Not your friend any more to protect or help.
Though her small wobble at the door had him concerned, he let her go. His was the last face she’d want to see right now anyway. A few minutes later, the song ended, and Mason headed outside himself, abandoning his dance partner on the floor.
Ryan shoved his pool cue at Blake, whose jaw dropped in surprise. “Sorry, but I have to go deal with something.”
“Hey!” Blake called after him, but he ignored his brother’s protest.
December in this part of Texas typically leaned to chilly and drizzly, but tonight was an exception. Clear skies twinkled with millions of stars. The bar was situated at the far end of town, but the glow of white Christmas lights adorning the distant downtown buildings shed light over the parking lot. First glance showed him no one else out there, so he paused and took a closer look.
“No, thanks, Mason. I’m going inside now, anyway.” An undercurrent of trepidation in Ashley’s voice hurried Ryan’s steps as he aimed his boots toward the sound.
“Come on. Taylor won’t notice you’re gone.”
“I’m her maid of honor. I can’t just leave her.”
Ryan turned the corner around a large truck jacked up on oversized tires to find Ashley trying to pull out of Mason’s grasp.
Fury burned through Ryan in a wave. He wanted to shred the man. “Excuse me, but I don’t think she appreciates your hands on her.”
“This ain’t none of your business, McAdams,” Mason growled.
“Seeing as that’s my girl you’re pawing, I’d damn well say it’s my business.” Ryan had no f’ing clue what prompted the claim. Except experience taught him Mason was the type of man who doesn’t take no for an answer unless the woman was taken.
Mason paused and glanced unsteadily between Ryan and Ashley. “Since when?”
Ashley scooted away from him and latched herself onto Ryan’s side. “None of your business.”
Mason’s face flushed red with anger. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
She hitched her chin up. “I was trying to be polite.”
He swayed on his feet, as he transferred his glare to Ryan. “Better watch what she wears. If a woman dresses like a whore—”
As quick as a striking snake, Ryan released Ashley and landed a hard punch squarely on Mason’s jaw. The man dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Rubbing his knuckles, which hurt like a son of a bitch, Ryan turned to find Ashley, hands over her mouth, staring with wide eyes at Mason’s unconscious form.
She raised her gaze to his. “You hit him,” she said through her hands.
“I did.”
A giggle escaped, and her eyes widened as though surprised at finding humor in the situation. She dropped her hands to her sides. “Why?”
“He called you something not very nice and not true.”
Her lips twitched and another giggle escaped. Titling her head slightly, she stepped closer and took his hand in hers, running her fingers over the throbbing knuckles. “Does it hurt?”
A steel band squeezed his chest, and awareness punched through him at the warmth of her soft touch in the brisk night air. “Yeah.”
Shock followed awareness, ricocheting through him, as she laid her lips over those same knuckles before she lifted her head and grinned at him. “My knight in shining armor. Who knew it would turn out to be you?”
He did his best to slam a lid on the desire her innocent touch evoked. “I think you’re drunk, Hughes.”
She pouted, and his gaze dropped to those lush lips.
“Why won’t you call me Ashley?”
Self-preservation. “Let’s get you inside.”
“But I haven’t thanked you properly.” Before he could stop her or step back, Ashley wound her arms around his neck, gave a tug, and laid those sweet lips of hers against his.
I’ll be damned.
The second her lush body pressed against his, every honorable intention disappeared along with any vestige of his will. The desire she stirred in him swept through in a tornado of sensation and need. They had kissed only once before. A year ago. And the experience had left him craving more.
With a low groan, Ryan pulled her closer and took over the kiss, deepening it, asking for more. Asking for everything.
Her tiny whimper of need whispered across his lips as she opened her mouth for his questing tongue. She tasted of beer and berries, an intoxicating combination. The heat between them burned, igniting like a spark to dry tinder. Ryan smoothed his hands down her back. Cupping her ass, he lifted her, and Ashley wrapped her legs around his waist, rubbing against his erection. He hardened almost painfully at her actions.
“Ryan,” she panted between kisses, her desire-laden voice stoking the flames higher.
“Yeah?”
“Take me home?”
The breath locked in his throat as yearning battled with that darn honor ingrained deeply in him. She was drunk, and he had yet to see if she was over her nine-year relationship with Eric or not. Reluctantly, he lowered her feet back to the ground. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, honey.”
Anger replaced the dazed desire in her eyes. “Right. Why would you want to be with someone who followed a guy around like a puppy dog for years? Guess that makes me too stupid to be good enough for you?”
What the hell was she talking about?
Bitterness twisted her mouth. “Never was. Never will be.”
She spun away, then pitched forward and vomited.
“Terrific,” he muttered. Careful to keep his best boots out of the line of fire, he held back her hair while she emptied her stomach of all contents. Eventually, she stood but swayed precariously, her eyes half-closed.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” He grabbed her before she could tumble to the ground. Scooping her up into his arms, he strode across the parking lot to his truck. With a bit of maneuvering, he managed to deposit her inside. Lucky thing she was tiny. Otherwise, he would’ve had trouble lifting her up. He even got her seat belt latched.
“Stay here, honey. I’m going to tell Taylor I’m taking you home.”
“M’kay,” she mumbled.
Back inside, he found Taylor chatting with Mandy.
“I have Ashley all but passed out in my truck. Where are you guys staying tonight?”
Her eyes widened. “You didn’t—”
He shook his head. “No. Just helping out.”
Her brows drew down over eyes a tad darker than her sister’s. “We decided to stay in town tonight.”
No surprise there. The town lay a decent drive from the Hughes ranch. One that could be done after a night out, but given the alcohol involved, he wasn’t surprised they opted not to head back that night.
“I’ll come get her,” Taylor said.
“That’s okay. I was leaving anyway.”
She eyed him, clearly undecided. “I don’t think—”
“I’ll take care of her, Taylor. You enjoy your bachelorette party.”
Finally, she gave in and handed over Ashley’s purse with an amused chuckle. “She never could handle alcohol. We’re staying at the Blue Moon motel in town. Her room key’s in her purse. I’ll close out her tab for her.”
“Thanks.”
He stopped by the bar and let Bud know about Mason, still unconscious in the parking lot, before heading back to his truck, where he found Ashley passed out cold. He allowed his gaze to roam over her. Undeniably gorgeous—long dark hair curling over a pert breast, dark eyelashes fanning out over creamy skin, a few adorable freckles across the bridge of her nose—even in all her drunken splendor. He shook his head at himself.
“Knight in shining armor to the rescue,” he muttered under his breath as he fired the engine and put the truck in gear.
3
“Well, butter my butt, and call me a biscuit.” --Southern Expression
Ashley peeled sleep-crusted eyes open to discover she’d somehow managed to make it back to her motel room. Her open suitcase sat on
the bench thingy, her outfit for today on top, reminding her that she couldn’t hide out here all morning. Maybe she’d gotten lucky and been bitten by a vampire, because then she’d have to stay out of the light. Bonus—she’d have a medical excuse to miss today’s planned festivities.
With a groan, she closed her eyes again as pain sliced through her head. She never drank much. After a bad incident in high school, she’d avoided getting that sloshed, having concluded the aftermath not remotely worth it. Until last night. She had wanted to loosen up a bit, but—between Taylor’s watchful gaze, bumping into Ryan, and the barrage of comments about Eric marrying her twin sister—she must’ve lost track.
Idiotic thing to do.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
She gasped and twisted to see the source of the deep voice only to flop back on her pillow with a groan and fling her arm over her eyes, heart pounding from the scare and stomach rolling.
“Ryan?” She croaked. “You scared the hell out of me. What are you doing in my bed?”
She cracked an eye, peeking out from under her elbow, and caught his smirk.
“You don’t remember?” he asked.
“My head hurts too much to remember.”
“You confessed your undying love for me and—”
“I what?” She jerked her arm down to stare at him, eyes wide open now.
He chuckled. “I brought you here, and you asked me to stay. You were in pretty rough shape, so I stayed.”
Suspicious, she lifted the covers and took a peek. She still wore her red lacy bra and panties, but nothing else. She eyed him suspiciously. “Did you undress me?”
“There was vomit down your shirt and skirt. I didn’t think you’d want to sleep in it.” He held up both hands, stopping her mid-question. “But I kept my eyes closed and didn’t do anything inappropriate.” Laughter lurked in his voice.
She blew out a relieved breath, ignoring a tiny twinge of disappointment because ridiculous didn’t begin to cover a wish to be inappropriately undressed by Ryan.
A glance confirmed he still wore jeans and a now rumpled button down, his usually mussed hair even more messy in an adorable way. Sleep lowered his voice to a sexy timbre. Meanwhile, she didn’t need a mirror to know what she looked like—dark mascara smudges to highlight the bags under her eyes, sweat-bedraggled hair, and smelling like yesterday’s garbage. This was Ryan, though, so why the hell was her give-a-shit-o-meter even spiking?
“Very funny,” she snapped. “Feel free to go home now.”
He tucked his hands behind his head, stretching out, annoyingly at ease. “That’s not what you said last night. In fact, there might have been begging involved.”
Since Ashley couldn’t remember a blasted thing, she had no way to refute his claim.
“And when you kissed me in the parking lot.” He gave a low whistle. “Holy moly, woman. Where’d you learn to kiss like that?” A lazy grin spread over his way-too-handsome face.
“Yeah, right. I didn’t kiss—” She trailed off as memory flashed—patchy and bleary—but definitely involving tongue. “Oh.” Shock arrowed through her at the memory of how her body had leapt to life under his touch and craved his closeness, his scent, his taste. Ashley squeezed her eyes shut. Even now heat pooled low at the thought.
Gah! What’s going on with me?
More memories surfaced as to why she went to the parking lot to begin with. That asshat, Mason. She’d gone out there to hide for a bit, and he’d followed her. Ryan stood up for her, even punched the guy in the face. Then, after she oh-so-daintily vomited in the parking lot, he’d even brought her to her motel.
“Oh my gosh, did you actually help me brush my teeth and take my hair down last night?”
He shrugged.
She cleared her throat. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
A chuckle pulled her eyes open and her gaze to his. “You sound like a little girl schooled by her mother to politely thank her host.”
Her thanks had been on the stilted side. She blamed the memory of that damn kiss and the fact that, lying here with Ryan now, she wouldn’t mind trying it again.
Seriously. What is wrong with me? Must be the hangover.
Still. He had been good to her, not taking advantage of the situation or leaving her to fend for herself. For once.
She stiffly rolled to her side, waited for the room to stop spinning, and laid a hand on his arm, warm and steady under her palm. “Sorry. I really do appreciate all your help last night.”
He gazed into her eyes for a long, achingly intense moment, and she held her breath.
“Wow, Hughes. When you decide to play nice, you go all out.”
There was the Ryan McAdams she knew so well. Why had she even bothered wasting a sincere thanks on the guy? How had she ever called him a friend? Of course, they hadn’t been friends now for as long as they were friends to begin with. Maybe the time had come to get over it.
“Why don’t you ever call my Ashley anymore?”
He raised his eyebrows as if she’d asked a crazy question.
“You only call me Hughes. Ever since high school.”
He gave a funny half-shrug and levered himself off the bed. “Yeah. I thought you liked it.”
She rolled her eyes as she pushed up to sitting, keeping the sheet pulled up for modesty. No he didn’t. He just liked messing with her.
“I need to get home.” He snapped up his keys and wallet off the bedside table. “You going to be okay without me?”
She repositioned a pillow behind her back and tried to ignore the slamming going on behind her eyes. “I think I can handle it.”
His lips quirked. “That’s my girl.”
“I’m not your—” A knock at the door interrupted her rejection.
Before she could stop him, Ryan strolled to the door and opened it. “Hey, Taylor.”
Ashley groaned. Would pulling the covers over her head and pretending no one was there be childish? It had always worked for the monsters in her closet as a kid.
“Uh…hey, Ryan.” Her sister, freshly showered and dressed—making Ashley, who felt grimy and sweaty and stinky, feel even worse by comparison—poked her head inside the room, eyes wide. “Ash? We’re going to breakfast at the Greasy Spoon.” She glanced at Ryan who leaned against the door, perfectly at ease.
Ashley’s stomach heaved. “I can’t eat right now. I’ll shower and check out. Call me when you’re done.”
“Okay. Don’t forget we’re going to the Christmas Festival.”
Forget? I wish I had that excuse. How could she forget what her mother had signed her up for? If the military needed ideas for new forms of torture, they should talk to Linda Hughes. Plus, Eric would be there. While Ashley’s happiness for her sister came from a genuine place, she had yet to see Eric. She hadn’t seen him since January when she broke things off and moved to Dallas. What if she’d been fooling herself that she was over him all this time?
A quick peek revealed Ryan watching her curiously. This holiday just kept getting better and better.
Ashley held her expression carefully neutral, refusing to glance Ryan’s way again. “I remember.”
“Can I bring you back something to eat?” Taylor offered.
“No—”
“Hash browns,” Ryan overruled her.
“Um…” Taylor glanced between them.
Ashely frowned. “What?”
“Hash browns are a guaranteed hangover antidote. The greasier the better.”
“Why? Because they’ll make me throw up?”
“You already did.” He walked her way, dark eyes teasing in a familiar way she hadn’t seen in a decade and did not remotely trust.
She glared, and he held up a hand. “Trust me. Hash browns, aspirin, lots of water,” His lips hitched in a sexy half-smile, and his voice lowered intimately, “And call me in the morning.”
To her utter shock, he leaned down and planted a hefty kiss directly on her lips. A kiss she felt right down t
o her toes.
“See you Sunday…Ashley.”
He sauntered, great butt and all, past an open-mouthed Taylor and right out the door. As the impact of that look, and the kiss, ebbed, irritation surged to take their place. What was he thinking with that display? She was going to kill Ryan McAdams Sunday when she went over to look over his books. In fact, forget that. He could find another accountant.
As soon as he drove away, Taylor swung around, grinning widely. “Ashley Hughes. You bad, bad girl.”
Ashley shook her head, then winced. “Nothing happened.”
“Yeah, right. I thought you couldn’t stand Ryan.”
“I can’t—”
Taylor wagged her finger. “Uh-uh. Don’t try that. The question is, was last night a random hook up? Or the beginning of a reunion and something special?”
Ashley opened her mouth to argue, but a subtle shift in her sister’s expression—pure relief combined with sparkling happiness—stopped her.
Taylor isn’t still worried about my feelings for Eric? Is she?
Ashley had done everything she could, short of signing in blood, to convince her family she was not only over Eric, but happy about the upcoming marriage. Eric might not be the man for Ashley, but he was a good guy, and he loved her sister. The awkwardness would go away eventually. As well as her true feelings. She still wasn’t sure what she felt. Nine years was a long time with someone. Still, she hadn’t missed him once she settled in Dallas.
Rather than refuting Taylor’s assumptions, Ashley sighed. “One night doesn’t mean anything.”
“Sleeping with the man is a decent start.”
“Or a one-night stand.” Always the more realistic of the two, Ashley couldn’t help but point that out. Not that anything had happened. “And he’s still the guy who decided I wasn’t worth being friends with.”
“Yeah. I guess that’s true.” Disappointment tugged at Taylor’s lips.
To say nothing about all the barbed comments about Eric. All through high school he’d been like a bad case of poison ivy. An itch she couldn’t scratch.
Okay, so maybe he’d been proven right, and she wore blinders when it came to her boyfriend and their relationship. And he sort of apologized last night. But she was sure things would soon return to normal, and Ryan would be back to barely tolerating her. He helped her out last night, nothing more.
Home for the Holidays: A Contemporary Romance Anthology Page 53