"Five o'clock,” Ash agreed to the air. She ran one finger along the dark wood of the bar. She needed a job, after all. She needed to pay rent without asking her father for help or dipping into her trust fund. What difference did it make where she worked? It was only for a couple of months, anyway.
Your parents are going to kill you. Jen's words, as clear as if her best friend had walked into the bar and stood beside her, echoed inside Ash's conscience. She shrugged. It was true. A Kirk daughter, hauling trays of food around a seedy jazz club? She'd be the disgrace of the neighborhood if anyone found out back home. Well, maybe not. Her father had been filling that role the last few months. Not sure she could top his fiasco unless she started working the red light district.
Ash shook her head. That thought hurt, so she stopped it. Instead, she stepped back out into the sunshine and let the day cheer her.
* * * *
A stop at Lou's for pasta salad and tomato soup, and Ash returned home. Home ... the word sounded funny inside her head. She stood in the middle of her living room and looked around. Last night, after Eddie left, she'd laid out the Oriental rug and hung two Monet prints on the wall above the couch. Already the place looked better. Warmer. Another throw rug in the hallway, and it might actually feel like her own space.
She ventured into the kitchen and gazed out the window. Should she? The roof beckoned her, sun-dappled and secret. She acknowledged that Jen had been right. The bird's eye porch was the best part of the apartment. Out there, she could escape. She could think. She could watch the world from above without it staring back at her. Ash grabbed a napkin along with her lunch and a diet soda, then hauled herself across the sill.
The day was quiet, breathless in the heat. She watched the street for a while as she chewed, but nothing moved. Even Helen remained inside. Content for the first time in what seemed like forever, she allowed herself to relax. God, she'd fallen apart when the news about her father broke. He'd tried to claim a set-up, a political framing, but how did you argue with the facts?
A gram of cocaine in the glove box of his private Benz. A point-oh-nine on the breathalyzer test. And worst of all, a nineteen-year-old prostitute in the seat beside him, made up to look twenty-five, but playing the lost little girl as soon as the first news camera appeared. Her mother had defended him, as always, Ash recalled. Was that what it meant to be a politician's wife? Smiling for the camera and denying any wrongdoing?
Ash had no intention of letting that happen to her. Ever. She'd be the politician, but never the wife, never standing at home while her husband ran around behind her back. Hell, now she didn't even want to be a politician. She'd spent her entire life watching how everyone, the people of Massachusetts, and the reporters themselves, had at first loved her father and then lambasted him. They worshipped him, put him into office with the biggest majority the state had seen in fifty years. And then they were the first ones to parade his mug shot across every television channel and newspaper in the city. Did she really want a life like that for herself? No way.
Ash crumpled her napkins into a tight ball and made her way back into the kitchen. She couldn't think about it anymore. The sorrow and frustration would give her a migraine and land her in bed for two days. With a couple of hours until she had to go to work, maybe she'd attack the mold that seemed to be growing behind her toilet. That chore might be disgusting enough to take her mind off all the problems back home.
Someone knocked on her door, and Ash froze. Oh, God. They found me. The media followed me to Paradise and now they want a statement. With a hearing scheduled for later this summer, the story would be building again, after the relative calm of the last few weeks. She eyed the door. She'd thought New Hampshire was far enough away, but who knew what those vultures were capable of? They'd camped outside her apartment in Cambridge until Colin called the police. Of course, that was when he'd still lived there. That was when he still cared. She hugged her elbows. All she wanted was to be left alone. Was that too much to ask?
On silent feet, she walked to the door and looked through the peephole.
Eddie. Thank God. She pulled open the door in relief. “Hi."
Today her downstairs neighbor wore jeans and a faded red T-shirt with the words “Frank's Imports” across the pocket. His feet were bare. He lifted the edge of his shirt to wipe his forehead, and Ash caught a glimpse of a six-pack or two hiding underneath. Damn, he looked good. Even preoccupied with thoughts of her father, she couldn't deny that.
"Everything okay in here?"
"Fine,” she lied. “Come on in."
"Thanks.” A wide smile brightened his eyes, revealing a dimple.
God, he's even better-looking when he really smiles.
"How's the job search going?” He pointed to the paper, lying on the floor beside the loveseat.
"Oh—I found one.” A vision of the darkened Blues and Booze flew back into her mind, and Ash grimaced.
"That's not a good face."
"No, it's okay.” She waved away the image. “It's waiting tables, in a restaurant downtown. Blues and Booze. You know it?"
Eddie nodded. “Sure. Great little place."
"Really?” She leaned in the kitchen doorway. “Seemed a little—I don't know—strange."
He chuckled. “You probably talked to Marty, the manager."
She nodded.
"Marty's dad left him that place ‘cause no one else in the family wanted it. He's got a sister in real estate down in Boston, and a brother out in California. Marty just made it through high school and didn't have the gumption to do much of anything. Actually, he's done all right for himself. That place always does a good business. Decent clientele. Any place on Main Street is safe enough, anyway."
Ash listened to him talk. She liked the way his mouth moved and the way his strong fingers rubbed a soft spot just under his chin. “That makes me feel about a hundred times better. Thanks."
"When do you start?"
"Tonight. Five o'clock. Hey—” A thought, brave enough to scare her, came from nowhere. “You should stop by."
He smiled but shook his head. “I'd like to, but I have to work the odd shift at the garage tonight. Three to ten. Frank stays open late one night a week.” He looked at his watch. “I've got to get going. Just wanted to see how you made out."
"Oh, okay."
"But let me know how it goes?"
She nodded. “Sure. Have fun at work."
"Fun? Don't know about that.” For a moment he stood in the doorway, and though neither one spoke, something bounced between them. Eyes met, then dropped, and Ash felt an orchestra of butterflies begin a symphony in her stomach. Eddie winked and headed out the door.
She sank to the floor and leaned against the loveseat. What's going on here? Somehow, in the last twenty-four hours, Eddie West had slid into her life, smooth and easy as water winding its way down rocks on a lazy spring afternoon. She tried to decipher it, to understand the feeling of familiarity that emerged when they were together. It wasn't just attraction, though some of that hung over them too. It was almost as though they had known each other a long time ago and were now trying to make up for all the years they'd been apart. She'd never sensed anything like it, and she wasn't sure how it made her feel. She scratched her nose and wondered if it were possible to have a soul mate.
Chapter Five
A little after six the following night, Eddie eased his truck into an open spot on Main Street. He didn't bother to lock the doors. It was Paradise, after all, and the last time anyone had something stolen in the daylight hours was more than ten years ago. He jogged across to Blues and Booze. It had been a slow day at work, though he hadn't really minded. Some days he liked losing himself in the diagnostics, like figuring out why someone's alternator didn't work or someone's idiot light on the panel kept blinking on and off.
But today, he'd appreciated the few oil changes and timing belts he'd had to take care of. Simple stuff. Nothing too complex. Because even though he'd done his best to c
oncentrate, his mind kept going back to her. To Ash and to the few hours they spent having dinner the night before last.
Eddie pulled open the restaurant door, entered, and let his eyes adjust to the dimness for a moment before looking around. He'd been in here a few times as a teenager. It used to be one of the only places in town you could drink without showing an ID. Not since Marty had taken over, though. That guy, though not too bright in the business department, only let himself get caught once for serving minors. Today the place catered more to the thirty-something and up crowd, though it drew its fair share of locals. On any given day, you could find schoolteachers, cabdrivers, and retired highway workers sitting together at the bar watching a ball game.
"Jesus, but that pitcher stinks,” one of them said. Eddie recognized Harold Triumph, former owner of Triumph Dry Cleaners, and pulled up a stool beside him.
"Draft, tall one,” he said to the bartender.
"Hey! Eddie West!” The bartender grinned as he pulled on the tap. “Nick Scoles. Few years ahead of you back at Paradise High."
Eddie grinned and dropped a five on the bar. “Sure. How's it going?"
"Not too bad. Got a couple-a new girls working here, so I'm enjoying the view."
A sharp sting of jealousy stiffened Eddie's spine. “I know. One of ‘em's my housemate."
Nick started washing glasses. “Yeah? Which one?"
"Ash."
Nick nodded. “Cute."
"I know.” Eddie paused. “How's she doing, anyway?"
"Learning the ropes, I guess. Today's only her second day."
Eddie glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the dining room. Low-hanging lights cast shadows and made it hard for him to make out much of anything. He saw a few occupied tables, and a few more covered with dishes and crumpled-up napkins. Near the door that led into the kitchen, two figures stood, filling water glasses and talking.
"Bathroom still in the same place?” Eddie stood.
Nick jerked one thumb toward the dining room. “All the way in the back."
"I'll take another,” Eddie said as he finished his beer. He ran one hand over damp hair, smoothing the waves in the back. He was glad he'd stopped back at the house to take a quick shower after finishing up at Frank's. Somehow, he didn't want Ash to think that he walked around smelling like diesel fumes all day.
Eddie headed into the dining room, taking his time. He passed one table with a young family he didn't recognize and another with a single man bent over a laptop, and slowed at a third when he recognized the two women having a cocktail.
"Hey, Simra."
The bleach-blonde with the heavy eye makeup looked up at Eddie's greeting. “Eddie?” She practically leapt out of her chair, dragging her napkin and menu with her. Flinging her arms around his neck, she leaned in for the squeeze.
Heavy perfume nearly choked him, and he pulled back after a long minute. “How've you been?"
She leaned against the table, trying to pose the way she used to back in high school, Eddie thought. One hand on a hip and chin cocked up at him. Only thing was, the hips had broadened quite a bit in the last ten years. He wondered how many kids Simra was up to by now.
"How's Carl?"
She stuck out her tongue. “Left me last winter for a waitress over at the truck stop. Surprised you didn't hear about it."
Eddie was a little surprised too. News like that usually traveled through Paradise pretty quickly. Still, he'd been so wrapped up inside his own head the last few years that a train might have derailed and gone careening down Main Street without his noticing.
"Sorry to hear that.” He cut a glance toward the kitchen door, where he thought he'd seen Ash a few minutes earlier.
"Oh, don't be.” Simra reached over and tugged at Eddie's shirt. “That means you still have a chance."
Eddie felt himself redden. He'd gone on exactly one date with Simra Hall, five or six years ago, and the way she'd thrown herself at him in the back of his Camaro had turned him off but fast. “I like women, but not when they don't let you do any of the catching,” he told his buddies later on. “Shooting fish in a barrel isn't my style."
"This is Denise Reynolds. From over in Silver Creek.” Simra turned to her friend, a redhead with graying roots, who gave Eddie a shy smile.
"Hi."
"Hi, yourself.” Eddie nodded. “Listen, I'll catch up with you later. Nice seeing you."
"You, too.” The blonde leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek before he could react. “Call me sometime. I'm staying with my parents, over by the trailer park."
"Mm hmm,” Eddie answered. He made a mental note to stay far away from the mobile home community until Paradise's grapevine told him Simra had gotten herself another man.
He continued through the dining room, waving a hand to Zach Olson and his wife, then stopped to drop a friendly kiss on the cheek of Mrs. Wainwright, his fifth grade teacher. Still, he hadn't caught sight of Ash and decided to head to the bathroom, after all, when the kitchen door swung open, and she nearly ran into him.
"Whoa!” Eddie took two steps back.
She backpedaled, and for a dangerous moment her tray tilted left. “Eddie?"
He reached over and helped her steady the steaming plates before they hit the floor. “Hi, there."
Her face lit up, and he hoped it was because she was glad to see him and not just because he'd rescued the nachos and chicken fingers. Out of habit, he glanced down and took in the tight black shorts she wore and the t-shirt that curved around her breasts, stretching the words “Blues and Booze” in just the right way.
"You're here for dinner?"
"Just stopped by for a drink. And to say hello."
"Hey, sweetheart!” A burly guy Eddie didn't recognize waved a hand in the air. “You gonna bring us those nachos while they're still hot, or what?"
"Sorry,” Ash called over, and her cheeks pinked. “I've gotta go."
"Yeah. Okay."
"I'll come out and see you if I get a minute,” she went on.
"Hey, sweetheart!"
Eddie cut another glance across the room and didn't like what he saw: a guy in his early forties with red cheeks and bloodshot eyes, and two friends who looked in about the same condition. All three wore plaid shirts with the sleeves rolled up and expensive-looking watches. They aren't locals. He figured they were either stopping through on business or taking in one of the summer seminars at the junior college.
"I'll see you later.” Ash gave Eddie a tired smile and raised the tray above her head, winding her way through tables until she got to the three idiots.
He watched her go, backing toward the bathroom after a minute, though what he really wanted to do was stay and make sure those guys treated her okay. Eddie didn't like the way they were looking at his housemate, with grins splitting their faces apart and winks behind her back. As he watched, biting back a comment, they made her get them fresh napkins, fresh drinks, and extra plates before one of them finally ran a hand down her bare arm and let her go.
* * * *
"So who's the guy?"
Ash looked up from the salads she was making. Lacey, the other waitress, stood with one hand on the coffee pot.
"What guy?"
The twenty-year old college student clicked her tongue. “C'mon. The one who just ran you over in the dining room. The one who was talking to you.” She filled two mugs and headed for the door. “He's cute. Is he your boyfriend?"
"No. My housemate.” Ash crooked her neck, trying to work out a kink. Thank goodness she was only working until eight. Already she'd had enough of drunken customers hitting on her to last through the summer.
"Cool. So is he available?"
Ash watched the young girl's eyes light up. She had to admit Eddie looked good in his polo shirt and shorts. Who wouldn't fall for those dimples, the hard body, that sensual voice? She straightened. Well, not her, that was for sure. It didn't matter how good Eddie West looked. She wasn't about to get involved with someone who
lived downstairs from her. She'd learned that lesson back in her first year of college.
"Ash?” Lacey stood in the doorway, waiting. “Do you know if he has a girlfriend?"
"Um ... I don't know. I don't think so."
"So what's his name?"
"Eddie West."
Lacey's brows rose. “That's Eddie West? Geez, one of my roommates was talking about him the other day. Said she took her car in to get fixed, and this gorgeous guy spent the afternoon hitting on her. Said she'd go out with him, too, if he ever called."
Ash laughed. “Did he?"
"No. I guess he's like that. You know—a player."
Ash swallowed. “I really don't know him. I mean, we both just moved in..."
Lacey bumped the door open with one hip. “Well, I don't care. Guy looks like that, he can play with me all he wants.” She laughed, a little chirp that hit Ash the wrong way.
Ash watched the door swing closed and turned back to her salads. See? That's one more reason why you need to make sure you and Eddie just stay friends. He's already got a reputation a mile long. And if he's looking at you like ... well, like he wants something more, then just remember that's what he does with any woman he meets.
She took another couple of minutes, hoping Eddie had made it back to the bar, before she headed into the dining room.
"Hey, sweetheart!"
Ash stiffened. When were those guys going to leave? Did they have any idea who she was? Who her father was? She pressed her lips together and turned around. “Can I get you something else?"
One of them, the heaviest, ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “Sure can."
How about the check? she almost said as she made her way over to their table.
Before she could stop him, the guy wrapped one arm around her waist and yanked her into him. “How about you give me your phone number, good-lookin'?"
Ash felt her hipbone jut into the spongy flesh of his belly and tried to pull away. “Um, listen—"
"C'mon. Sweet little thing like you probably tastes even better than she looks.” The other two guys at the table guffawed.
Ash shoved a palm against his shoulder. “Let go of me."
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