Ashes - Book 1 (6 page)

Then there’s Beth, who walks into a room and takes it over with her sass and spirit. She’s beautiful, and sexy, and funny. Damn funny. And strong. Maybe too strong. I worry that she’s like one of those trees that get broken in half because they are too rigid. It’s only the trees that bend with the wind a little that survive.

Because I’ve said nothing for a full minute, Ken goes on. “Even if the one isn’t Beth, are you feeling serious about any of those other women you’re screwing around with?”

I bark out a laugh. “No. They aren’t exactly the type you bring home to momma. Besides, I’ve told you a thousand times, I don’t want to be in a relationship. I have too much ahead of me, too many plans to have an anchor weighing me down.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. You want a girl in every port. You want to fuck your way around the world.”

“Damn straight I do,” I say. “What’s wrong with that?”

Ken sighs and shakes his head. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Just don’t hurt Beth, because it’ll be damn awkward if you two hate each other while being bridesmaid and best man at our wedding next year.”

I scoff. “So you really don’t care who I’m screwing; you just don’t want me and Beth glaring at each other from across the aisle.”

“Exactly. I’ll kick your ass myself if you do.”

We both laugh and for a moment I can imagine Beth throwing a bouquet of flowers at me while the priest is telling Ken to kiss his bride. Or, maybe she’d wait and trip me, making me fall into the cake. It makes me laugh harder.

“What’s so funny?” Ken asks and shuts off the truck.

I just shake my head. “Nothing.” Then I see Stephanie step out onto the back deck and wave at us. Ken’s face just about splits open as he waves back.

I roll my eyes and open my door to avoid the syrupy sweetness of their reunion. Then Beth steps out on the deck too and I feel my face break open in a wide smile too.

Chapter 6 – Beth

It has only been a few days since I’ve seen him, but I have to blow out a breath when he steps from Ken’s truck. Damn. So fine. Even in a ratty t-shirt and ball shorts.

He walks straight to me while Steph bounces off to jump into Ken’s arms. I can’t help but smile at those two, at the joy that so obviously surrounds them.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” I echo his greeting and dust off my shorts. Steph and I have just gotten back from HEAL where we’d been painting my office. Cleaning the walls and floors following the break-in hasn’t been enough. I begged her to help me paint, really give the office a fresh start. I am still considering having the tiles replaced.

He looks at me funny and steps closer, touching my hair. I look down and groan. Paint. The sunny yellow is a stark contrast against my dark locks.

“New hair style inspired by Hannah?” he teases, then frowns and looks, rubs at what must be yellow on my cheek. “Or yellow spotted fever maybe?”

I sigh and confess. “It’s paint. I wanted to freshen up my office.”

He gives me a knowing look. “Great idea and great color, although you might need to wear sunglasses in there if this color is any indication.”

I laugh. “Yeah, it’s a lot brighter than it looked on the paint chip.”

He pulls me to his chest and gives me a hug. “On a positive note, you could plant tomatoes in there, have a greenhouse.”

I listen to the rumble of laughter in his chest and give him a tight squeeze. After a few moments, I pull away. “What are you doing here, anyway?” Watching hurt flash across his features for the briefest of seconds, I quickly add. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Truck’s fucked up again. Ken’s loaning me his bike.”

My eyes grow wide. “He’s loaning you his precious Harley?”

“No way. The older one, the Kawasaki.”

“Oh, I love that bike. He was teaching me and Steph to ride it a few weeks ago.”

He runs a hand through his hair and nods. I hate this. Hate how stiff we can be with each other sometimes. This past weekend, it was so natural, so comfortable. Now, it’s like we don’t know how to act with each other. I glance over to Steph and Ken and see them talking so easily, holding hands and laughing. Totally comfortable with each other.

“Want to stay for dinner?” I ask, unable to think of anything else to break this odd coldness that has fallen between us.

He puts a hand to his stomach and shakes his head. “Ate at Ken’s place; thank you though.”

Damn. “How about a dip in the pool? It’s so hot out here, it would feel good before your ride home?” Shit. It sounds like I’m begging. I lift my chin. “But it doesn’t matter to me, swelter if you want.”

Oh my god! What’s wrong with me? I’m in bitch mode again.

He looks over at the crystal clear water and then down at his shorts and back up at me. His face changes, morphing into that of a little boy.

Oh no.

I turn and try to run, but he catches me easily and tosses me over his shoulder.

“Don’t you do it!” I scream, the words pressing out of my lungs in bumpy syllables as he runs with me.

“Do what?” he yells back.

“Don’t you dare throw—“

Splash!

I’m in the pool, water going up my nose as he drags me to the bottom. I beat my fists against his ass and he lets me go, following me to the surface.

I sputter and cough, but laugh when he splashes me in the face. Game on!

For the next ten minutes, I try to get the better of him and get in a couple of pretty good shots. But mostly, I’m nearly drowned by the time I call a time-out and head to the side of the pool.

“Do you concede to my superiority at pool play, wench?” he asks, grinning at me like a fool.

“Never,” I say, but scream and turn when he starts splashing me again.

When the fighting stops, I feel him come up behind me and press me into the tiles. He’s hard and his erection feels warm against my back. He nuzzles my ear, licking into it, making me shiver.

I turn in his arms, needing his lips and wrap my legs around his waist. My press my sex against his, wishing we were naked.

“Hey you two, knock it off.” It’s Stephanie, a grin in her voice.

Gage lifts his head, wrenching his lips from mine, breathing hard. “And if we don’t?” he asks in a challenge.

Steph sticks her hands on her hips and looks him directly in the eye. “Then you get to clean the spermy water.”

Gage ends up staying for dinner, seemingly reluctant to leave our — my? — company. The guys grill the steaks while Stephanie and I cut up a salad and make twice baked potatoes.

Through the large window, I can see Gage and Ken in deep conversation. Ken keeps shaking his head, while Gage grins and seems to give him hell. At one point, Ken points the spatula in his face and shakes his head again.

“What are they doing?” I ask Steph and she just lifts a shoulder and rolls her eyes.

I keep watching them and see the moment Ken concedes to whatever it is Gage wants him to do.

“Hey, are you helping or watching?” she asks me and shoos Onyx away for the twentieth time. Ghost sits smugly on his bar stool, looking down snootily at the dog. Onyx’s ears flatten and she looks pitifully hurt that she can’t participate in the cooking.

I smile at the dog, who immediately takes my grin as an invitation to run up to me. I can’t help myself. I drop to the floor and give her a good petting. Ghost simply yawns and licks a paw.

“I’ll help in a second,” I promise.

“Actually, I think we’re almost done. I was just giving you a hard time. You really should see your face when you look at that man.”

I wrinkle my nose.

“Unwrinkle that nose, missy,” she says, grinning at me. “It’s not a good look, plus it’s a lie.”

I stick my tongue out at her.

“Seriously, Beth. You’re fighting too hard. What are you really afraid of?”

I let out a laugh with zero humor. “Oh, let me count the ways.” When I don’t add to it, she lifts an eyebrow, urging me to go on.

“Okay. One. Relationships ruin things for 99.9% of the people involved in them.” I point a finger at her. “You’re in the 0.1%, so don’t look at me like that. But you have to know what I’m saying. People get lazy in relationships and don’t try so hard. At first, you’re putting on make-up and shaving your legs and he’s holding in his farts. After a while, your legs look like a cactus and he’s taking a dump with the door open.”

Stephanie howls with laughter.

“Two,” I go on. “The other person in a relationship has the power to make you supremely happy, ready to kill someone, or have you sucking your thumb, crying for days.” I notice that Steph is looking at me more seriously now. “I’m not giving some penis owner that kind of power over me.”

Stephanie begins to chew her bottom lip and searches through the utensil drawer for something.

“Three,” I say, when she opens her mouth to look like she’s about to speak. “I don’t think humans were designed to mate for life. Sex with the same person all the time gets boring. Just look at my mom and dad.”

Stephanie has been tossing the salad furiously. With that, she stops and points the salad tosser thingy at me. “No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to cling to your parent’s screwed up marriage and believe that all marriages are like that.”

“It’s not just my parents’ marriage. It’s all their friends’ marriages too. Every single one of them were wildly in love in the beginning of their relationship.” I sneer out the word. “But then they had kids and the years keep floating by. Look at how many of them stayed married or are like my parents and are screwing everything that walks on the side.”

I notice that Stephanie is looking pale and I mentally kick myself. “Well, there are a few of them that are still in love and are really happy,” I try to assure her. “That will be you because you guys love each other so much, and you’ve been through hell to be together.”

She gives me a weak little smile and I decide I better shut this down. I was in bitch mode again. Not a very good friend. At all.

“I’m sorry, Stephanie. I was just ranting because I’m afraid I’ll end up like my parents. I know they seem happy on the outside, but living at home was like living in an Arctic cave. And they aren’t screwing around behind each other’s back, I know that too. It’s just hard for me to think about my parents having an open relationship and …”

Having sex
, my mind finished for me. There are some things people’s kids just shouldn’t know.

She begins to cut the lemon cake for dessert and I take the potatoes from the oven. “Don’t apologize, Beth. We all have the things in life that hurt us and make us lose trust. You can always share them with me and I want you to. Plus, it’s a good reminder that I should shave my legs more often. You know, don’t let the little things get lost.”

“Or …” I wiggle my eyebrows at her “… come to the salon and finally get a wax. You keep saying you want to try a Brazilian. Why not enjoy the power of not having to shave for an entire six weeks. My treat.”

I can tell she’s still on the fence, so I give her a little nudge over to my side. “The clinic is closed next Tuesday because Dr. Whitfield is gone. We can do it then. Please? Please? Please?”

She chews on her lip and looks up at me. “Okay. But on a scale of one to ten, tell me again how bad it hurts.”

I look her straight in the eyes. “Two. Three max.” I lie.

Chapter 7 – Gage

“I don’t know, man,” Ken says and marinates another steak. “I know a gun would come in handy and I probably could have used one a few times, but seriously man, I’m just not interested in owning one.”

“Pussy.” I can’t help but give him hell and am rewarded with a spatula thrust in my face. I laugh and take a long drink of my beer — a real beer that Beth probably bought. “Seriously, after all the shit that went down last year, and then the break-in at the center. Don’t you think you might want to think about having a little protection?”

We’ve had this discussion a dozen times over the past six months. I’m a strong believer in personal protection. That’s why I have a permit to carry a concealed weapon and have taken hour upon hour of defense classes. Hell, Beth and I have been talking about me teaching self-defense classes for women at HEAL. I just need to get certified and we’ll be ready to go.

“Just come to the range with me one day, that’s all I’m asking. Learn that a gun isn’t a criminal. Criminals are.”

He flips a rib-eye and it gives a very satisfying sizzle. The smell is wonderful. Even though I’m not hungry, my mouth is beginning to water.

“Did I ever tell you about why I hate guns so much?”

That gets my attention. “No, you never did.”

“Well … let’s just say I had a bad experience when I was in high school.”

“Spill it. Seems like the day for both of us to trot down memory lane.”

He looks at the house, then the pool and then back at the grill. “Okay, I’ll give you the short version.” He snaps out of his fog. “It was the fourth of July and I was a senior in high school. I was hanging out on the street with a bunch of friends, probably twenty of us. We could see the fireworks from our corner, so we didn’t bother with walking to the park. We could see them good enough since we were up on a little hill.”

“I thought you were from Ohio,” I butt in on his story, unable to stop myself from giving him hell for his flatland roots. “The biggest mountains there are bridges, aren’t they? Maybe a two story building.”