8. Ash
Another endless day of pacing along mountain trails; chopping wood outside Rowan’s cabin to add to their already brimming winter stores; and helping Evie slice up veggies for dinner, her bright chatter washing over me like the tide. Every second lasts an hour, and by the time the sunset paints their small kitchen in golden light, I’m practically crawling out of my skin.
Don’t get me wrong, these mountains are beautiful and the company is even better—but I can’t focus worth a damn. Not with the memory of Tess’s kiss still tingling on my lips.
The way she cleaved against me, panting and eager… the scrape of her nails against my jaw… the silky slide of her hair between my fingers… the heat of her…
“So I said, “Don’t waste time waiting for me to come back. I’m done with this crap.” And then I quit Pretzel Media, right then and there. ‘Course, that was a pretty risky move, but I can write anywhere and I’d already met Rowan so I knew I never wanted to be away from him again. It didn’t feel like such a huge leap.”
Evie’s knife chops rhythmically against a wooden board, slicing up a red pepper. I’m frowning down at an onion myself, trying to blink away moisture and chop neatly without getting distracted by thoughts of Tess. An impossible task.
“Bet you know how that feels since coming here,” Evie says lightly. “Meeting your person, I mean. Don’t you?”
I grunt in agreement, dicing the onion real small.
“Because of Tess,” Evie pushes.
I sniff hard, the onion fumes making my eyes water. “Yeah. Shit, this onion is brutal.”
There’s a long beat of silence, and when I finally whip my head around to Evie, she’s fighting back a smile.
“You—”
“I won’t say anything.” Rowan’s wife looks pleased as pie as she slices that pepper, cutting to the quick just like she did with me. “But you should tell Tess how you feel. She might not want you to leave either.”
My gut swoops.
Imagine it, a voice whispers in my head.
Another mountain cabin, cozy and pine-scented among the trees; another easy conversation as we make dinner together. But instead of Evie at my side, it’s Tess chopping veggies; Tess teasing me and shooting me quick smiles. Tess with that heat-frizzed ponytail, maybe still in her black polo shirt from Flint’s, my ring sparkling on her finger and her belly swelling with our child…
When I clear my throat, it’s dry as hell. “Rowan,” is all I can say.
Evie blows out a dismissive breath, flapping her knife before pulling another pepper close. The kitchen light glints against the blade as it thuds against the chopping board. Thud, thud, thud.
“You should give him more credit. Rowan would be fine.”
“She’s his little sister.”
Evie scoffs. “Since when is twenty five little?”
And… that’s fair. Tess is grown and she can make her own decisions. But my best buddy was lost in his head for so long, lost to me for so long, and all that time I waited and worried, completely powerless to help my only chosen family.
Can’t go through that again—and I definitely can’t be the thing that makes Rowan snap. Couldn’t live with myself, and I know Tess couldn’t either. This thing between us is doomed.
“‘M going soon anyway,” I say, snatching blindly for another onion. Evie sighs, and when I glance over, her shoulders are slumped. She chops a growing pile of veggies, thoughtful and melancholy, and even though we don’t know each other that well, I really hate disappointing my buddy’s wife.
But this isn’t like her and Rowan. This isn’t some fairy tale where we meet, and sparks fly, and everything winds up happy and neat. After each of us spending most of our adult lives alone and lonely, Tess and I know better than to expect a story like that.
Besides, this is crazy talk. Sure, Tess seems drawn to me too—and what a beautiful miracle that is. But a fleeting attraction is very different from wanting a person to stick around forever, and I can’t see her ever asking me that. Meanwhile, taking matters into my own hands would be the worst kind of presumption, and I’d rather die than make Tess feel uncomfortable.
“It’s complicated,” I tell the mound of papery onion skins. Don’t know if I’m trying to convince Evie or myself more, but she hums and says nothing.
The tomato sauce bubbles in its pan.
* * *
Dinner is the sweetest kind of torture, because Tess is here again on Rowan and Evie’s deck, so close yet so far. She laughs and chats and steals shy glances at me, all while her foot jiggles nervously beneath the bench seat.
I hunker in my own wooden chair, tongue-tied and stupid, shoveling enchiladas past my lips and not even wincing when the hot cheese burns the roof of my mouth.
This is good. Any distraction is welcome—any sensation that is not this persistent, terrible ache for Tess is a boon. Cheese burn is a gift right now.
Stars glitter in the night sky above, and fireflies drift between the trees. It’s cold with the sun gone, and when Evie and Tess start shivering, Rowan fetches them each a blanket from inside the cabin and wraps it around their shoulders.
“Soon,” Evie says, smoothing one hand over her bump. “She’s coming soon. I can feel it. I know I say that every day, but I really mean it this time.”
Rowan gazes at his wife like she’s the center of his universe. And it’s good food and good company beneath a crystal clear sky, but when Tess finally stands up and hugs her hosts farewell, I’m frayed to the last thread of my patience.
The mountainside tilts as I lurch to my feet, the stars blurring into lines. “I’ll walk you home.”
Tess blinks at me owlishly. “There’s no need.”
But Rowan claps me on the shoulder on his way to take our plates inside. “Good man. Call me if you get lost on your way back up. It’s not that far.”
“Sure.”
We leave the cabin in silence, winding our way down the mountain trail, moonlight filtering through tree branches and casting everything in a silvery sheen. Pine needles rustle in the breeze, and a wolf howls somewhere far in the distance.
This landscape is beautiful—but only a fool would underestimate it.
Tess shivers, wrapping the borrowed blanket tighter around her shoulders, her dark ponytail swishing in front of me with each step. “I always forget how freaking cold it gets up here. Even in the summer.”
I could keep Tess warm—if she’d ever let me.
I squash that thought like a bug.
“Yeah, it’s, uh. The altitude.”
“Mhm.”
Jesus Christ. Never felt so dumb in my whole life. What is this woman doing to me?
We walk for ten or fifteen minutes, chatting quietly about dinner and her job at Flint’s and my hometown on the west coast. And even though we’re not touching, even though we’re just walking and talking between moonlit trees, a wave of peace rolls through my insides.
The agitation that buzzed beneath my skin all day fades away, and I breathe deeply for the first time in hours.
Tess.
Her dark hair looks black in the gloom. My fingers tingle with the memory of those silky strands.
When she steps off the trail, I follow automatically. Maybe she knows a shortcut—maybe ducking between these trees and rounding this boulder will get us back to Starlight Ridge quicker. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
But when Tess turns to face me and backs up against the boulder, raising her chin in challenge, I can’t lie to myself about this anymore.
I know exactly what we’re doing here.
I know it—and I’m done fighting. Guess I’m not that strong after all.
We come together without words, hands grasping, hot breath mingling in the cold night air. When I pick Tess up by the ass and prop her against the boulder, her thighs wrap around my waist and she lets out the sweetest moan.
“Please,” she gasps, tugging me closer by the t-shirt, and I’d rather die than deny her right now. Our kiss is bruising; my head swims. She’s perfect.
“I’m leaving soon,” I tell her between kisses, repeating what I told Evie earlier tonight, but shockingly, Tess doesn’t push me away. If anything, she tugs at my clothes more viciously; kisses me harder and makes me sway on my feet.
And my words are true. I need to clear out so Rowan and Evie can prep for their new baby, because I sure can’t keep camping out by their cabin once the little one comes. But that doesn’t make those words taste any better on my tongue, doesn’t make them feel like less of a lie, so I’m relieved when this wildcat kisses my sour feelings away.
“We’d better make this count, then,” Tess says, raking her fingernails down my chest and stomach. Even through the fabric of my t-shirt, my nerve endings crackle, and my hips jerk forward, grinding her against the rock. Damp heat emanates from between her legs, and suddenly that secret place is all I can think about.
Tess.All slick and needy and tight. Tess gripping me, sucking me deep inside her body.
Need to rut.
Need to make her scream.
Need to string a goddamn thought together.
“Never done this before.” My hand shakes as I reach between our bodies, popping the top button on Tess’s denim shorts. The zipper scratches as I tug it down, catching in a couple places, and I grit my teeth as sweat trickles from my temple. I’m hazy, but so fucking sure.
“Never wanted to,” I go on. “Never understood all the fuss. I’m getting it now though, that’s for sure. I’m learning fast.”
“Me—me too.” Slender fingers wind through my hair and tug on the strands, making my scalp prickle hot. Tess’s gray eyes are hazy as they stare past me at the moon, and her lips are wet and shining. “I haven’t done this either. But I want to. I really, really want to.”
God damn.
And how can I say no to that? How can I turn my nose up at the best offer I’ve ever received in my whole lonely life? How could I ever resist this angel?
Especially when she rolls against me like that, back arching, blanket slipping off one shoulder to dangle toward the dirt path. Tess is just as worked up as I am right now, and it’s a beautiful sight to see. A natural wonder of the world.
The distant wolf howls out another mournful note.
That kiss at Flint’s feels like a ten years ago. Our almost-thing at the wishing pool: another century. How have I survived this long without my hands on her?
“Do it,” Tess whispers as I cram my fingers into her panties. I’m clumsy and overwhelmed as hell, but she doesn’t seem to mind. “Oh my god, do it. Please. Touch me, Ash.”
My groan reverberates across the mountainside, my fingertips finding her slick heat and rubbing her there. A cold breeze ruffles the trees, and I suck in a ragged, pine-scented breath. “That’s it, angel. Say my name.”
Tess squirms against my fingers. “Ash.”
Something skitters nearby across the cracked dirt trail, and my heartbeat slams in my ears.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
Shouldn’t touch her like this.
Shouldn’t kiss my buddy’s little sister like she’s oxygen and I’m starving for air.
But I’m high above sea level, halfway to the clouds, and the longer I stay in this area, the longer I’m around this woman, the harder it is to remember why it’s so wrong.
“Mine.” I crowd close, plastering Tess’s squirming body against the rock, and press two fingers past her entrance. She gasps and spreads her thighs wider, writhing against the intrusion like it’s the best thing she’s ever felt. “Tess. Angel. You’re mine, do you hear?”
Her voice is wobbly. “Uh-huh.”
If only for tonight—I’m done staying away.