Chapter 11
Erin
"Ugh," I said, glaring at the empty counter. How could I have forgotten to pull something out for dinner? With a sigh, I moved to the pantry to grab the pressure cooker, already dreading the rush of throwing together a last-minute meal. I had a few guests who checked in this morning. There was an older couple from out of state, looking for a peaceful getaway from city life. A young family, energetic and keen to tackle the nearby national forest trails. Lastly, a woman, clearly on a business trip, who’d chosen the personal touch of the Montgomery Inn over a sterile chain hotel.
At least I didn't have to worry about feeding them, as they’d all decided to eat out tonight, which was a good thing.
The back door creaked open, and in came Ashton, arms loaded with bags, a box, and what looked like takeout, and he had flowers. Daisies.
"Need a hand?" I rushed over before he could answer, taking the box from his loaded arms. I glanced outside and noticed a gray SUV where his motorcycle had sat before.
"Hey." Ashton set the takeout on the table with ease. "I brought Chinese to thank you for breakfast."
"Chinese?" I couldn't hide my surprise or relief. Hot damn, no dinner to cook.
"Yeah, I didn't know what you liked, so I got a mix of everything," he said with a shrug, nodding toward the takeout containers. "Figured you could share with Laurie, too."
"Wow, thanks," I said, genuinely grateful as I peeked inside one container, garlic and soy wafting up to greet me. "Mmm, it smells amazing."
As Ashton turned toward the stairs, his boots thumping softly against the old wood floor, I caught his arm. "Aren't you going to eat with us?"
He paused mid-stride, ducking his head in a way that made his shaggy dark hair fall over his forehead. "I didn't want to be presumptuous," he said, and then with a crooked smile said, "but sure, I'd love to."
"Great." My voice may have been a touch too enthusiastic, but I didn't care. "Laurie," I said down toward the basement. "Dinner's ready."
From below, a muffled response sounded, something like an acknowledgment.
"Help yourself to some plates." I gestured to the cabinet as I started unpacking the containers, spreading them across the table in an impromptu buffet. The variety was impressive: dumplings, noodles, stir-fried vegetables, and something with a tangy, sweet sauce that made my mouth water.
"Will do." Ashton hoisted his bags onto his shoulder again. "Be right back."
"Take your time." I watched him ascend the steps. Alone, I grabbed a plate and dished out a generous helping of each dish. The spicy aroma of Szechuan chicken filled the kitchen, mingling with the subtler scent of steamed rice.
This domestic scene with a man I barely knew was strange, but it felt oddly right.
As Ashton descended the stairs, a lighter step in his gait, I noticed how effortlessly he blended into the fabric of my home. It was as if he had always been there, moving with an ease that belied the short time we'd known each other.
"Your sister." I hoped to bridge the silence. "How is she?"
His face lit up. "She's well. She says hello." He set down a bag he'd brought with him and leaned against the counter, a playful glint in his eyes. "Oh, and don't be surprised if she and her best friend Skye drop by sometime. Just a heads-up, they can be... a lot."
"Good to know," I chuckled. I was a bit nervous about meeting new people since few in this town paid me much attention.
Apart from Laurie and Nathan, most people here barely registered me beyond a polite nod, and I’d grown accustomed to the solitude.
But now, with the prospect of Skye and Aurelia, the thought of a genuine friendship, the kind where you truly knew and were known, felt like a distant, almost forgotten memory.
A warmth I hadn’t truly felt since I’d left everything behind.
I thought of Maria, my best friend from Chicago, whose easy laughter and unwavering loyalty had been my rock through college and those first shaky years after I lost my parents.
We’d shared everything, dreams, fears, late-night pizza.
But then Vito came, and Maria, like every other piece of my old life, had to be erased.
No goodbyes, no explanations, just a sudden, brutal cut.
I craved that easy camaraderie again, that shared understanding that went beyond polite pleasantries.
The sound of footsteps alerted us to Laurie's arrival. She appeared at the top of the basement stairs, her eyes scanning the takeout spread on the table.
"Hey, do you guys mind if I just make a plate and head back downstairs?
" Laurie's voice was casual, her gaze never quite meeting Ashton's.
"I'm buried under a mountain of textbooks for this next round of exams. My brain feels like it's trying to run a marathon while juggling flaming chainsaws.
I just need to get back to my cave of despair, or rather, my study nook, before I forget everything I just crammed. "
"Of course not," Ashton said, and I nodded in agreement.
"Thanks," Laurie said, stacking her plate with an impressive mountain of food before vanishing as quickly as she had come.
Alone together now, Ashton and I shared a glance, an unspoken acknowledgment of the shift in the atmosphere.
The kitchen felt quieter, and the space was somehow more intimate without Laurie's presence.
I took a deep breath, the moment settling around us.
Ashton pulled out a chair for me, then settled into the one directly beside it.
The small kitchen table suddenly seemed to shrink between us, our knees almost close enough to brush, I could feel the warmth radiating from him.
We settled into a rhythm, chopsticks clicking against plates as we picked at the assortment of Chinese dishes. "So, do you have a favorite food?" I asked, hoping to keep the conversation light and easy.
"Hard to say." Ashton paused with a loaded chopstick halfway to his mouth.
"I'm a fan of anything with bacon, honestly.
If I had to pick one dish? It'd be my mom's lasagna.
She never quite cooked the lasagna noodles properly, they always had some…
chew, but the cheese sauce on top was always charred. "
"Lasagna, huh?" I smiled, picturing a family kitchen filled with the rich scent of tomato sauce and melting cheese. "That sounds amazing."
"What about you?" he asked.
I hesitated, my mind racing through a catalog of flavors. "I'm pretty simple. A perfect roast chicken does it for me every time."
"Classic. Can't go wrong with that," he said, nodding approvingly.
As we continued to chat, the evening slipped by in a comfortable haze of shared stories and laughter.
"My first cooking disaster was epic," Ashton chuckled, leaning back slightly. "I once nearly set my apartment on fire trying to make scrambled eggs. Apparently, high heat and butter aren’t always friends."
I laughed, shaking my head. "Oh, that’s nothing! I once attempted a soufflé that defied all laws of physics. It didn’t just collapse; it imploded into a dense, inedible puck. We used it as a doorstop for a week."
"A doorstop!" he roared, genuine amusement in his eyes. "Well, that certainly beats my flaming toast. Speaking of memorable food, have you ever tried anything truly... adventurous?"
"Oh, definitely," I said, a grimace playing on my lips. "I once had durian fruit in Southeast Asia. The smell alone nearly knocked me over. Tasted like rotten onions mixed with gym socks, but somehow sweet."
Ashton shuddered dramatically. "Sounds ghastly. I suppose my most ‘exotic’ might be a fermented fish dish. It was... an acquired taste. The aroma alone could clear a room, but the locals swore by its restorative properties."
The evening slipped by in a comfortable haze of shared stories and laughter.
In the midst of our conversation, Ashton suddenly stood up. "Oh, I almost forgot," he said, striding over to the counter where he picked up the bouquet I'd forgotten about.
"These are for you." He handed them to me with a slight sheepishness in his voice. "I saw them at the florist when I was out getting my stuff and thought they'd look good on your table. A thank you for breakfast."
I blinked at the vibrant blooms cradled in my hands, their colors bright against the soft lighting of the kitchen. "I thought the food was a thank you," I said softly.
He shrugged, the corners of his mouth tilting upward in a chuckle. "Well then, maybe I'll just have to join you for breakfast again tomorrow."
A warm flush spread through my cheeks at the thought. "You're always welcome," I said, a smile playing on my lips. "I'll make pancakes." The thought of sharing another meal made me all light and bubbly.
Ashton tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "I have a better idea. How about I make you some of my famous bacon pancakes?"
I laughed, genuinely curious. "What in the world are bacon pancakes?"
"You'll find out in the morning," he promised with a grin that told me it would be worth the wait.
After dinner, Ashton stood up, collecting plates. "Let me help you with the dishes."
"Sure," I said, although part of me wanted to insist he'd done enough already. However, I wasn't ready for him to retreat to his room just yet. We moved to the sink, a comfortable silence settling between us as we worked side-by-side.
Suddenly, while rinsing a plate, my hand slipped, and water splashed across Ashton's shirt. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry." I gasped and bit back a laugh.
"Hey, no fair," he said, flicking water back at me with his fingers.
Before I knew it, we were laughing, dodging sprays of water. As I tried to block a well-aimed splash from Ashton, my hand slipped again, sending suds flying up to my face.
"Looks like you got yourself a foam beard." Ashton chuckled, reaching over with a hand towel.
"Thanks," I said, but as he wiped the soap bubbles away, our laughter faded, replaced by a sudden stillness.
Our eyes locked, and I was acutely aware of how close he was, his breath warm on my skin. I could count the faint freckles dusting his nose and see the tiny droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes. I stood frozen, unable to look away or even breathe properly.
"Erin?" he whispered, his voice low and rough.
"Yeah?" My reply came out as barely more than a breath.
"Breakfast. Tomorrow," he said, his smile returning as he stepped back, creating a much-needed distance. "Don't forget."
"I won't." He turned and headed upstairs, leaving me alone in the kitchen, wondering if my knees had always felt this wobbly.