“I know.” Ash’s voice is heavy. “I thought about it. I came close to dialing, every day.”
I turn, confused. “So what stopped you?”
He said it was a mistake, what happened between us. A lapse in judgement. But I can’t believe that, not looking at him now.
Not with the warmth in his eyes, the heat in his dark, liquid stare.
Ash exhales. “I can’t,” he says regretfully. “I can’t be that guy you want. Spontaneous and thrill-seeking. I know I made you believe it’s who I really am, but that night, it wasn’t me. I was playing pretend with you, and it wouldn’t have been fair to keep pretending.”
He looks away, shadowed in the dim light. He clearly believes every word he’s just said, but I don’t buy it for a second. Maybe he’s told himself it was all an act, but I know he couldn’t have faked the connection between us; the fevered kisses and breathless, raw passion.
He’s trapped himself in a rigid world of rules and rationality, but his heart is capable of so much more. Those walls are cracking, I can see it, even now.
I want to tear them down completely. I want to show him the night we spent together wasn’t a lie.
It was the truest thing I’ve ever known.
I feel a rush of reckless courage. “Take me home?” I ask softly.
Ash glances over, and I can see the conflict in his eyes.
“Noelle…”
“You approached me at the party. You kissed me in the bar.” My voice is quiet but firm, even as my heart beats so loudly I swear he can hear it thunder in my chest. “You can tell yourself it’s all a mistake, that you were just playing pretend, but it’s a mistake you keep making.”
I force myself to move my hand, just a few inches, so my fingers are overlapping his in the sand.
“I don’t want to fight this,” I hold his gaze, even though I’m nervous inside. “I’m finished with doing what I’m supposed to, what I think is the sensible thing. We both know there’s something real here between us. So now it’s your turn to choose.”
I slowly turn his hand over, and trace my thumb against his palm. Ash’s eyes flare at the intimate touch, I see his jaw tighten with control.
“Are you going to keep lying to yourself, or will you trust your instincts?” I ask, adrenaline racing through my system. “Trust in what you want?”
The moment stretches, unspoken between us. Heat shimmers, bright as the firelight, but I can see the battle in his eyes holding him back, all the calm, logical reasons racing through his mind.
Ash pulls his hand away and stands up.My heart sinks. He doesn’t have the heart for it, not enough to take the risk.
I stare into the fire, clenching my teeth to keep the tears from stinging at the corner of my eyes.
Then I see a hand extended. Ash, offering to help me to my feet.
To leave with him.
I take it, unsteady, and get up. I’m still unsure, but when he looks at me, possessive, my last insecurities melt away.
He’s decided.
“We’re going to make a move,” Ash says loudly to the others. “I have work to do, and Noelle needs to get back to the B&B.”
We say our goodbyes, then Ash walks me back to his car. He opens the passenger door for me, and I slide in, the leather cool against my bare legs. I wrap my arms around myself, my pulse skittering faster as Ash gets in and starts the ignition.
Anticipation shivers through me as we drive back along the winding coastal road. Ash doesn’t say a word, he stares straight ahead at the darkening streets; his profile strong and proud in the dim light. My mind races; my body prickles with awareness. I can’t believe I was so bold, inviting him back.
What have I started here? And just how far will we go before the end?
Before I have time to figure out the answers, Ash pulls into the drive at Rose Cottage. I get out, trying to think of what to say next, but Ash doesn’t seem unsettled by the silence, he just follows me to the front door, and inside the house.
Every second that passes, the tension between us builds.
I look around. It’s silent and still. “Everyone must be in bed,” I babble, trying to keep my voice down. “The Keller family leaves tomorrow, and the Petersons are here another week.”
Ash just nods. I can feel his eyes on me, the unspoken anticipation in the air.
I gulp a breath, wondering how he can unsettle me so much just by standing in the same room. Part of me wants to just cut through the tension, grab him and pull him down in another world-stopping kiss, but just as I’m debating throwing all restraint out the window, I remember something.
“The bread!” I exclaim.
Ash looks startled.
“For breakfast tomorrow. I have to make the dough, so it can raise overnight. It won’t take me a minute,” I apologize, hurrying through to the kitchen. Ash follows, and leans against the counter, watching as I assemble the flour, yeast, and other ingredients.
“You don’t need a recipe?” he asks, as I get to work.
I smile. “This one, I know by heart. Nana would be up baking every morning. She was a little more prepared than me,” I add, rueful. I quickly measure out flour and water, and sift into the ancient stand mixer that takes up half the countertop. I set the machine to mix, and soon the dough takes shape in sticky ribbons; while it works its magic, I collect another assortment of ingredients: walnuts and cranberries, a bar of white chocolate, and some savory things too.