“Well, birdwatcher, as far as I can tell there’s no one’s name on that canyon, and this town isn’t yours, not unless you have a different interpretation of ownership to me.” Sofie looks directly up at him, not shying away from his gaze. She’s had enough of being his punching bag, and she’s never been one to let someone walk all over her. She’s been looking after herself for a while now, and she’s experienced at standing up for herself, especially now that there’s no one else to do it for her.
“Trust me. That canyon is ours, and there is no way that is going to change anytime soon. My name might not be on it, but it’s not on this store either.” Ashton nods, as a customer suddenly walks through the door, breaking the tension between them.
The middle-aged woman looks between Ashton and Sofie, clearly curious as to what has them in such heated conversation but too polite to ask. “Hi Ash, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You didn’t, Edie,” Ash turns his megawatt smile on to the woman. “What can I do for you?”
“I just wanted to tell you how much Arthur loved the chair. He’s been talking about it non-stop for the past week.” She laughs, but there are tears in her eyes.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that, Edie.” Ashton lays a gentle hand on her shoulder, and Sofie is touched at how sensitive he is with this woman who is obviously in pain.
“And I wanted to ask if you’d take this.” Edie hands over an envelope, her hands shaking a little from emotion as she does.
“Edie, we’ve talked about this already.” Ashton gently takes the envelope and tucks it back into her bag. “There’s no need.”
Edie nods like this is a conversation that they’ve had before. “You’re a good man, Ashton.” She squeezes his hand and seems to pull herself together. “And who is this beautiful girl? You don’t have the look of someone from around here.” Edie winks at Sofie knowingly and the warmth in the older woman’s face makes Sofie smile instantly.
“I don’t know about the ‘beautiful’ but guilty as charged on the second count. I’m just visiting in Beaumont. I’m Sofie.” She sticks her hand out to shake, and Edie takes it in her bird-like grip, shaking it slowly and looking into her eyes. Sofie wonders what it is about people around here and the way they look at her like they can see right through her.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Edith or Edie as everyone calls me.” Abruptly she turns around, throwing a smile at Ashton. “I better get going. I’ll leave you kids to it.” She doesn’t say what she thinks she’s leaving them ‘to’ exactly, but the obvious wink that she gives Sofie as she walks out gives her a good idea of what’s on the older woman’s mind.
Ashton looks after the woman, shaking his head a little.
“That was a nice thing you did for her.” Sofie tries to keep the admiration out of her voice and fails. “Who’s Arthur?”
“Her husband. Early onset Alzheimer’s. He was my second grade teacher, known him for a long time. He helped me a lot, taught me a lot about myself.” Ashton suddenly clams up, like he’s not used to letting anyone in to his world.
Sofie swallows the lump in her throat that’s formed at his words and turns away so that he doesn’t see how his simple act of kindness has affected her. “So this really is your place, then.” She looks around at the beautiful wooden furniture. The craftsmanship is easy to see.
“Like I said, just because it doesn’t have my name on it, doesn’t mean that it’s not mine.” Ashton looks at her pointedly and smiles victoriously.
“You have some beautiful pieces here,” she says, knowing that she would be lying if she said that she wasn’t impressed by everything she saw in the store.
“Thanks, but I think that’s more about the wood than me,” he says humbly, looking around the floor of the store.
“You made all of this?” Sofie can’t keep the shock out of her voice, and she’s sure that her dark eyes are wide with surprise. “You made the chair for Arthur?”
“Do you see anyone else here?” Ashton looks around him, as if there might be someone hiding in the store.
“No, I’m just, you don’t look like...I didn’t expect that.” Sofie takes a deep breath, trying to figure out when it had become so difficult for her to talk to men. It had always been something that she’d been good at; she was good at lines, bad at relationships.
“Well, I’m nothing if not unexpected.” Ashton smiles, his blue eyes sparkling with merriment, and Sofie gets the distinct impression that he’s not just talking about his talent as a furniture maker. “You should take that off,” he says so matter-of-factly that it takes Sofie a few moments to realize that he’s talking about her soaking shirt.
“Well, as much as I would love nothing better than to walk down the street in nothing but my underwear, I don’t think that would go down too well with the good people of Beaumont.” Sofie feels her sass coming back, and she’s relieved that finally she’s not so tongue-tied around this gorgeous man.
“You’d be surprised. I think it would go down very well with at least half the good people of Beaumont.” He smiles and although he’s looking at her face, Sofie can’t help but feel that he’s undressing her with those amazing eyes of his. “But that wasn’t what I had in mind. I’ve probably got something in the back you can wear.” He gestures for her to follow him, as he heads to the far side of the store.
While his back is turned, Sofie uses the time to inspect him. The man really is delicious, she thinks. His jeans hug him in all the right places, and his t shirt highlights the strong muscles in his back. He walks with a loping gait, hinting at his athletic body. He has a habit of pushing his blonde hair out of his eyes that makes Sofie want to reach out and do it for him. He was completely the opposite of the kind of guy she would normally be attracted to. She had always been more into the preppy-type, lawyers, accountants, doctors, men that her parents would have approved of. But after everything that had happened and the financial mess that they’d left behind them, perhaps it was time to stop worrying about what they would want from her.
“Penny for your thoughts.” Ashton doesn’t even turn around, and she wonders if this guy has some kind of sixth sense.
“I don’t think they’re worth that much.” Sofie laughs lightly, shaking off the thought of her parents, which inevitably brings her down every time.
They’ve walked through the shop to a workshop at the back of the store and Ashton retrieves a shirt from the workbench. As he passes it to her, their hands touch. The contact sends a jolt through Sofie, as if electricity hit her. From the look on Ashton’s face, he felt something too, and for a few moments, they both just stare at each other, breathing heavily, heat passing between them.
“Go ahead and put it on.” He turns his back but doesn’t leave the room.
Sofie is shivering from the cold, and she wonders if—between getting drenched yesterday and soaked again today—she was getting sick. She turns around but is still acutely aware of Ashton behind her. She pulls off the t-shirt that’s stuck to her body like glue and puts on the denim shirt he’s given her. It’s about ten sizes too big for her and clearly one of his. She inhales the scent of him that clings to the shirt and feels her stomach do that somersault thing that only seems to happen when he’s near.
“You can turn around now,” she tells him, as she pulls her wet hair up into a high bun on her head.
“It looks good on you.” Ashton looks her over appreciatively, making Sofie feel like she’s wearing something far more revealing than an oversized denim shirt.
“I doubt that, but it’s dry. Thanks.” Sofie locks eyes with Ashton, and she gets the same feeling that she did when she first saw him. It’s like the rest of the world stops, disappears, falls away, and all she can see is him. That lazy smile of his is back, and Sofie finds herself wondering what it would be like to kiss those lips, to have those lips on her, on her neck, on her breasts, on her pussy. She blinks a couple of times to bring herself back to the present moment, spinning around so she’s no longer f
acing him and trying to hide how red she must be turning. “What are those?” she asks, trying to deflect the attention from her own embarrassment. However, as she looks at the pieces, she feels herself drawn towards them.
“Totem poles,” he says in a hoarse voice, as if he too is being pulled back from distracting thoughts of his own.
There are three wooden poles—all over 8 feet tall. One, in particular, captures Sofie’s attention. She walks towards it, tracing her fingers over the intricate carving of a tree that winds its way up the pole. At the top is an image of the head of a wolf, and there’s something magical about it; yet, it looks so real. Not only that, but there’s a dignity about it that makes Sofie feel like she shouldn’t be touching it, as if she weren’t being respectful. She draws her hand back, and Ashton seems to take the movement as dismissive.
“They’re not done yet,” Ashton says, sounding almost embarrassed, like an artist that doesn’t like to show his work to anyone before it’s finished. But there’s something else in his voice, something that sounds a little like hurt at her reaction.
Sofie whirls around, taking a few steps towards him, closing the distance between them. “They’re beautiful.” She looks up at him and feels the magnetic pull that draws her towards him. “The wolf…it’s so life-like. It’s amazing,” she says, breathing the words. Her heart is beating faster, and she feels like the temperature of the room is rising.
“I’m glad you like it,” he says, gently. Sofie can’t stop herself from wondering what it would be like to have that gentle voice talking to her in the dark. “I don’t let people come in here usually.”
His words touch her, and she knows she would be lying if she tried to deny that she got a little zing of pleasure knowing that she’s seen a side of him that few have been permitted to. “Well, I’m glad you let me,” Sofie says, softly. There’s hardly any distance between them. She feels like she could reach up and touch his face, trace his hard jawline, and plant a kiss on those full lips. She leans in towards him, almost instinctively, and she’s pretty sure she doesn’t imagine that Ashton moves closer to her. But before they get any further, the insistent sound of the store phone ringing interrupts them. Ashton looks conflicted, but the noise has woken Sofie from her daydream and made her realize just how pathetic she probably looks flinging herself at this guy who probably has no trouble getting girls. “You should get that.”
Ashton frowns and looks like he’s going to say something; but, he follows her suggestion instead and disappears back into the store. Sofie is left in the workshop, trying to pull herself together. She reminds herself that she’s not a high school student, but a 27-year-old woman who knows better than to get involved. Her time with Tyler had taught her that much. Besides, Ashton probably had beautiful women following him around like lost puppy dogs and that wasn’t really her scene.
She steals a look at herself in an ornate mirror that hangs in the room. A slim, tall woman stares back at her, her dark eyes bright and her cheeks flushed. She tries to convince herself that it’s from the heat in the room, but she’s fairly certain it’s from something or, more accurately, someone else.
When she drifts back into the store, Ashton is hanging up the phone with a serious look on his face. However, they’re not alone anymore. A few customers have drifted in, including a hot petite woman, wearing shorts that would be classed as illegal in some states. It doesn’t take Sofie long to recognize her as the woman that she’d seen Ashton talking to the other day on the street. Miss Hot Pants gives Sofie an appraising look and takes in Ashton’s shirt, which she’s wearing. She finds herself about to give the woman an explanation and tell her that it isn’t what she thinks. Then, she reminds herself that it’s none of Miss Hot Pants’ damn business.
But perhaps it is her business, Sofie wonders. The woman is one of the—probably many— female hangers-on that Ashton has. Looking like he does, it’s not likely that the guy has lived a life of celibacy and restraint. The thought lights a spark of jealousy and, before she’s fully conscious of what it is that she’s doing, she walks over to Ashton with a little more sway in her hips. The wolf totem pole has flagged a question that she’s been meaning to ask him, as he seems to know so much about this town.
“So, tell me something, is that wolf’s head in there based on anything other than your imagination?” Sofie analyzes his reaction, and she’s pleased to see that he blinks twice in surprise.
He doesn’t give much away. “There have been wolves in this part of the country for centuries. I don’t need to imagine what they look like.” His eyes don’t have the softness that they did only a few minutes ago. The blinds are back down, and there’s a coldness in his voice that reminds her of what he said to her the night before, that he would have left her out in the woods if he’d known she worked for Shale.
“That can’t be right,” she says, shaking her head. “We don’t survey sites that are known habitats for protected species. It would just be a big waste of time and money.”
“I didn’t say that this was a known habitat,” Ashton says in a low voice, but Sofie hears what he’s saying as clear as a bell.
She looks at him, clearly confused. “So what, you’re the only person who knows about the wolves here? What are you? The Wolf Whisperer?” Sofie laughs lightly and then wishes that she hadn’t when she sees the seriousness on Ashton’s face.
“You’re a scientist. I guess that means you must have more than an average set of smarts. I figured you would know not to talk about things you don’t understand,” he says in a harsh voice. The look of disappointment in his eyes is worse than the anger from the night before.
“If there’s something you want to tell me, then just say it. I don’t like riddles.” Sofie leans back, observing Ashton, waiting for him to explain himself; but, he doesn’t. He just stares back at her.
Eventually, he reaches behind the cash register and pulls out some of her sample packages, holding them out to her. “You left some of your rocks in my truck.”
Sofie takes the samples from him, even more confused than she had been before. “Why are you helping me?” She looks between the package and the man, wondering what it is that she’s missing.
“Not helping, just returning something to the rightful owner. Don’t they do that in DC?” His smile returns, but it’s not the one that makes Sofie go weak at the knees. It’s a mocking smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“No, no they don’t.” Sofie feels like there’s more that she wants to say, that whatever he’s hiding that he can tell her. But why would he trust me? As far as he’s concerned, I’m the enemy, the last thing that I want to be to him. I’ve made a mistake, and I know that. I’ve gotten my feelings involved in what should just be a job, a site survey like any other. But it’s more than that…something has piqued my scientific curiosity. I can tell I’m finding clues…hints as to what’s really going on in the canyon.
A plan starts to form in her mind, and she doesn’t waste any time getting to work. “Thanks for the shirt.” She turns abruptly and marches away, not waiting for a response. She can feel Ashton’s eyes on her all the way to the door, but she doesn’t turn around. If he wants to play hardball, she can play it just as well as he can.
When she gets back to the motel she throws open the door to her room, knowing that Finn is still going to be engrossed in his video game.
He barely looks up from the television. “Feeling better?” he asks—although his voice suggests that he’s a little disappointed she’s back so soon.
“Not sure yet.” Sofie stands in front of the television again, blocking Finn’s view so that he’s forced to give her his undivided attention.
His expression changes from irritation to amusement. “Nice shirt. Belong to anyone we know. A certain angry hero from last night?” He smiles so wide it looks like his face might split in two.
“It rained; I got wet; and he let me borrow a shirt—end of story.” Sofie skips all the other relevant details, and Finn
looks like he’s about to question her further; but, she cuts him off. “Finn, focus. I need your help.”
Her serious words combined with the excitement on her face makes Finn’s ears prick up in interest. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Sofie admits, ignoring his eye roll. “I need you to get online and dig up anything that you can about wolves in this area. Anything at all that you can find—sightings, scientific reports, historical references, whatever is out there I need you to find it.”
“Wolves? Come on, Sofe, don’t let whatever Mr. I’m-Gorgeous-Yet-Moody-And-Sensitive has said get you in a spin. We both know that we don’t—”
“I know. I know. We don’t survey sites that are natural habitats of protected species. I know how it’s supposed to work, but what if that isn’t what’s happened this time?” Finn’s expression of disapproval slowly gives way to his overwhelming need for information. “I know what I heard out in those woods, and it wasn’t the wind, and it wasn’t a freakin’ owl.”
Finn blinks, a sign that he’s weighing options in his head and thinking over the various possibilities of what he’s about to agree to. “Well, it’s not like I had anything else to do today.” He sighs, but his last words come out in a mumble as Sofie hugs him in gratitude. “Alright Sofe, I get all freaked out when you go girly on me,” he grumbles until Sofie releases him. “Darwin can’t find out about this.” Finn is already picking up his laptop and disconnecting the cables from the television.
“I agree, we don’t want this going any further up the chain. Besides, he has other things to worry about,” Sofie says, nodding in agreement and feeling more excited than she has in a long time.
Finn is half-talking to himself, already mentally out the door. “It’s going to take a little while.”
“Thanks, Finn.” Sofie heads over to her desk where she’s set up a make-shift laboratory and lays out the samples Ashton had handed over. It’s only when she takes them out of the containers that she realizes what she’s looking at. “Son of a bitch,” she mutters under her breath.
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