by Miles, Amy
“Fine.” She huffs, pushing back her tray table and locking it in place. “What would you like to chat about?”
He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Seriously?” She gapes openly at him and he can’t help but enjoy the heat staining her cheeks. It’s a good color on her. Normally she looks a tad washed out, but the blush really brightens her eyes.
“How about you tell me your favorite color?”
“Oh, good Lord.” She pinches the bridge of her nose and takes a steadying breath. “I don’t have time for games, Slade.”
He raises his hands in surrender. “No game. I am genuinely interested.”
She peeks between her hands to see him waiting patiently for her to respond. When she drops her hands, her suspicion expression melts into something he can’t quite put a finger on, but he’s surprised to find that he would like to.
“I don’t actually have a favorite color.”
“You must have one color that you favor over others.”
“Nope.” She shakes her head and purses her lips. “You’ll probably just think I’m crazy…”
He finds himself leaning forward. “Tell me.”
With a heavy sigh, she blows her unruly hair out of her face. The stray hairs have fallen from a tiny brown clip over her right ear and now rest against her cheek, concealing part of her face from his gaze.
“I sort of have a color of the day. My color preference is based on my mood.”
“You know,”—Slade rubs his hand along the back of his neck, thinking it over—“that actually makes a lot of sense when you think about it.”
“Really?”
“Sure. It’s sort of like when I’m angry and I prefer to listen to thrash music over 80s rock. I guess it’s a sensory thing.”
Her eyes roam over his face, slightly widened into what he would guess to be surprise. He laughs. “What?”
“Nothing. I just… I didn’t expect you to be so… normal.”
Slade’s laugh draws attention to them from the passengers around them. He smiles and ducks his head, lifting his hand in apology. “I’m not as bad as you think, Ash.”
Her hand flinches on her lap. “Why do you call me that?”
“Ash? I like it better than Ashlyn. Is that okay?”
He watches the indecision that plays across her face. He loves how easy it is to read her by her emotions. Small, hesitant smiles, nibbling on her lip, trembling fingers… all of it helps him read her like a book. Most girls are far better at hiding their true thoughts. They are versed in snarky comebacks and half-truths, but Ashlyn is just innocent.
She tugs at the hem of her top, fiddling with the bottom of the zipper catch. “Um, sure. I guess so.”
“If it’s too personal, just let me know. I just thought it suited you better.”
A hint of a smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she lets her hair drape over her face, hiding her from his sight. He waits, wishing he could pull back that veil to see what she’s thinking. He’s never met a girl with a more expressive pair of eyes. They are wide and full of secrets. Her blush is a dead giveaway when she’s angry or embarrassed, but it’s her eyes that betray her.
“Can I let you in on a little secret?” he whispers, hoping to draw her back.
She turns to look at him and slowly pulls back her hair, tucking it behind her ear, another sign of curiosity. He’s on the right track. “What?”
He clears his throat, suddenly self-conscious about telling her the truth. “I feel a bit out of my league right now.”
Her eyebrows hike up into her hairline. “You?”
Slade chuckles and nods, leaning farther across the aisle. He smiles when her legs shift and she leans in as well. From this close proximity, he can smell her perfume. It reminds him of apple pie and ice cream that his gran used to make around Christmas time. “It’s been smashing seeing L.A. and having that room with the wicked view, but the truth is I’m a bit homesick.”
The tension in her shoulders seems to relax a bit as her apprehension melts away. She smiles, and for the first time, it feels completely genuine. He can almost visually see her walls starting to lower just a bit.
Slade feels the effect of that smile like a small flame bursting to life in his gut. It isn’t unpleasant, but it’s definitely surprising.
“I feel that way a lot of the time.” She glances behind them to see Tamsin flipping through the pages of a magazine. Her head bobs to music pouring in from the airline’s radio. “Tamsin is great, but we don’t really have much in common, and I adore Sophie, but she has this tendency to try to shove me out of my comfort zone as often as she can, and that just makes me anxious.”
“So that’s why you work,” he whispers.
Her fingers fall still in her lap. “You noticed that?”
He nods. “I’ve been watching you. You retreat to your laptop anytime you get uncomfortable or are faced with a situation you don’t think you can control.”
Ashlyn tucks her lower lip behind her teeth, nibbling softly. “Do I really do that?”
“All the time. At first I thought you just loved your job too much, but then I realized it’s actually a physical barrier for you. A virtual protective bubble from the outside world.”
She purses her lips, tilting her head as she appears to think it over. Then her gaze shifts and she looks him dead on. “Sounds like you know a bit about that yourself.”
“Don’t most people?” He looks down the aisle behind them, stretching beyond their section and all the way to the back galley. “How many of these people do you think are really who they say they are?”
“What do you mean?”
He lifts a finger and points to a businessman in a suit and tie a couple rows back. “What about him? Do you think he actually likes traveling for his job? What about the tan line where his wedding ring should be? Is he on his way to meet a mistress or has he just come from one and forgot to replace the ring?”
Ashlyn grins. “Maybe he left one to meet up with another in Vegas.”
Slade’s smile broadens. “I like the way you think.”
The telltale flush along her neckline tells him that his compliment made an impact. “What about me?” he asks, poking his thumb at his own chest. “You said you like to watch people. You told me, in no uncertain terms, that you thought I was hiding something. Why do you think that is?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She hedges, pulling away. He reaches across the aisle and grabs her hand to stop her from retreating completely. “Please, I’d like to know.”
“Well…” She pauses to look him over. “If I had to guess, I would say that you came from a place where image meant a lot to you so you felt the need to create one that wasn’t entirely true. In my experience, if you tell yourself a lie long enough, you start to believe it.”
“Go on,” he says. He likes the way she looks at the world, the way she sees small details that others would pass right over. Most people choose not to look beyond his physical attributes. Why should they bother when it’s obvious they only want to have a good time?
But Ashlyn is different. He’s not entirely sure she cares all that much about his looks. Not that she hasn’t noticed, but she doesn’t seem to place a lot of stock in it.
He likes that about her.
“Um…” She runs her fingers over the fine hairs on her arm, staring just over his shoulder at the window instead of him. They must be flying high over the mountains by now. “Maybe you came from a troubled home. Maybe you tried to earn the respect of your parents, but they were always too wrapped up in their own issues to really pay attention to you so you sought it elsewhere.”
“Getting colder.” He laughs. “Besides, that’s cheating. I already told you about my dad.”
“True.” Her brow furrows as she places her chin in her palm, leaning her elbow against the armrest. “You’ve got a cocky swagger, which tells me you think you can back it up. My guess would be that you grew up having girls fawn over you and dec
ided to use it to your advantage.”
He nods and waits for her to continue.
“And…” She closes her eyes to think. “And now you’re trying to make an impression on the powers that be so you can become rich and famous and buy a trophy wife.”
Slade chuckles and holds up two fingers. “Two out of three isn’t too bad, Ash.”
She flushes with pride and tucks her hair behind her ear again. The vent overhead keeps blowing it against her cheek. He likes watching the way her nose crinkles with frustration over it. “How did your mom handle it all?”
He shifts in his seat, loosening his belt so it doesn’t bite into his side. It’s safer to look at the seat back than directly at her when he speaks. “After Dad ran out on us, Mum had to keep two jobs just to keep us afloat. She was at work before I left for school and came in to give me a kiss after I was already in bed. It wasn’t the best childhood, but it could have been a lot worse.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers and he turns to smile at her.
“I’m not. I love my mum. She’s a great lady. Owe everything to her.”
Ashlyn nods in understanding. “You don’t have to do it, you know?”
“Do what?”
When she looks up to meet his gaze, he sees an emptiness within her that cuts at him. “You don’t have to be like them, the people you think you need to impress. Don’t change who you are just to get people to accept you. One of these days you’ll wake up and realize it’s not worth it.”
Slade falls silent, mulling over the pain etched into her words. Is this what has happened to her? Did she get trapped in a job that’s too demanding and now she can’t get out? What about Tamsin? She certainly seems to enjoy living it large, but when does she find the time to buckle down and write these books?
He leans his head back into his seat and knows she has hit on the one thing most people have been too blind to see or chosen not to. “I’ve been wearing a mask for so long I’m not really sure who I am anymore.”
Fourteen
Ashlyn lifts her face to the scalding water that cascades down from the rain showerhead in her suite at the Bellagio. The glass shower surround is completely fogged up, as is the mirror over the marble sink. She’s been in here a while, attempting to let the water wash away her confusion.
Why is it that at every turn, Slade does something she can’t predict? She’s usually a really good judge of character, but he has her stumped.
Was their game of twenty questions on the plane really just about him being bored or is he actually trying to get to know her? And if so, the ultimate question then becomes why?
She leans her forehead against the shower wall and sighs. At least she won’t have to deal with him tonight.
Shortly after arriving at the Bellagio, Tamsin snagged Slade, gushing over how they just had to see the nightlife. That isn’t Ashlyn’s scene, so she politely bowed out and headed straight for her room with the intent of passing out.
That didn’t happen.
After watching four straight hours of House reruns followed by a few episodes of The Big Bang Theory, Ashlyn made herself get up.
She’d glanced at her laptop, knowing it would help to calm her nerves, but all that did was remind her of Slade’s earlier words. As Ashlyn leans against the cold tile, she wonders if he’s right about her.
Do I really use my laptop as a way to avoid people?
This thought doesn’t settle well. Even though she’s always been a bit shy around people, she never really saw her work as being a high wall to keep people out.
“Maybe he’s right,” she whispers as streams of water spill over the crown of her head and down her cheeks. “Maybe I’m just a coward.”
Tamsin would tell her to grab a beer, dance on a few tables, and worry about it tomorrow. Sophie would advise her to get in touch with her inner badass and sort through whatever hang-ups are eating at her and deal with it head on. Her mother… Ashlyn backs away from that topic.
It’s been years since she asked her mother’s advice on anything. They had a fairly decent relationship when she was growing up. Her mom would take her out for ice cream and a drive-in movie on a hot summer night. Sometimes they would stay up late and braid each other’s hair while they watched reruns of I Love Lucy on Nick at Night, but that was a long time ago.
Her mom has been through a lot since then. When Ashlyn was nine years old, a drunk driver crossed the center lane and slammed into their car. Her mom was lucky to be alive, but she never saw it that way.
A partial loss of her right leg left her bitter at life, at the universe, or whoever she thought controlled it. From that day on, things went downhill quick.
Their rent always seemed to be late. There was never enough food in the fridge. The car was impounded and her mom sank so low into the bottom of a bottle that Ashlyn didn’t think she would ever surface. The summer of Ashlyn’s sixteenth birthday, her mom finally met a really great guy. Sam Littleton was the guardian angel of suitors, and Ashlyn instantly fell in love with him.
He was good for her mom. He helped her see that losing part of a limb didn’t change who she was or who she could be. Over the next few years, while Ashlyn finished high school and worked her way through her first year of college, her mom came back to life.
Ashlyn doesn’t hold a grudge against her mother. In fact, she’s thrilled that her mom is finally happy again, but the years of neglect have left scars that have yet to heal over.
When she turned twenty, Ashlyn landed her first big job and swore that she would never let her identity be wrapped up in something the world could destroy.
“Guess I blew that one,” she mutters, leaning back to wash the tears from her eyes.
How did she go so far wrong? She had her life all planned out. Her dream had finally come true and yet there was still this hollowness in her chest that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t ignore.
Slade saw it. How many other people have too but just never said anything?
Ashlyn turns off the shower and leans back against the glass surround. It’s cold against her skin, a wonderful contrast to the steam rising from her body.
Her heart feels heavy as she towel dries her hair and slips into a plush terrycloth robe. The emblem for the Bellagio is stitched across the back and a few stray threads tickle her. She plods out into her room and realizes that despite the splendor all around, it all feels foreign and unwelcoming.
She misses home and the familiarity of it all.
“Just a couple more weeks and life can go back to normal,” she says to the empty room.
Sinking down onto the bed, she stares at the flickering TV screen, but the images don’t sink in. Her gaze shifts as she focuses on the glowing red numbers on her clock. 2:05 a.m.
Ashlyn groans and falls back on the bed. She has to be up in five hours.
The pillow rapidly begins to feel moist against her cheek so she pushes up onto her elbows. She gives her hotel room a onceover before throwing her legs over the edge and rising to her full, if not painfully short, height.
“It’s 2:00 a.m. and Las Vegas is still awake so I might as well embrace it.”
She unzips her suitcase and pulls out a black tank top and gray running capris. She dresses quickly and winds her damp hair into a ponytail. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she smiles, feeling as if this small step is as good as taking on the entire world.
“Now who’s hiding?” She grabs her room key and slams the door behind her.
By the time she reaches the lower level, her confidence has begun to sift away as she starts contemplating how exhausted she will be tomorrow. Breakfast with the book reviewers, a spa day with Tamsin and Sophie, immediately followed by a fitting for Slade, and then utter chaos leading up to the evening signing. She’s in for a rough day. Better keep the migraine meds on hand.
Ashlyn is just about to push her floor again when the elevator doors open and she is hit with a sensory overload of flashing lights, clanging bells, and the
sounds of coins dropping. A woman waits, unsure if she should let Ashlyn off or just get on.
“Sorry,” Ashlyn mutters as she presses the open door button for the woman and slips off the elevator.
She stands and gawks at the hive of activity all around her. The rooms above must have been created with the best soundproofing material to be able to block out all of this noise.
Even though it’s the middle of the night, Ashlyn feels highly underdressed. She can see women in sequined dresses, dripping with gold and diamonds, hanging on the arm of men in suits and richly woven ties. Even the waitresses seem better dressed than she is.
Ashlyn can already feel her palms beginning to grow clammy as she searches for an escape. She spies a sign for the pool and darts down the hall, sure that anyone watching must think she’s had a bit too much to drink.
She slows only when she reaches the exterior door that leads to the pool beyond. Her hands shake slightly as she tries to slide the key card into the door. She can feel herself teetering toward panic as a group of people shove past her, heading toward the main casino area. After four more attempts, she finally succeeds in opening the door and bursts through.
A calm falls over her as her pace slows. The water rippling ahead of her glows a beautiful azure. Manicured bushes in handcrafted stone basins line the exterior of the pool. Diamond-shaped colored tiles create a Mediterranean mosaic around the water’s edge. Beautifully sculpted pillars on stone pedestals are lit with the soft glow of accent lights.
Plush cushioned lounge chairs sit under opened umbrellas. Private cabanas have been erected off to the side. Stacks of yellow towels perch on small poolside tables.
There is a definite romantic allure to this courtyard. The scent of coconut still lingers in the air after a day of tanning and mixed drinks shared under the canopy.
Ashlyn leans over to admire the intricate detail at the bottom of the pool. The wide blue-and-gold lines create visual feel of elaborate wealth and splendor.