Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
RUSTY
W hen the game ends, we've destroyed the Badgers.
I'm grinning as our team lines up for the celebratory line dance — thanks a lot for that idea, Savannah Bananas. The Mullet Ridge Dirtbags end every home game linking arms and swaying back and forth to a country cover of Teenage Dirtbag .
I'm not gonna lie, it gets a little dusty in the arena.
With our helmets off, people are losing their minds to cheer on Sonny. But I'm well known enough around Mullet Ridge that I get a good share of applause. Tripp even more so. The three of us are bigger draws than anyone else on either team.
By the way he's crossing his arms, I'd say it's driving Philip nuts.
Freaking Philip.
My hand still throbs from that first punch to his helmet. I can't believe I decked him like that. If he hadn't been wearing his helmet, that cold-clock would have knocked him out .
Course, if I hadn't been wearing gloves, my hand would be broken.
It may be, anyway.
If I've broken this hand on another scumbag …
"Look sharp," Sonny says. "You've got a pair of huge blue eyes trained on you."
My head flies over and I spot Ash. She lights up, and I have a feeling of trying to hold onto smoke and watching it wisp out of my hands. Her reaction is a product of our charade. She's always happy to see me, but this smile is the difference between daytime running lights on a car versus your brights. And it's all for show.
So I give her a show back, waving and smiling like she's the light of my life. Except this "show" is a documentary. True crime. I may have said I wouldn’t let her get away with murder, but I lied.
Letting her go when this is over will kill me.
Tripp, Sonny, and I are leaving the locker room when the Dirtbags' coach runs up to us. "Any chance y'all want to become permanent fixtures on the team?"
"Sorry, Coach," I say. "The farm would fall apart without me."
"Hey," Tripp says, elbowing me in the ribs. He shakes the coach's hand. "Thanks for lettin' us play."
"Anytime," the coach says. "Sonny?"
"Are you kidding? That was the most fun I've ever had playing football. Count me in for every home game!"
The coach is in raptures as he and Sonny start discussing details. Tripp and I leave the locker room and soon, we're exiting the arena, where Ash, Jane, Parker, and Lou are all waiting in the wind and light rain .
Jane runs up to Tripp and leaps into his arms, peppering him with kisses.
Ash is playing with a curl, looking adorably nervous, and I drop my bag and scoop her up like she's a bride. Her giggle makes me feel lighter than air. I kiss her quickly on the cheek and then set her down. I expect her to step back so we can go, but she wraps her arms tightly around my waist.
"Let me guess," Parker says. "Sonny stopped to talk to fans and/or got drafted by the Dirtbags."
"The latter, I'm afraid," I say. I rest my head on Ash's, feeling her laugh at Sonny being Sonny. "But don't worry: it's only for home games."
"Sounds about right."
Tripp nods at me. "You finish the drywall in your garage yet?"
"Not yet. Maybe this weekend."
"Do you need help?" Tripp asks. "I've learned way too much remodeling the farmhouse."
"Nah, I'm good," I say.
"Okay, Lone Wolf." Tripp and I bump fists, and then he and Jane head toward his truck.
I kiss the top of Ash's head, wanting to bank this memory along with every other one from the last week. I let the feel of her curls imprint into my lips, and the lavender scent of her hair takes up residence in my lungs. This casual intimacy is more than a tease, it's torture.
"Ready for me to take you home?" I ask Ash. The wind is picking up, and with a tropical storm threatening to dump on us, I should get her home before the weather takes a turn.
She peers up at me through her glasses. "Why don't you show me your place?"
My throat constricts. I've worked hard to make my house a home, and with only the garage left to fix up, my place is really only missing one thing: Ash. Her walking around in my space feels like crossing the final line.
But, then, she's never been curious about it before.
"I'd love to see it," she adds, "and I'm all hopped up on caffeine and adrenaline from watching you guys destroy the Badgers."
"You mean destroy Philip?" I ask, my hand itching for another punch. I can't believe what he said. I can't believe every comment and cheap shot and taunt. Not beating him down is the hardest thing I've ever done. I'm glad I had that much restraint, but it was hard-won.
It’s still a win, though. Something like pride rises in my chest.
"Who cares about Philip?” Ash asks. “He's a spoiled toddler trapped in a Ken body."
Who cares about Philip? In a week, Ash has gone from worrying her lips when she hears his name to laughing at his foibles, and now she doesn't care. Is that real?
"Isn't Ken the ideal man?" I ask.
"Oh, my sweet Westley," she teases. "Ken is made of plastic and guyliner."
"Exactly. Dreamy."
At that moment, the Ken Doll himself comes out of the arena. When he sees Ash, he hunches over, as if he's in pain.
Does this guy actually want sympathy points?
"How'd you like the game, Ashley?" he says.
Ash smiles at me. "It was a little more nerve-wracking than I expected, but I liked seeing Rusty dominate."
"How's your hand?" Philip asks me.
"Better than your head, I reckon. You took some big hits."
"Yeah, you sicced your attack dog on me."
Parker and Lou walk over to us, and when Philip sees them, he blanches.
"Well, if it isn't Captain Cheap Shot," Lou says .
"It was a game, Lucy."
I tense, thinking about how no one calls Lou Lucy . This snake could reveal her secret. In fact, why hasn't he?
"Good point. It was fun watching your butt hit the ground that many times," Parker says.
Just then, Philip's date walks up to where we're all congregated. "That was so intense!" the young woman says. Philip grabs her hand and shoots a look at Ash.
She's looking at his date.
Philip interprets this as Ash being jealous, but after hearing Lou and her talking earlier, I can see the worry in her big-eyed blink.
"I'm Ash. What's your name?"
"Heather. Do y'all know each other?" Her accent marks her as a local.
"Ashley and I used to date," Philip says.
"Oh," Heather says. "That's awkward."
Ash laughs. "Not for me, it isn't."
Heather looks up at Philip. "But is it for you?"
"No. We've both moved on. Ashley's with a farmer ," Philip says. The emphasis on farmer is light enough that Heather misses it. The rest of us don't.
"Really? My grandpa owned a farm. Which one do you work for?"
"Sugar Maple Farms," I say.
"He's the VP of Distribution and Retail Operations," Ash says proudly, surprising me. I've never told her my title, and I'm pretty sure she thought my whole job was running a single fruit stand.
"Mr. Carville bought my grandpa's farm when he retired." To Philip, she says, "Sugar Maple Farms is the lifeblood of this whole region."
"Wow." Philip's smile is tight. I bet it's hitting him like a fist to the helmet that I'm a VP while he's only a senior director. "Ready to go?"
"Sure,” Heather says. “Nice meeting y'all."
Parker and Lou smirk at Philip's retreat. "That makes the score Rusty infinity, Philip zero," Parker says. "How's that feel, Ash?"
"Meh."
"Meh?" Lou asks. "How can you meh that? "
She shrugs. "It's hard to care about a chapter in a book I DNF'd."
I smile at her. She smiles at me. The wind whips up into a frenzy, and suddenly the rain starts pelting us.
Parker and Lou run toward the building for cover while they wait for Sonny.
"Stand with them and I'll come pick you up," I say over the wind.
She scoffs, grabs my hand, and we make a run for it.
I'm nervous the whole drive back to Sugar Maple. My audiobook automatically started when the bluetooth connected, so we listen to Red Rising , the first book in my favorite sci-fi series. Ash turns it up, a content smile on her face. She angles her body so she's almost facing me, with her legs curled up onto the seat. I don't risk more than a glance at her. Anything more and I'll never be able to look away.
Stupid road safety.
We drive through Sugar Maple into a residential neighborhood I doubt Ash has been in before. Maple Street and the river homes like Duke's and the Janes' rental are all on the northside of Sugar Maple. I live on the southeast end of town, a whole six minutes from Jane & Co.. My neighborhood is full of older three-story red brick homes with white columns out front and huge trees with swings hanging from sturdy branches. The street lights show bikes in lawns and on driveways .
It's a family neighborhood. The type I wished I'd grown up in.
At the end of the cul-de-sac, I turn into my driveway. The garage and porch lights show the flowers in my planter boxes: marigolds, begonias, and cornflowers.
For obvious reasons, the cornflowers are my favorite.
The rain that started in the parking lot has picked up even more intensely, and I don't have an umbrella in the truck.
"The garage is full of boxes and furniture. We're gonna have to run," I say apologetically.
"On three?" she says.
"On three."
We count and then rush from the truck. A million fat rain drops pelt us, but we make it to my front door, where the covered patio gives us at least some protection from the elements. I type in the four digit code to unlock my front door: the day I first met Ash. I don't know if she sees me enter it, or not. I doubt she'd make the connection, let alone remember. The date is etched in my heart, though.
Yapping greets us as we open and slam the door, and in a flash, a tiny dog so ugly, it's cute is running to us. We're dripping wet on my entry rug, the warm rain clashing with the cold A/C. Ash starts shivering.
"Pookie!" she says, crouching down.
"Prairie," I correct her.
But Pook — I mean Prairie runs to Ash, not me, so maybe she's on to something. She rolls over and shows Ash her belly, and Ash rubs it and speaks to her like she would a toddler. "Who's a good girl?"
I squat next to her and steal a rub, too. "She's a bad girl," I say. "She peed on the floor the second she saw you."
"That's okay, Pookie," Ash says. "You're too cute to use a doggy door in a thunderstorm, aren't you? Who's a good girl? Who's a good girl? "
My dog is in raptures.
"Bad girl," I say, still rubbing her belly, although that's mostly because my hand keeps bumping into Ash's, and it shoots a thrill up my arm every time.
A shivering Ash glares at me. "Watch your mouth."
"I'd rather watch yours."
She laughs and keeps petting my spunky brown and white Chi-a-Pap . Chihuahua/Papillon mix. Her huge, hairy ears are bigger than her body. "I love her crazy ear hair."
Ash shivers again, and I jump up. "I have towels in the hall closet. Give me a sec," I say. When I'm back, Ash stands. I wrap the biggest one I have around her. I rub her arms, our faces not even a foot apart, and she smiles as Prairie jumps at our feet.
"This is a surprisingly fluffy towel for a bachelor."
"Guys can appreciate comfortable towels."
"Do you take bubble baths?"
"No."
Her glasses are spotted with rain. I wipe them with an edge of my own towel. Her eyes are big and disbelieving.
"Liar! You do. I bet you have a robe."
"Only because I take ice baths, and it warms me up."
"Why are you ashamed to admit you love luxuriating in snuggly things?" she asks.
"I'm not ashamed and I don't."
"I saw your judgy eyes with Teddy's frosted tips and Philip's manicure."
"It's an actual manicure?"
"I guarantee Sonny has had a manicure."
"That's different. I like Sonny."
She laughs. "Hey, you're trying to make me change the subject! Where were we? Oh right, we were talking about how you're a big hypocrite because you use eucalyptus mint bubble bath yet you judge other men for their self-care."
"No, I use eucalyptus mint body wash , and my baths are therapeutic and include magnesium salt, not bubbles. As for Philip and Teddy, they need to care more about how they treat others and less about how their salons treat them."
"Baths are therapeutic," Ash says. Her shivering has calmed a little. "Especially when you light candles. Do you light candles?"
"I do not light candles."
"You should. I'm going to get you a candle. A manly one. It'll smell like spruce and cedar and sweat."
I look down at this beaming, beautiful woman and chuckle. "Then I guess I'll start taking baths with candles."
Her laugh tinkles. "I own you."
Yes you do.
She glances at the staircase. "Do you mind if I shower and borrow some clothes?"
"Not at all," I say. "I have clothes in the dryer, so I'll shower and change in the spare bathroom down here and you can change in my room. Up the stairs and on the right."
"You do know I'm going to go through every closet and drawer, right?"
I snort. "Wouldn't expect otherwise. Dinner will be waiting for you."
She kicks off her sandals and runs up the stairs. "Enjoy your bath! Come on, Pookie!"
Four tiny legs scamper up the stairs after her. "It's Prairie!"
"Keep telling yourself that!" Ash says before my bedroom door closes and I'm left to clean up my dog's mess.
Prairie, not Pookie.
Who am I kidding? It's definitely Pookie.