Kiss My Ash Page 3

  “Well, you know where I’ll be.” He sauntered over to the black and grey remote on the ground and picked it up. Without a word, he handed it to me and then headed across the grass to his house. Although, I did not miss the last-minute glance over his shoulder…or the wink he tossed my way.

  Then I prayed I would be able to get the door open to keep from looking like an idiot.

  After grabbing my purse and keys from the car, I went inside through the front. And in a moment of brilliance, I replaced the battery, opened the door from the laundry room into the garage, and pressed the button. That way, he wouldn’t see me if this attempt also failed.

  And considering my day couldn’t get any better if I found a suitcase full of money, the damn thing still didn’t work. Dropping my forehead to the doorframe, I released a frustrated groan and wondered if Ash would believe that I’d chosen to leave my car in the driveway overnight. And if he did, I questioned if he’d also believe that the repair van that would show up was an old friend from high school stopping by to catch up on old times.

  Probably not likely.

  But it was definitely worth a shot.

  After making three calls, only one answered, and they couldn’t make it out until tomorrow morning—after I had to be at work. And unless I went in late, I wouldn’t be able to get it fixed for three more days.

  I seriously considered parking my clunker in the driveway until they could make it out to the house. But in the end, I gave in and forced myself to walk next door. Luckily, Ash was still outside, and unless his Machiavellian grin meant something else, he’d expected me to return.

  “You really know how to give a girl a complex.” Yeah…I bet he didn’t expect that.

  He narrowed his gaze on me, his grin faltering. “What do you mean?”

  “This whole act you have going on…it’s as if you actually want to see me, except the last time I saw you, you disappeared for days, like you were avoiding me or something.”

  “You think I’ve been avoiding you?” Dammit. He wasn’t supposed to put me on the spot.

  “I might not use that particular word, but maybe something similar, yes. We talked about hanging out, yet I haven’t seen so much as your shadow since you took off to clean the house before your dad got there.”

  Happiness danced in his smile, while a slight tinge of inhibition darkened his eyes. “Kristy, I have a garage full of orders I have to fill. I’ve been at it nonstop since Sunday. The week I visited my mom put me behind, and somehow, I managed to overlook two tables that are supposed to be finished by this weekend. I promise…I haven’t been avoiding you.”

  “As far as excuses go, that’s a pretty decent one.”

  His laughter filled his words when he said, “It’s the truth.”

  “Fine. But since you’re so busy, I shouldn’t bother you with my garage door.”

  Ash didn’t give me a chance to walk away before snatching the remote from my hand. “Come on…let’s go check this out and see what we can do about it.”

  To my surprise, he managed to have the thing fixed in less than five minutes. All it needed was a new battery—as in, one that hadn’t previously been used. Seriously, I needed to remember to start throwing those things away when I exchanged them rather than tossing them back into the drawer to mistake for a new one when I needed it.

  Chapter Two

  Asher

  The brush ran smoothly along the wood, coating it in a rich, walnut stain.

  I enjoyed every aspect of what I did. Sifting through the various choices for lumber until I found the perfect ones had to be my favorite part—probably because it took so long and gave me a break from the isolation at the house. Then there was the planning, measuring, and cutting. The saw, while loud and obnoxious to my neighbors, grounded me. Sanding and smoothing were tedious, yet I found both highly satisfying. Although, the staining and painting process was the most therapeutic.

  Living with my dad hadn’t been my choice—hell, I doubted it’d been his, either. But after two and a half years, I could honestly say it had been the best thing for me. Once I’d gotten over my defiance and attitude, my life changed. For the better.

  Boredom had once played a part in my troubles.

  But here, it had created an outlet.

  I’d grown up a lot since moving in with my dad, really gotten my life together and put a plan in place for my future. It wasn’t something Dad had agreed with, but at least he couldn’t deny my carpentry skills. And even if he’d tried, my savings account would’ve ended that argument.

  I’d built and sold three kitchen tables, socking away over two grand, before he ever questioned anything. Apparently, he had assumed the woodshop I’d set up was for a school project, not the small yet profitable business I’d started beneath his nose. That had been almost two years ago, and in that time, I’d managed to save enough to pay for a modest house in cash.

  If anything, proving myself to him earned his respect.

  And after all we’d been through together, that was all I’d ever wanted.

  I quit staining the tabletop when I heard the hard clicks of high heels against the driveway, coming closer with each hesitant step. When it stopped a few feet behind me, I held my breath and forced myself not to turn around. It had to be Kristy, and I couldn’t afford to get caught up in her chameleon eyes or the sight of her pink pout. Her plump bottom lip—which was a sexy contrast to the thinner top one—had a way of sparking a mental image of my hand fisted in her strawberry-blond hair while she kneeled between my legs.

  Then, the most beautiful sound in the world filled the garage…my name wrapped in her voice like a song of seduction. “Hey, Ash.”

  That was all it took to break my willpower—everything about this woman had become a weakness I couldn’t overcome. I peered over my shoulder, expecting it to be a quick glance. I should’ve known better; I was incapable of looking away when she was near.

  I took in the sight of her standing before me in a baby-blue tank, the neckline low enough to bring my attention to her breasts yet still professional. When my gaze trailed down her legs, I nearly lost all control. A black skirt hugged her toned thighs, stopping just above her knees, and in heels, her defined calves could’ve been art. I salivated at the thought of having them wrapped around my waist, that skirt shoved up around her hips.

  Without a second thought, I muttered, “Damn, you look good.”

  Her eyes lit up, the corners of her mouth lifting in a shy yet confident grin. Then, in a husky voice that told me she was turned on, she said, “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  This woman would be the death of me.

  I honestly never expected her to be so flirtatious. Then again, if she knew how old I really was, she’d more than likely be appalled. Or disgusted. Which was why I had tried to stay away from her. The pool last weekend had been my fault, and going to her a few days ago had only been to check up on her. But if she kept this up, I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to restrain myself.

  I could’ve just told her my age. However, that was easier said than done. I selfishly enjoyed her attention, and the thought of losing it didn’t appeal to me. I’d always been more attracted to older women, though I never stood a chance with any of them due to the laws that prohibited relationships between a minor and an adult.

  I didn’t find girls my age interesting. They were petty and irresponsible, too absorbed in drama to bring anything of value to the table. I wanted balance and intellect. Someone who could put me in my place when I needed it. Girls at school agreed with everything I said just because they thought I was hot. I yearned for a woman who could challenge me mentally, give me something to work for physically, and reward me emotionally.

  The truth of that matter was…I couldn’t find that in my age group.

  “Some of your mail ended up in my box.” Kristy stepped closer, holding out two envelopes.

  I took them and pretended to read the front. Truthfully, I couldn’t pay attention
to anything while she stood so close; her soft, floral scent prevented me from focusing on anything other than her. “Looks like bills…you sure you don’t want them?” I teased, earning me a flash of her perfect teeth behind her gorgeous smile.

  “If I ever win the lotto, I’ll pay one of your bills for you.”

  “Just one?”

  She rolled her eyes up and to the side, animating her thought process. Then she shrugged and said, “You’re right, that’s not generous enough. I’ll pay all your bills. And not only will I clear your debt, but I’ll buy you a house—no, a mansion. Oh, and I’ll cover the cost of a maid since that’ll be too much for you to do, as well as a personal chef to prepare all your meals.”

  “How thoughtful of you.”

  “I do what I can.” Her eyes glittered with mischief while her grin hinted at friendly deceit.

  After a moment of losing myself in her wicked smirk and cunning gaze, I asked, “You don’t play the lottery, do you?”

  Her lips split wider while her shoulders bounced softly to the tune of her laughter. “Not at all. But if I ever did, and if I ever won…all of that would be yours.” She held up one finger, as if a thought had just crossed her mind. “I should probably specify that the jackpot would need to be more than, say…three billion. And I would have to be the only winner.”

  “Did you just say three billion? With a B?”

  “Correct.” She shrugged while I did nothing but stare at her, my forehead aching from how high I raised my brows. Her nonchalance was addictive. “Do you have any idea how much they take out in taxes?”

  “No. Do you?”

  “Not entirely, but I assume it would be a lot.”

  The humor that filled me, rolled through my chest, and bellowed out had been effortless. This was one of the reasons I struggled with coming clean about my age. This would all go away once she knew the truth, and considering there was no way she wouldn’t find out, I only had a limited time to bask in the easiness of her company.

  I just had to make sure we didn’t cross any lines that could put her in jeopardy.

  “Then I guess that means I should finish this order so I can pay my own bills, huh?”

  She stepped to the side to see the tabletop I had on my workbench. Leaning closer, she studied it, as if inspecting my work to make sure it met her standards. Then she straightened her spine and found my gaze, adoration softening her expression. “This is absolutely beautiful.”

  I’d heard that same line from countless people, yet it had never sounded more sincere than it did coming from Kristy’s lips. “Thank you. I’m not done yet, clearly. I still have a few more steps to finish before I can attach it to the base, but the hard part is out of the way.”

  “This is so impressive.” She admired it once more with a subtle sigh. “I just can’t imagine teaching myself how to do something like this. Not only that, but then turn around and make it look like something you’d find at Pottery Barn.”

  “You make it sound like it happened overnight.” Nervous laughter filled my words, which surprised me—I’d never been timid or uneasy around others. “Even with tutorials and videos and reading everything the internet had to offer, there was a pretty good amount of trial and error that took place. In fact, anytime I get asked to do something new, I’m still met with another learning curve.”

  “Don’t downplay your talent, Ash.” She brushed me off with a flick of her wrist, the motion bringing about a whiff of her scent.

  I wasn’t a gardener, nor did I have any knowledge on the subject, but whatever she wore—be it lotion, perfume, soap, or hair products—reminded me of flowers. It made me want to go around the neighborhood, sniffing every plant with a bloom to find out which one it was.

  I took the brush and began touching up the corners to give myself something to do, needing the distraction before doing something she’d hate me later for. “I take it Emma’s at her dad’s?”

  “Yeah, she was here last weekend.” A soft hiccup of absurdity filtered past her lips, just before she added, “I guess that would imply she was actually here. I was lucky enough to have dinner with her Saturday, and then she spent an hour with me at the pool on Sunday. The rest of the time, she was either at the mall with her best friend or holed up in her room on the phone.”

  Emma and I went to school together. We knew each other, but I wouldn’t consider us “friends” by any stretch of the imagination. While I had nothing against her—in fact, she was one of the few girls who didn’t annoy me—I didn’t care for the crowd she hung out with. Her boyfriend, Thomas, was my age, and we had been in several of the same classes last year. We got along, which was how I knew Emma. Although, hearing Kristy speak of her, I would’ve pictured someone different than the girl I knew.

  “Is your dad coming home this weekend?” she asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

  I shook off the mental comparison of her daughter to answer. “Uh, no. He came home yesterday, but only for the night. It was more like a pitstop to grab fresh clothes. He has some conference until late next week.”

  “He sounds like a busy man. I actually saw him last Sunday on my way to the pool with Emma. You don’t look anything like him.”

  Panic debilitated me, left me unable to even breathe. The thought of her talking to my dad led me to question what all she knew, but the second I recalled her reaction to me a few days ago in her garage, and again today, I calmed. If she’d learned my real age—or anything else about me—she would’ve said something, not continued to flirt.

  “Yeah, I get that a lot.” I cleared my throat, ridding my voice of the uneasiness that continued to course through me.

  “Well, I only meant to stop by and give you the mail, but since your dad’s gone and Emma’s not home, why don’t you come over for dinner? I mean, unless you’ve already eaten or made other plans, of course.”

  The smart thing to do would be to tell her I couldn’t, that I already had something in the oven. Being alone with her in public was one thing, but alone in her house added an entirely new level of temptation I wasn’t sure I could fight and win.

  Before I could come up with an excuse, her eyes darkened, and a pink hue covered her cheeks. She shook her head, waved it off, and said, “Never mind. I wasn’t thinking about the time—I’m sure you already pulled meat out to thaw. And you’re working. I just thought that since we’re both on our own tonight, that—”

  “I’d love to.” I didn’t think twice about what I’d gotten myself into, just recognized the color of rejection on her face and reacted. Now that the words were out there, I couldn’t take them back. And after witnessing the elation in her raised brows and contentment on the corners of her mouth, I didn’t want to. “Just tell me when to be there. I have to clean this up, put everything away, and take a shower first.”

  “No worries. Take all the time you need. I just got home from work, so I still have to change out of my heels and cook. Come over whenever you’re done. If dinner isn’t ready when you get there, then we’ll share a drink while we wait.” She wouldn’t have offered if she knew I couldn’t legally drink.

  Hell, she wouldn’t ask me over for dinner if she knew I couldn’t legally vote.

  I wanted to tell her to keep the heels on and answer the door in nothing other than an apron, but I kept that suggestion to myself. “Sounds great. I’ll see you soon.”

  I’d just gotten into a whole heap of trouble.

  And I wasn’t sure I could get myself out of it.

  * * *

  Thankfully, dinner was ready by the time I knocked on the door. Then again, after the amount of time it’d taken to organize the garage, shower, and change clothes, she could’ve had a five-course meal prepared.

  The one good thing about taking so long was that it had afforded me time to evaluate the situation and how I needed to handle it. Short of avoiding Emma entirely, there was no way I could keep this up, which meant sooner or later—likely sooner—she’d discover the truth. There was no way arou
nd that.

  It would simply come down to when.

  The best option was to make it to my birthday without her finding out. Sure, she’d be pissed that I had pretty much lied to her, but at least there wouldn’t be the legal issue of my age between us. And I felt confident I could make her see past the rest—like the fact that I was still in high school.

  If my age came out prior to my birthday, not only would she be pissed that I had deceived her, but she’d also close the proverbial door on all communication between us. Not just close it—she’d slam it, then deadbolt it before moving a couch in front of it. And if that happened, there was no way I’d ever find out what color her eyes were when she came, or how pink her cheeks turned when I buried my face between her thighs.

  I just had to make it to eighteen—less than two more months.

  Kristy had changed out of her heels and skirt. She now stood barefoot in front of her stove, wearing grey yoga pants that hugged her long legs down to her sculpted calves. Oddly enough, I had expected to find her in something slightly more revealing than a loose-fitting tee, especially after her earlier invitation to “hang out” sometime. And even though I would’ve enjoyed seeing her in something more low-cut, I had to appreciate the safety of her outfit.

  She added seasoning to whatever was in the pot and stirred. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled and said, “I hope you like spaghetti. I probably should’ve asked that before now, huh?”

  I moved to stand next to her and leaned my hip against the counter. “Spaghetti is always safe. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who doesn’t like it.”

  “Oh, good. And I have garlic bread in the oven, too.” She lifted a small spoonful of sauce to her lips, blew on it for a second, and then held it out for me to taste. “Here, let me know what you think.”

  Without taking my eyes off hers, I closed my mouth around the spoon. As soon as I swallowed, she regarded me with a questioning stare, and I realized I hadn’t actually tasted anything. I’d been too busy watching her to focus on the flavor of what I had in my mouth.