched in her hand. “Guess you couldn’t hear the phone.”
When she didn’t say anything, he held up the bag of burgers. “I brought food. I thought we could eat and then go over the ideas of what you want for the cabin.”
“I brought my own lunch.”
“Okay, if you’d prefer to eat that, no problem.” So much for a peace offering, and when would she set that chainsaw down? She held it like a knight brandishing a sword.
She tilted her head to the side. “What’s in the bag?”
He bit back a smile. “Cheeseburgers and fries.”
“Onions?”
“No onions, extra mustard and pickles.”
Slowly, she set the chainsaw down, and he felt like he’d won a victory.
“Well, that beats my peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” She tore off her gloves and stuffed them into the pockets of her overalls and took off her safety glasses, hooking them in the bib.
He glanced around for a place for them to eat and realized there was no comfort to be found on the construction site. “Let’s eat in the truck. The cab is still warm.”
She walked over to the passenger side, brushing sawdust and splinters off her clothes, and climbed in, wincing when she sat. “What’s up with this seat?”
“Yeah, you gotta be careful where you sit. I believe the springs have a vendetta against butts.”
She choked out a surprised laugh, and he stared at her, captivated.
“God, you’re beautiful.”
She sobered and looked away as though his statement made her uncomfortable. The words just escaped him, but now he wished he’d kept them to himself. Their relationship—and there was one regardless of how she felt—lay tricky before him like a thin sheet of ice.
He needed to tread lightly.
Starting the truck and adjusting the heat, he reached into the bag of food and handed her a cheeseburge
r. Setting his burger on his lap, he dumped the fries into the bottom of the bag, added salt, and shook them, then folded down the edges of the bag for them both to reach in.
“You still do that?” she asked, watching him.
“Of course, fries need salt more than ketchup or mustard.”
“Someday you might have blood pressure issues.” She took a large bite of her cheeseburger.
Not someday.
Just sitting next to her, sharing a simple meal, had his blood pressure pumping with desire and his heart beating fast enough to drive him mad.
They ate in silence, the silence stretching thin between them until he couldn’t stand it anymore. “What happened last night?”
She slid a sideways glance his way. “You don’t remember?”
“Not everything. Pretty much everything that happened in the bar is clear, but after that it’s a fog patch.”
“So, asking me to marry you and bear your children, you don’t recall any of that?”
He choked on his cheeseburger. Slapping his chest, he gasped for breath.
“Are you okay?” Sorene laid a hand on his shoulder. “Do I need to Heimlich you?”
He shook his head and cleared his throat. “I’m good.” The words sounded like he’d eaten gravel.
No, he wasn’t good. Of all the things not to remember, proposing had to be at the top.
Had she given him an answer?
Were they engaged right now and he had no memory of it? Christ, what if she’d laughed at him and said no way in hell she’d consider marry him?
If that had been the case, he could count his lucky stars he didn’t remember.
No longer hungry, he gathered up his half-eaten cheeseburger, stowed it away with the leftover fries, and set the bag on the floorboards. He turned and faced her. “What answer did you give me?”
Chapter 14
Sorene gulped. It was bad enough they were sitting in the cab of the same pickup where they’d given their virginity to each other.
Could they be the reason the springs in the bench seat were shot? During the long, cold winter months, they’d taken full advantage of the time spent in the truck, and this far north, winter could last nine months.
A lot could happen in nine months. Babies were born in nine months.
Now, why the heck had she thought that?
They’d had one scare the summer before their senior year, which had shaken them up enough that they were extra vigilant when it came to protection from that point on.
Ash hadn’t made any comment about their history in this old pickup. Did he care about things like that? Men were known to be oblivious, not remembering anniversaries, forgetting important details about the women they were sleeping with, or getting them confused with other women they’d been with. Had Ash been with so many other women that something like where they’d first explored each other didn’t mean anything anymore?
“Sorene, what answer did you give me?” he prompted again.
He looked worried, his warm, brown eyes anxious.
“I didn’t give you one, as it was a drunken proposal and I wasn’t about to take it seriously.”
“What if I am serious?”
“Are you?” What was she asking? Of course, he wasn’t serious. How could he be? He’d just returned home a few days. You didn’t ask someone to marry you in that amount of time, regardless of your history. They didn’t even know the adult versions of each other.
He opened his mouth to respond, and she quickly cut him off. “Don’t answer that. This conversation is crazy. Let’s chalk it up to drunken ramblings.”
“Yet, what if the alcohol removed filters and I expressed what I really felt?”
Had he?
“This is pointless, and I need to get back to work.” She opened the passenger door and went to step out when he grabbed her arm.
“Sorene, don’t brush me off. Your answer is important to me. You are important to me.” His intense gaze burrowed into hers. “Having you here, in this truck where we loved each other the first time and so many times after, does that not mean anything to you? Do you not remember the promises we made to each other, the plans we made?”
She felt like he’d reached inside her chest and grabbed her heart. “I didn’t think you remembered,” she whispered.
He hauled her across the bench seat and into his lap, the door swinging shut on its own, cocooning them inside the warmth of the cab. He cupped her face in his large, rough hand, gazing deep into her eyes. “I remember everything that happened between us like it was yesterday. You’ve haunted me all these years. I’ve compared every woman I’ve met to you. So, yes, I’m serious. Marry me. Help me fulfil those promises we made to each other.”
“We don’t know each other anymore. It’s been ten years. You’ve been home two days.”
“What does time have to do with feelings of the heart? With this?” He kissed her, took her mouth in an attack meant to obliterate objection. He was out to prove his point, and he did it masterfully.
Time had done one thing; the man had learned some new tricks.
She found herself helpless against his desperate assault, his greedy mouth, his exploring hands, the hardening of his body under hers. Sensations swamped her and she whimpered, squirmed in his lap, pressing her body flush against his, trying to get closer. Her fingers dove into his hair, clutching the strands, and his tongue swept into her mouth. A ragged groan vibrated from him, answering a need in her that she’d suppressed all these years.
He lifted her, helped her to straddle his hips. Her head banged against the roof of the cab. How had they made love in the confines of the cab so easily before? It was downright cramped.
“Ouch,” she murmured before kissing him again. She never wanted that mouth off of hers.
He grabbed her hips and grinded against her, the thickness of him rubbing at just the right spot. Mewing purrs of encouragement escaped her, followed by harsh, demanding sounds from him.
“Here, let me—” he mumbled against her lips, twisting, and then swearing when he hit the steering wheel.
She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her, and then his hand cupped her breast, and a moan replaced the giggle. Somehow, he’d worked his way to unbuckling her overalls, past the buttons of her flannel shirt, and under her soft, white cotton tank.
“Good, God. No bra?” A sound escaped him that was more animal than human.
“Too confining when I’m working.”
He swiveled and laid her down on the seat, following her down. A spring jabbed her in the hip and she yelped.
“What is it?” He immediately lifted his upper body off her.
“The seat stabbed me.” She pushed against the cushion—cushion being a stretch for the board-like bench.
“Oh shit, let me see. This damn seat needs replacing, if not the whole truck traded in.” He worked at her overalls, pulling them down.
Suddenly, shyness overtook her. She hadn’t been naked with him in ten years. Ten years would show.
She didn’t have the tight body of a teenager anymore. It had softened and spread in places. While Ash’s body had hardened, filled out in all the right places. “Stop.” She grabbed his hands. “This is a bad idea.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Wrong place, Ash. Wrong time. We aren’t teenagers anymore.”
He lowered his head to rest his forehead against hers. “I need you, Sorene.”
It was hard swallowing past the lump of emotion his words created. She needed him too, but she needed more from him than just his body. She needed him to know her.
The her of the present, not the girl of the past.
She sat up and slid over to the passenger side, past the revengeful springs and bruise-inducing stick shift. She adjusted her clothing back to its original state, before he’d gotten his clever hands on them. “I need there to be more than sex between us.”
“This wasn’t just sex.” His eyes clouded, predicting an incoming storm.
“Hell, I asked you to marry me.”
“I can’t take that serious until you get to know who I am now, and I learn who you are. I won’t base a decision as important as marriage on the past. We need to see what, if anything, there is between us in the present.”
He gave her a thunderous, ravenous look. “I think there’s plenty between us in the present. Chemistry like that doesn’t form out of thin air.”
She shifted her hips on the seat, trying to ease the ache deep inside her. “I need more than chemistry. I’m not a wide-eyed teenager anymore who lives in the moment.”
He fell back against the seat and faced forward, gazing out of the cracked, fogged-up windshield. “Okay, I hear you. So, we date. I can do that. Besides, I want to know everything about you. You fascinate me, Sorene Wilde, always have.”
Warmth filled her chest at his words. “How about we start with drawing up plans for the finishes the lake house needs? We’re supposed to be working together, remember.”
He gave her a crafty smile. “Let’s create a different type of magic then.”
Chapter 15
Surprisingly, they worked well together, playing off each other’s ideas and strengths, until they had a winning design.
Sorene hated to admit it, but Ash had a knack. Maybe it was the creativity streak that ran through him, being a travel writer. He could visualize in pictures, similar to how she operated.
“How are you at carving scenes into panels?” Ash asked. “Since you’re adding the animal elements to the staircase, what if you continue the theme on the upper cabinets of the kitchen? Do a whole wilderness scene.” He gestured wide with his hands as if the upper cabinets were already installed. “You could follow it up with the lower cabinets in the bathrooms.”
“Oooh, I love that idea. But do you think it might get to kitsch?”
“With this fairy cabin? No way. I say design it over the top, don’t hold anything back. This cabin begs for an artistic design like what we’ve already nailed down.” He turned to the fireplace. “But this needs to be the crowning jewel. You already have the multi-colored river rock to the ceiling, but you need a mantel that caps it off.”
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