“I didn’t think it’d matter. You’re leaving in a week and a half yourself. We knew this was coming. Does it really make a difference who leaves first?”
Colton’s brows drew together. He stood and held out his hand for her to take. Without thinking, she reached for him.
“If that’s the way it’s got to be, we’d better go.” He pulled her toward the barn.
Ash dug in her high heels. “Where are we going?”
“Where do you think? I’m taking you back to my bunkhouse so we can say goodbye properly.”
She yanked her hand from his and shook her head, an overwhelming need to be with Colton warring with an equally overwhelming need to get as far away from him as possible. “No.”
“No?”
“I can’t, Colton.”
“Why not?”
Because if I sleep with you one more time, I won’t be able to say goodbye, and then when you leave I’ll be crushed.
What she said was, “We’re going to say goodbye now.”
“Don’t make me pick you up again,” he said, making a grab for her.
She gave him a shove, angry now. Sometimes his bossy, selfish attitude turned her on; right now all it was doing was pushing her buttons and making her desperate. “I said, no.”
“Ash?”
“Look, I have an early morning last shift at the flower shop...” Oh, God. She’d have to let Leslie know she was leaving. “I need to pack and...” Ash mentally added the money from the wedding contract to her savings and her last pay check from the flower shop. It wasn’t as much as she’d wanted saved, but she could make it work. “I’ve got so much to do.”
Such an understatement.
Colt reached for her hand, but she tugged it away. Turning so he wouldn’t see her face, she made her way back to the reception tent where her camera bag had been left.
“Ashley,” he called. “For fuck’s sake. At least say goodbye to me.”
“Goodbye, Colton,” she called over her shoulder, praying he wouldn’t catch up to her again and see the tears running down her cheeks.
* * *
COLTON SAT IN Dillon’s office, surfing the internet. Okay, maybe not surfing because he knew exactly what he was looking for: America’s Best Kept Secrets—A Photo Blog.
Sure enough, she’d gone to Des Moines. There was no mention on her blog about what job she’d been contracted for, but already, she’d found a bunch of places—gems he’d never heard of—en route to Des Moines. A nature park in South Dakota that looked like some mystical place out of a fairy tale, a suspension bridge and some really cool caves in Iowa, among others. Every place she showcased was a place he now wanted to see because they looked so damned appealing in her photographs. Mind you, Ashley was so talented she could make any run-of-the-mill place look amazing. It was all in the lighting, the angle, the...he couldn’t even put his finger on it.
Colt clicked on the About section—like he’d done a few hundred times a day since she’d left—and touched the image of her that popped up. It was one of the photos he’d taken when he’d wrestled the camera out of her hands up at the Doghouse. Considering how talented she was, the picture of her was amateurish—his fault—but he loved it.
It was bizarre how when he’d first seen her again and hadn’t recognized her, he’d thought she was kind of plain, nondescript. Ordinary.
Now when he looked at her picture all he saw was the sexy, hardworking, playful and passionate woman he’d come to know. Intimately. In the picture she was smiling that sexy smile that was just for him. The one that hinted at secrets—dirty secrets—and was in wonderful contrast to her overall appearance of innocence.
“You are anything but innocent,” he muttered to the screen.
“Text her.”
Colton jumped.
Dillon must have taken off his boots because normally his older brother sounded like a herd of elephants walking across the hard wood. There was no point covering up the fact he was stalking Ashley, so he left the website up and clicked on the images she’d taken of the Iowa State Rodeo.
“She’s really good,” Dillon commented.
“Yep.”
“So...stop moping and text her.”
“Why?” Colton stood. “What’s the point?”
“The point is, you really like this girl. Make an effort for once.”
“An effort? I leave for Wyoming in two days.”
“The qualifier?”
“Yep.”
“You know, the tour isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” Dillon arched his back painfully.
“That’s fine for you to say. You got your chance to live your dream. I want mine.” He pointed at the computer. “And Ashley wants hers, too. Unfortunately, our dreams don’t—” he crisscrossed his fingers and then pulled them apart “—collide.”
Dillon sighed and clapped him on the back. “You do what you have to do, Colt. But my advice is if you want to get over her? Stop stalking her.”
It was good advice. Probably. The crazy thing was, they’d only hung out for a few weeks. Certainly not enough time to develop any real feelings.
“C’mon. I’ve got some gear I’ve been meaning to give you for the road.”
Colton followed Dillon out of the office, through the great room. A large canvas print hanging over the fireplace caught his eye because it was new.
He stopped to look, and it was like the image kicked him in the gut.
It was a photo of Gloria and Dillon with Dillon kneeling before his pregnant wife and the sun shining in the window haloing her like some ethereal creature. The reaction to the image was instant and visceral, and Colton figured it had nothing to do with his brother and sister-in-law, and everything to do with the photographer. In his mind’s eye, he saw her so clearly. The woman behind the camera. Quietly capturing magic.
The most amazing woman he’d ever met and could never have.
* * *
ASH LOOKED AT her map, tracing the options with her finger. East into Illinois? North into Minnesota? South into Missouri? This was not exactly the route she’d originally intended to take, straight into the heart of the Midwest, but when you told lies off the top of your head, you kind of had to roll with it.
It had taken her a week to drive to Iowa, making unlikely stops at lesser known attractions in South Dakota, and she’d spent another week in Iowa, taking a couple of days in Des Moines to check out their local rodeo and fair and see how it compared to Half Moon.
So far the trip was everything she had hoped for. She’d met some really nice people, had seen some cool things, had unfortunately spent more than she’d intended on food and accommodations, which would have to change.
However, even after two weeks away there was still a molten ball of lead in her stomach.
I’ll get over him eventually.
She opened her contacts and typed in Colton’s name.
His info came up with his last name displayed as Best Boyfriend Ever.
Her finger hovered over the delete contact key when her phone beeped, alerting her to a new message.
She canceled what she was about to do and checked the new message, her heart in her throat as it had been every time her message app beeped.
Not from Colton. Jasmine.
Call me.
Ash stared at the message for a moment, and before she could make up her mind about what to do, her phone rang. It was Jasmine.
“Hey, Jazz,” she said.
“When were you going to tell me you were in the area?” Jasmine asked before even greeting her.
“How’d you know?”
“I follow your blog. Duh.”
“Oh. Well, I was going to let you know, but this job came up out of the blue.”
“What job?
”
Oh, seriously. The lies. She had to stop this. Yet did she? No. “It was for the Des Moines Rodeo and Fair.” Ashley pinched the bridge of her nose. God.
“So? When will you be in Chicago? It’s only five hours away, and you can stay with me. Parker’s in Australia for two weeks.”
Ash tapped her pencil against the map, reminded of how Jasmine’s fiancé hadn’t invited her to London and how hurt she’d been.
“You can help me pick out a wedding dress. Please, Ash.”
“Okay. I’ll be there in a few days.”
She smiled at the delighted sound of Jasmine’s squeal on the other end of the line.
“Planning a wedding is just so much more fun with your best friend.”
“I’m happy to help.”
“And I would be happy to return the favor...one day.”
Ash covered her face. The hot thing in the pit of her belly liquefied, making everything sour. “Sure thing, Jazz. I’ll see you in a few days.”
17
COLTON STOOD ON the stoop of the old warehouse in a run-down area of Chicago and rang the doorbell. Someone he didn’t know opened the door.
“Can I help you?”
“Yeah. I’m supposed to meet my cousins here. Jamie and Colin Forsythe.”
The guy looked him over. “You Dillon’s little brother?”
Considering he was as tall, if not taller, than Dillon, he took offense at being referred to as little. “I’m his brother, Colton,” he said solemnly.
The guy didn’t pay any attention to his tone. He simply greeted him and opened the door wide for him to enter. “I think Jamie’s over by the ring, waiting to spar.”
“Thanks.” Colton made his way to the center of the room where the boxing ring was. He’d only been to his cousin’s private boxing club once before, but as soon as he’d qualified for the tour in Wyoming and had subsequently qualified for the Chicago Invitational, he knew this was the first place he had to visit.
His cousin Jamie was standing ringside, watching the bout between his twin brother, Colin, and a man Colton didn’t know. It took Colton jabbing Jamie on the arm for his cousin to notice him.
“Colt?” His face split into a grin, and he gave him a back-patting, manly hug. “How you doing?”
“Great. I’m good.”
“I hear you’ve made it pro. Congratulations.”
Colton nodded, his eyes straying to the bout in the ring while he shifted from foot to foot. “Thanks. It’s been a long time coming.”
Using his chin to indicate the ring, Jamie asked, “You here just to visit or you planning on changing and going a round or two in the ring?”
Rubbing his knuckles Colt replied, “Oh, I’m going to spar. Ever since I found out I made the tour, I’ve got all this crazy energy that needs a good outlet.”
“That’s why we built this.” He pointed to the back of the warehouse. “You remember where the change rooms are?”
“Yep.”
“You want to go a couple rounds with me?”
“If you don’t mind having your ass kicked, I’d love that.”
“Go get changed, little cousin, and we’ll see about whose ass is going to get kicked.”
With his gym bag slung over his shoulder, he ambled through the gym, past the heavy bags, the speed bags, the weight benches and stretching mats to the change room. He promptly changed into a T-shirt and shorts, thinking about the lie he’d told Jamie.
The crazy, pent-up energy he was feeling had nothing to do with making the tour and everything to do with the fact that he was in Chicago and so was Ashley. He knew because he was still stalking her. Well, it wasn’t stalking if you followed her blog like a legitimate person...except that he’d created a fake email address in order to sign up for her updates.
It was weird. He’d told Dillon their paths wouldn’t cross, and yet here they were, both in Chicago at the same time. There were rolls of tape stacked in a shelf, and Colton helped himself to some and began taping up his hands.
He could feel her presence, just like he’d always been able to. Every street corner he looked over his shoulder, expecting to see her because he had the prickly feeling on the back of his neck. He finished winding tape around his left hand and bit it to tear it off. Then he started on his right.
Why did it make him think of winding tape around Ashley’s wrists and securing them to a bedpost? Of licking his way down her body and driving her so frickin’ crazy her little body bucked like a young bronc while she screamed his name?
He groaned. Goddamn it, he should not be thinking such thoughts before a fight. He should be focusing on expelling some of this angst and concentrating on competing in two days’ time.
Thinking about taping up the sexiest, wildest, most passionate woman he’d ever met was not conducive to relieving angst.
Text her.
Dillon’s voice was in his head, taunting him.
“Okay,” he muttered before biting off the last bit of tape. “I’ll text her, but not until after my ride. I can’t have her distracting me like she did last time.”
* * *
“OH, I LIKE that one,” Ashley said as Jasmine twisted back and forth in front of the mirror on the little stage the bridal shop had set up. “It’s very pretty.”
“You’ve said that about the last ten.”
Seeing her reflection, Ash read the guilty expression on her features. “Sorry, Jazz. They’re all starting to look the same.”
“I know, right?” Jazz made a face as she twisted once more. Turning to the woman who’d been helping them, she shook her head. “I think we’re done for the day.”
Ash waited on the couch drinking tea while Jazz changed back into her street clothes. Once her friend emerged from the dressing room, Ash said, “It wasn’t a lie, you know. You look amazing in all of those dresses. I don’t know how you’ll choose.”
Jazz shrugged. “Yeah. I don’t either. Nothing’s really stood out for me.”
Ash observed her friend closely. On the tip of her tongue was the question she’d been dying to ask Jasmine. Was she having second thoughts? Did she still think of Curtis? Did she really want to get married in the first place?
But she didn’t. It wasn’t the kind of conversation you wanted to have in the parking lot of a bridal boutique.
They were quiet on the drive back to Jasmine’s luxury apartment until after they’d parked and taken the elevator up to the sixteenth floor. Maybe that’s what thousands of wedding dresses did to a person. Made them incapable of forming sentences.
Jasmine’s apartment was located in Dearborn Park, a trendy part of Chicago. With an incredible view of Lake Michigan, the place had to have cost a fortune. Ash hazarded a glance at her friend who was discussing take-out places for dinner that night.
“I’m easy,” Ash said. “You know best.”
“Indian food okay with you? There’s a little place I found that’s almost as good as my Auntie Rehana’s cooking.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
Just as Jasmine was putting in an order, Ashley’s phone rang.
Her stomach lurched—as it did with every unexpected text or phone call. “Hello?” Her voice was breathy.
“Ashley Ozark?”
“Yes?”
“This is Linda Tomlin from the NBRA publicity department.”
“How can I help you?”
“We were given your contact information from Buck Stevens. He’s a board member for the NBRA—”
“NBRA?”
“National Bull Riding Association. Anyway, he was a guest judge at the Beaverhead County Rodeo and raved about the work you did there as photographer. We need a freelancer for the Chicago Invitational on Saturday. Are you interested?”
Ashley nearly dropped her phone in surprise. It slid down her face, and she caught it before it landed on the floor.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. One of our regulars just broke his leg. I know it’s short notice but—”
“I’ll do it.”
“Don’t you want to hear the terms first?”
“Right. Yes.” Ashley listened to the offer. It didn’t pay a whole hell of a lot, and she could probably have negotiated for more, but she didn’t care. It was a huge opportunity.
Once she was off the phone, she realized that Jasmine was watching her with a strange expression on her face. “Congratulations.” She forced a smile. “Things are really happening for you.”
“Yeah. I can’t believe it...” Ash tamped down her excitement and said, “What’s going on, Jazz?”
“What do you mean?”
“You are not yourself.”
“Of course I am.”
“No. You’re not. The Jasmine I love would know exactly what kind of dress she wanted. She would be loving every second of trying on millions of dresses. She would know her colors, her flowers...” She grabbed Jasmine’s hand. “You don’t have to get married if you don’t want to.”
“I know.”
“So? Do you even want to marry Parker?” Ash had almost said, “the elusive Parker,” because as far as she could tell, the man was never around.
“Of course. He’s perfect. I mean, we have this totally perfect life.”
“Except...”
Jasmine blinked. Then, making her way toward the refrigerator, she said, “Sex is bad,” in a completely monotone voice as if she wasn’t confessing something huge. She opened the fridge and took out a bottle of Perrier and poured two glasses.
Ash followed, opening the fridge door just after it closed and pulling out a chilled bottle of wine. “I think this conversation requires alcohol.”
“You might be right.” Jazz filled two enormous glasses almost to the top. Taking a seat on the stool at the counter, she took a long drink of wine.
Wild Seduction Page 17
