Slow Burn: Iron Horse Series

by Danielle Norman

  “Like what?” When London offered no answers, I turned my attention to Holland. “You have any ideas?”

  “I’d start with sending him a message and asking him to talk.” Holland was always so direct.

  “Do something romantic,” London suggested. “You know how Braden took me on a picnic? You could do something like that. We have the buckboard Daddy used to pull us in for hayrides. Why not plan something romantic and use that?”

  “How about if you invite him over here and I go to London’s for the night? You can cook a nice meal and then have the house all to yourselves?” Holland offered. “That is, if London doesn’t mind.”

  “Of course I don’t, and I think that is a great idea. Where’s your phone? You should call him right now.”

  I got up and raced to get my phone, which was flashing with notifications of missed calls and waiting voicemails, all of which were from Asher.

  Well, shit.

  I bit my lip as I pulled up the voicemails. The first voicemail was muffled and less than fifteen seconds, the second was under five seconds, so I skipped that one and went to the third, which was by far the longest.

  “Paris, I love you. How could you do this to me?”

  Then I heard a woman, who I assumed was Ellie, say something in the background. It was kind of hard to hear because there was a lot of background noise. It sounded as if they were at the bar. “Tell her you miss her. Oh, and tell her that you want to fuck her.”

  “Yeah, I want to fuck you, but I can’t tell you that. I can only think about that alone.”

  “Alone? You mast . . . you mast . . . fuck . . . you jerk off thinking about her?”

  “All the time. She’s so beautiful. God, she’s so fucking sexy.”

  “That’s hot. You should tell her that.”

  “No. I don’t want her to know.”

  I cracked up laughing as I listened to Asher and Ellie go back and forth.

  “Kitten . . .”

  “Kitten? You call her kitten? Why do you call her kitten? That’s cute . . .” Ellie was off on some diatribe about kittens and must have moved away from the phone, because I couldn’t make out what she was saying.

  “For Halloween one year, I dressed up as Batman, and she teased me.” Somewhere in the middle of the explanation, he forgot he was talking to Ellie and started talking to me again. “Do you remember that, Paris? You said I couldn’t be Batman because I wasn’t a man. I had to be Batboy or Robin.” I nodded as I listened, totally remembering. “Then you felt bad because it hurt my feelings, so you dressed up as Catwoman.” I placed my fingertips against my lips to stifle the smirk. “But I was still mad at you, so I said you couldn’t be Catwoman, you had to be a kitten.” I nodded. That was it, I was eight years old again, being called kitten. A name that he continued calling me until ten days ago.

  By the time the voicemail was finally over, I was more confident than ever that Asher and I would make a great couple.

  God, I wanted to hear his voice, but I needed to do it after Cora left. How rude would it be if I asked her to leave? No, I couldn’t do that. The woman had just reconnected with us, right?

  I couldn’t hide the smile as I walked into the kitchen and put the phone on speaker. I replayed the message for everyone to hear.

  London was cracking up laughing. “You need to call that man and put him out of his misery.”

  “And give his right hand a break,” Holland said between laughs.

  “That’s so rude, and the fact that he’d talk about you like that in front of another woman shows he has no respect for you.” Cora shook her head in disgust.

  “It shows no such thing. It proves there is nothing between Ellie and Asher. It shows that, even when the man is drunk and out of his mind, he’s still thinking about Paris,” London defended.

  “Who wants a man who gets drunk like that anyway?”

  “Obviously not you, but then again, you didn’t want a hardworking, sober one either.” London pushed back her chair. “I’m getting Tera and going home. Sorry, I’ve had enough ‘motherly’ advice for one evening.”

  Cora reached for her, but London pulled back. “Don’t go. I really wish you’d stay. I want to get to know you.”

  “You want something, but that isn’t it. I just haven’t figured out what it is . . . yet. But I will.” London grabbed the baby monitor and headed down the hallway to get Tera, who she still had not allowed Cora to see.

  We sat at the table and ate in silence. I was busy thinking of all the possibilities. My mom was sitting opposite me, staring at me and silently telling me not to do what I was about to do. I could feel it. She was giving off some silent vibe. When we were finally done eating, I quickly cleared away the dishes, hoping it would encourage Cora to get on her way as well. Yeah, luck was not on my side tonight.

  “Let’s have some coffee. I have so many questions to ask you girls. It’s why I was hoping that London would finally stay.”

  I fought the urge to groan and met Holland’s eyes. She just shrugged, then got up and helped me clean up the table. Ten minutes later, we were drinking coffee and eating my most recent batch of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

  “Tell me about you girls. Boyfriends?” Cora took a bite and smiled at us.

  “None for me, but obviously Asher for Paris,” Holland pointed out.

  Cora let out a sigh. She was trying too hard to make up for lost time and had no clue how. “What can I do for you girls? Tell me, what do you feel like you missed out on while I wasn’t around?”

  “You mean like everything having a mother includes?” Holland asked, shoving an entire cookie into her mouth to stop herself from talking. At least she knew that baiting the woman would not help my cause of getting her to leave early so I could call Asher.

  “I always wished that I knew some of your family recipes. Dad said you had been a great cook.”

  Cora smiled. “Your dad would eat anything, he wasn’t picky. But I can write down a few things my grandmother taught me. She used to make the best icebox cake. I’ll teach you how to make it.”

  “Icebox? As in freezer?”

  “Nah, icebox is what she called the refrigerator. It was a cold cake, but it was so good. We can make that tomorrow if you want.”

  “I’d like that.” I hated that I was being rude, but I couldn’t stop myself from constantly looking over toward the cuckoo clock and checking the time.

  This was great and all, and truthfully, I did want to know about her recipes, but I was afraid that by the time she left, it would be too late to call him and he’d be half-asleep. Glancing over at the clock once more, my mom must have caught on to my antsy behavior because let’s face it, I was bouncing in my seat.

  Mom placed one hand on top of mine. “Just be careful. I don’t want to see you get hurt any more than you already are, and I’m afraid you’re gonna regret this. When you wake up and realize that friends can’t be lovers, you are going to be devastated.”

  “Let’s talk about something else. So, what’s in this cake of yours?” Holland asked as she stood and moved to put her empty coffee mug in the dishwasher.

  “We’ll need some sweetened condensed milk, fresh coconut—”

  “Great, why don’t you make a list tonight when you get back to your hotel? You can either text it to me or Paris, and we can go pick up the ingredients, or you can get them on your way.”

  “Oh, I can write them down now if you’d like.”

  “No, there’s no need. It’s getting late, and you may not remember, but life on the farm, we get up at the crack of dawn. Besides, I’m sure Paris is dying to go call Asher. Let’s let her do that.”

  I locked eyes with my baby sister and smiled, silently thanking her for getting to the crux of the situation…it was time for Mom to leave. Unfortunately, Mom didn’t get the hint and stood in the foyer, holding her purse.

  “When did you repaint the interior?”

  “Can’t remember. Five years ago, or so,” Holland ans
wered.

  “Those shades, they really need to be changed. I think those are the same ones from when I was here.”

  “Probably, but they still work.” Holland tilted her head and signaled for me to leave, but I couldn’t, I didn’t want to be rude. So she let out an exasperated breath. “We’re going to bed. Mom, let me walk you to your car. Paris, go call Asher.” Holland opened the front door, placed one hand on Cora’s back, and pushed.

  I waited for the front door to close then pulled out my phone. Staring at the black screen, I debated: should I, or shouldn’t I? It was definitely should. After all, my life was only going to get worse until I womaned-up and told him how I felt.

  So, I called him.

  “Paris?”

  “Hi. I’m not catching you at a bad time, am I?” I felt like a pre-teen girl and twisted a strand of hair around a finger.

  “No, of course not. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Or rather, I will be.”

  “What do you mean?” Asher sounded apprehensive.

  “I need to talk with you.”

  “Okay, let’s talk.”

  “No, not over the phone. Can you come over tomorrow?”

  “Paris, I don’t know.”

  “Please, Asher. I need to talk to you. It’s important to me.”

  “What about what’s important to me?”

  “Let me rephrase, it’s important to us.”

  “Then tell me now.”

  “I can’t. I really want to do this in person. Please. Tomorrow. Will you come over tomorrow?”

  “Sure, yeah. I have appointments, but I can come after work.”

  “Asher?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

  “I’d do anything for you, you know that.”

  We disconnected, and for the first time in ten days, I slept.

  Asher

  I yawned for the fourth time in as many minutes, then stared at the dashboard clock in my truck. It was only seven-thirty, and I had appointments until four. I had no clue how in the hell I was supposed to concentrate when all I could do was think about Paris and whatever the hell she wanted to talk about.

  I let out another yawn.

  After I’d hung up, I’d lain in bed wide awake as every possible reason why she might want to talk to me ran through my mind. Her wanting to talk to me about “us” could have meant a thousand and one different things, most of which were bad, a few were tolerable, and one was ideal.

  My and Ellie’s first stop of the day was at the Sloans' farm, where I checked on two new foals. Then we headed over to the Hightowers’, who had several goats. The crazy thing was, they’d never intended to own goats, but when the unclaimed animals kept finding their way onto the property, they decided they better get them checked out regularly.

  I was just pulling out of Mr. Howard’s driveway after having given the Great Pyrenees, Captain, another anti-inflammatory injection when I turned to Ellie.

  “I’ve been going nuts all day wondering what she wants to talk about.” Ellie, to her credit, didn’t roll her eyes at me. The poor woman had been a good sport about my need to talk incessantly about Paris.

  “What do you think she wants to talk about? Are you sure she didn’t give you any hints at all?”

  “I’m positive. She didn’t say anything other than she wanted to talk to me in person. She was so damn cryptic, the only clue I got was, it’s important to us.” I flexed my fingers and rolled my neck, the stress of the last two weeks taking its toll on me.

  “You think she’s finally come to her senses?” Ellie had asked me this a dozen times already, and each time I answered the same way.

  “I don’t know, but the wait is killing me.”

  “Want me to rearrange your appointments?”

  “Would you do that? I know I’m not paying you, but I’m dying to go see her.”

  “Of course I will. I’m a sucker for a happy ending. Can I just rearrange them for any open spots you have?” Ellie opened my appointment book and flipped to this week's calendar.

  “Yeah, I have a late start on Thursday, so you can move most to then.”

  “Will do.”

  I pulled up the drive to Reid’s home, and Ellie jumped out. “Oh, and Asher?”

  “Yes?”

  “Stay calm. Let her talk first. Make her work a little bit for it, okay?”

  I nodded and then drove down the street to Paris’s house. Though, when I pulled up her driveway, all the anticipation and anxiousness melted to disappointment.

  Her car was nowhere in sight, so I sent her a text.

  * * *

  Me: Got done early. Just got to your house.

  Paris: Go on in, Cora should be there. Just leaving grocery store, will be there soon.

  * * *

  Having missed being at the Kelly home and this feeling of welcome that seemed to surround the area, I walked up the steps and went inside without knocking. The Kelly home had always been as familiar as my own. I froze at the sound of a grunt coming from London’s office and headed down the hallway, stopping in front of the slightly ajar door.

  Cora was lifting tops off banker boxes and rummaging through files of old papers, putting each box back before searching the next. She’d obviously been in here a while, since it looked like she was about halfway through the stack, which was about seven boxes.

  Leaning against the doorway, I cleared my throat and glared as Cora startled, scattering papers everywhere. “Something I could help you find?”

  “I’m just doing stuff for the girls.”

  “In London’s office?”

  “Why are you in here?” Cora asked. “I didn’t hear you knock on the front door or ring the bell.”

  “I’ve never knocked, I’ve always just come in, but Paris knows I’m here and told me to come straight in.”

  “Paris is back?” Cora looked concerned and picked up her pace as she stacked papers back into the last box she’d been searching.

  “She’s almost back. She was on her way when I texted her. Clearly, you’re in a hurry to, what was it? Help the girls? I’m more than happy to help as well.”

  “No. I don’t need your help. In fact, we don’t need you. Why don’t you go home, and Paris can just call you when she’s ready?”

  “No, thanks, I’d rather wait.” I crossed my feet at the ankles and continued to lean against the doorframe. “So, what was it you said you were looking for?”

  “I didn’t say because I wasn’t looking for anything. I was actually cleaning and knocked the box over. You startled me. I was just putting this away.” Cora stood and moved the box back to the stack.

  Something about that didn’t sit right with me, but I was smart enough to realize that, even though I didn’t trust her, this was a very precarious position. If I were to tell Paris her mom was snooping around London’s office without any proof of her doing so, it would only force her to choose sides. Since I wasn’t positive how Paris felt about me yet, and I wasn’t sure how welcome Cora was in the house, I was in a no-win situation.

  Unlike Paris, London wasn’t exactly meticulous. So, even though I looked for anything else that seemed out of place, I wouldn’t have been able to spot it. There were stacks of papers on the desk, her chair was pulled out and turned around, and an accordion file was overflowing. All of this made me smile, because although London and Paris looked so much alike, this chaos would have given Paris hives. Hell, the woman alphabetized her spice cabinet. I learned that the hard way when I offered to help put away the groceries one time.

  I turned at the sound of the front door and smiled as Paris carried in bags of groceries. “Is there more in your Jeep?” I walked over, took the bags from her, and brought them into the kitchen.

  “No, just these. What were you doing in London’s office?”

  “Talking to Cora. She says that she’s dusting, but the crazy thing is, she doesn’t have any dust rags.”
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  “Cora? She’s in—” Paris shut up, and I halted, both of us turning to see Cora bent over and moaning. “Mom? Mom, are you okay? Do you need me to call 911?”

  “No, I’m just dizzy, I think I stood too fast. I was doing some dusting, just trying to help, but I haven’t eaten much today. That’s all, I’m sure.”

  That was . . . interesting, but I pressed my lips together and waited.

  “Here, come over here and sit down. I’ll fix you something. We’ll make the cake tomorrow. You just rest.”

  “No. I want us to make it. That’s important to you.”

  Paris threw some stuff together and popped it into the microwave. When it was ready, she set it in front of Cora. “No, it’s more important that you eat something. Besides, Asher is here, and he and I really need to talk.”

  “Can he come back later? I was really looking forward to teaching you that recipe. When you said you wanted to learn something from me and my family, it meant the world to me.”

  “I do want to learn. It means a lot, it really does. But—” Paris’s words were cut off again.

  “Oooh. Maybe you’re right. I don’t feel so good.” Cora moaned, and I could practically feel my eyes rolling into the back of my head.

  You have to be fucking kidding me. She isn’t even a good actress.

  “Come on, Mom, let me help you. You can lie down in London’s room.”

  “No. I don’t want to be back there.”

  “Okay, you can lie down in my room.”

  “No. I just don’t want to be back there all alone.”

  “You won’t be, I’ll be right here. I promise.”

  “You promise that you’ll stay with me? I feel like such a burden.”

  So, you’re going to make her stay with you and wait on you, to what? Ease that burden?

  “Oh, wait. You and Asher were going to talk.” Cora grabbed her head and slowly massaged her temples. “Let me grab my purse. I’ll be back tomorrow.” She rested one hand on Paris’s upper arm and swayed back and forth. “I’m just going to head up to my hotel.”

  “You have to be fucking kidding me,” I said, a bit too loudly.