by Cate Cameron
He grinned. “I have to drive home. And you’ve been hanging out with Jasmine, right? So you could probably use a break, too.” He stopped with a frown, as if he’d just realized something. “Or not. I can order you something else, if you want.”
“No. The water’s good. You’re right, we’ve been drinking since noon.” She decided to accept it as a small victory that he had at least noticed what table she’d come from and who she’d been with. “You call her Jasmine? You work for her, right?”
“You think she should be Mrs. McArthur?” Josh smiled, but it wasn’t quite as sincere as some of his other efforts. “I have one pair of clients that I call ‘Mister’ and ‘Missus.’ They’re in their eighties, and I think they appreciate the respect. The rest? First names.”
“That’d be nice,” Ashley said. “My housekeeper always wants to call me ‘Miss Carlsen.’ I mean, she washes my underwear! I feel like we could cut past the formal titles, you know? But she doesn’t want to.”
He nodded. “Probably not a bad idea.” His voice was so quiet in the noisy bar that she was reading his lips more than hearing him. “It’s good to remind yourself of things sometimes.”
She was pretty sure she wouldn’t have understood that even if she hadn’t spent the day drinking in the sun. She glanced over at Jasmine, who raised a glass in a silent toast to what Ashley had accomplished so far and then made another “go on” motion with her free hand.
Damn it. But Ashley couldn’t afford to blow off Jasmine McArthur. And maybe Jasmine hadn’t been totally wrong about the best strategy for getting over a breakup. If one horse bucks you off, maybe you don’t get back on the same one, but you should get back on someone. She had no idea what the appropriate next step was, but she hoped that a man like Josh Sullivan would appreciate the direct approach. Theo had faded out somewhere, maybe back off to the band, so there was a bit more room for Ashley to maneuver as she leaned in toward Josh. “It’s loud in here,” she said. “You want to go somewhere quieter?”
Josh froze for a moment, then sipped his drink. He obviously knew she was suggesting more than just conversation. Finally he said, “Better not. I’m not safe to drive yet.”
“We could take a cab.”
“You’re staying at the McArthurs’? But you don’t want to take me back there. So to my place. But I live out in the country. There’s only one cab in town and Tony’s not going to waste most of a Saturday night driving way out there and all the way back.”
One cab. It was ridiculous. But not unsolvable. “He’ll do it if we pay him enough.”
She could tell it had been the wrong thing to say, but she really didn’t know why. Then Josh said, “Not everyone’s for sale, you know.” He sounded almost hostile.
She tried to laugh it off. “I don’t want to buy him. Just rent him.”
Josh’s smile was tight. “Still. No. Not a good idea.”
“The cab’s not a good idea? Or us going somewhere else isn’t a good idea?”
“Neither one’s a good idea.” He said it with finality, and there was something about his tone that pissed her off. She’d been hearing too much of that lately. Men telling her that what she wanted wasn’t a good idea, as if they were doing her a favor. As if they knew better than she did what she wanted and what was best for her. She’d had enough. Jasmine was right; it was time for a change, and this was as good a place as any for that change to begin.
She set her glass on the bar, then leaned forward and brought her mouth to Josh’s ear. “I think it’s a good idea,” she whispered, and she nipped his earlobe.
He didn’t move. She had no idea what that meant. Damn it, she’d never done this before. Josh was supposed to have fallen over himself as soon as she’d suggested the possibility of a hookup. He should have been giddy with excitement. That was how this was supposed to work, wasn’t it? She had no idea, but she knew he still wasn’t moving.
She needed to do more. She had no idea how this had become so important to her. This was . . . Ashley had no idea. She’d think about it when she sobered up. For the time being, she kissed her way down Josh’s neck. His skin was warm and surprisingly soft, and she felt a churn of desire in her gut when she felt his pulse beating strong and fast beneath her lips. This wasn’t about Jasmine McArthur anymore. Ashley genuinely wanted this man. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his jeans, and that was when he caught her hand in his.
“Not a good idea,” he said, and he stepped back, holding his arms out to keep her from following.
“Why not?” she demanded.
“You’ve had too much to drink.”
She stared at him. “What? You’re the bar police now? You watch people’s drinks and then decide who gets to go home with whom?”
“No. Just who gets to go home with me.”
“Like you’re some sort of prize?” she said, trying to dredge up some face-saving scorn.
“You seem to think I am,” he said quietly. “But, no, I wouldn’t put it that way.” His voice was harder as he said, “I wouldn’t think of myself as an inanimate object that has to go home with whoever wins it.”
She stared at him. What the hell was going on? How had everything gone so wrong? And more importantly, how much of it was her fault?
Pretty much all of it, probably. She was out of control. She’d had too much to drink, she was frustrated by her career, her boyfriend had just cheated on her very publicly, and now she was making a fool of herself in a backwoods Vermont bar.
“I’m sorry,” she said. She took a step backward. “I’m . . . I don’t know. Sorry.”
His face was impassive as he looked at her, then over at Jasmine, then back at her. “It’s okay,” he finally said. “We all do stupid things sometimes. It’s not a big deal.”
And that was that. She’d messed up, been forgiven, and now it was over. She reluctantly turned away, heading back over to Jasmine’s table.
She didn’t make it all the way.
“Hey! Ashley! Ashley . . . something! From that show . . . the one with . . . with the family . . .” The man who had accosted her was obviously drunk and leaning toward her in a way that suggested he was about to sprawl all over her, but she was more upset about his ignorance of classic American television.
“Mayfair Drive,” she prompted. “One of the longest-running drama series in television history? Following the trials and triumphs of the Anderson family, including their youngest daughter, plucky Amanda Anderson, played by . . . ?”
“Ashley something!” the guy said triumphantly. “Yeah, I knew it was you. Hey . . .” He leaned even closer and breathed on her, and she knew what was coming. “I saw you in something else. Last year. That movie. That thing with . . . with the chick from that high school show.” His eyes were wide with excitement as he stage-whispered, “I saw your tits.”
“First time you’d seen any?”
He scowled. “What? No! I’ve seen plenty!”
“Oh. So . . . I’m not quite sure why you’re so excited about that.”
“Might be the first time he saw any and didn’t get slapped in the face right after,” a new voice said, and Ashley half turned to see Josh looming into the conversation. Damn, he was tall. And wide in the shoulders. And his big, strong hand was hovering protectively just over her shoulder while his amber eyes were locked challengingly on the guy who’d stopped her. “That what it was, Driscoll?”
“Fuck you, Sullivan,” Driscoll said, but the words were clearly just to save face. Ashley wished she was sober enough to catch the subtleties of the way he took in Josh’s hand placement, his size, his confidence. She could use those reactions in a future role, if she ever needed to play someone who was backing down from a superior opponent.
Josh didn’t respond to the words. He just stood there, staring, and Driscoll faded away without another look in Ashley’s direction. She couldn’t decide
whether to be grateful for Josh’s protection or annoyed at his interference. “Thank you,” she said. “I could have handled that—it’s part of my job, really. But thanks.”
“You shouldn’t have to handle it,” he said. “I guess you know what your job is better than I do, but putting up with assholes shouldn’t be part of anyone’s job.” Then he caught himself and shrugged. “At least, I don’t think it should be.”
“I . . . yeah, I agree, actually.”
“Well, sorry. You know, on behalf of Lake Sullivan, or whatever. We’re mostly not like that.”
“I know,” she said quickly. “I mean, I haven’t been here very long, but almost everyone’s been really nice.” She supposed it was rude to push any further just because he’d been a gentleman, but she was having a really hard time making herself go back to her seat. “Everything’s so beautiful up here. The lake and the forest. And the rocks. They’re so rugged and wild.”
He nodded cautiously. “I don’t know if rocks can be tame, really. Or wild. They’re just rocks.”
“Yeah, okay. Good point.” Ashley knew she wasn’t making much sense, but she didn’t seem to be offending him, either. “Jasmine said there’s wildlife, right? I mean, wild life. She said we have to be careful not to leave food out or we’ll get bears. That’s crazy. Like, at home, I’d worry about getting ants! Up here, I might get bears!”
“And ants.” He was smiling. They were okay. It shouldn’t have been so important to her, but it was.
She smiled back at him, trying to get her pulse rate back where it belonged, and trying to forget the feeling of his skin under her lips. “It’s like a kids’ alphabet book. A list of hazards in Vermont. ‘A’ is for ants, ‘B’ is for bears, ‘C’ is for . . . ?”
“‘Cobras.’”
She stared at him, startled. “No. Not cobras.”
“Yeah. Sorry, but it’s true. There are three species of cobra that live in the Vermont wilderness.”
She was pretty sure she would have heard about this little fact, but he seemed sincere. “What are they? The three species.”
“Rock cobra, river cobra, stone cobra.”
“Rock cobras are different from stone cobras?”
He kept his face still for a moment longer than he should have been able to, then let it fall into a grin. “I panicked. I couldn’t think of a third cobra name.”
“Lake cobra. Swamp cobra. Forest cobra. Or you could have gotten away from the habitats entirely. Grey cobra, hooded cobra, spitting cobra . . .”
“Damn. Next time I play ‘let’s make up snake names,’ I want you on my team.”
“But not in your bed.” Damn it. Why had she said that? Just when things were going nicely, she had to ruin it.
But he didn’t seem too offended by her bluntness. “Not when you’re drunk. Not the first time, at least.”
So. It was that simple. He had a rule, and it didn’t really seem like a bad one. She was pretty sure that she’d approve of it when she sobered up. For the time being, though, she was still tasting his skin on her tongue and still wanting to peel away that raggedy T-shirt and find out just what lay beneath it. But he’d said no. Repeatedly. It was over. But that didn’t mean she had to go back and admit defeat to Jasmine. It didn’t mean she had to tear herself away from Josh Sullivan.
“Just so we’re clear,” she said, “there are cobras up here, or there aren’t?”
“There aren’t,” he said reluctantly. “Not technically. Maybe ‘C’ could be ‘coyotes.’”
“Okay,” she agreed, and they went on with their game.
Two
JOSH WONDERED IF he would have had the self-control to say no if Jasmine McArthur hadn’t been sitting over at her table watching them with such wicked interest. If it had just been him and Ashley. She’d been tipsy, maybe, but not really drunk. And, damn it, she was a beautiful woman. Long auburn hair, dancing green eyes, and a hell of a body. It was too bad that she was an actress, but everyone had faults.
And now, in the bar, she wasn’t acting like a spoiled movie star. They were working through their alphabet of Vermont hazards. “M” had been easy, both of them saying “mosquitoes” at the same time and then moving on. “N,” though?
“‘Norwegians?’” Josh suggested. “There are a lot of them up here. But they’re ex-Norwegians. They came generations ago. And I don’t know if they’re a hazard, exactly. Not all of them.”
“I think Norwegians are a noble people. Not a hazard. And I already let you have ‘Dutch’ for ‘D.’ This list is serious business, Josh! It can’t just be an excuse for you to slam different countries of origin.”
Josh nodded. “Yeah, okay. That’s fair. So . . . ‘N.’ Maybe ‘neighbors’? Mine are okay, but only because they’re distant. Most people up here like their space.”
“I guess that’s why you’d live here.” She nodded as if pleased to have an answer to the question of why anyone would settle in such a godforsaken land. But then she smiled and he wondered if he was being a little oversensitive. She liked the lake, after all. “Okay, ‘neighbors.’ What’s ‘O’?”
But that was when Jasmine arrived. Josh smelled her familiar perfume before she’d even tucked her hand into the back of his jeans, that familiar claim of ownership that he hated so much. He reached behind him to pull her hand out, but he tried to do it subtly. Ashley couldn’t see what was going on back there and he’d just as soon she not know about it.
“So, you two are getting along?” Jasmine asked. Her smile was sharp. “I was just going to call for the car. For myself. Josh, can I trust you to make sure Ashley gets home safely? Eventually?”
She’d taken her hand out from inside his jeans but now she had it resting on the curve of his ass, her fingers digging in a little where they wrapped underneath. How many people in the bar were seeing that? Seeing her treat him like a possession that she could paw at will, or give away to her friends if the whim struck her?
He stepped away from her entirely. She and her husband had a lot of friends, and most of those friends were Josh’s clients. He really couldn’t afford to alienate her, but he wasn’t going to stand there and let her molest him, either. “I’m just about to head out myself,” he said, working to keep his voice light and calm. “Ashley, maybe you want to go with Jasmine?”
She nodded slowly. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Oh,” Jasmine said. Her disappointment was a little too blatant to be real. The emotions Jasmine displayed for public consumption rarely had any relationship to her actual feelings; Josh had learned that the hard way. “But you two seemed to be getting along so well. Do you just need a little more time? I don’t have to leave now. . . .”
“No,” Josh said firmly. He didn’t want to get dragged into whatever the hell this was. “Like I said, I’m about to go.” He set his empty glass down on the bar and nodded. “Ashley, it was nice to meet you. Enjoy your stay in hazardous Vermont. Be safe.”
She grinned at him. Damn, he liked her smile. And he liked how often she used it.
“I’ll try. I’m a little worried that I haven’t identified all of the risks yet. If I’m approached by something from ‘A’ to ‘N’, I feel like I’ll be prepared. But if something from ‘O’ on attacks . . .”
Jasmine laughed. “You two have a little game! How adorable!”
Josh was not a fan of being called “adorable,” and from the expression on Ashley’s face he could tell she felt the same. So he smiled just at Ashley as he said, “We are pretty fucking cute.”
“Might as well accept it,” she replied, and her shoulder shrug was a lot more relaxed than it would have been a moment earlier. Somehow, in that quick second, they’d become a team. The two of them united against Jasmine.
And Jasmine could tell. “Fine, then,” she said, her joking tone gone. “Ashley, if you’re coming with me, let’s go. Josh, I really would like th
e path through the trees re-mulched as soon as possible. I asked you to do that several days ago. And there are some boards on the dock that are rotting. We need them replaced before someone puts a foot through them.”
Yeah. Good reminder of his place in their social structure. He told himself to be grateful for it. “I can try to get to the dock tomorrow—you’ve got some extra boards in your boathouse, so it won’t take long to replace a few weak ones. I’ll probably get to the mulch early next week. Everyone came up this week and found a lot of stuff they want done, so I’m working through the list as quickly as I can.”
“Most of the names on that list are there because we referred you to them. Why don’t you do the boards and the mulch tomorrow?”
Another good reminder. So he made himself smile. “I appreciate the referrals. But the mulch is a bigger job, and nobody’s going to get hurt if a path isn’t mulched. So it’s lower priority.”
“It would be a shame if we had to find someone else to recommend to people.”
Okay, there had to be an end to it. “If you can find someone else who does work of my quality at my price, I guess they deserve your support.” He stepped backward, disengaging from the conversation, then said, “Good night,” and turned for the parking lot.
He was halfway to the door when he felt a warm hand catch his, and he turned to see Ashley looking tentative but determined. “Good night,” she said quickly, and she brought her free hand to the back of his neck and pulled his head down. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Thank you.”
It made no sense to let her go. He wanted to drag her out of there. No, not drag her—pick her up and carry her. But she’d been drinking, and Jasmine was . . . Jasmine was Jasmine. Always playing her games by rules only she knew. Josh wasn’t interested in being her pawn anymore, and he felt a bit protective about Ashley, too. He had no idea what Jasmine was up to, but Ashley shouldn’t get dragged into whatever it was.
“It was nice to meet you,” he said, and he gently eased out of her grip.