“Fine. What were you guys talking about?” Lizzie padded into the kitchen on bare feet, her head wrapped up in a towel. She dropped her empty wine glass into the sink.
Without missing a beat, Ash said, “Deeds doesn't like shrimp.”
“What?” Liz narrowed her eyes. “You love shrimp.”
“Um, the regular ones,” Pam said quickly. “I’m not a fan of baby shrimp. But dinner was amazing!”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Forgot.” Pam tugged the wet shirt away from her stomach. “My brain is scrambled. I blame the wine.”
And your brother, who’s got me wishing for things I thought we’d buried long ago.
Chapter Six
“Thanks,” Pam said. “For the save.”
She and Ash were standing in the hallway outside her bedroom door later, not long after Lizzie had turned in for the night. Pam needed to do the same—she had a long day of work ahead of her—but Ash had caught her coming out of the bathroom after brushing her teeth.
“Now you owe me,” he said playfully. “I'm thinking… black bikini? Private showing?”
“Don't think. No good ever comes from you thinking.”
Ash took a step closer, putting his hand on the wall above her head. His gaze swept her face, eyes to lips, lingering there with an intensity that made her stomach flip. “Admit it. You missed me.”
“You wish.” Pam bit back a smile.
“Every night.” He flashed a teasing grin, but there was something else behind it. Not the nervousness she had sensed in the kitchen, but something even more raw. More vulnerable.
She felt it, too.
“I did miss you,” she admitted, letting her guard down just a little.
She still missed him, even now, looking right into his eyes. Ash was here, but he wasn’t—not the same Ash she’d once known so well, anyway. She wondered if it was the same for him—if she seemed very different. Older. Haunted, like he did. It suddenly occurred to Pam that she had no idea what his adult life had been like. What he’d gone through during his military service. She didn't know where he’d been stationed, whether he'd ever been in combat, weather he’d lost anyone he cared about.
She didn't know if he’d ever been in love. Pam hadn’t—not since Ash. Not for lack of trying—she had three failed relationships and countless failed dates to back up her claims.
It's just that no one had ever understood her the way Ash had.
But not this Ash, she reminded herself. This Ash was practically a stranger. He and Lizzie were siblings—same parents, same blood, same shared history—and that tie would bond them forever, no matter what arguments and hurts came between them. All Pam and Ash had in common now we're memories, and Pam was pretty sure they weren't even remembering things the same way.
“I thought about you sometimes,” he said, his voice breaking into her thoughts. “Out there alone, a million miles away from this place.”
Pam’s heart raced. “Yeah?”
He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, the gentle touch of his fingertips making her shiver. A deep crease appeared between his eyebrows, his eyes filling with sadness. She wanted to reach forward, smooth out the wrinkles, take away whatever pain was pinching his face. But instead she held stock still, her body completely immobilized even as her insides trembled.
“Actually,” he whispered, “I never stopped thinking about you.”
His eyes lowered to her mouth again, and he dipped his head, brushing his lips against hers in a tentative kiss.
Pam’s heart thudded, her skin tingling from his heat. Everything inside her was afraid to move. Afraid to break the moment. Afraid he’d take it further. Afraid he wouldn’t.
Just when she thought her heart would explode, Ash pulled back, his eyes still on her mouth. Gone were the jokes and innuendos, the flirting that had kept them at a safe distance since their unexpected reunion.
Pam thought she’d wanted Ash to be serious with her, to be honest, but now she realized that his brand of raw, unfiltered honesty was the last thing she could deal with. The flirty jokes were just as much a safe space for her, a solid layer of protection that would never let things progress beyond harmless teasing. That would keep her heart safe. Her friendship with Liz safe. Her entire meticulously-constructed, perfectly orchestrated life safe.
Pam had a plan, and she was sticking to it. In her mind she visualized a spreadsheet, neat little columns and rows, all lined up. There was a column for career. A column for her education, which would soon be complete. There was no longer a column for wild, unpredictable Asher Burke.
She wouldn’t—couldn’t—go down that road with him again.
Ash was still inches from her lips, waiting for a reaction, but Pam couldn’t give him what he wanted—not even for a night. She turned her face away from his heated gaze, focusing instead on a framed photo in the hallway across from them. It was a shot she’d taken of Liz and Ash fifteen years earlier, the siblings posing in front of a giant sandcastle the three of them had spent all day building. Ten minutes after she’d taken the photo, the tide came in and washed their beautiful castle out to sea.
“I should get some sleep,” Pam said.
Ash looked at her another moment, then backed away with a soft sigh. “Yeah. me too. Long day ahead.”
“That's for sure.” Pam finally looked at him again, glad to be back on neutral ground, despite the awkwardness. Even now, her body longed for his touch, her lips aching with the ghost of that kiss, but she forced herself to forge ahead. “Sorry about the couch. Are you sure it's okay?”
Ash flashed a cocky smirk. Pam knew what was coming next—another joke—and knew she’d cling to it like a life raft, even as she resented it.
“And if I said no?” Ash took a step closer, closing the gap between them again. Keeping his voice low, he said, “In fact, what if I said it's the biggest pain in my ass, and I don't think I can work under such horrible conditions. No, I think I'm gonna need a nice, soft bed. Preferably one that's already being occupied by a nice, soft woman.”
His last words were a whisper, tickling Pam’s lips like the softest breeze. Between the kiss and the way he was looking at her now, she was so turned on she could barely stand still, her body aching for the release only his touch could provide.
Pam pictured her imaginary spreadsheet again, trying to catch her breath and steady her heartbeat, erase Ash from her mind, but it was futile. Time and distance had done nothing to dull the attraction between them, nothing to stop her heart and body from responding to his presence the same way they always had.
Didn't matter that he’d retreated to the safe space of joking. Pam looked in his eyes and knew she only had to say the word—one word—and in fifteen seconds he'd have her on the bed, the hard length of him buried between her thighs, sending her into blissful oblivion.
Obviously, that wasn't happening. Not now.
Ten years ago, fine. They were young and emotional. At first, they’d been caught up in their long-burning passion. Then it was about the secret, the excitement that came with sneaking around. And in the end, they were lost in the haze of grief, clinging to each other for comfort.
Now, they had no such excuses, and Pam wasn't ready to make new ones.
Damn it. It was only day one, and if she didn’t get her act together, she’d never survive the summer with Ash under the same roof.
She took a deep breath, shoring up her resolve. “Good night, Ash.”
Ash waited a second, as if she might change her mind, invite him to climb into that bed with her after all. When she didn't take the bait, he shook his head, still smiling. “Night, Deeds. Sleep tight.”
“Will do.”
Still, he didn't make a move to leave. Just stood there taking up all the space in the doorway, his mischievous gaze pinning her in place. Teasing her. Daring her. Driving her wild.
“Ash,” she said, trying not to let her frustration show. “We’re all here together for t
he summer.”
“Looks like.”
“And we're adults now. Not teenagers. The past was… it was a long time ago, like you said.” Pam folded her arms in front of her chest and looked around the hallway, listening for Lizzie. In a softer tone, she said, “You can't just kiss me and touch me and act like it's no big deal.”
“Trust me, Deeds. Touching you is a very big deal.”
Her stomach flipped again, but she held her ground.
“I’m counting on you to be mature about this. Okay?” Pam’s brain was going a mile-a-minute, tripping her up. Why did Ash have to make everything so hard?
“Mature?” he asked.
“As in, the opposite of immature.”
“Question.” Ash scratched his stubbled chin. “If you're standing at the kitchen sink and I happen to walk by, is pinching your ass considered immature?”
“Ash!”
“No, I'm serious. If I wake up in the morning and there's a beautiful woman standing in front of my kitchen sink, and I approach without pinching, grabbing, smacking, slapping, or otherwise making contact with her ass, I'm pretty sure they can lock me up for that.”
“I'm pretty sure I can kill you in your sleep and make it look like an accident.”
Ash laughed. “Now who's being immature?”
“You're being ridiculous. You know that, right?”
“I just want to understand your… rules.” He looked her up and down, his eyes devouring her. Seeing if she’d picked up on the little jab.
Rules. How could she miss it?
She had to get out of there. Fast, before he realized what he was doing to her. Another minute of this, and she wouldn’t be able to resist.
And if she gave in now, it wouldn’t be for a mere kiss.
“Good night, Ash.” Pam stepped into the bedroom and closed the door in his face, the taste of him still lingering on her lips.
Sighing, she pressed her fingers to her mouth, trying to hold on to that kiss.
It was going to be a long summer.
The Rules:
We take this to the grave. No telling anyone, under any circumstances, ever.
No doing it at the beach house when your sister’s there.
No doing it in the water (it’s kind of unsanitary).
No doing it in your truck (it’s WAY unsanitary).
We can do it on the beach, but only at night, and only if you bring a blanket.
When we’re not doing it, we’re strictly friends. No dates, no PDA, no mushy stuff.
It ends whenever one of us says it ends. No questions asked. No drama.
No matter what, we stay friends. Forever and always. Non-negotiable.
Pam sat on the bed, the gentle touch of Ash’s soft lips still haunting her as she stared at the list in her hand.
It was in her handwriting—the rules, after all, were hers—and she’d carried it with her all this time, folded into a tight square and tucked into her wallet behind her driver’s license. She’d folded and unfolded it so many times over the years that the paper was coming apart along the creases.
Both of their signatures were scrawled at the bottom in faded blue ink. Pam’s had a little heart over the “i” in Diederman. Ash’s had a pair of sideways boobs with pointy nipples in the “B” of Burke, along with a penis doodled underneath. In the margin, Pam had written “PERVERT!” and drawn arrows pointing to his artwork.
She smiled now, remembering how they’d both cracked up the day she’d presented him with this list.
Some things never change.
That first time with Ash in his tent on the beach was her first time with anyone, and it was… God, it was perfect. He was so passionate, but so patient, and everything he did and said made Pam feel like a queen. No embarrassment, no shyness, no fear—just Pam and the man she’d been in love with forever, skin to skin, mouth to mouth.
The next night it happened again, and by the third they had made it a standing date, their nightly secret relived in silent glances and smirks at the breakfast table each morning. It was Pam's idea to make the rules, written in haste by the bonfire on the fourth night as a measure of protecting her heart.
They were bullshit, of course. By then she was already so damn in love with him, nothing could've ever protected her heart. But she trusted him with everything, and knew that he would agree to anything she had asked.
He had.
It didn't take them long to break most of the rules—two, four, and five were just a matter of timing and practicality. On a family vacation in a small beach house, they had to take the opportunities where they could get them.
They had kept it a secret, though. Even after all these years, she’d never told a soul, and neither had Ash.
She just wished they’d been better about number eight.
No matter what, we stay friends. Forever and always. Non-negotiable.
Mrs. Burke’s death had marked them both that summer, changed Ash in ways Pam couldn’t begin to understand. She’d never blamed him for leaving the way he had, or for not getting back in touch. Ash had done what he’d needed to do to get through it, and so had Pam.
Pam blinked back tears. She was an adult now, and growing up had brought with it all kinds of hindsight about how things could’ve been different.
Too bad hindsight couldn’t change the past any more than wishing and dreaming could.
Pam tucked the list back into her wallet, and fell asleep wondering what that kiss meant, whether she’d wanted it to mean anything at all, and what—if anything—the rest of her time at Summerland in Starfish Cove held for her and Asher Burke.
Because one thing was certain: no matter how much it scared her, no matter how complicated things were, no matter how many rules she put in place—then and now—Pam couldn't deny the fact that she still carried a torch for her first love.
She just hoped she could keep it in check long enough to get through this trip, finish her thesis, and get back to her life in New York. Because deviating from her plan?
Not an option.
Chapter Seven
It was damn near impossible to sleep with a raging hard-on.
After tossing and turning all night, Ash gave up on sleep and went back to work on his supply list, trying to find a way to save money for his old man.
By seven a.m., he was no closer to stretching the budget, but he did have a plan for Deeds. He’d freaked her out with that kiss last night, and now he was hoping for a do-over. Not that he regretted it—the soft touch of those lush, perfect lips was still fresh in his memory, making his dick stand at half mast as he tried to locate the coffee and filters. But if he could just get her alone for a few hours, maybe they could talk. Relax. Catch up a little. Stop acting like fucking strangers.
Maybe it was crazy to think they could be friends again, but hell. When it came to Deeds, when had Ash ever been sane?
He got the coffee figured out, then decided on breakfast, digging out some of the groceries he’d picked up yesterday: eggs, flour, blueberries, bananas, bacon, spices. Lizzie wasn’t the only one who’d inherited Mom’s cooking skills, and fifteen minutes later, Ash was coffeed up and rocking that stovetop like he was a goddamn master of breakfast.
“Is that what I think it is?” Lizzie poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned back against the kitchen counter. She was already dressed for a day at the beach in cut-off shorts and half a bathing suit.
“If you think it's blueberry-banana pancakes and bacon, then yep.” Spatula in hand, Ash turned and winked at his sister, but she was giving him the stink-eye.
“We're not giving up the bedrooms,” she said, “so you can forget it.”
“Come on.” He turned back to the griddle and flipped a neat row of pancakes. The bacon was already done, laid out on a plate with paper towels to catch the grease. “I was up early. Just thought I'd get things rolling.”
Lizzie came over to inspect things on the stove. A fat blonde curl stuck to her forehead, and Ash had to resist the ur
ge to brush it out of her eyes.
“Hope this meets your high standards for breakfast, your highness,” he said, flipping the pancakes onto a chipped serving tray he’d found in one of the cupboards.
Stretching up on her toes, Lizzie planted a kiss on his cheek. “I'm glad you're here, even if you are the world's biggest dickface.”
“Now you’re just trying to sweet-talk me.” Ash poured some more batter onto the griddle. “So. You're up early. Getting a head start on your tan?”
Lizzie swiped a piece of bacon from the plate and popped it into her mouth. “Among other things.”
“Not the lifeguards again.”
“Next time mind your own business and you won't have to hear about my sex—”
“Don’t say that word. And here’s a public service announcement for any douche bag who thinks about touching you.” Ash pointed at her with the spatula. “Your brother has anger management issues and a gun.”
“Yeah, a nail gun.” Lizzie stole another piece of bacon from the plate and rolled her eyes. “I’ll be sure to sound the alarm.”
Ash looked at Pam, who had just appeared in the doorway, and jerked his head toward his sister. “Is she always this mouthy?”
Pam smiled, lighting up the whole damn room. Ash hadn't slept a wink, but apparently Pam hadn’t been bothered by what had happened—and what hadn’t happened—between them last night. She looked fresh and alive, her cheeks pink.
“Depends,” she said. “Are you always this overbearing?”
“I'm just looking out for her.”
“Oh, really?” Pam laughed. “That's what you said when you threatened Johnny Sims on their first date, all because he tried to hold her hand during Blair Witch.”
Ash shook his head. “Starts with a hand, next thing you know they're in the backseat—”
“And what about that summer I was working at Wet-N-Wild,” Lizzie chimed in, “and you showed up in the middle of my shift and made me put on a jacket.”
Bad Boy Summer (Bad Boys on Holiday Book 5) Page 4
