Drake and Ashley: The Complete Story

by Noelle Stevens

  Forcing myself to ignore the insistent throbbing of my ankle, I open the door and work my way back toward the living room, using the wall for support. But as I reach the end of the hallway, a sharp bolt of pain zooms up my leg and I fall to the wood floor, landing on my behind.

  Seven

  DRAKE

  I race to her side. “Are you okay?”

  Tears pool in her eyes. “I’m really not . . . helpless.” Her voice hitches on the last word, which seems to negate her statement.

  I feel sorry for her, but the whole situation is so ludicrous—me picking up a complete stranger and bringing her home, her refusing my help when she so obviously needs it—that I almost laugh. But I hold back. “I’m sorry, Ashley.”

  She looks up at me in surprise. “What are you sorry about?”

  I shake my head. “That your day hasn’t gone the way you probably thought it would.”

  She laughs, which gives me permission to laugh along with her. “That’s kind of an understatement.”

  I’m glad I’ve managed to lift her mood. “Can you walk?”

  With a small shake of her head, she mutters, “No.”

  Not wanting to make her uncomfortable, but also not wanting to see her collapse under her sprained ankle, I say, “May I carry you?”

  She looks up at me with surprise.

  ASHLEY

  He wants to carry me?

  As much as I like the idea of being in his strong arms again, I’m not completely comfortable with it. I don’t know anything about this man—besides his name and the fact that he’s gorgeous. Is that enough information to allow him to pick me up and carry me?

  “I…I think I can manage.” Now that I’ve made that statement, I hope I don’t embarrass myself too badly.

  “Are you sure?” The doubt is thick in his voice.

  The likelihood that I’ll make it all the way to the couch without falling doesn’t seem high, but the idea of being so dependent gives me a sense of unease. Besides, if he is a serial killer, it’s better for him to believe I can get around on my own. Then he’ll know I can get away from him when he attacks.

  I nod, then hold on to the wall as I pull myself up.

  “You can at least hold on to my arm,” he says as he moves into place beside me.

  That seems reasonable, and since that will increase my chances of success, I agree.

  He holds out his arm and I wrap my hand around his bicep, my fingers feeling the firmness of his muscle. Trying not to think about that, I concentrate on making my way to the couch, and when I’m sitting on the cushion, Drake wraps the blanket around me once again.

  I really hope he’s not a serial killer, because he actually seems rather sweet.

  I hold back a smile at the thought.

  Drake sits in front of the fire, then looks at me. “Why don’t you come sit by the fire?” He pats the area rug next to him. “It feels really nice.”

  Glancing towards the window, I notice it’s getting dark outside, which means the temperature will soon drop. The thought makes me aware that the blanket isn’t really doing enough to warm me, and I look at the crackling fire with longing.

  DRAKE

  I watch as Ashley moves off of the couch and onto the floor to sit beside me. I smile at her as I scoot over to make room. Having her beside me brings me a kind of satisfaction that I haven’t felt before.

  “Thank you for rescuing me,” she says, drawing me out of my thoughts.

  I look at her with surprise. “Of course.” I chuckle. “It’s not like I’d leave you there to freeze.” In this weather there’s not a lot of traffic on that road. If I hadn’t come along, would she still be walking along the road in the blizzard? The thought kind of horrifies me.

  “Well, I appreciate it.” She pauses. “And I hope I haven’t messed up your weekend plans.”

  As a matter fact, I had planned on getting a lot of work done this weekend. Having her here will most likely change that. I haven’t decided yet if that’s a good thing or bad thing. “No. I’m sure it will be fine.”

  “Well, as soon as the storm ends,” she says, “and I can get a tow truck to pull my car out of the snowbank, I’ll get out of your hair.”

  To my surprise, I find I’m not eager for the storm to end.

  We sit quietly, enjoying the fire, but after a while Ashley says she’s tired.

  Obviously, she’s going to need to spend the night. I have a spare room, so that’s not the issue. It just feels weird to let a complete stranger spend the night in my house. Still, what else can I do? I can’t exactly tell her to leave. Besides, I don’t want to.

  The power is still off, meaning the furnace is off. I turn to her and ask, “Do you want to sleep in one of the guest bedrooms, or down here by the fire?”

  ASHLEY

  Even though it is certain to be colder, I prefer the idea of sleeping in a room where I can close—and hopefully lock—the door. “A bedroom, if that’s okay.”

  “It’ll be cold in there.”

  “I know.”

  He nods, then stands and bends towards me. “I don’t want you tumbling down my stairs, so I’d prefer to carry you up.”

  After the falls I’ve had so far, that actually makes sense, so I nod, although I have mixed feelings about being held in his arms. On the one hand, he’s extremely good-looking and the thought of being tucked securely against his strong chest gives me a sense of safety. On the other hand, I don’t know him at all, so it could be a little awkward to be so close to him. In any case, I’m going to do it, if only for the sake of injury prevention. “I just want to grab my purse.”

  He lifts it from the couch and hands it to me, then he picks me up like I weigh nothing and begins carrying me up the stairs.

  Clutching the blanket to me, I try to ignore the ease with which he carries me, but find that my attraction to this man—and potential serial killer—is growing. As we reach the landing, the lights come back on and a moment later I hear the whoosh of the furnace kicking on.

  “That will make your room more comfortable,” he says as he carries me across the threshold of a bedroom and deposits me on the bed. He looks down at me. “There are extra blankets in the closet, and the bathroom is down the hall. I’ll put a towel in there for you, and . . .” He smiles. “I assume you don’t have a toothbrush in that purse.”

  “No. I don’t.”

  “I have a few extras. I’ll put one on the counter for you.” He turns to go.

  “Drake?”

  He turns and looks at me.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  His smile grows. “You’re welcome.” Then he turns and leaves.

  Eight

  ASHLEY

  The moment he’s gone, I dig through my purse and pull out my cell phone on the slim chance that I have cell service. When the top right corner stubbornly shows a circle with a line through it, I scowl. Then, to save the battery—I don’t have my charger, after all—I turn the phone off and set it on the table next to the bed.

  Next, I hobble to the bathroom, but smile when I see a toothbrush and a towel laid out for me. Maybe he isn’t so bad after all. I gaze in the mirror. And maybe he’s not a serial killer.

  A floor vent pours warm air over my feet and I stand there a moment, enjoying the warmth as I brush my teeth before heading back to my room. Closing the door firmly behind me, I look at the knob for a lock, but don’t see one.

  If he wanted to hurt you, I tell myself, he would have done it by now.

  More confident about my safety, I turn off the light—yay for electricity!—and crawl into bed. Snuggling into the thick comforter, I moan in pleasure and soon fall asleep.

  I wake early the next morning—not surprising since I went to bed so early—and decide a hot shower would be heavenly. Padding down the hall to the bathroom, I notice that my ankle doesn’t hurt quite as bad as it did the day before, although I still favor my good foot.

  The hot shower feels wonderful and I stand under the steami
ng water for several minutes before toweling off. I hang the towel on a peg, then put on the same clothes I wore the day before and open the door to the bathroom.

  Poking my head into the hallway, I listen for sounds, but don’t hear anything. I don’t know which one of the closed doors in the hallway belongs to Drake—and I certainly have no intention of finding out. I head toward the stairs, then holding tightly to the rail, I make my way to the first floor. When I hear sounds coming from the kitchen, I freeze, listening. I can hear him in there doing something with dishes, and my stomach rumbles in anticipation of a hot breakfast.

  I’m also kind of eager to see his handsome face.

  I make my way into the kitchen and find him standing at the counter wearing a snug-fitting t-shirt that emphasizes his muscular chest, flat abs, and prominent biceps.

  He turns and looks at me. “I made some pancakes. Are you hungry?”

  The table is set for two, with mugs of steaming coffee at each place. “Starved.”

  “You look like you’re getting around better,” he says, glancing at me as he flips pancakes on a griddle.

  “My ankle feels better today.”

  “Good.”

  My gaze goes to the window and I see that the snow is still coming down in thick, large flakes. Gusts of wind blow them sideways, making it difficult to see much.

  “The storm’s gotten worse,” he says as he carries a plate of pancakes to the table. He motions to the chair across from him. “Have a seat.”

  My stomach rumbles as I slide into the chair. “This looks delicious.”

  He sets the plate down with a smile. “You have your choice of jam or real maple syrup.”

  When my eyes meet his, my attraction grows, but then I remind myself that men have only brought me heartache and I have no interest in getting involved with anyone. Even someone as gorgeous as Colton Drake. “I prefer syrup,” I say as I reach for the small glass bottle. “Do you think we can get my car out of the snowbank today?”

  He shakes his head as he puts a piece of pancake in his mouth.

  “No?” I really need to get out of here. The more time I spend with him, the more I feel my resolve slipping. And I don’t want to do something I know I’ll regret.

  He leisurely chews his food, then finally swallows. “Until this storm blows out, we’re not going anywhere.” He grins. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, Ashley.”

  The look on his face makes my insides warm. Trying to distract myself from my attraction, I pour creamer into my coffee and ask, “What are you going to do today?”

  “I need to chop some firewood.”

  I look at him with surprise. “In this weather?”

  “I’m getting low, and if the power goes out again I want to have plenty to keep us warm.”

  “Oh. That makes sense.” I like the way he said “us”, like he’s concerned about my welfare. My gaze sweeps over his chest, then lingers on his biceps as I imagine him chopping firewood. When I look at him, he’s staring at me, clearly aware that I’ve been checking him out.

  His full mouth curves into a smile. “You should probably rest that ankle today.”

  A blush rises on my face. “Yeah. I think I will.”

  DRAKE

  I like the way she’s looking at me, and I like the way me catching her looking at me made her blush. She’s nothing like Rachel. Then I realize I shouldn’t be thinking that way.

  I’ve been dating Rachel for nearly a year now, and lately I’ve found myself questioning whether I want to continue. There are many things I like about her, but I’m just not sure there’s a future there.

  Am I thinking that way because of Ashley’s sudden appearance in my life?

  I continue eating and push those thoughts to the back of my mind. Rachel’s not here. Ashley is. Right now I want to focus on what’s in front of me.

  “I can clean up,” Ashley says.

  “Are you sure you’re up to it?” I ask.

  She smiles, and the sparkle in her eyes nearly makes me catch my breath. “I think you’re the one doing the hard job,” she says. “Cleaning up is a lot easier than chopping wood.”

  “I can’t argue with that.” I smile. “Just don’t overdo it.”

  She laughs. “Oh, I won’t.”

  Nine

  ASHLEY

  Bored out of my mind, I lie on the couch with my foot propped up, courtesy of Mr. Colton Drake. He insisted that I keep it elevated—and I have to admit it’s probably a good idea as all the walking around I did that morning has made it a little sore again. But it’s so boring. I don’t even have a book to read, and I figure the only books he has are about sports or something equally dull, so I stare at the ceiling and think about where I should be at that moment.

  Somewhere in the Reno area looking for a job. I recently graduated with a degree in marketing, and I'm ready to begin my life. I plan on rooming with my friend Emily, and I hope she isn’t wondering when I will arrive. I was a little vague on that count, so chances are that she doesn’t even realize I'm late.

  Then my thoughts go to my parents. I hope they aren’t too worried about me. They’ve gotten used to me only checking in once a week or so, but still, they’re apt to worry if they can’t get in touch with me. Well, there’s nothing I can do about it, so I try not to think about it.

  My gaze goes to the fire and I think about Drake, who’s outside chopping wood, as he has been for a while. In fact, a couple of times I’ve climbed off the couch and watched him from the window. Nothing sexier than seeing a man swing an ax. Too bad his coat covers his biceps, although I don’t have any trouble picturing the flexing of those particular muscles. I feel kind of sorry for him though, working out in the snowstorm, but at least he’s in a covered area, so he’s out of the worst of it.

  I shift on the couch, trying to get comfortable after sitting for so long, but the truth is, I'm just too bored to sit any longer. I lift my leg from the stack of pillows and cautiously stand, but my ankle isn’t feeling too bad and I find if I'm careful, I can get around pretty well.

  I decide to do a little exploring while Mr. Firewood Chopper is busy outside. First I walk around the living room, but I’ve pretty much seen anything of interest from my perch on the couch. Then I remember seeing earlier that Drake’s office is just down the hall. I decide there must be a treasure trove of information in there. And I want to know more about Mr. Colton Drake.

  Glancing outside to make sure he’s still occupied, I creep down the hallway to the door that leads to the office. With my hand on the door, I hesitate, wondering if I should go inside. After all, I'm just a guest here. What if he catches me in there? What will he do?

  Then I have the brilliant idea to tell him I'm just looking for a book to read—if he catches me, that is. Feeling confident, I open the door and walk in like I own the place. An L-shaped desk of dark wood sits in one corner, with a large flat-screen computer monitor sitting to one side, and I wonder if he has Internet access.

  A laptop sits on top of the desk to the right of the monitor, and I make myself comfortable in his leather chair before opening the laptop, which brings it to life. I'm immediately stymied when it asks for a password, so I shut the laptop, then spin the chair to face the room.

  Tall bookshelves line one wall, and I decide I actually will look for a book to read. I push his chair in, then stand in front of the bookshelf. I run my fingers over the spines of the books, skimming over the titles, and am pleased to find a group of novels. Science fiction and fantasy aren’t my favorite genres, but I'm desperate enough that I'm willing to read nearly anything.

  “Lord of the Rings,” I murmur. I liked the movies, but have never read the books, so I decide I’ll give them a try. Plus this volume is really thick, so I know it will keep me occupied until I can get my car out of the snow.

  A framed picture catches my eye and I pick it up. Drake and a woman who looks like she’s in her twenties stand with their arms around each other.

  Sister? Or
maybe his girlfriend?

  The idea that he has a girlfriend makes me unreasonably jealous, and the feeling takes me by surprise. After all, I only met the man the day before. I don’t even know him. For all I know he really is a serial killer, and he’s just biding his time until he strikes.

  I set the photo back on the shelf and stand there a moment.

  “Can I help you with something?”

  My head swivels toward the door and I see Drake leaning against the doorframe. He’s wearing his jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, and looking mighty fine. Grateful that I already have a book in my hand, I smile and hold it up. “I'm just looking for something to read.”

  He walks into the room and looks at the book I hold in my hand. “Lord of the Rings fan, huh?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “You’ve never read Tolkien?”

  I shake my head. “But I’ve seen the movies.”

  He laughs. “The books and the movies are very different.”

  “Different how?”

  “Hmm. I guess you’ll have to read the books and figure that out for yourself.” He pauses. “In fact, that’s a good assignment for you.” He gazes at me. “How fast can you read?”

  “Pretty fast, I guess.”

  “Okay. After you’ve read The Fellowship, tell me what the movie is missing.”

  I just graduated. I thought my days of reading assignments were over. I frown. “What if I don’t want to give you a book report?” When he doesn’t answer, I go on. “Besides, how long do you think I’m going to be stuck here?” I hold up the thick book. “I’ll be long gone before I get a quarter of the way through this.”