The Last Plus One

by Ophelia London

  Very inelegantly, Ashton was already scrambling out of the car, tripping over her platform strappy sandals as she spilled onto the sidewalk. Quick as lightning, Hawk was there for the rescue, helping her up. If she’d bothered to slow down, she might’ve noticed the strong yet gentle feel of his hands on her waist and hips.

  “Let me open—”

  Ashton beat him to the door, hauling the heavy glass obstacle out of the way.

  “Berries,” she gasped to a server standing just inside the door. “Crust. Blue.”

  “Sorry?”

  “I think she’s trying to say we’d like a table for two by the window,” Hawk correctly interpreted, resting a hand on the small of her back, “coffee, and one piece of blueberry pie, please.”

  Finally, Ashton was able to breathe semi-normally, and attempted to whisper out some kind of thank you to Hawk as she followed the server to a table, trying not to drool, half conscious of Hawk’s hand on her back.

  Okay, his instincts had been correct all along. Ashton James was hands down the most adorable thing he’d ever known. He’d seen her in pigtails, in teenaged angst, in collegiate focus, and in professional obsession. But never had he seen her so controlled by the animal instinct of lust.

  The adorable thing was that her lust was over dessert.

  He managed to pull the chair out for her before she lunged at the table, and had to cover his mouth when they sat to keep from bursting into laughter. “Calm down,” he said in his best soothing voice. “I doubt they’ve run out.”

  Ashton’s panicked blue eyes grew as wide as saucers. “Who said anything about running out?”

  “No one, I just—”

  “Shh—don’t put the idea out in the universe. It’s bad karma.”

  “Huh?”

  She glared at him, tapping her nails on the table. “Forget it. I don’t know. I just need pie.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Here it comes. Do you need a fork or are you going to shovel it in with your hands?”

  “Ha-ha,” Ashton jeered as she smoothed out the empty space of the table in front of her.

  What was even more adorable was the expression on her face after the first bite. Thanks to passionate nights with a healthy parade of girlfriends, Hawk always thought he’d seen pure bliss and satisfaction.

  He’d never seen anything like this. Eyes closed, faint smile, rushing breath—she was even flushing a little. Witnessing the scene was making him start to feel overheated. And very curious about what that pie might taste like.

  No—it wasn’t the taste of pie that he was curious about.

  “Where’s your piece?” Ashton asked, shaking Hawk free of his stare glued on her mouth.

  “I didn’t order one.”

  “Why the hell not?” she asked, mouth crammed full.

  “You know sweets aren’t my thing—”

  “I’ll have yours, then! Jeez, Hawk!”

  “Besides…” he said with a smile, resting an elbow on the table. “I’d rather watch you. You’ve got a little…” His stare returned to her mouth, one corner of it, where a tiny drop of blueberry clung to her lips.

  “Oh.” She grabbed a napkin and wiped her mouth, breaking the very nice image Hawk had going for how he would’ve removed that berry.

  “Is it good?” he asked, leaning back.

  Then he imagined Tyler punching him in the skull.

  “Amazing,” she said, taking a slow bite this time. “The berries here are small—concentrated, intense. That’s why the products are superior. I researched.” She licked the back of her fork, eyes fluttering closed in another wave of bliss.

  Hawk was tempted to order his own piece to see if it was good as she said, but decided he was much happier with a front-row view.

  Just then, their server approached, noting it was safe to come back now that the beast had been fed. “Can I get you anything else?”

  Hawk pointed at Ashton’s empty plate and lifted his eyebrows. “Another?”

  “No thanks, but it was incredible. Can I get a big glass of water, please?” she asked, wiping once more at her berry-stained mouth.

  “That was so enjoyable for me,” Hawk said, resting his chin in his hands. “I knew you loved pie, though the mad frenzy puzzles me.”

  “I’ve been off sugar since Easter, but agreed to allow myself one slice this week.”

  “So glad I was here as witness. You’re…cute.” It was the only safe, semi-platonic thing he could say.

  “We’re supposed to be here for you—to get you nice and relaxed.” She folded her napkin. “We have over an hour. Let’s play a game.”

  “Cool,” he said, always too curious to say no.

  “I want you to choose a different word besides cute to describe me. Get creative.”

  Hawk fiddled with his glass, knowing he couldn’t say aloud what was thinking. “I’m not creative. I’m analytical.”

  “No kidding. This is a mind exercise.” She balled up a damp coaster napkin and tossed it at him. “Meant to get you out of your head so you don’t go all stupid in front of Knickerblocker.”

  “Bocker.”

  “Whatever.” She tilted her head. “So? Besides cute…”

  “Okay, um…” He cracked his knuckles with his thumb. “Charming.”

  “You think I’m charming?” Her voice grew louder than it had been a moment earlier.

  “Charming’s a good thing.”

  “Dig deeper.”

  “Delightful?”

  “Is that a question?”

  “Okay, sexy—you’re sexy, Ash.” The second it left his mouth, he regretted it. Ashton didn’t need to know he thought she was sexy. Not today. Not this week. Not until everything was square between him and Ty, and not until he got to the bottom of why she was leaving for Europe two months early.

  One of her eyebrows arched. “There ya go, sport. Get those words out.” She turned toward the waiter. “Can we get a couple highly caffeinated sodas here, too?” she asked, then looked at Hawk. “We need to up your energy level. Get you pumped.”

  “I thought the idea was to calm me down.”

  “Change of strategy. You’re self-confident, Hawk. It’s one of your most appealing qualities—”

  “Appealing?” he repeated with a grin that couldn’t help being cocky.

  “Anyway… You’re also a major introvert. You need to feel powerful, unbreakable. Follow my lead. If I was asked to come up with words besides cute, I’d start with stimulating.”

  “To describe me?”

  She opened her mouth but didn’t speak for a moment, though he had noticed her eyes drag across his face, along his jaw line.

  “I meant in general. Not about someone specific. Not describing you or anything. That’s just…not…” She waved a hand and scoffed dismissively.

  “Okay, so you’re not cute and I’m not stimulating. What’s next?”

  Ashton went on to rattle off a string of words and descriptions that started off innocent enough, but—in true Ashton form—got more and more explicit.

  “Kudos,” Hawk said after she’d said a word he wasn’t even sure of the meaning, but would never say around his students; they needed mentors, not street talk.

  “Your turn,” she said, looking pleased with herself. “This exercise is for you. Open up.”

  “No way.”

  “Seriously”—she reached across the table and rested her hand on his cheek—“so repressed, my darling.”

  He leaned forward so she wouldn’t move her hand away. “Why should I bother thinking up a new description? I’ll never top…” And he repeated one of the racier multisyllabic words she’d just said.

  “Mr. Hawkins?”

  When he heard the voice behind him, Hawk’s focus froze on Ashton, whose face had gone ghost white. In preparation, Hawk slammed his eyes shut, took a beat, then a quick inhale, stabilizing exhale, and then rose to his feet.

  “Mr. Knickerblocker—bocker.” He ran a quick hand through his hai
r. “How good to see you again.”

  Chapter 4

  Ashton didn’t know what to do. First of all, she wasn’t supposed to be there. She’d just meant to loosen him up. Or was it get him pumped? She couldn’t remember now. And second…wow, did Hawk have a dirty mouth.

  Okay, so he’d only repeated what she’d said, but it sounded so out of place coming from that otherwise calm and stable, proper voice. And the shocked way old Knickerbooby was starting at him…

  Ashton couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit responsible.

  “Thank you so much for agreeing to take time out of your vacation,” Hawk said to the grey-haired man in the tan suit. “I really appreciate it.”

  Whoa. This guy was on vacation and still agreed to meet with Hawk? This interview must’ve been more important that Ashton had assumed. After all, Hawk gave the impression that everything he did was the most important thing happening. Now his earlier nerves made sense.

  Not knowing if it was intentional, Ashton noticed that as the men chatted, Hawk had moved so he was completely blocking Knickelback’s view of her.

  Intentional. Hawk does nothing that isn’t on purpose. Except, you know, swearing like a dirty sailor in public.

  Knickerbocker was saying something about his lake house, and sailboat named after his wife, and how they were about to be empty nesters.

  Sweet, Ashton couldn’t help thinking. The guy’s a family man. Huh. Wonder if Hawk being single might negatively affect his chances at getting the job. She’d been reading about such things in research articles for years.

  Curious, but none of her business.

  She was just about to slink into the background when Hawk turned to her. “Phillip Knickerbocker,” he said. “This is, um, Ashton.”

  “Hello,” Ashton said, trying to sound respectable, while also being close friends with a job candidate who was extremely respectable and talented. However that was supposed to sound… “Pleased to meet you.” With stiff politeness, she shook his hand and smiled, wanting so badly to shoot an apologetic glance at Hawk—whose current expression was unreadable. “Um, I’m just going to…”

  “Join us, of course,” Knickerbocker said, probably out of sheer form.

  Ashton wasn’t sure what to do, but the way the old guy was looking at her so curiously, she figured she shouldn’t bail just yet. Maybe sticking around for a minute would help Hawk feel comfortable.

  “Love to. So…I couldn’t help overhearing you say something about a boat?”

  The old guy smiled. “Sweet Madeline. Named for my wife—the love of my life.”

  “That’s so cool,” Ashton said. “How long have you been married?”

  “Forty years this October, but it feels like yesterday. Our tenth grandbaby was born last week.”

  “Congratulations,” Hawk said.

  “Tenth?” Ashton couldn’t hide the awe in her voice. “How many children do you have, Mr. Knickerbocker?”

  “Six. And please call me Phillip. Our youngest was recently accepted to Dartmouth.”

  “Double congrats,” Hawk said.

  Phillip touched the knot of his tie and grinned proudly. “Nothing as fulfilling as being surrounded by your family. Hands down, it’s the most important thing. Which is why we treat everyone at Preston-Ivy Academy like family. Close-knit, trusting, supportive. In fact, coming from and promoting stable family environments is the number one value we look for in our leadership.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t agree more,” Ashton said, stepping up to Hawk. Before she had the chance to weigh the pros and cons, a plan popped in her head. “George and I have the same opinion.” She took Hawk’s hand and squeezed it. “Right, honey?”

  When Hawk only gawked at her, not catching on quickly enough, she smiled again at Phillip. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we were properly introduced. I’m Ashton James—soon to be Hawkins—George’s fiancée.”

  Obviously, she was lying through her teeth. Being in another relationship made her skin crawl, made her want to puke. But if a tiny white lie helped Hawk’s chances…

  “Fiancée?” Phillip asked.

  “Fiancée,” Hawk repeated. Though luckily the word hadn’t sounded like a question.

  “Fiancée,” Ashton confirmed with a great big smile, running the back of her fingers across Hawk’s cheek. “Didn’t Georgie tell you? Oh, well, we were keeping it secret for a while. You know, just the two of us. He’s very, um, sacred that way. Protective of his family. Isn’t that true, sweetheart?”

  “Yeah,” Hawk replied with a stiff nod.

  “Well, that’s just wonderful,” Phillip said, slapping Hawk on the back. “I knew you’d fit in perfectly at Preston-Ivy. Now, who do I have to elect around here to get some iced tea?”

  While Hawk called over the server, Ashton silently congratulated herself on thinking so fast on her feet. After they sat, Hawk sent her a quick look and nod. At least we’re on the same page now. They chitchatted for a while. Ashton queried Phillip about his family, since that seemed to be the topic of most interest. Hawk was leaning back in his chair, all proper smiles and laughs of approval, looking nice and chilled out—while sustaining an air of class and dignity, of course.

  Her work was done. Time to disappear.

  “What do you do for a living?” Phillip asked her.

  “I’m a PhD candidate in family therapy,” Ashton replied. “But I’m also part of the research team.”

  “Wonderful. Which school?”

  “Virginia Tech.”

  “I know a few members of the board. Good university. Tough. What is your research therapy emphasis?”

  “Sex therapy, stressing open communication in women.”

  “Oh. Interesting,” Phillip said after a beat, reaching for his water glass.

  “It’s important,” she continued. “So many women I meet with have been sexually repressed for years—some say it’s hereditary, passed down. Do you know what that can do to the female libido? Her self-esteem? All of her relationships? Well, let’s say that pent-up energy is a generation of high blood pressure and strokes just waiting to happen if that release doesn’t come, and in a big way—”

  “Ash,” Hawk said in a quiet voice, laying a hand over hers.

  Following that, a silence louder than a sonic boom filled the place.

  Oh, crap. Why had she opened her big, fat mouth? After all these years, she still hadn’t found a way to balance the passion she felt for her field, and the “proper” way to behave about it around Hawk.

  Before she could undo all the good she’d done, Ashton stood and announced she was leaving the two men alone so they could do what they’d come for.

  “Must you?” Phillip asked, with surprising sincerity in his Ivy League voice.

  “I’ve been dying to hit the little shops across the street,” Ashton replied. “They look so…cute.” She gave Hawk a wink at the inside joke. “Find me when you’re done, babe?”

  “Yep,” Hawk said. “Do you want my credit card?” he added, maybe thinking that was what a Preston-Ivy fiancé was supposed to do for his sex therapist fiancée.

  “Isn’t he the sweetest?” she said to Phillip, displaying her Southern accent just a bit. “Always taking such good care of me.” She was tempted, but didn’t take his card. She did rise up on her toes to give him a peck on the cheek. The scent of his aftershave filled her senses, as did the way he pressed one hand on the small of her back, keeping her close to him for a second longer than even their lifelong friendship dictated.

  Had her knees just swayed? Perhaps even pretending to be engaged to someone was messing with her balance.

  “See you later,” she said after a deep breath. “Wonderful to meet you, Phillip.”

  “Good afternoon.” He smiled warmly. “I hope to see you on Sunday.”

  Ashton glanced at Hawk for further explanation, but all he did was wave goodbye. He was probably desperate to get her out of the way before she crossed another line and screwed up his chances at his dream job.<
br />
  A moment later, she was out on the sidewalk.

  Okay, very well done, Ashton, she said to herself. She hadn’t planned on going shopping; in fact, she’d been saving money to spend abroad. But after that Oscar-winning performance, she deserved a reward.

  Though it was strange that as she crossed the street, eyeing the prettiest and classiest deep blue negligée in a store window, her thoughts went straight back to Hawk.

  The interview was over, and Hawk felt pretty damn confident. In fact, he and Phillip had talked well into the evening. He’d managed to send a quick text to Ashton asking if she was okay on her own for a while…just like a good fiancé would do.

  Fiancé…

  He didn’t know why she’d come up with the idea, but damn had it worked. If not for Ashton’s quick reflexes and master acting skills, he might not feel as confident now. But that was in spite of how she’d piped up about the sex thing first. He couldn’t help picturing Phillip’s expression.

  Two seconds away from disaster. I suppose it’s a blessing Ashton’s so good with people—charming.

  “I’ll be in touch,” Phillip said as they stood to leave. “I have a feeling about you and that fiancée of yours. Though—and this is between two old traditionalists—you might think about steering her in a different direction, career-wise. It’s all well and good that she’s furthering her education, but I don’t know how the rest of the board will feel if she…” He allowed the sentence to trail off but then leaned in closer. “After all, wouldn’t be very proper for the new teacher’s wife to convey opinions like that.”

  Hawk, being so used to this specific mannerism thanks to his father, didn’t even flinch.

  “I’m sure you see things my way,” Phillip added.

  “Of course,” Hawk replied.

  Did he see things Phillip’s way? Or was the old man way off base? For once, Hawk didn’t know, and had no one to ask. For now, however, he couldn’t voice that to anyone.

  By the time the two men said goodbye, Hawk was pretty beat. Driving all the way back to Bar Harbor sounded like torture.

  “Hey, you.”

  Ashton came strolling up the sidewalk carrying the strings of three shopping bags. He knew she loathed the New England style, but she sure fit in. Honestly, she fit in anywhere.