Fair Play

by Tracy A. Ward

  “Okay, then, since you say we sort of have Quinn’s blessing, we’ll do this for the play.”

  “And when the play’s written…”

  “We stop.”

  Noah and I had finally come to a new and workable agreement, but dread lined the pit of my stomach. The more time Noah and I spent together, the more we became Caroline and Andy…or vice versa. And this was the part in the story where the very thing that brought my characters together also tore them apart.

  “Before it goes any further,” Noah said, “there’s something we need to talk about.”

  My head rolled against the door. This couldn’t be good. “What?”

  “Pritchard. It’s time you tell me exactly what happened between the two of you the other day. And I mean everything.”

  My body tensed. “Noah, I’d really rather not.”

  “His being here isn’t a coincidence.”

  It wasn’t. Kyle was out for revenge.

  Noah backed off me, as if he realized I needed some space, and poured us both a drink from his personal supply while I took a seat on the leather sofa. “I respected your privacy on this for as long as I’m going to,” he said, handing me a glass of scotch. “Now it’s time to talk.”

  Given how volatile he was where my safety was concerned, spelling out Kyle’s threats seemed counter-productive. When Noah saw red, he had a tendency to lose control.

  Considering Noah had told me how to find Kyle, I felt I owed him full disclosure. But as I watched his facial expressions, and his body language in reaction to what I said, something inside told me Noah already knew.

  “Nothing happened,” I said, standing.

  Noah stood, too. “Ashlyn—”

  “I handled it.” My chest squeezed tight as I walked out. Brushing past him, I added, “That’s all you need to know.”

  …

  Holed up in my apartment, sitting on Noah’s beanbag three hours later, I sensed something still off with the play—which was odd considering the amazing sex I’d just had. Regardless, the character of Andy had changed ever so subtly, and I couldn’t put my finger on how or why.

  Maybe it was Noah and the wall I sensed had gone up after we’d made love. A wall I had no idea how to tear down.

  Or did I even want to? Walls might be better…for both of us.

  A walk around the park might do me a world of good. I needed fresh air, anyway. Something other than Noah’s last beer in my fridge wouldn’t hurt, either. I made a grocery list and put on my tennis shoes.

  The thick scent of rain greeted me when I stepped outside The Marshall Theater. A storm blowing in from the north brought with it cooler climates and a welcome cover of clouds.

  Preparations had already begun for the annual festival and kick-off parade. Shopkeepers busied themselves by sprucing up window dressings, hoping to entice tourists to buy souvenirs. Lights strung through live oaks would soon be added, and the burned out M on The Marshall Theater sign had been replaced yesterday.

  I spotted Lucas, sitting with Babs in the park pavilion. They looked deep in conversation. Debating whether or not to interrupt, I headed that direction.

  “Ashlyn,” Babs said. She darted a glance at Lucas, who looked visibly upset.

  “Hi Babs,” I said. “Lucas, is everything okay?”

  With a shaky hand, he pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his cardigan and wiped at watery eyes. “I should tell you now, Ashlyn. You probably need to gather your things. City inspectors came by this morning. They’re concerned about liability should something catastrophic happen. They’re thinking of closing the theater before the festival.”

  My heart dropped. “What? They can’t do that. The festival is as important to the town as the theater is.”

  Babs reached over and placed a comforting hand on his knee.

  “They’re concerned about fire risks to an over-taxed electrical system. There also appears to be structural issues with one of the balconies.”

  Shell-shocked and numb all over, I asked, “When will we know for sure?”

  “City engineers and the county fire marshal are weighing the options. It will be another week before we get an answer. If the theater is closed down, it’s possible the festival could be cancelled.”

  I dropped to the bench beside Lucas.

  “Considering the danger of fire,” he said to me, “I think you should gather your things and move out.”

  Move out? Where would I go? I thought about the little bit of padding I still had in my bank account, and how quickly three weeks in a hotel would run it up.

  “If you need a place to stay, Ashlyn, you can stay with me,” Babs said.

  “No,” Lucas said. “She should stay with Noah. It only makes sense, considering the play isn’t finished.”

  Finding out I didn’t have AC, Noah had ordered me to stay at his house. Now that I was essentially homeless, I didn’t think he would turn me away.

  Movement behind a tree caught my eye. I turned to see a golden retriever fetching a tennis ball. The dog ran and dropped the ball at his master’s feet. Kyle Pritchard looked up. A grin slowly spread across his face. I quickly turned my back on him. No way would I let that jerk see me sweat.

  I shoved off, leaving Lucas and Babs alone, and headed to the open-air market at the opposite end of the park. The clouds in the sky darkened just as I felt a presence behind me. The obnoxious scent of French after-shave surrounded me in a fog. I fought back a gag.

  Kyle.

  “Peaches are good this time of year,” he said. “There’s something else I imagine tastes a lot like peaches.”

  Refusing to acknowledge his disgusting comment and what I could only presume to be his meaning, I said, “This is against the rules, Kyle.”

  He stepped closer. “I overheard Lucas Marshall, crying to the barmaid. Haven’t you small-town people learned how the real world works? An envelope full of cash handed under the table to the right city official will ensure the theater remains open for as long as it’s needed.”

  “Are you saying Lucas should stoop to bribery?”

  “It’s just a suggestion. I’d hate to have come all this way for nothing.”

  “Is that how you paid for that expensive Air Stream and over-priced aftershave?” I snapped out. “Do people pay you for positive reviews?”

  “Do I hear wishful thinking in your tone? You think your rich boyfriend can buy you a spot on Broadway?”

  Stepping around him, I searched the market for a fruit or vegetable that couldn’t be used for sexual innuendo. I found it two tables over in the asparagus. Unlike the peaches I’d loved but would never be able to look at without revulsion again, the asparagus seemed safe.

  “I always play fair. And so does Lucas Marshall. If there’s legitimate danger, he’d never put people’s lives at risk.”

  “Whatever you say, Ashley,” Kyle added. “Like I said, I’d hate to have come all this way for nothing. But if it’s Broadway you want, perhaps we could make an arrangement with or without the festival.” His dog, tied to a nearby tree, barked. Kyle stepped that direction. “My offer’s still open.”

  I swallowed my revulsion as I watched Kyle cross the park. A gust of cool, shivery wind followed as he walked away.

  …

  A while later I walked back into the Double Shot. At the bar, Dusty and Butch turned and caught sight of me. “Hey-hey, Training Wheels,” one said, while the other let out a whistle.

  I self-consciously waved. My gaze darted between them then narrowed when Noah stepped out from his hiding place behind the two.

  Should’ve known he’d put them up to it. I went to my usual stool and took a seat. Noah handed me a drink.

  “I need a favor.” I pushed my drink aside, leaned across the bar, and cleared my throat. “I’m getting kicked out of my apartment.”

  His eyes narrowed, trying to figure out how that could be. “Did you not pay your rent?”

  I explained how I’d run into Lucas and Babs at the park
and the city inspectors’ findings. “I can probably stay with Jessica. Babs even offered. Of course Lucas thinks you are the best alternative. He’s so freaked out right now I didn’t want to cross him.”

  Noah scratched his chin. “If memory serves, I recall a similar offer made recently that was thrown back in my face.”

  “Once again, your memory is skewed. It wasn’t so much an offer as an order.”

  He leaned in. His finger traced along the pulse point on the inside of my wrist. “What do I get in return?”

  I tilted my head, offering my best smile. “Besides a chance to keep your bar and your town and your big expansion deal with Cambridge Hotels?”

  “Looks like we have ourselves quite a conundrum.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Quinn wouldn’t want you sleeping in my bed any more than he would want you sleeping in your car. If you stay with me, Ashlyn, you will be sleeping in my bed. At least, until you finish the play.”

  I reached for my drink. “Thing about that is, writers aren’t done until the show’s had its run.”

  Noah trying to hide his smile only made his mouth irresistibly sexy. “Guess that’s lucky for me.”

  Butterfly wings fluttered against my stomach as that old familiar tug pulled on my heart. Unlike him, I couldn’t hold back my grin any more than the wistful little sigh that escaped.

  He tossed me a set of keys. I caught them mid-air.

  Game on.

  After packing up my car and following Noah’s directions to the letter, I drove down an oak-lined lane, six miles outside of Phair, until I reached Noah’s house. Set in a valley between rolling hills, the rounded edges of the hills softened the corners of the house’s stone pillars. I parked my car in the garage, punched the code to deactivate the alarm, and traveled through the wide archway to a side door.

  The hairs on my arms rose as I went from room to room. Inspiration in the form of sex wasn’t what I needed from Noah, at least not today. It was this—seeing who he was when no one was watching.

  Though small colorful rugs graced them, hardwood floors were otherwise bare. Walls not made of glass were spartan. Architecturally, the house was stunning, but it was an empty shell. It had no soul.

  I continued to wander through the house then let myself out to the hidden sanctity of the enclosed sun porch. The second I stepped through the door I felt the essence of Noah surround me. The house might be empty, as if waiting for someone to live in it, but not this space. Various photographs of Noah with his friends from Phair lined a low table. A chenille throw lay bunched up on an antique metal bed, with a book lying face down on top of it. I ran my fingers along the book’s threadbare cover first before picking it up.

  Henry David Thoreau. Based on the worn, dog-eared pages and highlighted passages, he’d read Walden a lot.

  A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. Just when I thought I had him mostly figured out, he threw me a curve ball.

  He loved Phair. That much was true. And because of his turbulent family life, part of him probably even needed the calm pace, the loving support of a tight-knit community. Even though he was a businessman who wouldn’t hesitate to cut his losses and move on if it came to it, I had a strong sense he didn’t want to. Phair was his family now.

  Kyle Pritchard wasn’t just putting my career and The Marshall Theater at risk. This wasn’t just about saving the town of Phair or Noah’s big expansion plans with the Cambridge Hotels. Kyle’s threat would destroy what was now Noah’s family. And there was nothing I could do to help.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Noah

  It had been difficult not to let on to Ashlyn that I knew about her run-in with Pritchard. While I knew because of the GPS tag I’d affixed to his dog’s collar that he was at the park, if it hadn’t been for Babs, I wouldn’t have known Ashlyn had been there, too, or that he’d followed her. Unfortunately, the view out my office window didn’t extend that far.

  Somehow I had to find out what he said without raising Ashlyn’s suspicions. Quinn was right. She’d be pissed as hell if she found out about the surveillance.

  But all that had to wait in line behind a more pressing emergency. City inspectors couldn’t be serious about closing down the theater before the festival. The very idea was asinine. It prompted me to reach out to Haywire. As soon as he emailed me a copy of the inspection report, I looked it over.

  “We can slap a bandage on every issue except electrical,” Haywire said over the phone. “With these old buildings and all their sub-panels, there’s no way to isolate the problem without tearing through walls. Best I can tell you is we’ll know more once the fire marshal comes back with his ruling.”

  The fire marshal’s ruling was what worried me. Still, after seeing Haywire’s preliminary report, I had faith I could convince the fire marshal to agree to terms that benefitted the town and without putting anyone in jeopardy. On Monday morning, I’d make an appointment and present this plan.

  But right now all I wanted to do was get home to Ashlyn. Since it was long past nine on a Friday night, hours since I’d last seen her, it occurred to me her well of inspiration might need to be tapped. My pulse jumped at the thought. Fire dangers and Lucas’s notion that Ashlyn and I should stay glued at the hip were proving to have advantages.

  Heavy rain turned a ten minute drive into twenty, and soon I was home. I didn’t like how anxious I felt. Having someone to come home to wasn’t a feeling I was accustomed to. Neither was I accustomed to looking forward to it.

  The minute I opened the door leading from the garage, the sound of Eddie Vedder on the sound system greeted me.

  I followed the trail of Ashlyn.

  Keys left on a console table. Her purse dangled from a door knob. A hair tie with a few strands of hair still stuck to it had fallen to the floor. Off to the side, in the living room, I glimpsed my beanbag. The stack of scripts she’d kept in her bedroom had toppled over beside it.

  She might’ve left her apartment, but the chaos of it followed. Oddly, I wasn’t irritated by the mess.

  When I found her, she was standing at the kitchen island, hips swaying to the rhythm of the music as she sipped from a glass of white wine, adding toppings to a homemade pizza. Suddenly she stopped, reached over, and typed a few lines on her open computer. Then went right back to the pizza. I stood back and watched, thinking of all the ways I could use that island—ones that maybe included food, but had nothing to do with cooking.

  Sensing my presence, Ashlyn looked up. When she saw me, she smiled. “Hey,” she said. “I kinda made myself at home. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “No,” I replied, my voice sounding thick, hoarse.

  “Basil, or no?”

  I cleared my throat. “No.”

  She added some to only half the pizza. That done, Ashlyn turned to slide the pan into the oven, giving me a nice look at her ass in the tennis skirt she wore. Then she stepped over to the fridge, reached for a beer, opened it, and held it out to me.

  All at once, fifty years of nights just like this flashed before my eyes—of coming home from a long day and finding her cooking, or working, or daydreaming. Of shared dinners and kids doing homework at the kitchen table.

  I’d thought coming here, to Phair—having this secluded space, this peace—was all I’d ever need.

  That was before Ashlyn came to town.

  The one person I could never have was the only one who could set me free. But the cost of freedom was more than I could spare. I’d never jeopardize Ashlyn’s safety for anything. Thanks to Michael contributing half my DNA, being emotionally involved was too risky. I’d already proven that to myself, once with my own father and once with Pritchard.

  Her smile faded. “Noah? What’s wrong?”

  I raked fingers through my hair with one hand and sat the bottle down on the counter. “Everything’s a mess, Wheels.”

  “I know, but don’t worry, I’ll clean it up.”

  She thought I meant the kitchen. I walked aroun
d the island, then wrapped my arms around her waist as she put dishes into the sink. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Do you mean the festival set-back?” She turned her head to look at me over her shoulder. “I assume Babs told you.”

  My action, going to her the way I had, holding her in my arms, had been natural. Without thought. But it was also too intimate a gesture—what a husband would do. So I released her. “I talked to Haywire—the city’s electrical engineer—he says the fire danger is the sticking point. I’ll take care of it Monday.”

  She turned to face me. “You sound confident.”

  “Haven’t found a problem yet I couldn’t fix.”

  Thunder cracked, rattling the windows. Ashlyn jumped. She’d never liked storms.

  I stepped toward her again, my instinct to protect her strong, but instead of taking her in my arms like I wanted, my hand came up to caress her cheek. I couldn’t not touch her. Not when all I wanted to do was hold her until the storm passed. But that would only send the wrong message.

  “Quinn is coming for the festival,” I said. Even though I’d asked him not to tell her, I’d grasped at anything that would put emotional distance between us.

  Ashlyn’s brow wrinkled. “Quinn? Why?”

  Rather than confess to spilling her secret to her brother, or spilling mine about Pritchard’s surveillance, I took another angle. Something I was sure wasn’t a lie. “He wants to see your play.”

  “Why didn’t he tell me that when we talked?”

  I shrugged. “Guess he wanted it to be a surprise. Or I don’t know, maybe he decided after you talked.”

  She let out a slow breath. Our eyes met. “That means he’ll be staying here.”

  I nodded.

  “So…we pretend like nothing’s happened between us?”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  For a split second, her shoulders slumped. “No, I guess not.” Her spine stiffened, and she turned to the dishes.

  I hated that I hurt her. But what did she expect? We’d painted no illusions this would be permanent.

  Ashlyn scraped leftover vegetables from the cutting board and washed them down the disposal. “It would be stupid to ruin a sixteen-year friendship on my account,” she added.