Chapter 9
Through the flicker of orange and blue flame, Ash continued to steal glances at Willow from the opposite side of the stone firepit. The whole lot of them had grown quiet as wineglasses were topped off and Beth connected a Bluetooth speaker to her music-streaming app.
“I call it my perfect night playlist,” she’d told them. It even contained a song here and there by Ash himself and a few of his favorite Willow Morgan tunes.
Except every Willow Morgan tune was his favorite, even the ones that hurt to hear.
Ash was the only one not hitting the after-dinner wine. He wanted a clear head tonight, wanted to avoid any missteps with this unplanned reunion with his brothers…and with her.
He noticed Willow shiver despite the heat of the licking flames. Without realizing what he was doing before he did it, Ash was circling the group, sliding out of the unbuttoned plaid shirt he’d been wearing over his tee, and draping it over the back of her Adirondack chair and thereby her shoulders.
“Fire’s getting a little too warm for me,” he told her as she stared at him with wide, dark eyes. Then he continued up the path to the main portion of the patio where he poured himself another glass of Jenna’s sweet tea even though he wasn’t thirsty.
By the time he turned around to deal with whatever looks were thrown his way following his unplanned gesture, Colt was out of his chair and halfway to him.
“Was wondering when this part of the reunion would take place,” Ash mumbled under his breath.
“Did you say something?” Colt asked when they were in speaking distance. He poured himself a cup of sweet tea as well, clearly wanting the rest of the group to think this was simply two thirsty men around the watering hole.
Except Ash knew none of them were thinking that.
“Nope,” Ash replied. “Just thinking out loud. But I’m guessing you have something you want to say to me.” It wasn’t a challenge. Just a statement of fact. Whatever Willow’s brother wanted to say to him—or possibly do to him—Ash told himself he had it coming.
“This is your brother’s house,” Colt began. “And for better or worse, my sister is working with you for the next several weeks, so I have to make peace with that. But I have to ask what the hell it is you think you’re doing.”
Ash took a sip of his tea. “Do you mean right this second? Drinking some delicious sweet tea.” He might have had it coming, but Ash Murphy wouldn’t be Ash Murphy if he didn’t push a button or two. His best defense was always offense.
“Don’t,” Colt told him, unamused. “Okay? Just don’t.”
Ash sighed. “She looked cold. I gave her a shirt. That’s it. Transaction complete.” He nodded at Colt’s own long-sleeved button-down with a T-shirt peeking out from behind his collar. “You could have done the same, but you didn’t.” He shrugged. “So I did.”
Even in the dim moonlight, Ash could see the other man’s jaw clench. “She might forgive you, Murphy. But that doesn’t mean I have to. And that doesn’t give you license to mess with her again. I don’t like you working with her, and I sure as hell don’t like you living with her, but I guess the transaction works in her favor. But you need to swear to me that all you are after is the song and whatever it’ll do for you professionally.”
Ash wanted to give Colt the answer he wanted, but all he really heard in the guy’s meant-to-be threatening big brother speech was one single word.
“Wait…” He felt like he could hear his heart beating in his ears. “Did you say Willow forgives me?”
“Are you two gossiping about me?” Willow’s voice sang out from over her brother’s shoulder.
Never in his life did he wish Willow Morgan would disappear from view, but right now, he wanted—no, needed —Colt to confirm what Ash thought he’d heard.
Except Willow stumbled, catching herself with a hand on her brother’s shoulder.
“Whoops!” she said with a laugh. “I probably should have said no to that last glass of wine.”
Ash had to fight every instinct, every twitch of his muscles, to not go to her, even if she was now wearing his shirt.
“You okay, Wills?” Colt asked, gently grabbing her elbow to help her steady herself on her feet.
Wills. It killed Ash that Colt got to call her that, that it was a privilege he’d once had but lost.
“Yeah.” She nodded. “Just got a little lightheaded there for a second.” She pulled her phone out of some hidden pocket in her dress and glanced at it with furrowed brows. “I didn’t realize it was after eleven already. I’m thinking maybe it’s time to head back to the guesthouse and sleep this off.”
Jenna jogged up the path behind the Morgan siblings, and everyone else soon followed as Eli began the process of closing down the firepit.
Colt chuckled. “Looks like everyone just realized how late it is.”
“I’ve got to be out the door early tomorrow for the farmers market,” Jenna explained.
“And kids who get up at the crack of dawn,” Boone chimed in as everyone made their way up toward the house.
“Y’all should come to the market!” Jenna exclaimed. “I mean, if you’re going to be up and at it early anyway, why not enjoy some local produce? Some eggs from your favorite egg farmer?”
“Count me in,” Willow replied, giving her sister-in-law a hug. “As long as I drink enough water tonight so I’m not cursing my past self in the morning,” she added.
They all said their goodbyes by helping carry glasses and dishes inside. And maybe Ash was stalling or maybe he just wanted to help, but by the time he and Willow were making their way back outside and toward the guesthouse, they were the last two guests left.
“It’s really good to have you back,” Eli told him, pulling him in for a quick bro hug, and it continued to surprise Ash that even after all this time, his family was truly happy to see him.
“It’s good to be back,” he replied, and it was the truth.
***
Willow was steady enough as they crossed from the clinic property to the guesthouse, but once inside, as she tried balance on one foot to pull off her boot, she pitched backward, pinning Ash against the just-closed door.
“You all right there, Morgan?” he asked, his voice a low whisper. He wondered if she could feel his heart slamming against his chest at the unexpected nearness of her. God, muscle memory really was an asshole.
“Yeah. Totally,” she replied, but she hadn’t moved.
Against Ash’s better judgment, he grabbed her by the hips, setting her back on her two feet. His fingers twitched against the fabric of his shirt that she now wore, beneath which was the thin cotton of her dress and, beneath that, her skin.
He cleared his throat. “Come on,” he said softly, then slid one hand to the small of her back and nudged her toward her room.
He led her to the bed, then grabbed her gently by the shoulders and spun her to face him. Maybe he’d steered clear of the wine that night, but the sweet scent of her shampoo mixed with what smelled like warm vanilla—her perfume—made him feel drunk just the same.
“Sit,” he told her softly.
She sat.
Ash knelt in front of her, pulling off one boot and then the other, setting them next to her bedside table.
“Thank you,” she told him with a tentative smile.
He swallowed, then nodded. “Why don’t you do whatever it is you need to do to get ready for bed, and I’ll get you some water and a couple of aspirin.”
“Okay,” she replied, though he could hear a hint of hesitation in her voice.
“It’s just water and aspirin, Willow. I promise I’m not… I mean, I wasn’t…”
“I know,” she told him. “I know you don’t think about me like that anymore. It’s just…strange. Us being here like this. But I know you’re just being nice, and I appreciate it.”
He rose and exited the room without another word, heading first back to the front door to kick off his own boots and then to the kitchen for the water, aspirin, and hopefully the last shreds of his resolve.
For Ash Murphy, it was more than simply strange being under the same roof as Willow Morgan, let alone leading her to her bed to take off her boots. Words like karmic justice came to mind instead. Also, complete and utter torture .
He pulled a pitcher of water from the fridge and filled the insulated cup with a straw Willow was always sipping on throughout the day. Then he rummaged through the cabinets until he thankfully found one that housed a small first aid kit and bottles of various types of pain relievers. He laughed softly, thankful for his Boy Scout of a brother always being overly prepared.
He blew out a steadying breath before making his way back to Willow’s room where the door was no longer wide open but not completely closed.
He rapped his knuckles softly against the wood. “Is it safe to come back in?”
“Yeah,” Willow replied. “All washed up and ready for bed.”
He nudged the door open with his shoulder and found her sitting cross-legged on the mattress tapping away on her phone. She wore a gray cotton tank top and matching shorts, and her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy knot.
“Just setting my alarm so I don’t miss Jenna at the farmers market,” she told him with a soft laugh. Then she plugged her phone into its charging cable and set it on the nightstand.
Her hair was wet around the frame of her face, and her makeup-free skin still damp. The sight of her like this—beautiful and so comfortable in her own skin—made it hard for him to breathe.
“Your water and aspirin,” he told her, handing her the tumbler and opening his palm to reveal the two white pills.
“Thank you,” she replied, her voice a breathy whisper this time, and for half a second Ash let himself wonder if he had even a fraction of the ability to disarm her like she did him.
She grabbed both pills, popped them into her mouth at the same time, and downed them with three large gulps from her straw. Then she froze.
“What?” he asked. “Was there a bug in the cup or something? I swear it was empty when I filled it.”
Willow squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “No bug,” she told him. “But unless the floor and ceiling just switched places, I think I’m a little tipsier than I thought.”
Ash swore under his breath.
“Open your eyes, Willow,” he gently commanded. “Please.”
She did as he asked.
“Give me your hands, and focus on me.” He held out his hands.
She instinctively swung her legs over the side of the bed as she placed her hands in his.
“Now put your feet on the floor, but keep your eyes on me. Always on me, okay?”
Willow nodded and slid to the edge of the bed, her gaze never straying from his. When her feet hit the floor, she blew out a shaky breath.
“Better?” he asked with a slight grin.
She nodded. “How did you know to do that?”
He huffed out a laugh. “When you party a little too hard a little too often, people like to give you advice on how not to choke on your own vomit while you sleep.”
She wrinkled her nose.
“I know,” Ash added. “Gross.”
This earned him a laugh. “But you’re not drunk now,” she informed him. “I barely saw you take a sip tonight.”
He shrugged. “Well, I’ve turned over a new leaf.”
Willow nodded again.
“If you’re okay…” he continued, “then I should let you get to sleep. Just make sure you finish the water before lights out.”
He loosened his grip on her hands, but she responded by tightening hers.
“Stay,” she blurted out. “I mean…just to make sure I don’t spin out again.”
Ash clenched his teeth and told himself this meant nothing. It was the wine and only the wine.
“Sure,” he finally replied, taking a step back and nodding for her to crawl back into the king-sized bed.
“Okay, but you can’t just stand there like a creepy vampire watching the underage high-school girl he wants to devour.” She crawled back into the bed.
He laughed. “You want me to grab one of the breakfast barstools? How will that be any less creepy?”
She groaned and slapped the side of the mattress on her left. “Just sit for a minute, creeper. I’m sure I’ll be out quicker than you can blink, but just in case…”
“Fine,” he relented, then moved stiffly to the other side of the bed as she took several more sips from her tumbler. But when Ash positioned himself precariously close to the opposite edge of the bed, Willow pivoted to face him, her head nestling into her two fluffy pillows.
She yawned, and her eyelids drooped.
“I loved you once,” she murmured dreamily, and Ash almost fell off the bed.
“What?” he asked, gripping the edge of the nightstand on his side to keep from toppling to the floor.
Willow sighed, her eyes fluttering closed. “Your song…” she amended, her voice light as air. “‘I Loved You Once.’ Was it about…? Was it about me ?”
“It’s just a song, Willow,” he whispered, and she hummed a soft sigh.
“That’s what I thought.” The only thing to come from her lips after that was a soft snore.
“They’re all just songs,” he added, voice barely audible even to himself. “And they’re all about you.”