The thought of being at Drake’s place sends a wave of comfort through me, and I realize that’s where I want to be.
He must sense my change of mood, because he says, “Think about it, Ashley. You said yourself that you don’t have much money.” He smiles. “I won’t even charge you to stay at my place.”
Does that mean he’s going to expect me to sleep with him? Because at that moment I decide I’m not going to. I hesitate at his offer, not wanting to appear too eager, then say, “Fine.”
His smile grows. “Great. Pack up your stuff and we’ll go.”
As I’m loading my luggage into Drake’s truck, the woman who runs the place hustles over to me. “What’s going on here? Why were the police here? Are you leaving?” Then Drake comes out of my room carrying a suitcase, and the woman’s eyes light up. “Hello.”
I roll my eyes. “You need better doors on your rooms.”
She looks at me, then at my room where the door is sagging off its hinges, then back at me. “You’re going to have to pay for that.”
Drake tosses my suitcase into the bed of his truck and turns to the woman. “No, she’s not. In fact, you’d better hope she doesn’t sue you for having such an unsafe environment. A man pushed the door right in and attacked her.”
The woman’s eyes widen and she looks from Drake to me. “What?”
“It’s fine,” I say. “I’m fine.”
“No,” Drake says to me. “It’s not fine.” Then he turns to her. “At the least, you need to refund any money she’s paid.”
“Oh,” the woman says as she runs both of her hands through her hair. “Okay.” She rushes off, and a moment later she’s handing me two hundred dollars. “I’m sorry you had trouble.”
“This is too much,” I say. “I only gave you forty-five dollars.”
She leans toward me. “Please don’t sue me. This place is all I have.”
I nod and pocket the money. It can go in my car repair fund. The woman walks away, and I almost feel sorry for her.
“Ready?” Drake asks.
I nod, climb into the passenger side of his truck, and we head back to his house. It’s completely dark, and when we pull up to his house, he says, “Home sweet home.”
I have to admit, I’m glad to be back. And it does kind of feel like home after the time I’ve spent there. Better than that motel, at any rate.
Drake carries my two larger suitcases into his house, and I carry my smaller one that has all of my toiletries. I follow him up the stairs, and when he puts my suitcase into the room I used before, I’m relieved, although in the back of my mind I might be a little disappointed that he didn’t suggest I stay in his room.
I remind myself that he’s done with me, and I’m over my fantasy, so this is for the best.
“I have to work,” he says, then smiles at me. “Make yourself at home.”
A feeling of security sweeps over me. I feel safe here, which is strange since I barely know this man. Yes, we slept together, but I really don’t know anything about him. The memory of the night before makes my face redden. “Thanks,” I say, glad he can’t read my thoughts.
I watch him walk out of my room, then hear him descend the stairs. Sinking onto the bed, I stare at the darkness outside the window.
Out there is the unknown, but in here is pretty much unknown too.
Twenty-Four
ASHLEY
Even though it’s getting late, I go down to the kitchen to fix a snack for Drake. I feel kind of guilty that he had to take me home again—kind of like a stray—and I want to do something to make it up to him. When I lived at home I enjoyed helping my mom bake, but to save money on groceries while going to college I didn’t do much baking. I realize I’ve missed it, and I look through Drake’s kitchen to see if he has any recipe books.
It doesn’t take long to find the two cookbooks he has stashed in a cupboard, and I take them down and begin thumbing through the pages, looking for something that looks delicious, yet simple. After a few minutes of perusing the recipes, I find one for coffee cake that I decide to try. First I make sure he has the ingredients, then I set to work.
While the cake is baking, I clean up, then decide to organize his cupboards. I’m halfway through with the pantry, standing on a chair, when Drake walks in.
“Something smells good in here.”
I turn to him with a smile. “I’m making coffee cake.”
“Mmm. Sounds great.”
Pleased that he seems fine that I’ve made myself at home in his kitchen, I smile.
He walks over and looks up at me. With me standing on the chair, I’m only a little taller than he is, but I like that I don’t have to look up at him for a change.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Organizing your cupboards.”
His brow crinkles for a moment, then smoothes out.
“Is that okay?” I ask, although it’s a little late to ask at this point.
“Sure. Thanks.”
He doesn’t seem as enthusiastic as I had imagined he would be, but I ignore that and turn back to my task.
“Let me know when the coffee cake is done,” he says.
Not wanting him to feel like he has to worry about entertaining me, and to show how busy I am, I barely glance at him over my shoulder as I answer. “Okay.”
As I continue placing cans in orderly stacks, I can tell he’s still standing there watching me, but after a moment I hear him walk away. I turn and look in the direction he’s gone, and hope he realizes that it might be useful to have me around while I’m waiting for my car to be fixed. Useful for things other than sex.
When the timer goes off for the coffee cake, I take it out of the oven, and after letting it cool for a few minutes, I walk down the hall so I can let Drake know it’s ready. As I approach his office I hear him on his cell phone. He sounds stressed, and I pause, not wanting to interrupt his phone call.
I turn to leave, but when I hear him say, “Of course I want to see you,” I stop, my curiosity getting the better of me. I’m several feet from his office, but it’s quiet in the house and I have no trouble overhearing his conversation. I hold very still, and make sure I’m breathing quietly.
“Yes,” he says. “I’ll be back in a few days . . . The storm was pretty bad here too . . . I’m sorry, but it can’t be avoided . . . I’ll let you know when I’m on my way back . . . Okay . . . I love you too, Rach.”
I swiftly turn and go back to the kitchen, desperate to hide the fact that I’ve overheard his conversation with a person whom I can only assume is his girlfriend. Rach—short for Rachel? I hear his footsteps approaching the kitchen, and I busy myself cutting the coffee cake into slices and putting them on two plates.
“Is it ready?” he asks.
I turn to him with a look of surprise, like I had no idea he’d come into the kitchen. “Oh. Yeah.” I pick up a plate and hand it to him with a shy smile. “I hope you like it.” And I’m sorry I’m keeping you from your girlfriend. I hold back a frown. The one you’re not too serious with, but that you tell I love you.
“I’m sure I will.” He gets two forks out of the drawer, then carries them to the table.
I pick up my plate, although I’m no longer very hungry, and carry it to the table. I sit across from Drake and pick up my fork and find I don’t want to meet his eyes. I shared such an intimate part of myself with him the night before, and then just now I heard him tell another woman that he loves her. I know he doesn’t love me—probably barely likes me—and I feel exposed.
“Are you okay?” he asks, evidently sensing my disconsolate mood.
I glance at him and shrug.
“Are you upset about that man attacking you?”
That seems like a good a reason as any to be feeling the way I do—at least it keeps me from having to explain the real reason—so I nod.
“Ashley,” he says in a tone of voice that asks for my attention.
I look at him.
“It wa
sn’t your fault.”
His eyes show unexpected kindness, and rather than making me feel better, I feel worse. That’s because the real reason for my melancholy isn’t the drunk who broke into my room, but rather the fact that I know there’s no future for me with Drake, and here he is being a nice guy. It just makes it harder to know he’s not interested in me beyond the fun we had the night before. “Thanks,” I say, forcing myself to act like what he is saying will cure my sadness. I smile. “How’s the coffee cake?”
“Delicious.” He grins. “I think you should be in charge of breakfast tomorrow.”
I force a bright smile onto my face, like his words have healed all of my ills. “Okay.” I don’t really mind making breakfast, and as a bonus, I’ll have something to keep me busy.
We finish eating without speaking, then Drake says, “I’ll clean up.”
“No, that’s okay.”
He looks at me in surprise. “Really?”
“It’s fine.” I stand and take his plate, then carry it, along with mine, to the sink. “I appreciate you letting me stay here. I don’t want to make any extra work for you.”
He doesn’t say anything, and my back’s to him, so I have no idea what he’s thinking. Finally he says, “If you insist.”
I glance at him over my shoulder. “I do.”
He smiles. “Have it your way.” He pauses. “I have some work to do in my office.”
I turn back to the sink and focus on cleaning up as I hear him walk away. By the time I’m done, I realize I’m pretty tired after all the excitement of the attack, and then having Drake show up, and I decide to go to bed. Not only that, but I want to avoid Drake for the rest of the evening. I don’t want him to feel obligated to entertain me, and I want to avoid a possible awkward moment when I go to bed alone.
As I snuggle into the covers, I find it hard to fall asleep, and eventually I hear Drake coming up the stairs, then down the hall. My door is closed, but when I hear what sounds like him pausing outside my room, my heart pounds, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Does he want me to come into his room? Would I go if he asked?
If I’m honest with myself, I’m not sure. As much as I know I would later regret accepting such an invitation, I do feel drawn to him, and I know it would be difficult to turn him down if he asked.
A moment later his footsteps continue on, and disappointment swells within me.
Twenty-Five
ASHLEY
Sunshine pours in through the open curtains the next morning, waking me. I throw back the covers and stretch, feeling good because I’m still at Drake’s house. After showering, I dress, then head down the stairs to make breakfast. I don’t see Drake and wonder if he’s up yet, then go into the kitchen and dig through the cupboards until I come up with a box of pancake mix. As I wait for the first batch to brown, I set the table and put out the syrup. Before long I have a stack of hot pancakes on the table.
“Smells good in here,” Drake says as he walks into the kitchen.
My gaze goes to him and my face lights up. “Good morning.” My voice is cheerful, despite the way I felt the night before. The beautiful morning has lifted my mood and I’m feeling optimistic.
Drake notices my sunny disposition. “You must be a morning person.” He smiles as he sits in his usual seat at the table.
“Yeah,” I say as I pour more batter on the griddle. “I guess I am.” I smile at him. “What about you? Are you a morning person or a night owl?”
“Hmm. I guess more of a night owl, even though I have to get up early for work each day.”
I nod.
“Are you going to join me?” he asks.
I make sure the pancakes are cooking, then sit across from him.
He spreads butter on his pancakes, then pours strawberry syrup over them and quietly begins eating.
I wonder if he’s thinking about our time together before he sent me on my way, but I pretend like what happened between us is the farthest thing from my mind. “Bet you never thought I’d be back here.”
His gaze meets mine. “I can’t say I’m unhappy about it.”
Really? His admission surprises me and I smile.
His gaze is locked on mine and somehow I know he’s thinking about the intimacy we shared. But rather than feeling pleased, I’m alarmed.
Does he think that since I’m going to be stuck here until my car’s fixed that I’ll be willing to let him have his fun with me? Because I’m not. Wanting to be away from his gaze, I get up to flip the pancakes. They’re not quite done, but I keep my back to Drake, my mind in turmoil. “After breakfast I need to get on your wi-fi,” I say as I concentrate on flipping the pancakes. “So I can call about my car.”
“That’s fine,” he says.
Glad that we’re onto a different subject, I scoop out the new batch of pancakes, pour more batter onto the griddle, and carry the plate to the table. I take two pancakes and leave the rest for Drake.
He smiles. “Thanks for making breakfast.”
Pleased that he appreciates me, I say, “You’re welcome.”
We finish eating in silence, and when we’re done he offers to clean up.
“Okay,” I say, glad for an excuse to be on my own. “I’ll call about my car.”
He gives me the password to log in to his wi-fi, and after a moment I go up to my room to call the garage that has my car. The man at the garage gives me a brief explanation of what they have to do to fix it.
“What’s it going to cost?” I cringe as I wait to hear the number, but still hold out hope that it will be something I can afford.
“Looks like with parts and labor it will be just under a grand.”
My mouth falls open. Then, just to be sure I understand, I say, “Wait. You mean it’s going to cost a thousand dollars?”
“‘Fraid so, ma’am.”
“Crap,” I mutter.
“Do you want me to get started?”
Thoughts fly through my mind. If I say no, then what? Will my car just stay in their garage? That won’t work. But if I say yes, how will I pay for it? “Yes,” I finally say as I squeeze my eyes closed. Then I open them and stare at the room, hopeful that I will be able to magically come up with a thousand dollars by the time my car’s fixed. “When will you be done?”
“I have to order one of the parts, so I’d say it should be done sometime on Wednesday.”
That’s not for two more days. What will Drake say? Worried, I bite my lip. “Okay. Please call me when it’s done.”
We hang up and I stare out the window at the beautiful view, wondering how I’m going to break the news to Drake that I’ll be there for two more days.
DRAKE
I think about Ashley and how nice it was to eat breakfast with her. I’ve kind of gotten used to eating my meals with her over the last few days and I’m not exactly in a hurry for her to leave.
What are you saying? You just talked to Rachel last night and everything was fine there. Why jeopardize that for a woman you’ll never see again after her car’s fixed?
I shake my head, not sure where things are going with Rachel, or if they’re going anywhere at all. Still, I know it would be stupid to break things off with her because of Ashley, a woman I barely know.
But a woman you slept with, a woman you’re very attracted to.
I shake my head.
You’re messed up, dude. You need to get your head on straight.
I turn my attention back to my laptop and the project I’m working on.
Twenty-Six
ASHLEY
I stay in my room and stew over my problem, but don’t come up with any solutions. After a while I gather the courage to tell Drake the bad news and head downstairs. I find him in the living room sitting in the recliner, his laptop resting on his thighs.
“Hey,” I say with a small smile as I sit on the couch.
“What’d you find out?” His eyes are focused on his computer screen.
“Uh, so, it looks like it will be a c
ouple of days before it’s fixed.”
He doesn’t seem bothered or surprised. “That’s kind of what I expected.”
“Yeah, so, I’m not sure if you want to take me back to town so you can head to Reno, or what.”
He looks up from his laptop and stares at me. “What?” He sounds annoyed.
I shift uncomfortably under his gaze, worried that he’s mad at me, but I know it’s not my fault. I have no control over the timing of my car repair. “It’s okay. I can call a cab.”
What am I saying? I already don’t know how I’m going to pay for my car repair. What makes me think I can afford a cab? Idiot.
His brow is creased in obvious irritation. “What are you talking about?”
Stressed about money, plus Drake’s reaction, I feel tears threaten. “I know you need to get back to Reno. For work. So I can go back to the motel.”
He closes his laptop. “I can work from here if I want to, so it’s fine, Ashley. Don’t worry about it, okay?” His voice has softened, but there’s still an edge of annoyance to it.
“Are you sure?”
He frowns. “If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have said that I was.”
“Okay.” It still seems like he’s not happy, and I wonder how he really feels. Is he saying those things because he feels sorry for me, or does he really want to help me—basically a stranger—for a reason known only to him? I decide to take what he says at face value. “Thanks.”
He doesn’t ask how much it will cost to fix my car, but I’m glad, because I don’t want to admit that I have no idea how I’m going to pay for the repairs.
Drake opens his laptop back up and I wonder what I can do to help out around here. Not only am I bored, but I want to earn my keep.
“So, since I’m going to be here a couple of days,” I begin, “is there anything I can do to help? You know, like clean the bathrooms or something?” I really hate cleaning bathrooms—especially someone else’s—but I don’t know what else I can do.
Drake and Ashley: The Complete Story Page 9
