3. The Heart of the Grudge
Chapter 3
The Heart of the Grudge
Ori
“T
hat’s it. The world is coming to an end. That’s the only explanation I can figure for what I witnessed earlier today.”
I quirk a brow at my coworker, Mina, as she deposits a stack of books next to me on the counter. “What are you talking about?”
“Asher Hammond was in One More Page. Never thought I’d see the day.”
I roll my eyes and grab the top book on the pile, flipping through the pages. “When did we get this in? Did you order it?”
Mina lowers the book in my hands before sending me a knowing smirk. “Don’t change the subject.”
“Why would I want to discuss a subject as undesirable as Asher Hammond?”
Mina bites her lip, but a small giggle escapes her mouth. “Maybe because he climbed up that deathtrap of a ladder to rescue you. ”
Well, fuck. I was hoping Mina missed that slice of the evening.
“He said it was a one-time deal. Next time, he’d watch me fall.”
Her eyes widen at my words. “He said that? Really?”
“Right hand to God,” I reply.
Look, I won’t admit it to Mina, but I’m grateful Asher was there. Grateful and mortified, in equal measure. No doubt he’s reveling in the idea that he now has something to lord over me.
As if the man needs more fodder for his portfolio on hating me.
He’s got volumes on that subject.
Mina rests her hand on my arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “He wouldn’t. He’d save you every time.”
A nice thought. Total crap, but I’ll give the woman points for trying.
My bet is Asher only saved me to save face in front of his fuck buddy. If it had only been the two of us in the store, he would have left me dangling in midair, tossing a chuckle up for good measure as he walked past.
I exhale sharply, eager to shift the conversation to something less aggravating. “There won’t be any need to save me again. That ladder is heading to the dumpster first thing in the morning.”
“He smells good, though, doesn’t he?”
“I have no idea,” I reply through gritted teeth.
Another lie, considering I spent a few minutes clinging to him like a terrified kitten stuck in a tree.
And to answer Mina’s question, Asher smells amazing. He also feels amazing, with biceps as big around as my head .
But of course, none of that matters, because one trait stands out above all the others: he’s an egotistical jackass.
Mina has some nerve, insinuating I actually enjoyed my time in Asher Hammond’s arms.
My only hope is a sudden attack of amnesia so that I might forget the entire event.
Forget the snarky look in his eyes and the cruel curl of his lip when he put me in my place—yet again.
The worst part of this entire situation? I’m a likable person, and the people of Sparkwood agree. Hell, even his date and I got along, although I question her taste in men.
But to Asher Hammond, I’m the Ice Queen. Yep, that’s my nickname, courtesy of the county’s biggest player. How do I know this little tidbit? It’s a small town, and people talk. Let’s just say it only made me hate him more once I learned his moniker for me.
“I’ll never understand what women see in him,” I mutter.
“You don’t? Seriously, you’re not blind,” Mina teases, nodding toward the coffee bar. “Come on, let me make you a cup.”
I glance out the window at the falling darkness. “It’s after six. I’ll be up all night.”
“We’ll do decaf then.”
Mina seems determined to fix us a hot beverage, but as I slide onto a stool at the far end of the bar, I realize it’s not due to a hankering for caffeine.
From her position behind the coffee bar, she has a clear view into Black Lotus's reception area, easily visible across our shared hallway.
And a certain tattoo artist just so happens to be lounging there, his long legs casually propped up on a table as he chats with a customer.
“I should have known you had an ulterior motive behind this spur-of-the-moment coffee fix,” I remark, biting back a grin. “Front-row seat for Braden Hammond, huh?”
Mina straightens her stance and releases a noisy breath. “Not at all. I didn’t know he was sitting there. Total coincidence.”
Seems I’m not the only one spouting falsehoods tonight.
“Uh-huh.”
When Mina catches my quirked brow, she turns away, her face flushing as she hurriedly busies herself with frothing the milk. “Fine. Braden Hammond is hot, okay? Sue me.”
I help myself to a chocolate chip cookie from the case. “Knew it. Falling for the enemy. A traitor in my midst.”
“He stopped in here this morning.” She holds up her hands as if warding off any further argument from me. “I know you hate his brother, but Braden is really sweet.”
“Braden is nice.” With a shrug, I turn my attention to the laminated menu, flicking at one corner. “And if Asher were more like his brother, he and I wouldn’t have any issues. But he’s not, and we do.”
“You sure hate him.”
“For your information, I don’t hate Asher. The man isn’t worth that level of energy.”
But Mina knows me too well to believe that rigmarole. “Right. That’s why you toss death stares at him every time he dares to pass our window.”
The truth? I can’t stand Asher Hammond. He’s an egotistical oaf, a typical alpha male who will never admit that he or his tatted-up buddies could ever be in the wrong .
Still, what’s the point of discussing his arrogant ways? It’s not like the man is capable of change. Hell, he isn’t even capable of an apology.
And because he doesn’t deem me worthy of an apology, I hardly feel the need to heap on gratitude for his ‘heroic’ efforts earlier today.
I’ll admit that I’m glad Ash saved my terrified ass from the broken ladder. It would have been a nasty fall, and instead of drinking coffee, I’d be at the hospital getting X-rays of my skull.
And for those few moments in his arms, I felt safe. Safer than I’d ever known possible, like the entire world could have ended and somehow, he would have shielded me from the blow.
Obviously, a ridiculous notion concocted by my overly romanticized brain, considering Asher Hammond would no doubt take great pleasure in pitching my ass off any of the pine covered peaks surrounding Sparkwood.
But the worst part was the way his demeanor changed on a dime when Lydia spoke. The softness in his voice and eyes disappeared, replaced by his ever present—and always annoying—smirk. A reminder that he’s God’s gift to women and I’m a damn fool if I don’t fall in line with that mentality.
Then, in true Asher Hammond fashion, he cut me down to size.
I hate how he makes me feel that level of animosity. Hate that he makes me feel anything at all.
Still, I’m happy he was in the store when the ladder rung cracked, although I’d rather toss my ass to the ground repeatedly than admit that fact aloud.
I pull off my glasses, cleaning the lens with my shirt hem as I fight to maintain a neutral expression. “Let’s put it this way. Despite the events of today, he’s still not on my Christmas card list, although I might cave and buy him a lump of coal.”
Mina busies herself making coffee, but judging by the side-eye she shoots at me, she’s far from done with this conversation. She’s desperate to understand the root of the animosity between the owner of Black Lotus and me, but despite her repeated digging, I’ve never said a word.
Why bring up such an undesirable topic?
Asher and I can’t stand the sight of one another.
It’s an intense, mutual emotion.
End of story.
Mina slides a mug of coffee to me, and I accept with a smile. “Best brew in town.”
“Spill it, Ori. What the hell happened between you and Asher? Did you sleep with him, or something?”
I sputter my drink at her unexpected inquiry. “I most certainly did not.”
“Most of the town loves the man.”
“Probably because most of the town has slept with him.”
Hey, I’m not lying. In the six months since I moved to Sparkwood, Asher Hammond’s name has danced on the tips of countless tongues like a favorite treat.
Apparently, his sexual prowess is second to none, although he never keeps company with any woman for long. I’ve lost count of the number of beautiful women who hop on the back of his Harley at closing time, speeding away into the dark.
I’ve also never seen the same woman twice.
One would think that part of his reputation would be as noteworthy as the size of his cock, but it seems to be a non-issue.
Guess there’s no accounting for taste.
Mina snaps her fingers, a sly grin splitting her face. “See? That’s the problem. You two need to screw and release all this pent-up aggression.”
“Hard pass. Besides, he’s got his flavor of the night to do that for him.”
“Is someone jealous?”
I snort out a laugh. “Seriously? Not even close.”
“You don’t think he’s hot?”
Swinging my gaze to Mina, I peer at her over the top of my glasses. “Beauty is more than skin deep.”
“True, but Asher Hammond is damn fine.”
With a scoff, I swig down more coffee, desperate to find another conversation path. I’d rather discuss boils on the butt of an aardvark than the comely owner of Black Lotus tattoo.
“Ori, what the hell did he do to you?”
Huffing out a sigh, I realize my young friend has no intention of letting this matter drop. I get it. Since my initial meeting with Asher, relations between the two shops have been tenser than an early morning duel, and it’s trickling down to the rest of the staff.
My employees live in a battle zone, with no idea what precipitated the war.
“Fine, I’ll tell you, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Mina leans her elbows on the bar. “Duly noted.”
“Right after opening One More Page, I hosted a poetry reading. I specifically chose a day when Black Lotus closed early, because I know things can get loud over there, particularly after dark. A moot point, since music blasted from next door, along with a constant stream of obscenities and sexually offensive declarations. We couldn’t hear a word the poet said over the din, even with a microphone.”
“Damn.”
“Still, I’m the new girl in town, right? Must tread lightly. I walked next door and asked them to keep it down. I even brought coffee and baked goods as a peace offering, but the guy who answered the door told me to shove my goodies up my ass. He declared he could—and would —do whatever he damn well pleased because he had Asher’s permission. When I dared argue the fact, he made a snide comment about Asher warning him about me being a prissy bitch, and that if I didn’t keep my mouth shut, Asher would personally make me sorry. Then he slammed the door in my face.”
Mina’s mouth drops open, her eyes as wide as the coffee mugs. “Holy shit. What an asshole. But wait a minute. You said it wasn’t Asher spouting this crap, so why do you hate him?”
“Give me a minute. I’m getting to Asher’s shining moment.”
“Can’t wait to hear it. Am I going to want to pour coffee over his head after this?”
“I know I do,” I volley back. “After that night, I had two options: let it lie or have a chat with Asher. You know I don’t back down, so I confronted Asher about it, and he acted like I was insane. Claimed the noise couldn’t have come from Black Lotus because they were closed. He just stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, this smirk on his mouth, like he was enjoying every second of watching me squirm. That pissed me off worse than his buddy the night before. After realizing nothing would be rectified, I left and threatened to call the cops the next time they made that kind of racket.”
“Seems fair,” Mina states, sipping her coffee. “You were nicer than I would have been.”
I hold up my hand, stopping her conversation midstream. “I haven’t gotten to the best part yet. Asher Hammond followed me over here and bawled me out, right in front of my customers. Then he called me a prissy bitch, the same terminology used by his hooligan friend the night before. Seems everyone at Black Lotus felt the same way about me, and since I was the newbie, I was shit out of luck. Asher reminded me of that fact when he told me to call the police chief, who was one of his best friends. I know how small towns work, Mina, and my issues were falling on deaf ears.” I click my tongue against my teeth, the distaste from my initial meeting with Asher still bitter in my mouth. “That was that.”
“Well, I see why he isn’t getting a Christmas card.”
I lob my napkin at Mina’s head, releasing a chuckle. “Don’t you have some work to do? What am I paying you for?”
“Counseling, apparently. Letting you release all your anger about the big, mean tattoo artist residing next door.”
“Trust me, I’ve got plenty more where that came from.”