“Four o’clock.”
“Four?” Ashton glanced at the obnoxious anchor clock on the wall. “Do you need to shave first?” She stepped up and ran a hand across his cheek, over his jawbone.
He forced himself to not follow his instinct to close the distance between them then let all hell break loose. But he breathed through the desire, inhaling hints of her perfume.
“No, still smooth. Good. And not a hair out of place. Let’s get going.”
“Let’s?” he asked, even though he was being tugged toward the door.
“I said, I’m not letting you go alone in this condition. You’re too much in your head, and I’m an expert at being your distraction.”
“True enough.” Though she had no idea how distracting she’d become. As they headed down the hall, he added, “Ash, you can’t just leave. Your brother’s getting married.”
“Whatever. The wedding’s in four days. So what if we skip out on part of tonight’s clambake? We’ll be back for the bonfire. No one will miss me. Like the sister of the groom is anyone. I’m not even a bridesmaid.”
“Does that piss you off?” he asked as they headed to the main staircase.
She shrugged one slim shoulder. “Not really. I’m not a traditional kind of girl, and these five-day extravaganzas are a beating for everyone involved. I’m basically here as a guest and to support Ty. As long as I’m in the right place at the right time wearing the right thing for photos, I can do whatever else I want.” She paused to greet some relatives from Florida. Didn’t seem she knew their names, though they’d never know by her enthusiastic greetings. The woman was a master actor.
Maybe it was a good idea for her to come along to Bangor.
Bang-her, he couldn’t help repeating, until he felt like a pig for thinking so crassly.
By the time they made it outside, the sunny front pouch was crowded with groups chatting and drinking from tall glasses. Like Ashton, Hawk didn’t care much for these pompous long weekends. He’d had enough of those growing up in Charleston. Also like his enchanting companion, he was there to support Tyler.
“I’ll just text my parents that I’m leaving,” she said. “Not that they’ll need anything, but in case they go searching for me. Mom doesn’t need the extra stress. I’ve stressed her enough with my new summer plans.”
Hawk stopped walking. “Plans?”
The expression on Ash’s face screamed that she hadn’t meant to broach the subject. “Oh, um, Steger requested I come early.”
After some quick translating (Steger = Virginia Tech’s Steger Center for International Scholarship. Campus in Ticino, Switzerland), Hawk’s stomach began a slow freefall. “When?”
“Last month. Signora Ferrari emailed and—”
“I mean, when do you leave?”
Pondering the question for an illogical beat, Ashton chewed her lip and looked at the ground. “Beginning of July.”
Hawk’s stomach just kept on falling. This sucked. Epically.
“I was going to tell you sooner,” she said, looking up, then reaching out to touch his arm. “I’m sorry. I should have.”
“It’s cool,” he lied, hearing the stalwart bravado in his voice.
“Nothing’s for sure yet.”
“No?”
She met his eyes, blinked, then tugged a hunk of her dark hair. “I haven’t committed yet. But they need to know. Soon.”
Now what was he supposed to do? If he spilled his guts to her this week without clearing it with Tyler first, he’d severely damage their lifelong relationship. If he waited, Ash would be halfway around the world.
Awesome. A whole new reason to be stressed.
“That’s so exciting,” Hawk said sincerely, putting both hands on her shoulders. “I’m really proud of you, Ash.”
The smile that curved her lips and lit up her eyes was a mixture of relief and joy, making him pull her into a purely congratulatory hug…while trying very hard not to smell her vanilla-scented hair.
“Thank you.” Her voice was soft, merely floating up to his ear. Before the friendly hug turned into something it shouldn’t, he gave her one tight squeeze then let go.
As they crossed the wide lawn to the makeshift valet stand, an older woman in a straw hat and muddy rubber boots came out of nowhere. She was being towed by four dogs on leashes, with an additional four little yappers trailing behind her.
“That’s the mother of the bride,” Ashton said from the corner of her mouth.
“Seriously?” Hawk said, staring after her. “But she looks so…”
“Strange?”
“I was going to say…out of place in this setting. Everyone her age is wearing pearls and drinking mimosas. She stands out.”
“Bits Ramsey’s one eccentric lady. I’m not sure of the whole story, but she’s really into dog rescuing. Rumor has it, at their estate in Arizona she has even more dogs, up to fifty at a time. All just living there, running around free.” She paused as they both looked at Mrs. Ramsey trudging into the tall grass, the pile of dogs nipping at her heels. “Apparently she has ‘travel dogs’ that she takes everywhere. Those must be them.”
“Extraordinary,” Hawk said. “And noble.”
“I agree. When she’s at home, she takes care of them herself. Smelly job, but like you said, noble.” She reached out to touch the knot of his tie. “Just like your job—I mean former job. I was really proud of what you did for all those kids,” she said. “Having an amazing example like you did wonders, I’m sure.”
“Thanks,” Hawk said, focusing on her earnest expression. “You’ve never told me that before.”
She waved a hand in the air. “But you knew how I felt.” She smiled so warmly it was like looking at the center of a flower. “You always know how I feel.”
If only…
When they reached the valet stand, Hawk pulled a ticket from his pocket. “The silver Avalon,” he said to the attendant, who quickly sprinted away. Less than two minutes later, the car came roaring up. The valet opened the passenger door for Ashton before Hawk even had the chance.
“Well now, aren’t you just the sweetest thing?” she said to the guy in an overly exaggerated accent. Despite growing up in the South, neither of their families had much of an accent. But Ashton was an expert at turning on the Southern charm.
The guy actually blushed, and it made Hawk smile. At least it wasn’t just him who fell easily under her spell.
He thanked the valet, slid behind the wheel, and put the car into drive. While weaving around guests strolling through the makeshift lawn lot of the Gatsby-type compound, he glanced at Ashton. She’d put on sunglasses and rolled down the window. Hawk was just on the brink of shooting her a smile when she reached over, put a hand on his thigh, and squeezed.
“So,” she said, curling one side of her mouth. “What’s going on inside that handsome head of yours?” Another squeeze made Hawk’s muscles tense up. “Now that we’re really alone, tell me everything.”
Chapter 3
George Hawkins had never been an overly talkative guy, but Ashton had never seen him shut down so fast. Even though she’d asked him flat out if she embarrassed him and he’d laughed it off, she still felt something was different between them.
It happened the second after they’d gotten in the car; right after she’d touched his leg.
Hmmm. He was wearing shades, and if she’d been a different person, she would’ve had a very hard time not staring at his profile. Nice mouth, jaw sharp enough to cut metal, long eyelashes, body of your average Hollywood hunk. Physically, he had it going on.
Not that it mattered. Like she’d told him back at the house, because of her miserable breakup, she was so done with relationships. Plus…hello, it was Hawk!
“Tell me about this guy you’re meeting,” she tried, after they’d been driving in semi-silence for ten minutes. The scenery from Bar Harbor to Bangor was green and blue and gorgeous, but silence made her overly chatty.
“Phillip Knickerbock
er,” Hawk finally said, staring at the windy road.
“Knickerbocker?”
“It’s an old name, like old-money New York kind of name.” He did his slow shrug. “I think the family money ran out, but the reputation still carries a lot of weight.”
“A man named after short tweed trousers is who’ll decide if you get the job?”
Hawk nodded and gripped the steering wheel, getting tensed up again. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. But jeez, she had to do something to get his mind off whatever had shut it down in the first place.
She crossed her legs and tuned toward him as far as her seatbelt allowed. “Tell me about him. What’s he like? Besides stuffy and conservative.”
Hawk looked at her. “What makes you assume that?”
“Please.” Even though he couldn’t see it, she rolled her eyes. “He’s on the board that appoints teachers to Poison-Ivy. Tell me truthfully: how much does he sound like Thurston Howell III?”
Hawk exhaled a small chuckle. “Maybe a little, but he’s important. Right now, he’s the most important person drawing breath. The person who’ll determine my future.”
Though his voice was light, Ashton noticed he was still white-knuckling the wheel. “He’s determining your future job.”
“My job is my life,” he stated, sending her a quick glance.
She wished she could see behind his dark glasses. Was he joking or serious? Yeah, okay, Ashton’s job was important to her, too. Like wildly important. But would she say it was her life?
Yes. Right now, it was. After all, in a few short weeks, she was leaving her life in Virginia and moving to Switzerland. If that wasn’t hugely important, what was?
“Love.”
“What?”
“Oh.” She put a hand over her mouth. “I…didn’t realize I said that aloud.”
“Love?” He shot her another glance. “Were you thinking about anyone in particular?”
“No.” She glanced at the silver varnish slicking her fingernails. “Just that my job is important, too, maybe the most important. It kind of trumps everything, so…I guess that means I don’t have time for…you know.”
“Love.”
For a second, she felt irrationally choked up about the subject. “Yeah.”
“I get it, Ash,” he said, though the sullen tone in his voice did not match his words. “Despite what you think, we’re not that different.”
When she attempted to laugh it away, it felt fake. Fake and irritatingly sad. She’d made herself stop feeling that way a year ago, so it totally ticked her off that old ghosts threatened to haunt her.
“Different enough,” she said. “Relationships never work out for me.”
“Is there a reason for that?”
“I don’t know how to explain.”
“Try.”
Why did his tone make it feel like she was in the hot seat? She could say anything to Hawk—that was one of their biggest strengths. “Not without trying,” she began. “Either he’s not into me enough, or I’m not into him enough. Bad timing. Or maybe I’ve never been into it. The commitment and everything.”
Hawk grinned. “This coming from a sex therapist.”
“Sex has nothing to do with relationships.”
“Pretty modern viewpoint.”
Compared to yours…
She recrossed her legs to angle herself closer to him. “If you’re mature enough to handle it, you don’t have to be in any kind of relationship for sex to be a pure and fulfilling part of your life.”
“Come on.” He laughed again. “You don’t really believe that.”
“Of course I do. It’s one of the main points of my dissertation.”
“Right.” He coughed and adjusted the rearview mirror. “But in real life, I mean, when it comes to you…”
When he didn’t finish, she took off her glasses. “Would you think it scandalous if I promoted promiscuity?”
“Is that what you’re doing?”
She borrowed one of his slow shrugs. “Mature and mentally prepared women should feel like they can explore their sexual lives however they choose. As long as they’re open and honest about it, it’s no one else’s business.”
“What about the guy? Doesn’t he matter?”
“Well, he’s there, but if she chooses, that’s the extent of it.”
The hoot that escaped from Hawk’s side of the car made her jump. Wow. He really didn’t take her philosophy seriously.
“You’re turning into your father,” she muttered. “You know that?”
Now was his turn to whip off his shades. “No, I’m not.”
“Yep. In no time, you’ll have completely morphed into an old-school traditionalist just like him and Mr. Knickertwister.”
“Anything wrong with honoring tradition?”
“I won’t even honor that with an answer. We’ll never agree on it, so back to your interview. What do you expect? A panel, or just him? Lots of questions or a nice discussion?”
“It’s just him. They held most of the second-round one-on-one interviews earlier this week, but Phillip agreed to meet me here, since he has a place in Bangor. Also, he’s a Hillsdale alum, so I’ve got that going for me. I’m hoping it’ll be a discussion, though I’m sure he’s got questions. I’m prepared for anything.”
“If you say so.”
Hawk took the exit to Bangor. It was a totally cute town. A little too touristy, but the scenery was cool and quaint, with a lot of people spilling out into the streets. There must’ve been a festival or event going on, because no way were they all residents.
“What did you mean?” Hawk asked while at a red light, reading the map app. “When you said, ‘If you say so.’”
“Here.” Ashton reached out and took his cell. “Who knows what the phone law is in Maine. Don’t want you thrown in the slammer.” After she expertly dodged his question, they spent the next few minutes navigating through town toward where Hawk was to have the interview.
“Is this the place? This restaurant?”
Hawk double—no, triple—checked the address. “Yeah.”
After he parked, she unfastened her seatbelt and turned to him. “Okay. It’s hammer time. How do you feel?”
“Fine. Good. Nice and calm.”
“Um, you do realize you’re still hanging on to the steering wheel?”
Hawk examined his hands like they were a strange appendage attached to his body, let them go, then rubbed his smooth jaw. “Anyway.”
Ashton laughed and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Talk dirty to me.”
Like in a cartoon, his brows flew straight up. “What?”
“Tell me a dirty joke. It’ll help you relax. Trust me.” When he didn’t move, she leaned toward him and lowered her voice. “Trust me,” she repeated.
“Um.” Hawk looked adorably uncomfortable. Why was that so cute on him all of the sudden? “Don’t think I know any.”
“Of course you do. You’re a man in his prime who went to college, and who is good friends with my brother.”
Hawk rubbed his jaw again and chuckled under his breath. “It’s not proper to tell in mixed company.”
“Ah! So you do think of me as a woman?”
“When you’re in a dress like that, it’s impossible to think of you any other way.” He paused to look at her. A look that might’ve been lingering.
It made her stomach feel… funny.
Only because he made that earlier absurd crack about us dating. Totally ludicrous.
But still, the thought had somehow wedged itself into her brain. And for a flash of a moment, she imagined how that might be—to date Hawk. To be with George Hawkins, the only non-blood relation she totally trusted.
What she imagined, coupled with that funny flutter, made her inwardly gasp. But again, ludicrous. For her own peace of mind, she quickly batted both away, far into the bleachers.
If not for that brief reality derailment, she would’ve reached out and given him a quick shoulder
massage, to loosen him up. But the inside of the car felt too small, and why was it suddenly hot and stuffy?
“You tell me one. A dirty joke.”
“Oh, um.” She rubbed her nose and stared out the window. Because the stomach flutter hadn’t gone away, right now seemed like the worst time to think about a dirty joke. What was up with that? She prided herself on being able to control her thoughts. Dirty or not.
“I’m thinking we should stick to that rule of mixed company,” she replied. “It’s a very good rule.”
He tilted his head and blinked, probably noticing how out of character she was suddenly behaving. “Okay.”
“So, maybe you should get in there,” Ashton said, gesturing toward the restaurant across the street.
“Don’t want to look too eager.”
“Your appointment’s at four, yes?”
“Six.”
She sat up straight. “You told me four.”
“Sharp memory.”
“George Hawkins, we’ve got another two hours. Why did we leave so early?” When he was about to reply, she held up a hand and closed her eyes. “You worried there might be traffic. You worried you’d get lost. You worried the whole city of Bangor might’ve moved to California.”
“Are you saying I’m a worrier?”
“Maybe a little.” She tossed her hair over one shoulder. “Seriously, though. You’re missing wedding stuff.”
“You said nothing important was going on until tonight.”
“Yeah, I did…”
A sudden wave rushed over Ashton. Relief that she’d volunteered to come along. She might’ve gone stir crazy with him away from Virtue Cove the entire afternoon and evening. After all, he was this week’s saving grace.
“I say we go inside,” Hawk said, gesturing toward a sign on the restaurant window. “They have blueberry pie.”
“What?” Ashton nearly gave herself whiplash by turning around so fast.
“I know it’s your favorite. Are you aware that Maine and Nova Scotia are known—”
The Last Plus One Page 16