by Jean Oram
“Muggy.”
“Hmm. There’s still no reservation under that name. Maybe he’s decided to stay elsewhere?”
“Maybe.”
“Would there be another name I could search under?”
The man gave her a thoughtful look. “Maybe I’ll give him another day, but thanks for your help.”
Zoe answered a few emails after he left, then finished her shift and headed back to the cottage, her footsteps slowing as she grew closer.
“Hey,” Ashton said. He was coming around the side of the cottage, filthy from head to toe and looking exhausted.
“Need a shower?” As per their deal, he had use of the cottage bathroom and kitchen even though he was sleeping in the tent.
“I was thinking I’d take a swim in the ocean. Care to join me?”
Zoe turned to take in the lazily rolling Atlantic, then glanced back at Ashton. He looked wiped. If she didn’t go with him she’d likely spend the time worrying he was drowning.
And a swim did feel tempting. The day was muggy and a thin layer of sweat had gathered over her while she was walking home. Plus she couldn’t help but think that spending more time with Ashton might encourage him to open up, and spill some of the secrets she knew he was still keeping.
“Sure,” she said hesitantly. “Why not?”
Ashton ran up the porch steps to go get changed into his swimming trunks. “Last one in is a dirty rotten egg!”
Where had that burst of energy come from?
“Oh yeah?” Zoe called, accepting his challenge. She waited for him to turn, then sprinted across the beach toward the ocean, unbuttoning her blouse as she ran. She was wearing a dark camisole underneath and let the blouse drop to the sand. She dared a glance over her shoulder. Ashton had been watching, taken off guard, but now was in hot pursuit, discarding his own shirt.
Zoe shrieked with the thrill of competition, and raced to the packed wet sand along the shoreline. She was wearing cotton golf shorts, which would hold up in the seawater just fine. She was totally going to win this one. She bent to quickly undo the straps of her leather sandals, tossing them behind her where they wouldn’t be swept away by the waves or ruined by the salty spray. As she did, Ashton tore past her, hitting the water, waves breaking against his thighs as he arched over one, diving below the surface.
“Are you kidding me?” Zoe said when he came up for air. She’d made it knee deep and was clearly the dirty rotten egg despite her head start.
He was grinning, looking more free than he had since his arrival in town. “Maybe next time, slowpoke.”
She scowled, feeling miffed. “Have you been exercising? You didn’t used to be able to run that fast.” He was standing waist-deep, pushing his way toward her, water streaming off him. He had definitely been working out. His chest was rippled, his waist more defined.
She liked what she saw, which unsettled her. Too many memories. Too many more that she wanted create after drinking him in.
“You’re still dry,” he pointed out as he neared her.
“Not for long.” She quickly dived to the right, plunging under before he could reach her. She kicked, letting the saltwater buoy her to the surface several feet away. It was so refreshing, and just what she’d needed.
She stood, letting the water rush out of her clothes. It was time to head back to shore and get a shirt back on her ex so it was easier to remember all the reasons she wanted to keep him at a distance. She pulled her camisole away from her body, conscious of how it was clinging.
Ashton splashed her playfully. “You’re beautiful. Quit fussing.”
She turned, giving him a look that suggested he didn’t have the right to compliment her, and was caught off guard by the way he was wistfully admiring her.
He splashed her again and she splashed back, letting her past hurt and anger fuel her actions, until it felt like an outright war. Therapeutic and fun. Saltwater stung her eyes and she dug her hands through the waves, dousing him over and over until she ached from the effort. Then she laughed and turned her back to the waves of water he sent her way. A family was swimming nearby and Ashton accidentally splashed them in his quest to get her.
He called out an apology to the family, as Zoe turned to him, shoving playfully. “Don’t you have any manners?” she scolded.
“No. Do you?”
“Sometimes. I just don’t reserve them for you,” she replied, giving him a teasing glance.
He brushed at her shoulder, his expression tender, cautious. “You know the best way to get all this sand off?”
“A shower,” she said, moving away again in case he had ideas about dunking her under the waves.
“Nope.” He made a lunge for her, missing when she sidestepped at the last moment.
She laughed, feeling light and bubbly. When Ashton surfaced, she splashed him again and he raised his arms, resembling a sea monster as he came at her once again. Helpless with laughter now, she let him catch her. But instead of pulling her under, he held her tight, their warm, wet bodies pressed together.
Their eyes met and a moment passed as they gazed at each other. Zoe’s palms were against Ashton’s chest, his body snugged to hers.
It felt good. Too good.
She averted her eyes and swam away.
For a moment she’d thought they were going to kiss.
And she wasn’t ready for that.
Not by a long shot.
Ashton still had more to tell Zoe about why he’d left, but he was afraid to upset the new balance they were quickly establishing. They’d had fun in the ocean, their water fight a release for some of their emotions, and had come back to the cottage to dry off, then flop onto the couch in front of the TV. There was a cheesy John Candy movie on from the 1980s and they’d settled in front of it without question. Just like old times. At one point Zoe had dialed in an order for a pepperoni and mushroom pizza, half with pineapple for her. Again, just like old times.
They’d eaten, watched, and eventually she’d fallen asleep next to him, drifting against his side as time passed, Mishka, the Persian, curled next to her.
He’d flipped to the sports channel, and had no intention of ever getting up off this couch again. Not until Zoe did first.
Something rough brushed his ear and he flinched. It was Tiny, perched on the back of the couch, licking his earlobe.
Zoe stretched. “Did I miss the ending?” She caught herself leaning against him and straightened so quickly the cat beside her went scurrying.
“Yeah.”
She stood, clearing her throat, her eyes settling everywhere but on him. “I’m going to call it a night.”
“Thanks for the evening.” It felt formal thanking her, but he knew he was a long ways off from doing what he really wanted, which was to pull her into his arms and kiss her. He almost had in the ocean, but it was too soon. It might forever be too soon.
“It was…nice.” Zoe suddenly looked shy, and Ashton took his cue. Exit before things got weird and awkward. An uncertain truce was a godsend at this point, and he’d do whatever it took to avoid messing up.
“Good night.” He headed for the porch, where the tent was stored.
“Ashton?”
Her urgent tone caused him to turn, look to his feet in case a cat—namely Houdini—was trying to make a beeline for the door. There was no cat. Ashton glanced up and caught Zoe warring with herself.
“It’s supposed to rain tonight,” she said finally.
“Oh.” His right hand was still resting on the doorknob.
“You could…” Her arms were crossed, her shoulders hunched. She glanced toward the guest room. “You should stay indoors in case it gets bad.”
“Are you sure?” His grip on the doorknob tightened as Houdini appeared close by, his gray butt wiggling as he anticipated a longed-for escape.
“It wouldn’t be right to leave you out in a storm.” She stepped into her bedroom, gently swinging the door shut without a goodnight. The latch clicked into place and
Ashton relaxed, letting go of the tension that had seeped into his body.
“Sorry, pal, no breakaway for you tonight,” he said to the feline, who had pressed his nose into the crack between front door and jamb.
Ashton hesitated, then padded to the guest room. He’d been keeping his bags in his car, careful not to overstep. He should go out and get his toothbrush and pajamas. Instead, he stretched out on the made-up bed, face to the ceiling, Tiny curling against his side as Ashton pondered where his tentative friendship with Zoe might go next.
Zoe stood in the doorway in the morning, watching Ashton sleep. The storm hadn’t materialized with the ferocity predicted by the weatherman, and she wondered what she was going to do with Ashton tonight. Let him stay? Kick him out again? He’d obviously needed a good night’s sleep. He hadn’t even changed out of his clothes, and was flat on his back, no blanket over him. It made her nurturing side want to care for him.
It didn’t help that he was a paying guest of the resort, and she could lose her job if Dallas found out she was making Ashton stay out back.
Well, Ashton had volunteered. But still. It looked bad.
Maybe she could beg Vicky, and everyone else she knew, to let her stay with them. Except Vicky’s landlord didn’t allow pets, Margie from the front desk was allergic to cats, and Trent and his wife, Jenny, from housekeeping, had just had a baby. The friend list went on, as did the reasons not to crash with them.
Ashton’s eyes flickered open, his mouth turning down in a frown. He blinked twice, then sat up. The tight lines that had grooved his cheeks relaxed when he spotted her, and a smile sneaked its way onto her face. Suddenly the whole day felt full of opportunity.
No. No hope. Just because last night had been nice, reminding her of better times, didn’t mean she forgave him, or that she could afford to offer him any form of encouragement.
Their old relationship had been seriously flawed in a way she still didn’t understand, and she couldn’t let herself slip into old habits just because they were comfortable, and she still longed for them with a ferocity that scared her.
“Good morning.” Ashton rubbed his face with the palm of his hand. “Wow. I don’t even remember falling asleep.”
“I guess a real bed helps.”
“It’s not bad in the tent,” he said quickly.
“You know I’m strong enough to handle the truth.”
“Maybe it’s more about enduring judgment from the woman you love, because you know you failed her,” he said, barely audibly, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He sat there for a while, unmoving, his gaze on the whitewashed wall in front of him.
He still loved her.
She let that sink in for a moment before saying, “Why do you think I’d judge you?”
He turned his head, holding her gaze, jaw tight. “Because I judge myself.” He stood. “I’m going to work on your yard.” He came closer, no doubt planning to push past and avoid further conversation. Zoe held her ground.
“Why…” Zoe paused, choosing her words carefully. “Why are you judging yourself?”
“Because,” he said impatiently, “I was a nice guy who let myself get suckered into trying to do the right thing.”
“Into caring for a child who wasn’t yours? But how could you know? Your intentions were noble.” Zoe knew his own father hadn’t been around to raise him, and that stepping in must have been a no-brainer. But he’d been used, and those wounds still had to be raw. Still, she didn’t think it was right that he was judging himself for the actions of others.
He didn’t answer, his face tight with emotion.
“How long ago did your wife pass away?”
Ashton rubbed his face again. “Four months.”
“What happened?”
“She was sick.”
“Did you love her?”
“No. No, Zoe,” he said softly, a hint of impatience still present, but also a great sorrow weighting his words. “I never loved her. And we weren’t intimate, either. Not after I went back.” He met Zoe’s eyes, and she sucked in a breath at the depth of love she saw, because it was for her and her only.
He’d come here for forgiveness, but she could see that he first had to forgive himself. It made her heart ache in a brand-new way, to know that how things had ended had hurt him, too. She somehow found it difficult to blame him so deeply, for he felt like a victim of the situation as well.
Before she could think what to say, he brushed past her, his footsteps a staccato beat down the front steps. She suspected that if she looked out the window she would see him sprinting across the sandy beach, as though trying to outrun his own emotions and feelings of failure.
Ashton paced across Zoe’s backyard, then frowned. He kept losing count. He turned, going back to the fence that separated her yard from the neighbor’s, stirring up the dogs on the other side of the boards once again.
Woof, woof.
“Quiet, Archie. Quiet, Jughead,” he called. The dogs hushed temporarily, and he once again paced the few steps from the fence to where the gazebo would go.
One. Two. Three.
Was that too close to the property line? If it went here, then the shrub he’d been given by Caroline should go there, between the fence and future gazebo.
He moved to the fence to pace it out again.
Woof, woof.
“Quit teasing my dogs!” hollered a man from an upstairs window.
Ashton looked up, an apology on his lips.
“Ashton!” Bob called in surprise. “Mary said she thought it was you ripping apart Zoe’s yard yesterday. I told her to get her eyes checked, but I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. It is you. Are you two back together again?”
“No, sir. Sorry I got the dogs bothered.”
“They probably just want to say hello is all. They missed you tossing a ball for them down on the beach. With Mary’s bum knee we don’t make it out onto the uneven sand very often anymore. Are you in town to stay?”
“Until the end of November for sure.”
“Must be filling in for Sandra over at the school then?”
Ashton nodded. “I am.”
“And what are you doing to Zoe’s yard?”
“Fulfilling a promise.”
The man chuckled. “I don’t think that’s the one she’d been planning on you fulfilling. She just about had her place sold to my son before you left.” He winked and pulled his head inside, closing the window.
Ashton focused on his pacing and counting again, but found he couldn’t.
The promise she’d been planning on him fulfilling was marriage. Family. Everything he’d wanted with her, too.
It had to eat her up inside to know that he’d walked out on her, to provide a family for someone else. And it ate him up to know that he’d blindly stepped in to do what the real father, Quentin, should have done. Instead, it was Ashton who’d sacrificed his life plans and personal preferences to be there when Maliki had been ill. It had been Ashton who’d found a way to cover Jaelyn’s life-saving surgeries needed at birth. And for what? For Quentin to come swooping in a few weeks after Maliki’s death and claiming the now healthy baby, depriving Ashton of the daughter he’d thought was truly his.
The anger and self-loathing that had plagued Ashton when he’d woken up that morning returned. What kind of man took a woman’s hopes and dreams and squandered them on a liar who had only been using him? How had he not known?
He sat in the dewy grass and rested his head in his hands. Last August, faced with the dilemma of staying with Zoe or helping his unborn child and her ill mother, it had all made sense.
But now, after seeing everything for what it truly was, he wondered how he could ever begin to ask Zoe to forgive him.
Chapter 4
“He left you. He’s still not telling you everything,” Zoe muttered to herself. She placed her palms on the vanity and leaned toward the mirror, staring her reflection in the eye. Sighing, she picked up her flatiron and with a few deft moves t
aught by her hairdresser, used it to put soft curls in her hair.
She set down the iron and met her own eyes again. “You’re going to forgive him, aren’t you? He broke your heart once. Who’s to say he won’t again?”
She continued to argue with herself. “He regrets how things ended, and it’s obviously caused him pain. Everyone deserves a second chance.”
Despite everything, she felt whole when he was around, and she’d missed that. Having him back, she had to admit, was nice. Really nice.
The fact that he could barely forgive himself, and yet was here, trying, and still in love with her, too... He’d made a mistake and was attempting to make amends.
They both needed to heal, but maybe they could help each other through it somehow. But to do that, she needed more answers.
Answers she was going to have to patiently pry out of him, by the looks of things.
It was so like Ashton to help someone even if it meant great personal sacrifice. So like him to blame himself if things didn’t work out.
And it was also so like her to want to try and fix him, she thought with a sigh.
But maybe it was none of that. Maybe they were both simply seeking closure, for understanding, so they could move on. Apart.
She hoped not though. She hoped it was more than that.
Zoe unplugged the flatiron and checked the time. She fired off a text to Dallas, telling him she might be a few minutes late for work.
She hopped in her car and headed across town. A few minutes later she was walking around her house, to find Ashton sitting on the back lawn, head in his hands.
She wasn’t sure if she should hurry over to see if he was all right, or pretend she hadn’t seen him and scoot off to work. But before she could weigh her options, she found herself saying his name aloud.
He looked up.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Fine,” he said briskly, getting up. “Just thinking.” He seemed wary, the walls going up around him.
