Kiss My Ash Page 2

  I wasn’t entirely sure how to take his response. Although, before I could question it, he asked, “Do you have to be any good at guessing someone’s age in order to hold your position?” Which only further confused me.

  “No. Why?”

  He shrugged, the twinkle in his eye nearly blinding me. “No reason. I just didn’t know if you had any special training, or if your ability to guess someone’s age was natural.”

  The smile that burned my cheeks was instant, and I couldn’t fight against it. Excitement fluttered low in my stomach at the confirmation that he was at least twenty-one. Again, I refused to question why. Nothing had changed in the last ten minutes—or even the last week. A guy his age was still considered a baby to anyone with a sixteen-year-old child.

  I needed to change the subject before my uncontrollable grin gave him the impression I was crazy. “So, if you don’t go to college, what do you do for a living?”

  Finding myself near the deep end, I no longer needed to squat as much; although, I didn’t recall moving from where I was, let alone getting any closer to him.

  He abandoned his position along the wall, slowly sank into the water, and drifted toward me. “Right now, I build furniture out of my garage.”

  “What kind of furniture?” It didn’t matter, but the way he crept in my direction left me desperate to keep the conversation going.

  “Namely tables, but I also do benches, bookshelves, TV stands, entertainment units—you name it, I can probably make it.”

  “Wow, that’s really impressive. Do you sell them at a store or something?”

  “Not yet. Right now, I work off word of mouth—at least, for custom pieces. During downtime, I’ll build something easy and cheap just to post in online marketplaces. People will reach out and ask if I have it in a smaller size or a different stain. Once I tell them I can make whatever they want, I have a new custom order.”

  I was beyond impressed, and slightly jealous that I wasn’t nearly as put-together at his age. Then again, I doubted he had a five-year-old running his life and calling the shots. “How’d you learn to do all that?”

  “I taught myself.”

  Somehow, as he advanced toward me, I’d inadvertently shifted closer to the other side. I didn’t realize it until I bumped into the smooth wall. He pretty much had me cornered. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he continued his slow prowl until he sidled up next to me. Grabbing onto the ledge, I discreetly shimmied toward the deep end.

  To keep from being obvious, I continued the conversation. “You just woke up one morning and decided to teach yourself how to build furniture?”

  “Not exactly.” His laughter rumbled in his chest, sounding far deeper than before. Then again, he was much closer now. “I needed a hobby, so one day, I researched what I would need to build a desk.”

  “Why did you choose that?”

  In the sun, his brown eyes had an orange hue to them. I hadn’t remembered that last weekend in my driveway—then again, that had been later in the day when the sun had already started to set, leaving us in the shadow of my house. But now that I had noticed it, I couldn’t look away. For some reason, the color reminded me of Halloween.

  “When I said I needed a hobby, what I really meant was…I wanted something I could do from home that would make money. And the only way anyone would take a teenager seriously, was if I had a desk.”

  “Oh, how old were you? Still in high school?”

  He paused for a second and then nodded. “Yeah. I was sixteen. Anyway, once I had all the materials and tools, I watched about a million videos on how to incorporate drawers that would actually slide without rollers or metal tracks. The rest is history.”

  I stopped shimmying away from him, needing to hear the entire story. “That’s it? You made one piece of furniture and that turned into a job?”

  “Not quite. I still don’t have a desk.” He shook his head and laughed, forcing my lips to curl in response. “But boy did I try…like thirty-seven times. I’d master one part only to mess up another, and then I’d have to start over until I understood how to do it right. It was an endless cycle. I finally gave up, although now it’s my utility bench. So, I guess you can say it wasn’t a total failure.”

  “Damn…you really know how to crush a person’s pride, don’t you?” It’d been a joke, though I wasn’t sure he got the punchline. “You let me boast about moving up from a bank teller to manager; meanwhile, you literally taught yourself how to turn wood into something useful—and I can only imagine beautiful, as well.”

  “You shouldn’t diminish your accomplishments. Staying in a job and advancing to the top is admirable. And considering your daughter is sixteen, I can only assume you had her at a young age. So, to do all of that with a kid is definitely something to be proud of.”

  I swallowed thickly, suddenly unsure of how to respond to a compliment, which had never been an issue before now. “Yeah, I was seventeen when I had her. Well, almost. Having a baby before graduating from high school didn’t leave me much choice. Bouncing from job to job wasn’t an option—paying the bills was hard enough; I didn’t need the added worry of where my next paycheck would come from.”

  He remained silent while staring into my eyes, making me wonder if he could read my mind. After a few seconds, the corners of his mouth tilted the tiniest bit, as if silently taunting me with a secret he couldn’t share. Normally, that would’ve irritated me. But on Ash, it was sexy and alluring.

  Then he blinked, breaking free from the moment, and his smile widened. His lips no longer held the secrecy from before, yet they hadn’t lost their appeal. “I knew you were too young to have a kid with a driver’s license. When I first saw you, I thought you were in your late twenties, maybe thirty. Damn, Kristy…how many times has one of Emma’s boyfriends hit on you?”

  My cheeks instantly burned, and it had nothing to do with the sun. “Uh…never.”

  “That’s surprising.” He licked his lips, his eyes briefly falling to mine. “You don’t have to worry about me sneaking into her room. Instead, you’ll have to worry about me sneaking into yours.”

  His voice had grown so low and gritty it made me wonder what he sounded like first thing in the morning. Which, of course, left me with an image of him in bed. Before I knew it, my mind had gotten away from me, picturing what we could do together under those sheets while he uttered the dirtiest things in that husky tone.

  The way he regarded me with such intensity in his dark eyes caused a pulse to throb between my legs, reminding me how long it’d been since a man had touched me. I couldn’t think straight, let alone breathe properly or hold my head above water. So, I gripped the ledge until the concrete bit into my palms, hoping that would be enough to keep the weight of my desire from dragging me to the bottom.

  Fuck it.

  Two years was too damn long to go without the feel of a man’s hands on my skin. I craved the passion I could only get from someone skilled in the bedroom—someone who knew when to be rough and when to be gentle. And the way Ash looked at me right now, with hunger so tangible he could eat me at any second, I had no doubt he could leave me satisfied and smiling.

  Disregarding my concerns for our age difference, I asked, “What are your plans for tonight?”

  Emma would be home, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t hide out in his room for a few hours. Maybe having him for a neighbor wouldn’t be so bad, after all. If we kept our relationship strictly sexual—nothing serious—and Emma never found out, there would be no reason for it to end badly.

  “My dad will be here. In fact”—he lifted his wrist and checked his watch—“his flight lands in about three hours.”

  “Oh, your dad’s coming to visit?” I prayed he would only be here for the weekend, because I had an itch that needed scratching. And if I had to wait much longer, especially after the way he looked at me today, that itch just might become a rash.

  His brows knitted, yet he quickly blinked it away. “Uh, no. He lives there.”r />
  “Your dad lives with you?”

  “I guess you can say that.” He shook his head and smiled. “He travels a lot for work, so he’s never home. Like he comes in today, but he flies out again either tomorrow night or really early Monday morning. I basically live by myself, so it doesn’t bother me.”

  “That’s not too bad. I can’t really blame you, though. I mean, had I not gotten pregnant, I probably would’ve stayed at my parents’ house for as long as they’d let me. And if they were always gone, they’d never get me to leave.”

  “Yeah, exactly,” he said with his chin tucked, humor almost muffling his words. At first, it sounded like he was uncomfortable, maybe even nervous. But when he returned his attention to me, his brilliant smile set the record straight. “Why did you want to know my plans?”

  “I thought maybe you’d want to hang out or something? But we can do it some other time. Emma will be home, and I haven’t spent much time with her. So, it works out for the best that your dad will be around.”

  He nodded, the orange glow in his chocolate eyes holding me captive, silently at his mercy. “We’ll definitely have to do that sometime.”

  It was all I could do to nod without the excitement of a teenager finding out her crush knew her name. Clearly, I needed to get laid before I reached the hysteria of a tween. There was a good chance if that happened, I would never be able to come back from it.

  “Well, I should probably get home and clean up a little before my dad gets in.”

  “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” With all my blood circulating near the apex of my thighs, I was surprised I could speak a full sentence. However, after replaying it in my head, I wished I had just kept my mouth shut.

  “See ya later, Kristy.” His smile was so broad, there was a good chance he was laughing at me, though I ignored that possibility and returned an equally brilliant grin in response.

  Without releasing my hold on the ledge, I craned my neck to watch him over my shoulder. He grabbed the metal railing and slowly climbed the three steps until he was completely out of the water. Dripping wet, he sauntered to the table where he’d dropped his belongings, wrapped his towel around his waist, and slipped his feet into his sandals.

  I began to wonder if he’d leave without glancing at me one last time. It wasn’t like I cared if he didn’t—okay, I would’ve cared a tiny bit, considering that would suggest he wasn’t interested in “hanging out.” And there was no way he’d understood that to mean watch movies on a couch. And if that were the case, I needed sex more than I thought—misreading a casual conversation as something sexual could have catastrophic consequences.

  But before he walked through the gate, he stilled with his hand on the fencepost and twisted at the hips to face me. His mischievous smirk caused my breathing to hitch until my exhalations were shaky and labored. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he noticed—or at least, I assumed he had based on the slow stretch of his lips, transforming his grin from sly to devious. He slung his shirt over his wet shoulder and wagged his brows.

  And then he was gone.

  * * *

  Making the turn around the bend toward my house, I pressed the button on the controller to open the garage. Then I pushed it again. By the third time, I was already in my driveway, yet the damn thing still hadn’t lifted.

  This was the last thing I needed after a crappy day at work.

  I slammed the gearshift into park and threw my car door open. With the remote aimed directly at the center of the garage, I pressed it seventeen more times before throwing it at the metal door.

  “Whoa.” A deep rumble came from over my shoulder.

  I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

  Yet I did anyway.

  I pivoted on my four-inch heel, but before I made it all the way around, I was stopped still by the sight before me—Ash, standing in my driveway like a perfectly sculpted piece of art.

  I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, too stunned at the utter perfection that was Asher Jenkins to do anything other than drool and imagine what our babies would look like.

  He had a toolbelt slung around his hips, causing his cargo shorts to sag the tiniest bit. I’d never been one to gawk at construction workers as I drove past. Then again, I’d never seen one look anything like Ash did right now. Which was a good thing; otherwise, I would’ve had my license revoked a long time ago.

  His eyes took me in from head to toe, but rather than say anything, he ran his hand down his cheek, along his jaw, and over his mouth. The short hairs on his face scratched against his palm, reminding me of the wheel of a Zippo flicking the flint, only slower, and the flame it sparked burned in the pit of my stomach.

  He was a man on the edge, holding himself back by a bare thread. “Hey, Kristy.” Even his voice was deeper than a moment ago, scratchier, full of restraint and dirty thoughts.

  The whole encounter left me utterly confused. I hadn’t seen or spoken to him in four days, since I’d all but invited him to spend some time between my legs, sans clothes. And after turning me down—for a good reason—he’d disappeared. I’d assumed hiding out had been his way of letting me know he wasn’t interested, and by this morning, I was over it. Well, I thought I was…until I came face to face with him again.

  Damn him for wearing a muscle shirt and toolbelt, his golden tan glistening for my viewing pleasure.

  I wasn’t sure what to say, and while I wanted to just turn around and walk away, I couldn’t. That would only make things awkward. And considering he’d pretty much witnessed my temper tantrum over the garage door not working, I couldn’t chance making the situation worse.

  Apparently, Ash could only wait so long while I did nothing but stand there and blink. And it seemed my time was up. He stalked toward me and lightly held my hand. Well, it was more like the very tips of my fingers, but with the effect that slight touch had, he might as well have wrapped his arm around my waist and hauled my body against his. It caused me to wobble in my heels for a moment, but I managed to catch my balance before falling into him. That might’ve been embarrassing, especially if he thought I’d done it on purpose.

  “Are you okay?” The concern in his eyes and sincerity in his voice blew my mind.

  I hadn’t expected to hear or see that, and it made me curious if I’d missed an entire conversation between Saturday at the pool and now. I somehow managed to shake it off and say, “Of course…why?”

  “You just threw your opener at the garage door.”

  “Oh, that. Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just not working—no need to stop what you’re doing to deal with my little hissy fit.”

  He cradled my face in his hands, forcing my eyes on his. The heat of his palms fried every last functioning brain cell I had, so I wasn’t in any position to pull away. Nor did I have the power to drop my gaze from the fiery glow in his stare.

  “Kristy…” He paused for a moment and glanced over his shoulder. When he returned his attention to me, he lowered his voice and asked, “Where’s Emma? Is she home?” It was almost a whisper, though I couldn’t understand the reason for the concern in his tone.

  “No, she’s, uh…she’s at her dad’s. Why?”

  His brow furrowed while he regarded me, then he asked, “Were you ever married?”

  “To who? Emma’s dad?” I balked with a condescending laugh, finally able to pull away from his hold. “No, thank God. We split before she was born.”

  “Do you just not get along with him?”

  While I understood the curiosity, the constant questions while standing in my driveway threw me for a loop. “Are you writing an article about me or something?”

  He huffed and backed away—which wasn’t the safest move. Putting a little distance between us should’ve relaxed me, yet all it did was give me a fuller view. “You didn’t sound very excited about her being there. So, I wasn’t sure if he was a deadbeat or you just didn’t like him. Nasty divorce is off the table since you guys were never married.”

&
nbsp; “She spends the summers with him. She’s only here every other weekend, and I hate it.”

  “Because you get lonely?”

  I leaned against the side of my car, settling in for whatever kind of conversation this was. “I always miss her, but now that she can drive and has friends and a boyfriend, even when she is with me, she’s not usually around. I have two more years before she leaves for college, and I just wish I could spend that time with her.”

  “I get it. But at least it’s only for a couple of months. You should spend your free time doing something for you. Find a hobby, pick up something you used to love but haven’t been able to do in a while, or just be lazy and enjoy life.”

  That was easier said than done.

  I shrugged and glanced away. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

  “I’m sure you could come up with something.” He rested the heel of his palm on his toolbelt, looking all kinds of sexy with the evening sun spread out behind him. The muscle tank he wore did a perfect job showcasing his golden skin tone, giving him that rugged appearance that turned me on so much.

  “Well, if there’s anything around the house you want fixed, replaced, updated…you know, like that.” He hitched his thumb to the side, reminding me what had sparked this conversation and why we were in the middle of my driveway.

  “That’s not necessary; I’m sure it just needs a new battery.”

  Confidence radiated through his dark, promising eyes. “You might as well put me to work. Feel free to use me…for whatever you need.”

  “As nice as it is for you to offer your assistance, I think I can handle it.” I mentally rolled my eyes and groaned at myself for the lack of gratitude I showed. “But really, I appreciate it. If I can’t figure it out, I’ll come get you.”

  He quirked an eyebrow and raked his gaze down my body. There was no way I’d misread those signals. And the way he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth erased the fears of rejection I’d carried around since Saturday.