by Lindsey Hart
“You’re a real butt. Now, get in the shower. Because I can smell your butt.” Trace let out a half sigh, half groan. It was overdramatic, and Jenni laughed. She raised a brow. “Too much?”
“Definitely too much.”
“So, shower? I’ll clean up your living room for you and I’ll make sure to hide all the beer bottles and empty whiskey bottles so mom doesn’t see them.”
“For the record, I don’t drink my pain away. There is half an empty whiskey bottle that I made last over like… three nights.”
“Right, but you obviously drank that half last night after spending two days and three nights trying to talk yourself out of it.”
“I am seriously too hung-over for this conversation.”
“I know you don’t drink your pain. Don’t worry, I was kidding. I do know that there are probably four or five empty pizza boxes or take out containers. I do know that you probably changed your clothes all of once since you got home after everything blew up. You’ve probably slept on the couch every single night so I should bleach it or if that won’t save it, get out the gas and the matches.”
Trace couldn’t help it. He cracked a smile and actually allowed a small laugh. “You know me too well. No need for bleach or gas. There may be a few pizza boxes…”
Their mom’s singing escalated as she belted out some horrible off-key version of a popular pop song. She was probably minutes away from starting to cook with whatever she could find in his fridge. His mom was a miracle worker though, at throwing a meal together on nothing. Trace didn’t like to think about how much practice she’d had at it over her lifetime. He promised himself when he made something of his life, he was never going to let his mom or sister go back to it.
“Shower,” Jenni commanded. “Then we’ll figure out how to get you out of this mess.”
“Is there a way out?”
She cocked a confident brow. “Trust me. There is always a way out when it comes to matters of the heart. I’m not going to let my big brother crash and burn.”
“If your advice contains flowers and chocolates, I’m afraid it’s not going to work. Ash isn’t easily wooed.”
“Don’t worry. I did my research. It’s going to be much, much better than flowers or chocolates.”
Trace turned and headed off to the promise of warm water and less of the horrible crawling in his skin filthy feeling. He had to make his escape before his sister let him in on whatever horrible plan she had up her sleeve.
He was one hundred percent sure that he wasn’t going to like it and that it would involve completely humiliating himself. He was also one hundred percent sure that if it involved getting Ash back and making things right, he’d do it in a heartbeat.
CHAPTER 18
Ash
Exhausted from work, Ash hurried around her apartment, quickly filling Slappy’s bowl so his endless loud meows, tales about how he’d run out while she was away during the day, would cease. She dumped out half a can of tuna onto a plate after she filled up the bowl with cat food, seeing as she knew Slappy would be quicker to forgive her that way. Not that it was really her fault. Sometimes the darn cat ate his whole bowl of food when she was gone. Other days he barely touched a thing.
Cats. They were almost as bad as men.
Ash sighed and leaned against the countertop, trying to summon up the will to open the fridge and make herself something to eat. She was starving, but she was so tired she contemplated heading off straight to bed with a bag of chips.
She knew she’d pay for it in the morning, so she forced herself to move. She grabbed a banana off the counter and devoured it. She felt better after and had enough energy to set a pot on the burner and cook some spaghetti. She added a few frozen meatballs to a different pot and waited for them to finish.
When she set her plate on the table, her mouth was watering and her stomach growled violently.
Of course, because the universe had it in for her, a gentle knock sounded on her door.
Ash set down her fork, aggravated and puzzled. Only her family had a key for the front door. No one called or texted to say they were coming over. Maybe they were worried about her. The workweek hadn’t exactly been kind and she was just glad it was over. Tomorrow, Saturday would be the one-week anniversary of the disastrous reunion and the viral video that had since been viewed over six hundred thousand times.
On Wednesday evening, she’d finally gone in for her long overdue phone upgrade, which included a new number, since it wouldn’t stop blowing up. She’d completely forgotten to inform her parents.
“Shit.” Ash pushed back her chair, mourning the meal she’d spent the most effort making all week getting cold. She rushed to the door. Maybe if she could assure whoever was out there that she was indeed still alive or invite them in, she’d still be able to salvage dinner.
She threw open the door without checking the peephole since she was pretty darn sure no one was out there to annoy or murder her and stopped dead.
“What the fuck,” she breathed. There, standing in the hallway in front of her door, was not her brother, mother or father. It was Trace. Dressed up in full costume. “Oh, hell no.” She tried to slam the door shut but wasn’t fast enough. Trace wedged one black boot into the frame. Ash pressed harder, ignoring his grunt of pain. “How the hell did you get in here?” she ground out. “Only my family has a key for the front door.”
His costume included a deadly replica of her favorite villain right down to the swirling cape and the helmet. He smiled sheepishly, though the action probably made the sides of the plastic replica dig into his cheeks. “I might have convinced your brother to lend me his key.”
“Jason,” Ash spat. “Remind me to murder him later. How did you find him anyway? You don’t have his number.”
“I- I have ways of getting information.”
“I bet you do.” She skewered him with a malevolent glare. “Seeing as you’re rich you can probably get just about anything.” Her eyes flicked over the costume. She was annoyed at her traitorous body for heating up, for noticing that he filled it out nicely, for roaring to life, for the sick amount of hope and longing that rushed through her. “Like that costume. Bet that wasn’t cheap. Bet it was special ordered.”
“You might be right.” Trace crossed his arms over his chest and his muscles rippled in the tight black leather looking material. His biceps bulged and strained, and the material creaked in protest.
God. Does he have to look so good?
“I know I’m right. I’d bet that set you back five hundred dollars. Which is probably nothing to you. Like finding a lucky penny to anyone else.”
Trace’s smile fell and she hated herself for the barb. “See, this is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”
“No? You couldn’t trust me? You thought I’d what? Try and use you for it? Puh-lease. You seriously don’t know me at all. I might not make a killer living doing what I do, but if you haven’t noticed, my books do sell. They sell well. I’m on my way to making something of myself. I have a job. I’ve looked after myself so far. I don’t need you to do it for me. What I needed was a date, a smoking hot date who made me feel good and had my back. A date so I didn’t appear pathetic in front of all the people who tormented me my entire life. That’s what I needed, Trace, and you failed pretty epically at that. That’s what I cared about. Not your money.”
“I might have failed,” Trace said thickly, “but you didn’t. I’m going to bet you saw that video, but even if you didn’t, you should have realized that you were a fucking rock star. Not only did you deck me- hard I’ll add- you also stood up to all those asshats. You took a stand for yourself. You didn’t need me at all. You were far, far better off on your own. The only thanks I can give myself is that I was the catalyst for your awakening and the realization that you can indeed kick ass just fine. You’ve become this huge inspiration to people who are bullied all over the place. In high school, in the workplace, everywhere.”
Ash ducked her head. “I dou
bt that’s true. People don’t look up to me for anything. If I could erase that video, I would.”
“It’s not just one. There are more out there.”
“I’d erase them all if I could.”
Trace’s eyes burned into her. “Ash, you’re amazing. Truly. I knew it from the second you sent me that crazy note online in the middle of the night. You were so well-spoken. So- so well written. I wanted to meet the girl behind it. Then I did meet you and ever since the second I walked into the coffee shop and saw you, with two drinks because you’d ordered for me, which was so ridiculously sexy, by the way, I knew it was it for me. I thought I needed to show you how to find yourself. I thought it was my job to show you how sexy you were. No, not my job. My privilege, but all along, you just needed to believe it yourself.”
Ash’s hand gripped the door frame. Her body heated painfully at the reminder at what they’d done. At just how Trace had tried to show her and teach her how to be confident. He’d made her feel beautiful, for the first time in her life. She’d come alive under his hands and it had nothing to do with finding confidence or that stupid reunion. It had everything to do with how much she wanted him, how she craved him, how she felt that connection he was talking about, right from the start.
“I don’t know how or why you stumbled across my profile that night or why you picked me, but I’m so damn happy that you did. I thought I was putting it all together, that maybe we could be something after. I fucked up. Big time.”
The door to the left of her apartment opened and Mrs. McGreggor stepped into the hall. She was eighty and was constantly complaining that everyone in the building was too loud. Her eyes nearly popped out of her wrinkly, adorable, angry little face. “If you’re going to carry on about nonsense, take it inside so the rest of us don’t have to hear your sorry ass apologizing.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ve seen the video. I know all about what happened. I’m going to bet you’re the sucker she decked. Lordy, you deserved that one. Why on god’s green earth are you standing out there dressed like a pussy in a cape and spandex? Did I miss the memo about them moving Halloween up this year?”
Trace chuckled. His shoulders shook and rolled as his soft rasp turned into an all-out belly laugh. Eventually, Ash had to laugh. Mrs. McGreggor shook her head and slammed her door so loud that the whole building probably heard her. It was amazing, how she’d complain about John’s music from down the hall being too loud or how she’d embarrassed Sam and her husband, Ted, for being too loud with their morning marital bliss, but she was somehow totally immune to the way her own TV blared twenty-four hours of the day. How she could even hear some of the things she did was beyond Ash.
Trace cocked a brow. “Now that I’ve made a total fool of myself, twice, will you let me in?”
Ash hedged. “I don’t know. Maybe I should send you packing, Mr. Nightshadow. Although, that’s not your name anymore if you show up dressed like that.” Her gaze flicked over him and she realized she’d probably done it too appreciatively when his eyes darkened dangerously.
“I’ll let you call me whatever you want, just as long as you agree to hear me out. Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking for.”
Mrs. McGreggor’s door opened again and this time she stepped into the hallway, her pink bathrobe on display, swallowing her diminutive form whole. She crossed her arms and the robe billowed around her as she did. “Let him in, Ash. Hear him out and when you’re done, send his sorry ass over here for a cup of tea and a chat about how to treat a lady.” The old woman licked her lips and cackled like a crone. “Maybe he can do a little dance for me in that costume of his. I’d like to see that tight ass bust a move. It would give me my entertainment for the year.”
Ash didn’t miss the note of loneliness in the old woman’s voice. She’d never been invited into her neighbor’s for tea before and she’d never really realized that beneath the crotchety exterior and all the complaints, Mrs. McGreggor was actually lonely.
“Okay. I’ll do that.” Ash opened the door wider and motioned with her hand for Trace to come in. It was a dangerous move, letting him back into her apartment. It felt like she was opening the door to more than just that. That she was letting him back into her life. She wasn’t ready for that. She wasn’t ready for any of it. She didn’t want her little happy, easy bubble to burst. She liked her life the way it was.
Only…
She opened that damn door not because Mrs. McGreggor demanded it, but because she couldn’t imagine her life without Trace in it anymore, at least in some capacity.
What that capacity was, remained to be seen. She wouldn’t let him off easy but judging by the fact that he’d pulled out all the stops and shown up dressed like the sexiest, steamiest, most wonderful villain in the history of villains, her going easy wasn’t exactly what he’d anticipated.
CHAPTER 19
Trace
He’d never seen a more beautiful sight than the inside of Ash’s apartment. Unless Ash herself counted, but that was a given. He even liked the way her grouchy old cat wound its way around his ankles, purring and rubbing and purring some more, dusting his boot in a liberal coating of hair.
He bent and scratched his fingers over the soft, furry head.
“You’re the only one he actually likes. I swear you have catnip up your ass.”
Trace nearly choked. He looked up and met Ash’s gaze, which was thankfully no longer as angry or guarded as it had been when she opened the door to find him there, the last person on earth she expected or wanted to see. “I’ve been accused of having a few things up my ass before, but catnip wasn’t one of them.”
He straightened and Ash frowned. “So, what do you have up your ass then? Any tricks to try and make me forgive you? Where the hell did you get the idea to dress up like that anyway?”
“Do you like it?” He smothered a grin.
“No.” She shook her head, but the fire in her eyes gave her away. He could tell she was trying not to smile.
“Liar.”
“I’m not.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He shook his head. “I’ll prove to you soon enough that you are.” Ash’s lips thinned out like she wanted to ask him what the hell that meant, but he charged ahead before she could get a word in. “My sister, actually. She and my mom came over to tell me to get my head out of my ass-”
“So that was what you had up there.”
He nearly choked for a second time. Jeez, Ash’s wits were razor-sharp, as always. He felt a little like her brother, trapped under her glare and sparring for his life. She was absolutely cutthroat on the other side of a battle. He also loved that about her. Respected her for it. God, it was sexy as hell. She was sexy, dressed in jeans and a plaid button-down shirt, her hair done up in a messy bun, faint creases at the corners of her eyes and mouth, hinting that she was probably tired after a long week made longer by what happened on the weekend preceding it.
“Yes- uh…” he reached up to run a hand through his hair, something he realized he did when he was nervous, and nearly knocked his helmet off. Shit. He dropped his hand back to his side. “She gave me a little pep talk while my mom cleaned up the place.” He winced when Ash rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. I’m a grown man and I still can’t get anything right or take care of myself.”
“You said it, not me.” She leaned up against the kitchen door frame.
He peered into the kitchen behind her and saw her dinner waiting for her on the table, beyond cold. Shit. She’s probably hangry on top of everything else. “Anyway, my sister told me I needed to apologize and win you back. She said it was obvious that you weren’t like anyone else.”
“Oh yeah? How did she know? As far as I know, I’ve never met her.”
“Because she could see that I wasn’t like how I was with anyone else. She said I was the happiest she’d ever seen me. Ever. She said it was like someone had turned this light on in my eyes. She was excited. She got it out of me when I went to look after my niece that night, that I was seeing s
omeone.”
“Even though it was supposed to be fake.”
“You said that you needed a date for your reunion. I never said it was fake. Nothing I did was fake. Did it feel that way to you?”
“No, I guess not,” Ash admitted. She leaned her hip harder against the door frame and crossed her arms.
“I always wanted something more and I even said that. I wanted to see you far longer than this weekend. It was never going to be over for me-”
“Until you lied to me.”
His chest squeezed and he resisted the urge to reach up and rub the spot that burned. “Yeah. I did. I get it. I didn’t tell you and that was as bad as lying straight up.”
“I don’t get why you didn’t. It’s not like it would have changed anything.”
Trace closed his eyes. “I- I’m sorry. I haven’t had the best history with people knowing that I had money and wanting to be with me for any other reason.”
“So, you thought I was just like every other gold digger?”
“I don’t really even know you, Ash.” Trace’s eyes flew open. “Seriously. I- I just wanted to play it safe at first, and then- even when I did feel like I was getting to know you, it had really only been a couple of days and I- I just wanted to enjoy what we had. It was nice, being with someone and just- just having them see me.”
“Why wouldn’t anyone see you? You’re- you’re a good man, Trace. You’re nice. You’re funny. You’re selfless, humble, kind. You were sick and you still came to my parents’ place for dinner. You actually enjoyed it, which is even more shocking.”
“Even the losing part.”
“Even losing. You’re a good loser. That alone tells me that you’re a nice person. We have games night at the store regularly and let me tell you, I’ve seen people lose their shit. As in throwing things across the room, clearing the table, screaming and yelling tantrums. You’re a good sport. You were willing to drop everything and help me.”