Chapter 13
ASHTON
“Are you even listening to what I’m saying?”
I hear Skylar’s voice, but it feels like it’s coming from far away or she’s underwater. It’s muffled, garbled, an echo. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her turn her head in the direction of my gaze. “Oh,” she says, a hint of worry laced in the word. “Ash.”
My name snaps me out of my daze, and my eyes drift to Skylar. Her dark red hair is tied up in a bun, but some of the wavy pieces have escaped the headband she’s wearing. One falls in her face, and she blows it away.
“I’m sorry, Sky. You were saying something about deadline extensions?”
“I think that’s the least of our worries.
” She crosses over to the door and gently closes it, effectively blocking my view of the scene I’ve been watching for the past five minutes.
The one in which Allie is giggling—fucking giggling—and batting her eyes at that asshole, Craig.
He strolled in here like he owned the place to hand in his monthly article.
As if he couldn’t have uploaded it to our shared drive.
No, he had to come here in person because he knew she would be here.
I don’t know Craig well, but Theo never trusted him, which says a lot.
Theo is the best judge of character I know.
It’s probably why he hired Allie. He saw something most people might not have been able to see.
But Craig? He’s a smug prick—I can just tell.
And he’s been flirting with Allie since he got here.
“Okay, spill,” Skylar demands as she takes the empty seat across from my desk.
“Spill what?”
“Ashton Henry Tyler, don’t play dumb with me. You know what. Something happened at the inn, didn’t it? You guys were snowed in together and what? You accidentally rolled over and your dick landed inside her?”
Damn, she’s good. That’s not exactly what happened, but it’s also not far off.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sky. Can we get back to the deadlines?”
Skylar’s eyes flare with anger and she lets out a frustrated sigh.
“Look, Ashton. I didn’t push it at first because…
well because obviously I haven’t told you everything about my past and you’ve always respected that I would when I was ready.
So I gave you that same respect. The difference is, she works here and I need to make sure we’re doing what’s best for the paper. Theo deserves that. You know he does.”
“Of course, but—”
Her glare halts my words.
“I’m not done.”
I wave at her to keep going.
“You have been acting super weird ever since the snowstorm debacle and Allie…I don’t know…
she’s even more snippy than usual. It doesn’t take a genius to see that something happened between the two of you.
And now you’re looking at Craig Holder, a major donor, by the way, like you’re going to slice open his carotid with a letter opener just for talking to her. ”
I hadn’t thought of that exactly, but it’s not a bad idea. I subconsciously glance down at the letter opener on my desk, just as Skylar discreetly picks it up and puts it in her back pocket.
“She doesn’t look snippy right now,” I can’t help but mutter.
“Exactly my point,” Skylar huffs.
“I don’t kiss and tell, Sky. You know that. I just really don’t like that guy. He gives me the creeps.”
“Yeah, well, he also gives thousands of dollars to the paper every year.”
“Do you have a point here?”
“I do,” she says, standing up and pushing her chair to the side. “Get your shit together and keep your dick in check.”
Her language startles me. “What’s going on with you?” I narrow my eyes at her. “There’s something different. What happened to the girl who used to correct everyone’s grammar and never swore?”
She slaps some files down on my desk. “She grew the fuck up.”
It looks like she’s about to slam my door as she leaves, but I call out to her.
“Leave it open.” Her eyes roll in a complete circle, but she does as I ask, just in time for me to see Craig put his hand on Allie’s shoulder.
She stiffens. I can tell even from over here that she’s not comfortable with him.
She’s smiling—her fake one. The one she only uses when she has to because she can’t stand letting anyone see her real smile.
Her eyes tell a completely different story, flicking icily to Craig’s hand as it slithers down to rest on her arm. She steps to the side, and his hand falls. Good girl.
No longer blocked by Craig’s giant body, she notices me staring at them.
Looking straight at me, she cocks her head to the side and curls her lip into a sadistic grin, like she’s a lioness about to attack her prey.
Then she turns back to Craig and pretends to laugh, placing her hand on his chest for a split second before removing it.
My hands ball into fists and I check my desk to see if there’s another letter opener lying around.
No luck.
When she bends over her desk to get a sticky note and scribbles something down on it, handing it to Craig, I fly out of my chair and am across the room before I even realize I’ve stood up. I slam the door so hard that it rattles the hinges and the whole frame shakes.
I need to calm down. This is insane. I can’t say I've never been jealous before. I’m not possessive like Declan, though he’s only ever been that way over one person…but I’ve definitely had moments of jealousy. Like slightly irritated jealousy, not stab-someone-with-office-supplies jealousy.
Not to mention, I have no reason to be jealous.
I only made her come to prove a point. She was pissing me off.
I get it. She was embarrassed that she touched me in her sleep and angry that I brought up the beach.
I tried to apologize. I tried to let her know she had nothing to be ashamed of, but she wouldn’t listen to me.
I walked back and forth in her driveway for a solid two minutes until I made the decision to knock on her door.
I didn’t even have a plan, but when she opened that door, I knew—I just knew I was going to kiss her.
She’s the one who took it further, though.
She grabbed my hand. She moved it down. I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to prove her wrong.
Of course, I know she didn’t fake it the first time, but I needed her to know I knew.
I didn’t think I would win any points when I left her there, still flushed and panting, with the knowledge that I made her come twice now, but it’s been two weeks and she’s still icing me out.
Since that day, she has refused to talk to me about anything non-work-related.
She even avoids that sometimes, going through Skylar or messaging me on the stupid office team platform.
Every single time I try to talk to her about what happened, she walks away or ignores me.
Burger Week came and went. Allie knocked all of her articles out of the park, despite having been told about the event the day before.
She really is a good writer and describes food as if it’s so much more than sustenance.
Like it’s art. She has a way of making you feel like you’re right there with her, experiencing the tastes and sensations just as she is.
Not that I’ve had the chance to tell her any of this.
She won’t fucking talk to me. Apparently, she will talk to large, muscly chefs with tattooed knuckles.
A faint knock at the door steals my attention away from the rage simmering in my gut.
“Come in,” I call out, assuming it’s Skylar back to scold me some more.
I barely look up from my computer, not in the mood to deal with talking about the mess I’ve made again, but as soon as black heels come into my field of vision, my head shoots up.
Her long dark brown hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail.
She’s wearing her usual tight calf-length skirt, but her shirt is short-sleeved, as opposed to the long-sleeved blouses she usually wears.
She brings her wrist up to look through the stack of papers she’s holding, and I get a peek at the tattoos that line the inside of her forearm.
She finds the paper she was looking for and places it on my desk.
“Here’s Luke’s signed contract. He wants to run an ad for his bike shop once a month for now, but he may increase it to weekly as his business continues to grow.”
She turns to leave, but I’m out of my chair before she touches the door handle. “Allie, stop.”
To my surprise, she does. “What?”
“You can’t avoid this forever.”
“Avoid what?” she asks, feigning ignorance.
“This.”
“You’re being cryptic, Ashton. I don’t like guessing games, so why don’t you say what you mean so I can go finish my article that’s due in…” She checks the time on her phone. “Thirty-seven minutes.”
“Are you sleeping with him?” I blurt out.
Real smooth, Ash.
“Excuse me?”
Well, there’s no backing down now. I guess I have to finish what I started.
“Are. You. Sleeping. With. Craig?” I emphasize each word.
“That’s none of your damn business.”
I take a half step toward her, but she doesn’t back up. She keeps those heels planted firmly on the floor. I lean in closer, making sure not to touch her.
“Oh, but it is. He writes for us. I’m your boss. I need to know about any relationships between my employees.”
She scoffs. “You don’t need to know shit, Ashton. You’re jealous.”
“Of Craig?” I sputter. “You know why guys like that are so arrogant? Why they walk around thinking everyone else is beneath them? Because they’re insecure. They prey on those they deem weaker. They make examples out of them.”
“I am not weak.”
“I know,” I say softer now. “That’s how I know you’re not really into him.”
“Fuck you,” she yells. “You’re the one who walked into my house and touched me just to prove a point, then left like nothing happened.”
“Oh, yeah?” I let out a dry laugh. “So you’re the only one allowed to leave, right?”
“Shut up.”
I ignore her. “Silly me. I forgot. You’re the only one allowed to walk away after turning someone’s world on its fucking axis.”
“I didn’t—”
“You did.”
Her gaze flickers back and forth, searching for the lie on my face, but she won’t find it. The only person lying here is her. She’s lying to me and to herself.
She opens and closes her mouth, but nothing comes out, and then suddenly she leans in toward me.
I follow her movements, unsure of who makes contact first, but before I can think better of it, our lips press together and she’s kissing the life out of me.
Her tongue nudges past my lips and tangles with mine.
When she brings her hands up, the papers she was holding float down to the floor, and she grabs the back of my hair, pushing me forward to deepen the kiss.
I bite her lip in retaliation, making her gasp.
When I instinctually begin to walk her back toward the wall, I see her hand move down out of the corner of my eye.
That’s when I realize she’s grabbing onto mine to bring it between her legs.
I instantly freeze, reality crashing down on me like a bucket of ice water.
She doesn’t care. This is all a game to her.
She thinks I’ll make her come again and we can forget why I’m really angry. Sorry, not going down that road again. Not until she gives me answers.
I break the kiss, cursing and pulling at my hair as I remove myself from her grasp. “Fuck.”
I pace back and forth behind my desk a few times before settling back in front of her. Close, but not too close.
“Why?” I ask her. There’s nothing but confusion swirling in those crystal eyes.
“Why did you tell me all that shit if you were going to disappear?” I clarify. “Why did you tell me to make you forget? Why did you tell me that you—”
“Don’t.” She pushes herself up from the wall and straightens her skirt, smoothing it with her hands.
“Then tell me why.”
“I thought you knew!” she cries out.
My brows furrow, and now it’s my turn to be confused.
“I thought you knew it was just one night. It didn’t mean anything,” she says quieter this time. It’s soft—almost as if she feels bad. Almost.
My heart drops to my stomach, but I do my best to not let it show on my face.
I’ve already admitted too much. Yet, I can’t help the way my body tenses and my teeth grind together.
Later, I’ll let her words sink in. Later, I’ll feel sad.
Right now, I have to appear stoic, as unnatural as that is for me.
“Go finish your article, Alexandra,” I say in the most unaffected tone I can muster.
She nods her head, bending down to pick up the fallen papers, and leaves without a second glance.