Loving Ashe

by Madrid, Liz

  “Sure,” Riley said as Gareth made his way into the bathroom.

  “Thanks. I owe you one.”

  “No, you don’t. The concealer’s to your right, by the way, if you need to use it,” she added just before Gareth shut the door behind him.

  “He’s going to need more than just concealer,” Ashe said, shaking his head, his gaze on the bathroom door. “He looks like shit.”

  “Did you really fire Collette?” Riley asked as he pulled her towards him, kissing her forehead.

  Ashe smiled grimly, his gaze traveling down the robe that covered her thin shirt and pajama bottoms. “Of course. Now that she knows who you are, I don’t want to have to worry about how she’s going to deal with you being my girlfriend. It was one thing when she didn’t recognize you in the limo, the night we met. It’s another when she has no problem doing things behind her client’s back for a fee.”

  “But who’s going to manage your career from now on?”

  “My usual team. Lance managed my career in London before we set our sights on Hollywood. He’s had five years to build the same contacts as Collette, therefore he can officially manage my US accounts from now on.” Ashe pinched Riley’s chin and smiled, though there was no happiness in it. “Trust is important to me, Riley. If I can’t trust someone, then even if they’re one of the best managers in the business, like Collette Williams, they can’t be on my team.”

  As far as Riley knew, Ashe’s team consisted of Ben and Lance, his agent in Los Angeles, and an entertainment attorney who handled all his contracts and profit participation. There was also Betty Forster of Chandler and Forster Public Relations, the same Betty that Paige knew, with the single breast implant that stood out like a torpedo. He also had a stylist, Isabella Parks, who chose what Ashe needed to wear for publicity events like the following year’s awards shows in Los Angeles, where Riley was to be his date in all of them. Isabella already had three dresses ready for her to consider, with two fittings arranged for the coming week. These were the people Ashe trusted, to whom he could delegate tasks, so that he could have a semblance of a normal life the moment he shut the door on the world and became a private person with her.

  “Are you angry with me?” Riley asked.

  “Now why would I be angry with you? You’re not the one who has the studio in an uproar wondering where the hell he is,” Ashe said, his gaze directed at the bathroom door.

  “He apologized, you know, about what happened between him and Paige, about the triplets. That’s why he came,” Riley said. “We didn’t exactly kiss and make up, but I think we got a few things straight.”

  “Well, I’m glad he finally did apologize to you.”

  “Then why do you still seem annoyed?”

  Ashe sighed, finally looking at her, irritation still visible on his face. “Because I don’t understand why Gareth-fucking-Roman had to travel thirteen fucking hours, through six states, just to say he was sorry. Hasn’t he heard of a fucking phone?”

  *

  Betty Forster arrived fifteen minutes later and inspected Gareth briefly. After adding a bit more concealer under his eyes, then powder, before tousling his hair, she told him he looked perfect. Then she accompanied him downstairs where a limo was waiting, double-parked. Five photographers who’d received an anonymous tip about Gareth’s whereabouts had already camped out right in front of the door under Frank’s disapproving gaze.

  If it was handled right, the publicity from Gareth’s disappearance would heighten anticipation for the Conley Brennan film which had been plagued by problems since Isobel had convinced her father to replace Ashe with Gareth. It would certainly cement Gareth’s reputation as a difficult but worthwhile actor to work with.

  Not that it was any of Riley’s concern for the moment Gareth left, Ashe shut the door and bolted it. Then he spun around, pinned Riley against the wall and kissed her hard. It was a possessive kiss that took her breath away. Her belly clenched as if a thousand butterflies had suddenly been released within, and she felt his anger mingled with desire as his hands and mouth claimed what was his. His erection rubbed against her belly, inflaming her further as he grasped her hair and pulled her head back, kissing and sucking the skin of her neck. His kisses left Riley gasping for breath as she struggled to stay upright on legs that had grown weak. When Ashe finally drew away, the truth hit Riley hard when she saw his eyes, dark blue and intense, his nostrils flaring in anger.

  “Holy shit, Ashe, you’re jealous!” she exclaimed, surprised. “But you told me you weren’t jealous of Gareth at all.”

  “I lied,” Ashe whispered hoarsely, leaning his forehead against hers. His expression was pained, as if it hurt him to realize that Gareth had shared the same space with her for almost an hour. “There’s only so much self-control I can practice, seeing you alone with him — with you dressed the way you tumbled out of bed this morning – even with your robe.”

  “So you don’t foresee the three of us getting together sometime for a ménage à trois?” she teased as his eyes narrowed, telling her he didn’t find her remark very funny.

  “Let’s say I’m quite old-fashioned,” he said, his thumb brushing against her cheekbone before moving down to trace her lips. “Very old-fashioned, when it comes to you, which means there will be no sharing of you with anyone.”

  “You really are jealous,” she said again, aware of his gaze drifting lower to her breasts where her robe had slid open and he could see her skin through the thin shirt that she wore. He’d replaced her titanium nipple barbells with platinum ones, diamonds studs gracing each end, and as she saw his gaze linger there, Riley caught her breath.

  “I said I wasn’t jealous of Gareth having been part of your life,” Ashe said, tilting her chin up towards him. “But I never said I wouldn’t be jealous if he happened to knock on your door unannounced and spend time alone with you — even if he only came to apologize. I am a man in love with you, Riley-I-am, and no matter how rational I might try to be, I am no saint.”

  “Well, thank goodness for that. I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever get jealous at all,” Riley said as his phone rang from inside his jacket pocket. But instead of answering it, Ashe slipped his jacket off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor, peeling off his shirt and unbuckling his belt as his cellphone continued to ring.

  “What are you doing?” She asked as more of Ashe’s clothes landed on the floor.

  “What do you think?” He asked, grinning, as he stepped out of his jeans and boxer briefs and pulled her back towards him, the phone still ringing from somewhere on the floor.

  “But you’ve got work to do,” she protested, “contracts to sign, deals to make.”

  “Sod work,” he said, hoisting her unceremoniously over his shoulder and ignoring her fits of giggles as he headed towards the bed. “You said you wanted to climb this tree, so best get to work and start climbing, my luv.”

  He tossed Riley playfully onto the bed, cradling the back of her head in his hand as he followed after her. She’d hit the headrest once, and Ashe had never forgiven himself, no matter how many times she assured him she was fine.

  “I’ve got you,” he whispered as he landed over Riley, supporting himself on one elbow as he gazed down at her.

  She stared up at him, her giggles replaced by a serious expression. Ashe frowned. “Did you hit your head?”

  “No, but what you just said,” Riley said, shaking her head. “They were the first words you said to me inside the elevator the night we met. Remember?”

  “Of course, I remember,” Ashe said, a faint smile on his face. “How could I forget?”

  “I just never realized till now how three simple words changed my life so much in one night.”

  Ashe kissed her, gently this time, savoring the taste of her on his lips and his tongue, his hands tracing the curve of her ear and resting against the faint throbbing of her pulse on her neck. He pulled away, studying her.

  “I know another set of three words that have cha
nged my life,” he whispered. “I love you, Riley Eames. You stole my heart the day I met you, when you did that crazy get-me-out-of-this-dress dance that even Salome couldn’t match.”

  “That was more than three words,” She chuckled. “But was the dance really that bad? You can blame it on the zipper getting stuck.”

  “You were utter perfection just being yourself,” he continued, kissing her again.

  “Oh, please,” she groaned, her face coloring.

  “Now if were to recall first words, I distinctly remember exactly what you said when the elevator stopped,” Ashe said, grinning. “And I believe you said fuck-”

  “Shh,” Riley whispered, touching his lips with her index finger and biting her lower lip playfully. “Maybe instead of saying the word, you could demonstrate it for me?”

  “Pushy already, aren’t we?” he chuckled, nuzzling her neck as his hands moved down her body, pulling her shirt over her head and pushing her pajama bottoms down her legs. “That I can certainly do, though you still have some climbing to do yourself.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that, because I’m definitely climbing you today — and I plan to do so much more,” she giggled as he shifted position, lying on his back this time as she straddled his hips, her hair cascading down her shoulders.

  “So much more? Really?” he asked, his hands cupping her breasts, his thumbs gently tugging her nipple clips till Riley caught both his wrists and pinned them against his sides.

  “Yes, really. And do you know why?”

  “Why?” He asked, chuckling as she brushed her the tip of her nose against his.

  “Because I love you, Ashe Hunter,” Riley replied as she kissed him, nibbling his lower lip. “And that’s something I plan to do every day.”

  Epilogue

  Gareth’s disappearance and eventual return to the set created enough of a stir to bring attention to the movie he and Isobel were filming. It brought fans far and wide to Nashville to catch sight of the two stars outside Base Camp or on location along Music Row.

  Searches for Alabama Rain spiked, as did the sales of Conley Brennan’s songs. It was a win-win situation for everyone, including Ashe’s production company, which, together with Cookie Brennan, reaped profits from the sales of Conley’s music and related merchandise.

  For Thanksgiving, Ashe suggested that he and Riley share the making of the ultimate shepherd’s pie, a slightly different spin on his mother’s recipe. Together they came up with slow-roasted smoked, spiced lamb with caramelized onions and cheddar which was a hit during Thanksgiving dinner along with the dishes everyone else brought, especially when paired with they all claimed was the holy grail of ales, 5 AM Red Ale.

  The following day, she and Ashe spent hours with her nephews, who came to the condo first before they all went to the park to play until their nanny arrived to take the children home. It was a bittersweet time, though the triplets didn’t seem to mind not being at home, and made friends with Ben and Lindsay’s little girl, Natalie, who was around the same age. She charmed the boys with her bright red hair and her love of trains instead of dolls.

  For the Christmas holidays, Tessa stayed at Riley’s apartment to keep Miss Bailey company while Riley and Ashe flew to London where he showed her his favorite places. Though he still kept a small two-bedroom apartment in Hackney, one bedroom being rented by a friend who worked as an accountant in a local firm, they stayed at Claridge’s hotel while they were in London. They went to plays and met his old friends in pubs, at street fairs and in Hyde Park. Ashe also took her to the usual tourist spots like the London Eye, Notting Hill and the Tower of London, though Riley preferred the days they spent in the various museums. After five days in the city, they traveled to Reeth to spend Christmas at his parents’ home. Though it was nerve-wracking at first and she found it hard to understand what everyone was saying around her, Riley enjoyed herself. She fell in love with the Dales where Ashe took her walking each morning. Each night, just before bed, Riley found herself crossing off items from her checklist.

  Visit Brontë country — check. See the sights of London – check. Get scared silly at the London Dungeon, courtesy of Ashe’s friends — check (though this wasn’t as large a checkmark as the rest). Charm the pants off Ashe’s parents — check. Fall in love with Rowan, his cheeky niece, whom she knew the triplets would surely get on well with — triple check. Watch Ashe shovel manure — no way.

  Riley made the objection herself when his father brought it up, reminding Ashe one morning after breakfast that it was time for him to pay his keep and shovel manure for the locals. And when she voiced her disapproval, his parents stared at her, shock written on their faces. At first Riley thought she’d offended them, but after a beat, they all looked at each other before bursting into fits of laughter, as if it were a joke played on her all this time.

  “I’d never let Ashe do such a thing with thee round, lass. Why does tha think he brought thee?” his father said, or at least that was what Riley thought he said. Their accents were so thick that Riley figured, sooner or later, she’d have to invest in some kind of a dictionary.

  Even Ashe was speaking more like his parents. He’d already called her ‘luv’ more times than she could count, said ‘nowt’ instead of ‘nothing’ and once, she absolutely refused to talk him for a full morning when she thought he called her a cunt — out in public, no less — when he meant ‘couldn’t’. That was the problem when he couldn’t be bothered to pronounce the letter ‘d’ though she figured it out eventually.

  “You’re glowing,” she said one day as they walked along the Dales with Rowan sitting on his shoulders.

  “I’m also getting fat from me mum’s cookin’,” he said though there was no sign of any extra weight on him.

  “That’s because you put gravy on everything,” Riley laughed.

  “‘Because you ‘av to! But you’re right. This place grounds me. It’s like a recalibration every year — sometimes twice a year. But it’s this lass here,” he said, grinning as he glanced at Rowan, “who grounds me the most. Don’t you, me li’l monkey?”

  “But I’m no’ a monkey, Uncle,” she protested though it had been an endearment she loved to hear — until Riley called her a beautiful little lassie. “I’m a beautiful little lassie.”

  Ashe laughed, lifting her down and carrying her under one arm as she squealed in delight. “Indeed you are — me li’l monkey!”

  Rowan lived with her father, William Emerson, and his parents, two houses away from the Hunters. William had grown up with Ashe and Hazel, and he and his parents shared childrearing duties with the Hunters. He and Rowan had dinner with the Hunters every day that Ashe was home, and she learned later on that this was the usual arrangement between families. Rowan’s mother was gone, but she would always have her father and her two sets of grandparents around, and when Ashe had the time, her uncle too. They did video-chats, which made Ashe’s absence less painful to the child, for at least she got to see her uncle every week, even if he was far away.

  The night before they were to return to London, en route to St. Bart’s, Riley realized just how much she was going to miss the place and the people who kept Ashe grounded. This was a house where not a single smart phone was permitted during mealtimes, a rule Ashe’s mother had set a long time ago. Thinking about how his family kept him connected to what was real, to those things and those people who mattered, she wondered what grounded her.

  Was it the city where she lived now, New York, with its never-ending energy which she felt she was tapping into to fuel her own soul — and where she and Ashe would continue to nurture their growing relationship? Was it the people who came to the Library Cafe in search of authentic cappuccinos and espressos and even the elusive flat white, hard to find in New York City for so long?

  Was it her relationship with Paige and Clint, though currently strained, that had held her together all those years when she had abandoned old friends while trying to hide her addiction and had been too ashamed to
contact them after she had got out of rehab? Or was it her love for the triplets, who had given her hope that one day she’d have children of her own, boys and girls who would call her ‘Mama’ as the triplets did Paige?

  Was it Ashe, the man who had given her a reason to trust again after years of disguising her unhappiness, first with drugs and later on with fake smiles that hid the question which plagued her the most — was she worth loving at all? Or was it all of the above combined with her past, forming a safety net sturdy enough to catch her when she fell and help her bounce back again?

  “Is anything wrong?” Ashe asked, bringing his arms around her from behind, his chin lightly resting on her shoulder. They were in his old bedroom and she was in the midst of packing up her luggage, trying to figure out where to sneak in the little souvenirs she’d bought. These had been mostly hand-made by the residents themselves, and she’d found them in the Swaledale Museum or the tiny shops she and Ashe stopped at whenever they were in town, usually after an hour or two at the pub.

  “I was just thinking how this place keeps you together. You’re a different man here, Ashe. You’re just Ashe – the son, the uncle, the friend, the local boy who made good and whom everyone is proud of. The man who managed to escape the chore of shoveling manure because he brought his girlfriend over to meet the parents.”

  For a few moments he thought about her words.

  “It is true that underneath all that I am, I’m really just a Yorkshire lad, and yes, I did bring you here so I would be exempt from shit shoveling duties,” he said, grinning. “But whenever I start to believe I’m as important as other people think I am, there’s nothing like the Dales to remind me of how little I really count compared to the rest of the natural world.”

  “And you’re too self-deprecating for your own good.”

  “One day, my looks will disappear and what then?” he asked. “All that will be left of the film star will be whatever’s playing on TV late at night, on cable, streaming or wherever — even looping GIFs of me walking naked across the screen. But viewers will only see that character and not the person — which won’t matter in the end once the cameras are turned off. There are no cameras here, Riley, so what you see now without the lights, the reflectors or the cameras is what you get — just a man who loves his family, his home, his niece, and a woman named Riley.”