24
Who’s the better dancer, you or Von?”
For the past half hour, Ashanti had intentionally stuck to lighthearted topics, trying to banish the lingering heavy weight of discussing her parents’ deaths.
She and Thad had started back for their hotel after buying a half-dozen cupcakes from Magnolia Bakery, deciding to walk instead of taking the subway so that she could see Times Square and other midtown Manhattan sites.
He’d rolled his eyes when she made him double back so she could walk through the mini plexiglass waterfall tunnel between Forty-Eighth and Forty-Ninth Streets and take pictures with the bronze Paparazzi Dogman and Paparazzi Rabbitgirl sculptures that shared a terrace with it. But when she told him the significance behind the art piece and its connection to Princess Diana—how the dog represented the media that literally hunted down the princess, leading to her death—he not only brought her back but stepped in as her photographer.
“Well?” Ashanti now prompted him as they turned the corner onto Seventh Avenue. “Which of you is the better dancer? You or Von?”
“I don’t dance,” Thad answered.
“Oh, come on. You at least do the Electric Slide at cookouts.”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
“Seriously?” Ashanti held out her hand. “That’s an unforgivable offense. Give me your Black card.”
“Hey, no relinquishing of the Black card.” He laughed. “I’m usually the one manning the grill at the cookout, so I get a pass.”
She gave him a suspicious look before dropping her hand. “Okay, you’re forgiven. It’s still no excuse for never dancing.”
“I didn’t say I never dance. I can’t tell you how many Army balls I’ve had to attend over the last decade.”
“That doesn’t count. You can’t do any real dancing in those starched uniforms.” She took a bite of her vanilla cupcake with strawberry frosting and released a moan. “I swear, if I’d known how good these cupcakes really were, I would have bought a dozen.”
“Agreed,” Thad said. “They’re definitely worth a trip back to that bakery before we leave New York.”
“You mentioned your sweet tooth at the airport, but to see it in action is another thing entirely.” She bumped him on the arm with her elbow. “I would have thought a soldier would have more discipline when it came to sugar.”
He held his hands up. “I’m not saying I would have divulged state secrets for a box of Little Debbies, but it’s a good thing I was never put to the test.”
There was that humor again. He could not possibly know how, of any of the characteristics a person could possess, having the ability to make her laugh was the one she cherished above all.
She blamed Ridley. She was the one who’d ordered him to be more charismatic. He had turned the charm up several notches tonight and Ashanti was not okay. It made it even harder to fight these growing feelings she didn’t even want to acknowledge she had for him.
“So why the Army?” she asked as they stood under the massive curved electronic billboard above the Hershey’s Chocolate World store, waiting for the light to change.
Thad hitched a shoulder. “Because I didn’t want to become a dry cleaner.”
Her head jerked back at his unexpected answer. “Were those your only options?”
“It felt that way at the time.” He licked frosting off his knuckle, and Ashanti almost forgot how to breathe. She forced herself to look away so he couldn’t glean what that innocent act had done to her.
“This is a sidewalk, not a parking lot,” a woman pulling a wheeled trolley bag said as she edged past them.
“Yikes,” Ashanti said. “That was a good one, though. I might have to use that the next time I’m stuck behind a bunch of tourists in the French Quarter.”
When they crossed the street, Thad pointed to the red TKTS bleachers in the middle of the pedestrian area. “Let’s grab a seat. You can take in Times Square for a few minutes.”
They climbed about a dozen rows and settled in the center of the bleachers. Ashanti set the cupcake bag between them, then looked up at the buildings stretching skyward. Their stories-tall LCD screens advertised everything from perfume to tennis shoes. She was tempted to take her phone out and snap pictures, but she could find a million photos of these buildings on Google in a matter of seconds. She wanted to live in this moment. To soak it in so she could remember how it felt.
“I can’t believe I’m finally here. And I can’t believe my dog is the reason behind my visit,” she said. “I’ve wanted to come to New York ever since seeing that movie Weekend at Bernie’s.”
“Doesn’t most of that movie take place in the Hamptons?”
“Yes, but there’s a scene where Larry and Richard are on a rooftop and the New York skyline is all around them. That was enough for me to decide that I had to visit this place one day.”
She nudged his shoulder.
“Back to you and this decision to enter the Army,” she said. “Let me guess. You were a troublemaker and your grandfather gave you an ultimatum after high school, either join the family business where he could keep an eye on you, or enter the military where Uncle Sam could do the watching?”
“Umm…” He wiggled his hand. “You’re kind of on the right track. Actually, no you’re not,” he laughed. “I was never a troublemaker, and my grandfather never gave me any kind of ultimatum. But it felt as if joining the military was the only profession I could choose outside of Sutherland Dry Cleaning that wouldn’t disappoint him. His older brothers were all in the Army, so nothing was more noble than entering the service.”
He put both feet up on the bleacher below and rested his elbows on his raised knees.
“The initial plan was for me to do my four years, earn my degree, and then gently break it to Gramps that I wanted a job that required a suit and tie—that’s how he referred to corporate jobs. But I fell in love with military life.” He folded his hands and rested his chin on them. “And since my entire reason for becoming a soldier was to make my grandfather proud, I decided to stick with it.”
“So your grandfather was still proud, even though you never joined the family business?”
“Of course,” he said, as if that was never a question. “Just ask any of his customers. According to Grams, no one could drop off or pick up their dry cleaning without having to suffer through a story about whatever it was I was doing at the time. I would send pictures during my deployment, and he would print them, along with information about the country I was in, and tape them to the counter so customers could read about it while they waited.”
Ashanti slapped her hand against her chest. “That’s so sweet. He sounds like an amazing man. Of course, he would have to be amazing to catch a woman like Mrs. Frances.”
“Yeah, Gramps was a good one. Best man I’ve ever known.” Thad’s expression sobered and she realized it must hurt for him to talk about his grandfather in the past tense. She knew that feeling intimately.
“I’m sure he would still be very proud of your post-military career, as well,” she offered. “Despite my opposition to what you are doing to the house in the Bywater, I will admit that I am impressed by your business model. In a city that has more bars than pharmacies, you came up with an idea that is unique. That’s quite an achievement.”
“I’m glad you approve.” His eyes sparkled with his grin.
“Not that you need my approval,” Ashanti said, bumping him with her shoulder again. “But yes, I approve.”
“I may not need it, but I like having it all the same.”
The amusement in his eyes was coupled with a sincerity she had never before heard in his voice. It compelled Ashanti to believe that he truly did value her opinion. The thought sent a ribbon of deliciously warm feelings twisting through her.
Why was this man turning out to be nothing like she first assumed?
“You know,” Ashanti said. “You’re not as much of a curmudgeon as I thought you were.”
“Yes, I am,” he said with a laugh. “But I’m trying to get better at not being such a hard ass.”
They drifted into a comfortable silence as they people-watched from their perch on the bleachers. Ashanti’s entire being hummed with the urge to thread her arm through Thad’s and rest her head on his shoulder. She abruptly stood before she could give in to the impulse.
“It’s getting late, and we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow,” she said.
She wobbled as she started down the steps, and Thad caught her by the waist. His fingers brushed against the skin at the small of her back, where her sweatshirt had ridden up, igniting her body like a sparkler on New Year’s Eve.
“Take it easy,” Thad said. “You okay?”
Ashanti pulled in a steadying breath and nodded. She took a second to glance in his direction and immediately recognized her error. Looking at him gave him the chance to see what she was desperately trying to hide, the wanting she knew was evident in her eyes.
When he spoke, his voice was so soft she was surprised she even heard it above the fray of the busy square.
“Ashanti—” Thad said.
She felt his whisper on her skin; the longing in that simple utterance reaching deep inside her. It tugged on emotions she’d vowed she wouldn’t give in to.
Once she was back home, she would share a bottle of wine with Evie and Ridley, and lament over Anita’s long-ago threat continuing to cockblock her. That’s the way things had to be for the next two years. Nothing was worth jeopardizing her guardianship of the girls.
“We should go,” Ashanti said. She divested from his hold and made her way down the bleachers.
Thad was at her side within seconds, but he blessedly withheld any comment about what had transpired a minute ago. He stuck his hands in his pockets and gestured with his head. “Our hotel is this way.”
The crisp New York night provided welcome relief from the heat that continued to consume her from the inside out. Ashanti remained ferociously cognizant of where she was in proximity to Thad for their somewhat awkward, yet still surprisingly pleasant, walk back to the hotel.
They entered the lobby and were immediately recognized by two young women who looked to be in their late teens or early twenties.
“Oh, snap, you’re Puddin’ and Duchess!” exclaimed the one wearing a Philadelphia Flyers sweatshirt.
“Um, actually, we’re their owners,” Ashanti said. “Puddin’ and Duchess are the dogs.”
“Sure, sure,” the girl said. “That’s what I meant.”
“You two are the cutest couple,” her companion said. “Almost as cute as Puddin’ and Duchess. You know what, you two should re-create their video! But instead of the dog treat you can share like a hot dog or a churro or something like that. How cute would that be?”
“For real, for real,” the other girl said. “My timeline would blow up after seeing a video like that.”
“We’ll take that into consideration,” Thad said, gently capturing Ashanti by the elbow and ushering her to the bank of elevators. One opened just as they were walking up to it.
“A churro?” Ashanti asked once they were ensconced in the ascending elevator.
“I guess it could work,” he said with a shrug.
They got off on the eleventh floor and negotiated the network of short hallways that brought them to their rooms. The brief reprieve from the awkwardness that the comical encounter in the lobby offered evaporated as they approached her door.
Ashanti turned to face him.
“Uh, thanks for going out with me. This was fun. Hey, maybe you should call Von tonight and tell him. He kept stressing how much he wanted you to have fun.”
Thad didn’t respond to her rambling. He just stared at her.
Words, Ashanti realized, were unnecessary. His eyes said it all.
She could scarcely breathe as she absorbed all that his intense gaze conveyed: the heat, the longing, the disquieting way it called bullshit on every excuse she could even think to throw at him.
“We can’t keep pretending,” Thad finally said.
“Yes, we can.” She nodded like a bobblehead doll. “We absolutely can.”
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and backed up against the wall opposite her door. Regarding her with a look that was equal parts frustration and need. “I’ve tried not to want this—to want you. I told myself that I wasn’t ready for it, that it wasn’t the right time, that I need to concentrate on getting The PX off the ground before I jumped into anything serious.” He shook his head. “None of it’s working.”
“Try harder,” she said.
“People already think we’re together,” he pointed out. “Why don’t we just… I don’t know… see what happens?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She barked out a shaky laugh. “Because.”
She hated that it was the only thing she could think to say. She never let the twins get away with answering because when she asked them a question.
The door next to Thad’s opened and a middle-aged man with perfectly coiffed silver hair like a dad from an early nineties sitcom came out carrying an ice bucket.
“Oh, excuse me,” he said, walking between them. He stopped, turned, and pointed at Ashanti. “You’re Duchess and Puddin’s mom. I’ve almost convinced my wife to get a Frenchie because of you.”
Ashanti flashed him a faint smile. “Good luck with that.”
Once he’d continued his trek to the ice machine, she grabbed Thad by the arm, used the keycard to open the door to her room, and pulled him inside.
Duchess immediately scampered over to her, her stubby tail wiggling at 100 mph. Ashanti tossed her keycard and the bag of cupcakes on the extra-long TV stand/dresser combo and scooped her up. She pressed a kiss to the top of her head and deposited her on the bed where she burrowed under the covers.
Ashanti turned to face Thad.
“Look, I will admit that I am extremely attracted to you.” She covered her face in her hands. “I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”
“It wasn’t really a secret,” Thad said.
She dropped her hands. “Really?”
“I’m just saying.” He shrugged. “It’s not a secret that I’m extremely attracted to you too. Beyond extremely.”
Ashanti brought her hand to her throat to massage the lump of desire lodged in it.
“I can’t,” she said. “Things are just too complicated with the twins, and I’m trying to buy another house—my dream location—for the daycare. And you’ve got all kinds of stuff going on.” She let out a sigh. “I can’t do a relationship right now, and I don’t do casual sex.”
The air in the room grew dense with the arousal, frustration, and yearning that pulsed between them.
“Maybe we can find an in-between,” he said. Thad took a step forward, and added, “For now.”
He took another step toward her, and her feet refused to take a step back. Instead, they moved forward, until she was standing close enough to touch him.
Then she did.
Ashanti hooked her hands behind his neck, pulled his head down, and pressed her lips to his. She was struck by how soft they felt. Never could she have imagined a hardened Army veteran would have lips that felt like brushed velvet; soft and supple and pliant.
But then she realized she must have caught him off guard, because after a moment those gentle lips turned forceful, advancing with purpose as his hands came up to cradle her face. He parted her lips with his tongue and swept it inside her mouth, his tasting like the sugary cupcakes they’d eaten.
It had been so long since she’d felt this, the intense rush of intimately connecting with another human being. Of allowing herself to be vulnerable enough to share something so deep, so personal. She hadn’t even been tempted to share this with anyone in such a long time.
Until this man.
His tongue explored with a fervency that stole her breath, weakened her knees, set her entire being ablaze. His hands slid from her cheeks to her waist.
And then common sense returned to her brain.
“Okay, stop,” Ashanti said. She took several steps back and braced her hand against the dresser. “We can’t do this.”
“Ashanti—”
“We agreed—”
“It’s not working,” he said, cutting her off. “We can’t just ignore this pull between us. And there’s not a case of amnesia severe enough to make me forget the way your tongue felt against mine a minute ago.”
“I can’t,” she whispered. The words hurt—physically hurt—as they moved past her lips.
He backed away, holding up his hands. “I’m not going to push you to do anything you don’t want. But I think you want this as much as I do.”
I do. Goodness, I do want this.
Ashanti folded her arms across her chest and mourned the absence of his strong muscles against her. She sucked in a deep breath.
“We have a long day tomorrow,” she said.
He dropped his head forward and silently shook it.
“Okay,” he whispered. Then he said it again, louder this time. “Okay. You call the shots here. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She waited until the door clicked before turning to the bed and falling facedown on it.
Her phone immediately buzzed in her back pocket. She expected to see Thad’s name, but it was from Kara.
You up?
Ashanti groaned and twisted onto her back. She texted back.
Yes.
She refrained from tacking on Why are you still up? It was almost midnight back home, and the urge to tell Kara she should be sleeping was strong, but one did not give sixteen-year-olds bedtimes.
You and the Carol’s Daughter wannabe are neck and neck, came Kara’s next text.
She followed it with a screenshot of the vote tally for the finalists in the Young Black Woman Entrepreneur contest. The voting would be open for another five days.
A rush of excitement raced across Ashanti’s skin at how close she was to winning such a life-changing prize. It was the reminder she’d needed. She’d come to New York with one goal, to use Duchess and Puddin’s fifteen minutes of fame to her best advantage. Everything else was just noise.
Thanks for the update, Ashanti texted back. Wish me luck for tomorrow.
The luck you wish for is granted, she texted back. Followed by the genie emoji.
Now go to sleep, Ashanti couldn’t help adding.
She needed to take her own advice, but the chances of getting any rest tonight were as slim as stealing back any of the covers from Duchess.
She pushed up from the bed and headed for the dresser. The two things she wanted most right now—sex and sleep—would not be happening anytime soon. A cupcake would have to do.