Chapter Six
Where was his resolve?
Bad enough Asher kept thinking about Kelly all night long, but then he stopped and picked blackberries for her, too. As if he had nothing better to do. And now he granted her access to his house and kitchen. What was next—his heart?
Not likely. He was ranch-raised and covered in city grit these days. And no matter the zip code, there just wasn’t room in his life for romance. Nor was he interested.
Not that anyone would know that by the way he flirted just now. Flirted. And badly, to boot. Talk about being rusty and out of practice. Even though he wasn’t looking to change that.
Asher knocked his cowboy hat lower on his head and headed down the sidewalk to Foxglove Bank and Trust.
Asher’s twin was the charmer and fluent in the art of sweet-talking.
Asher was blunt and straight to the point.
Not to mention, more focused on closing business deals than speaking to a cowgirl’s heart.
As if he wanted to do that. Not likely. He preferred a guaranteed return these days, and love came with entirely too many loopholes.
More worrisome than his poor wooing skills was that he cared what Kelley thought of his family’s time warp of a kitchen.
But even more, he was starting to care what she thought of him.
As if he wanted her to like him. Because he liked…
No. He jumped off that train of thought before it could gain momentum.
He got back to the matter at hand. The Blackwell employees needed to eat. Kelley needed a kitchen. Asher provided the solution. He would not rescind his offer. Besides, he excelled at workarounds in his day job.
There was only one obvious one now. He would not be home when Kelley was there. Then there would be no more flirting. No more getting to know her. No chance of liking her even more than he already did.
Best all around if he kept himself occupied elsewhere.
Busy was his preference anyway. If he was idle too long, those memories he wanted to avoid tended to take hold.
Good thing he was something of an expert on how to stay busy.
Still, in an abundance of caution, Asher decided to give up turnovers, too.
Just to be certain sweet treats would not draw him to his chef again, either.
Asher opened the door to Foxglove Bank and Trust, stepped inside and got back to the business of unraveling the stable’s financials. He crossed the lobby of the small but well-appointed bank branch that was fully staffed yet lacking customers.
At the bank teller counter, Asher glanced at the employee’s name badge then introduced himself and said, “Ivy, I’d like to get a copy of the monthly bank statements for the last three years. Will that be possible?”
“You need Valerie, our customer relationship manager over in account services,” Ivy said politely. Then her grin widened. Her eyes crinkled behind the lenses of her modern, statement-making large round eyeglass frames. She asked coyly, “Could I get your signature first?”
“Sure.” Asher reached for a pen in the jar decorated with colorful paper flowers and asked, “Do you need my ID, too?”
Ivy chuckled. “We all know who you are.” Then she opened a drawer and took out a glossy magazine.
The cheerful teller flipped to a page marked with the same kind of sticky note Kelley had stuck all over the folders in his father’s office last evening.
With the magazine set in front of Asher, the bank teller said, “Feel free to sign anywhere.”
Asher looked at the magazine ad for Velvet Dusk cologne.
A cowboy in a tailored black suit and crisp white shirt, open at the collar, sat atop a stunning white stallion in an empty intersection of a downtown city.
Twilight cast a glow against the towering high-rises, and a black, wide-brimmed cowboy hat cast shadows across the cowboy’s face to enhance the mystery.
The tagline read: Velvet Dusk. Where city lights fade, stories begin. Always leave a trail they’ll remember.
Asher didn’t bother to hide his confusion and asked the teller, “What is this?”
“It’s you.” Ivy touched his arm lightly and lowered her voice as if sharing a secret with a longtime friend. “You don’t have to be modest. Your brother told us all about your super-busy modeling career in New York.”
Asher coughed and said, “My brother did what?”
Yet, Ivy was already leaning over the partition toward her coworker, whispering for a platinum-haired woman to get her copy.
All too quickly, there were two more bank employees crowding into Ivy’s station and several more glossy magazines placed on the counter in front of Asher.
Each one featured a different Velvet Dusk cologne ad with the same urban cowboy and stunning white stallion.
Asher brushed his hand through his hair.
Peggy, the vault teller, according to her name tag, smiled at him and said, “Dylan told us you caught the modeling bug in college and couldn’t shake it after graduation. So off you went to conquer the fashion world.”
Asher should not be surprised. His twin had been charming, witty and even quicker with a prank.
Dylan liked a good laugh and always enjoyed watching Asher squirm.
Dylan would have claimed this as one of his more ingenious and ribbed Asher about it all the way home.
His brother would have been even more impressed his tale sustained this long. Asher gave his twin a silent shoutout.
“We knew you’d come home sometime so we kept these just in case,” Ivy said. Her coworkers nodded in unison and the chatty teller added, “We never wanted to ask Walter about you and upset him.”
That was probably for the best. Asher kept his expression neutral.
Gail, the platinum-haired senior teller, tilted her head and said kindly, “Walter missed you, even though he tried so very hard to hide it.”
And that was Asher’s cue to excuse himself politely and get on with his business. He cleared his throat and said, “About those statements.”
Ivy nudged the pen toward him, her expression hopeful. “This one is my favorite. Someday, I will blaze my own trail right on out of here, too. Same as you.”
Ivy’s coworkers hummed their encouragement for the young bank teller. Gail added, “Of course you will, and it will be grand. You’ll see.”
Ivy considered him. “You got out. Has it been grand?” She paused then answered the question herself. “Of course it has. How could it not be?”
He could list a few ways and pop her hope bubble with a handful of lessons learned and more of his straight talk.
Ashe, you lost your fun. Mom would hate that.
Dylan had often accused Asher of being too serious years after their mom’s death.
His twin had ramped up his efforts to make Asher laugh despite the brothers living in different states.
Asher swiftly signed the glossy cologne ads with a bit more flourish in his signature than usual.
Magazines returned, the women dispersed to their workstations.
Ivy gave the ad one more glance as if setting some silent intention for herself.
And Asher surprised himself with an entirely different sort of straight talk and said, “My mother always told us stroll or blaze, boys. It doesn’t matter. Just remember to kick up your own dust. It’s your trail and no one else’s.”
“Thanks. I like that. I can kick up my own dust for sure.” Ivy hopped from her stool behind her station and beamed. “Now, let’s get you what you came for. Come on. I’ll walk you over to Valerie’s office.”
Asher took the chair across from Valerie and once again made his request for printed copies of the statements for the Blackwell account. Then he asked, “Is that going to be a problem?”
“It wouldn’t have been,” Valerie said then frowned. “Unfortunately, you’re a month too late.”
Back in the city, Asher would have expected—if not demanded—a swift solution.
Then he would have pulled his cell phone out and gotten to work while he waited.
Time, after all, was not meant to be wasted.
Yet, he was locked out of his work emails, and he had no games on his cell phone.
Sidestepping his idle mind, he fished a caramel-filled chocolate out of the crystal candy bowl on the account manager’s desk, peeled the shiny wrapper off and asked, “What happened a month ago?”
“That’s when we were doing things the right way.” Valerie pulled her keyboard tray closer to her and started to type quickly.
“What are you doing now?” Asher stuck the chocolate into his mouth.
“We’re doing things the corporate way,” Valerie explained smoothly and kept on typing. “Now there’s all sorts of P’s involved.”
“Excuse me?” Asher said.
“You know, procedures and policies that must be followed.” Valerie leaned forward, swiped across her computer screen, sat back and picked up her typing rhythm again.
Asher helped himself to another chocolate candy and kept himself from checking the time on his watch.
A quick errand this was not, and to be expected, he supposed.
The folks in Gold Finch always took the scenic route.
Preferred to promenade rather than run. And if it wasn’t personal, it was just bad business.
Asher settled in and waited for Valerie to work through her procedures.
“Used to be I hit this button right here.” Valerie hovered her index finger over a button at the top of her keyboard and eyed Asher. “Everything printed nice and neat. You went on your way, and I added another satisfied customer to my tally.”
“What happens if you hit that key now?” Asher asked mildly.
“Nothing because I need to submit a work order to corporate first.” Valerie shook her head and pushed her keyboard tray under her desk. “The bank was sold. We’ve got ourselves a central office across the border in Indiana and a whole new computer system.”
“Not a fan of the new management,” Asher said.