Blowing out a breath, he moved to sit next to her on the lounge. “You know I’m not good at saying how I feel. But I guess Claire saw something in me. Something that I’d been trying to hide from myself.”
Did he mean …? Ashley shifted her body sideways so her knees snugged against his. “And what’s that?”
Cold water bit at the tops of her legs, but she had to stick this out. Had to allow herself to make it through the storm, to see what peace might lie on the other side.
She rubbed her hands up and down her legs in an attempt to stay warm.
His fingers settled on top of Ashley’s, halting her movement. “That I care about you. More than I should for a guy who is marrying someone else.”
Her lips parted. Something deep inside her had always known it, had hoped that his feelings went deeper than the physical attraction between them, but he’d never actually said it. And then, it had only been that one time, on the trail by the Moonstone Lodge, and only in reference to his past feelings.
Even then, he’d never said the L-word—just that he’d been “crazy about” her.
What, exactly, did that mean to him?
He angled his head toward hers, their noses millimeters from touching. “Say something.”
The rain had started to let up, the sun peeking from behind the cloud cover. And yet, some clouds remained, some water still fell, albeit softer than it had before.
“I don’t know what to say. When you walked away the other night, I … I can’t tell you how much that hurt.”
“I’m so sorry for that, Ashley, but you knew it was wrong too.”
“You’re right.” Alongside the rejection, shame over what they’d done to Claire had settled firmly in, choking Ashley until she’d relinquished all right to feel hurt by his actions. “But then, when days passed, and you didn’t call or text or … anything … I knew you were lost to me forever. And now you’re saying—well, I’m not even sure what you’re saying.”
“Then, let me make it perfectly clear.” Derek placed a hand on her cheek. “I want to explore this thing between us more, this something that has always been there. I want to take you on a date. Yes, I’m saying it, a real date. And I really want to kiss you. Would that be okay?”
Her heart still ached, joy mingling with the lingering pain. But this was what she’d wanted, right?
“Yes.” She gnawed her bottom lip. “That would be okay.”
He leaned down, brushing his mouth against hers with the sweetest promise of what was to come.
All too quickly, he pulled back. “Now, about that date. Are you free tonight? I’m thinking we’re a bit overdue for dinner together at Mimosa’s.”
She fiddled with the bottom button on his polo, her insides vibrating. “I think that can be arranged.”
What did a woman wear to the first date she’d been dreaming about for years?
Ashley studied the pink dress on the hanger in front of her. Her nose wrinkled as she pushed it down the closet’s rack, grabbing for the next hanger. Hmmm. The green blouse was cute and flirty, but she’d had it for years.
A knock sounded from her front door. Who would be stopping by on a Tuesday afternoon?
She eyed herself in the bedroom mirror, grimacing at her ratty T-shirt and cutoff leggings. If it were Derek, he was super early and she’d turn him away. After careening down the hallway, she stopped to squint through the peephole. Madison stood there with a drink carrier and a white bag.
Ashley opened the door. “What are you doing here?”
Her friend held up the bag, which was stamped with the Frosted Cake’s logo. “I thought you could use some reinforcements.”
“You or the food?”
“Both.” Her friend stepped inside the apartment and kicked the door closed.
“Then I guess I shouldn’t tell you that I don’t think I could eat a thing.” Ashley placed a hand against her tight stomach before snatching the drink carrier. “But I will take this.”
She lifted out the caramel macchiato and took a refreshing sip. The espresso infused strength into her veins. “Bless you.”
“That’s what friends are for.” Madison set the bag on the kitchen table, which sat not too far from the door. “I’m just glad that the library closes early on Tuesdays. And that you actually texted me. I haven’t heard from you in weeks.”
“That’s not true.” Ashley turned on her heel and marched back toward her bedroom.
Madison followed. “Maybe not weeks, but it’s definitely been a hot minute.”
They entered the bedroom and both plopped onto the edge of the queen-sized bed. “I’ve—”
“Been busy. I know.” Madison snatched the carrier from Ashley, plucking her drink from inside. “But this text today—Derek isn’t getting married and we’re going on a date tonight—I mean, what am I supposed to do with that? It tells me none of the juicy details that good friends are entitled to. So spill.”
Ashley put her drink on her side table and flopped onto her back. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“I’m personally a fan of the beginning.”
“You’re hilarious.” Ashley caught her friend up on everything that had happened since the last time they’d spoken. Her eyes followed the dusty ceiling fan blades, which squeaked a bit as the fan rocked on its axis above them. “I’ve been thinking and rethinking over what he said, how he said it, and even though I said I loved him—which is so embarrassing, by the way—he still hasn’t said it to me.”
Madison repositioned herself to lean back against Ashley’s headboard. “You said he’s slow to confess how he feels about stuff. Maybe he loves you too and is waiting for the right time to tell you.”
“Maybe.” Ashley sat up and played with a loose thread on her sky-blue duvet. “When he told me he wanted to explore what was between us, part of me was ecstatic. But the other part was like, I don’t need to explore it. I already am sure of it. And I want him to be sure of it too.”
“Evan was sure about me before I was sure of him. Sometimes it just takes the other person a while to catch up.” A small smile flitted across Madison’s mouth. “And now, I can’t imagine loving anyone more than I love him.”
“I know I should just be grateful for this chance between us, but I still feel super guilty over the way it happened. And what about his vineyard?”
“Sounds like he will have to figure that one out. It isn’t up to you to fix it. And like you said, he never would have been happy with that arrangement.”
“I guess.” Ashley sighed. “There’s also a very small sliver of doubt embedded in my heart. I wonder if I’m just a rebound because Claire really did break his heart. What if I’ll always love him more than he loves me? All of these questions just keep pinging around in my head.”
“Ash, no. You have to stop thinking like that. If what you say is true, he was only with Claire to save his family’s vineyard.”
“That’s what he said.” Groaning, she rubbed the corners of her eyes. “Maybe I just shouldn’t go tonight. Give it some time. I mean, what will people think of me when they see me out with a guy who was just engaged?”
“People will always find something to gossip about, believe me. Just go on this date, keep talking this out. Tell him what you’re thinking, what you’re afraid of.” Madison stood and tugged Ashley to her feet. “But before you do any of that, you need to change. I may not be very fashionable, but I do know that you don’t wear that to Mimosa’s.”
Ashley gave a dry chuckle. “Okay, okay. You’re right.” Shoving her doubts aside, she and Madison perused her closet like two preteens before a school dance.
After they’d narrowed down the selections to two outfits, Ashley’s phone rang. She walked to her nightstand and picked it up, smiling. “Hey, Bells. I have some fun news to—”
“The invitations.” Her friend’s tone was clipped. “They’re wrong.”
“What?”
“I thought you proofed these. But the date on
them says July thirteenth, not third.”
Ashley sank onto the edge of her bed. “I don’t—”
“I know I said I wouldn’t be a bridezilla, but even I have my limits. The email the printer sent was wrong, which means that either you didn’t look closely enough or you told them to make the change and they didn’t. Which is it?” Bella’s voice shook. “Ashley, this was the one detail that I actually cared about.”
The weight of the bed shifted as Madison sat down.
Ashley raked a hand through her hair, tugging when she reached the ends. “I don’t know how this happened, Bella.” Ashley mentally retraced her steps, trying to remember when she’d proofed the invitations. But everything blended together. “I’ll fix it. I promise.”
“How? I have almost two hundred invites with the wrong date. And they need to go out this week.”
“I’ll call the shop, get it fixed.”
“They won’t reprint them for free when it was our mistake.”
She said “our,” but she really meant Ashley’s. And she was right.
“Just let me worry about that. I’ll keep you posted.” Ashley said a few more soothing words, then hung up. “I have to fix this.”
Madison squeezed her knee. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Thanks, but no. I’ll call the print shop and pray they’ll do me a solid. I’ve worked with Raul on several weddings, so there’s a chance they’ll do the rush order. But it sounds like it was my error. I’ll probably have to pay at least a percentage of it.”
She whipped her phone out, navigated to her email, and found the proof from the print shop. And sure enough, there it was—an extra one in front of the three. “How did I not see this?” But she knew. She’d been too distracted with Derek, with the Christmas festival, with every other thing she’d committed to.
And now she’d quite possibly ruined her brother’s wedding. At the very least, Bella had lost all faith in her. She’d never heard her future sister-in-law talk to anyone the way she’d just talked to Ashley—such tightness and command in her voice. Such anger. Such disappointment.
Ashley couldn’t let her down. “I’ve got to make this call.”
“I’ll show myself out.” Madison stood, then studied her. “What about your date?”
Right. The date. “This is more pressing right now. Derek will understand if I need to be a little late.”
Madison thumbed her ear, nose scrunched. “Couldn’t you wait until tomorrow to deal with this? It’s already four-forty-five. The print shop is probably closing soon anyway.”
“No, I’d just be worried about it all night. Hopefully it’ll be a quick conversation and then I can get over to Mimosa’s.” Her stomach lurched at the thought of having the tough conversation with Derek about where they each stood. But she couldn’t stand him up again—not after last time. She’d face whatever was between them head-on.
“Okay.” But doubt crept into Madison’s tone.
“It’ll be fine.” Ashley gave her friend a quick hug. “Derek has waited this long for our date. He can wait a little longer.”
Chapter 15
She hadn’t shown up.
Again.
Derek slumped against the back of the stone bench, fingers still locked around the bouquet of flowers he’d purchased from Fleur de Lee this afternoon. The purple blooms—which Lee Rivas had assured him stood for love, depth, and loyalty—had wilted during Derek’s two-hour wait.
He checked his phone again. Make that three hours.
By now, Main Street was mostly deserted, and Mimosa’s had just closed. He needed to stop lingering, but some stupid part of him still believed she’d show up. He’d give her a few more minutes. After all, she’d said it was a work emergency keeping her away. He understood that. Knew from experience that little fires could grow beyond control very quickly.
But on tonight of all nights, with their history—well, no one could blame a guy for wondering if that were the real story.
Derek’s phone vibrated in his hand. His heart skipped as he saw the sender and nearly stopped when he read her message. I’m so sorry to do this, but I just don’t think I can make it tonight. Can we reschedule?
Yep. He definitely should have called it sooner than this. Should have known this was how it would go. Should have accepted the fact that the past was bound to repeat itself.
But like a fool, he’d believed Ashley when she’d texted initially and said she’d be an hour late. Then again when she’d pushed him off another thirty minutes. And another. And another.
The storm from earlier had cleared, leaving the air crisp and new. He’d thought it a sign of what was to come between them. Now, with every breath, the cold bit into his lungs, slicing through his heart.
Jumping up, he shoved his phone into the pocket of his dress slacks and hurled the flowers into the trash can next to the bench. Derek climbed into his Jeep and started it up, flexing his fingers against the steering wheel as he contemplated his next move. Going home was the obvious choice, but that would mean an entire night of waiting, of torturing himself with the what-ifs.
Forget it. He had to know if he’d tossed away his chance to save his family’s vineyard for nothing.
Derek threw the car into Drive and headed toward Ashley’s apartment. Once he arrived, he marched up the stairs to her door and knocked, wincing at the way his pounding resounded through the hallway. It was late and a weekday night, after all. But he stood his ground.
After an agonizing minute, the door opened. Ashley stood in the doorway dressed in pajama bottoms and a spaghetti strap shirt, her hair pulled back—looking for all the world like she’d enjoyed a relaxing evening in, not racing around town like she’d claimed.
“Derek? H-hey.”
Above him, a fluorescent light flickered. “Can I come in? Or are you busy?” He swallowed hard before anything more forced its way out.
She blew out her cheeks, then released the air as she widened the door. “I’m not busy.”
Not waiting for her to change her mind—she seemed to like to do that—he tromped into her apartment. The whole place smelled like a tropical fruit basket and set his nerves on fire.
Turning, he planted his feet wide and crossed his arms. “If you didn’t want to go out, you could have just said so.”
“You’re all dressed up. Did you …” Her cheeks paled. “Did you actually go to the restaurant? I thought I texted you before you would have left.”
“I had a few stops to make before dinner so I left early.” No way was he telling her about that wasted bouquet of flowers—or the little stop at the jewelry store he’d made. Just to peruse.
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
He swept his arm around the apartment. “How long have you been home?”
“I don’t know.” She touched the base of her neck. “Thirty minutes?”
“And you didn’t think to call me on your way home to tell me you were standing me up?”
Edging past him, she moved to her kitchen counter and took a sip from a pink mug. Guess she’d had time to do a lot of things before texting him five minutes ago. “I figured you’d have given up on me by then.”
If only he had.
If only he’d kept his feelings hidden—from himself, from Claire, from Ashley. If only he’d done a better job of keeping his head on straight in the first place. At least with Claire, he’d known what he was getting.
“I’m sorry, Derek. I can only imagine what you thought. What you think.”
“It’s fine. No big deal. People get stood up all the time.” Ignoring her wince, Derek turned to leave.
“Wait. Let me explain.”
He stopped, rotated, and leaned with one foot bracing him against the wall. “Okay.” Not that he really wanted to hear her excuses.
Ashley tried to hide a yawn behind her hand. In that single move, she looked so vulnerable. And now that he looked more closely, Derek could see her eyes were rimmed in red.
Maybe he wasn’t
being fair. He should give her a chance to explain. “What happened?” Striding to the cabinet above her kitchen sink, Derek snagged a lime-green mug. Flicking on Ashley’s single-serve Keurig, he loaded it with a pod of dark roast grounds while waiting for the water to heat.
“I messed up Ben and Bella’s invitations. Had to call the print shop, but I couldn’t get ahold of anyone, so I drove there. But it’s in San Luis, and traffic was worse than I thought it’d be.”
The Keurig light came on, indicating the water was ready. Derek pushed the button, and the machine whirred to life before brown liquid began to stream into the mug. “Was anyone there?”
“Yes, and I waited while they printed up a new proof for me and a sample invitation that I could show Bella. When I got back to town, I ran it over to her place—”
Unbelievable. “So you actually were back in town, what? An hour or two ago?”
“Maybe an hour and a half?” Ashley set down her cup. “But Bella and I needed to work out a few more details about the invitations—who was going to pay for the oversight, when she’d get the redone invites, that kind of thing.”
The intoxicating aroma of the coffee assaulted his senses, making him desperate for a swig. Derek yanked the mug out from under the Keurig, and liquid splashed over the edge.
He reached for the wet rag draped over the kitchen faucet and wiped up the spill. “And you just had to do all of this tonight?”
Ashley tapped her fingers along the edge of her mug, lips pursed. “They need to mail their invites this week. I couldn’t put it off.”
“Really?” His laughter had an edge to it. “Twelve hours was going to make that much of a difference?”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Ashley chewed her bottom lip, and he had to look away, to remember that whatever he felt for her, it was a chemical reaction. It didn’t mean what he’d thought it meant.
It couldn’t, or he’d be pulverized. Again.
“Okay, I admit it. Maybe I was scared.”
At that, his gaze snapped back to her.
She folded her arms around her middle. “Maybe I allowed this thing with the invitations to be an excuse. To put off talking with you.”
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