Chapter 21 #2
He leads me out a set of lanai doors to a patio that looks like it’s straight out of Million Dollar Beach House.
There’s a giant infinity pool situated directly in front of a view of the sound, which is illuminated by string lights that extend across the fascia on either side.
Two giant stone hot tubs are perched at the end of the pool, steam billowing up from the surfaces.
Declan sits in one of them, surrounded on all sides by women in string bikinis.
There’s a bar located in the far left corner and a pool house on the other side.
To my right, there’s an area with plush couches and a giant flatscreen that’s playing grunge music videos from the nineties.
“I’ll be right back.” Ashton gives me a little wink, and I tip my head as I spot Emory sitting on a loveseat with Luke glued to her side. He does not look amused.
“You made it!” She tries to jump up when she sees me but fails miserably and flops back down on the couch.
“No need to get up,” I tell her as I wedge myself between her and Luke. “You know I'll always come to you.” She slurps on what I assume is a virgin pina colada as Luke buries his face in his hands and mutters something to himself.
“What’s up with him?” I ask her.
She waves her hand in the air. “Oh, he’s just mad because he thinks I brought him to a sex party.”
I nod as I grab her drink and take a long pull. The sweet, icy liquid feels amazing as it slides down my throat.
“That doesn’t have alcohol,” Emory warns me.
“I figured, but I’m thirsty.” I hand it back to her. “Also, I’m pretty sure this is a sex party. I got propositioned for a foursome on my way in.”
“I told you,” Luke says, running a hand through his dark hair.
“Whatever. I just want to live a little before the baby comes and we’re up to our ears in diapers and nipple cream. Is that a crime?”
“We can have a sex party at home,” Luke offers in a low voice. His arm reaches out across me so he can place his hand on her thigh.
“Wait, what is nipple cream?” I ask as I gently remove his arm.
They both look at each other and then back at me. “It might be best if you don’t know,” Emory says softly.
Before I can delve into that nightmare any further, Ashton comes back holding a can of beer, a glass of wine, and what looks like a margarita with salt on the rim and a lime perched on the side.
He’s haphazardly balancing all three drinks as he sways back and forth.
It looks like they could all fall at any second.
“I wasn’t sure what you wanted,” he says. “So I got you a few options.”
“Thanks,” I say, standing up and reaching for the margarita, if only so they don’t all come crashing down to the floor.
“I realized that I haven’t seen you drink since that night at the inn, and they were fresh out of old tequila in a flask.”
I smile at his inside joke. He’s right. He hasn’t seen me drink because I haven’t since that night at the inn. I’m not even sure why. No, I do know why. It’s because I found another vice. A sexier, muscled, six-foot vice who is currently looking at me like I’m his dinner.
I hear a throat clear and that’s when I realize that Emory and Luke are still sitting mere feet from us.
My head swivels to her and her smug smile tells me exactly what she’s just put together in that head of hers.
The hickeys, my secretiveness, and now this.
I never did tell her about that night at the inn.
It’s not that I don’t trust her. Lord knows we have been through it all together, but I don’t want her to get her hopes up.
Not only is she a hopeless romantic, but she’s living proof that love exists and that happily ever afters are not just the product of romance novels.
If I told her about me and Ashton, she would insist it’s more than sex and I’m not remotely ready to face that conversation.
I set down my drink and grab Ashton’s elbow. “Will you excuse us? I need to talk to Ashton about work…related things. Things related to work. At the paper. Where we work together.”
Real smooth.
Emory purses her lips. “Of course.”
She so knows.
I practically drag Ashton around the pool and into the pool house, closing the door behind us. There’s a couple making out on the couch, and it looks like the guy’s hand is heading south.
“I need the room,” I state loudly, making the woman jump and detach herself from her boyfriend. When she stands, I notice her jeans are unbuttoned.
“What the hell?” she screeches.
“I said I need the room. So take your little boyfriend and find somewhere else to fuck.”
She looks between me and Ashton, then huffs as she walks to the door, motioning for her guy to follow. When they’re gone, I turn to him. “What the fuck?”
He wipes a hand over his face. “What now?”
“You basically just outed us in front of Luke and Em.”
He sighs and takes a seat on the couch, propping his ankle up on his knee. “I got you a drink, Allie. It’s not like I felt you up in front of them.”
I sit down and lift his chin up. His amber eyes swirl with so many different emotions that it’s hard to separate them. His freckles are prominent in this lighting, spilling from the bridge of his nose down to his flushed cheeks.
“Why are you so drunk?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he mutters, scrubbing his face. “You weren’t answering me, and I got anxious. It happens to me sometimes. I didn’t have my watch, and there was alcohol and weed, so…” He trails off.
I didn’t know he had anxiety.
What watch?
Then it hits me. The night Craig tried to assault me.
Ashton was having a panic attack. He was fiddling with something in his pocket.
Maybe the watch? He was so pale. I thought he was just queasy because of the blood.
If there’s anything I get, it’s having an overwhelming fear.
The panic that comes along with feeling like you might die.
How did I not pick up on it? In retrospect, having sex that night was probably not the healthiest of choices.
We were both emotionally charged. Still, I can’t say I regret it.
He was anxious because I didn’t answer him.
“I didn’t know,” I whisper.
His hardened gaze lands on me, eyes swimming with a thousand things he wants to say. “Why won’t you kiss me?”
That’s the one he chooses first.
“Ashton.”
“Why don’t you want anyone to know about us?”
“I can’t—”
He shakes his head. “What are you afraid of?”
“This isn’t the time for this conversation.” It’s too hot in here. Why is it so hot? I stand, crossing over to look for a window to open or something.
“Why can’t you just admit that you like me?” I hear the thump of his boots as he comes up behind me.
“Because I don’t!” I yell, whipping around to face him. “I like the way you make me come. That’s it.” I tried to keep us from getting to this point, but he won’t stop pushing. He’s going to keep asking questions he doesn’t really want the answers to? Fine. I’ll give him answers.
“You’re lying,” he sneers, stepping into me.
“How would you know?”
“Because I fucking know you, Allie. While you’ve been busy pretending you don’t feel anything for me, I’ve been taking notes. Did you know your eyes turn five different shades of blue?”
“What?”
He holds up his hand, ticking off his fingers.
“There’s this soft powdery blue when you’re calm and relaxed.
When you’re sad? They’re the color of the ocean when it rains.
Intense sapphire when you’re concentrating really hard on something.
The darkest shade of midnight when you’re angry or turned on—honestly, I can’t tell those two apart.
” He lets out a dark chuckle before lifting his pinky finger.
“And when you’re lying? Like right now? When you don’t want anyone to know what’s going on in that perfect, beautiful mind of yours?
They turn the deepest shade of cobalt. Not quite midnight, but dark enough to hide behind. ”
I just blink at him, staring incredulously for several moments.
Fuck him for knowing all that.
“You really are drunk,” I scoff.
His own eyes change color, clearly frustrated that his speech didn’t have the intended impact on me. Maybe it did, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.
“I had a few drinks and smoked a little weed,” he snaps. “So what? You’re allowed to pop pills, but God forbid I let go for a night.”
My heart sinks. How does he know about the pills? I haven’t taken them in months. Just as fast as the words came out of his mouth, regret takes over his features.
“Did you go through my stuff?” The accusation rolls off my tongue.
“No, I—” he starts, but the words get stuck in his throat. “Allie,” he tries again. “I’m sorry.”
“Let’s just go,” I reply. I don’t have the energy to talk about this right now.
I need to get him out of here. God knows I’ve been in his situation more times than I can count, and I don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t have Nate looking out for me.
I can put aside my anger for a couple of hours to make sure he gets home safely.