11. Had What He Wanted
HAD WHAT HE WANTED
“Where is your head at?” Clay asked him the next afternoon.
“What?” Ash asked, moving faster. He’d been wiping down the glasses and getting them set behind the bar.
No wedding today. Just some community event using the space.
There were caterers coming in with food, buffet style. Little snacky things.
Tapas. A fancy name for bites of food that wouldn’t hold anyone over.
“You’re staring off into space again. It’s the second time. I could have handled this alone if you had something else you needed to do today.”
“Nothing to do. And I committed anyway. Sorry. Just a lot on my mind.”
“Anything you want to share?”
Ash looked at his tough-as-steel brother and had a hard time containing his shock over that question.
“Clay Ridgeway is offering up conversation?” He pulled his phone out. “I need to mark this date.”
“Don’t be a dick.”
“I’m never a dick. That is normally you.”
“I’m not that guy anymore.”
“Bullshit,” he said, laughing and shoving his phone back into his pocket.
“Seriously, if there is more going on, you can leave or cut out early.”
“I’m good,” he said.
He was still processing the two hours spent with Skye. That included the time in the bar.
They’d had dinner together. They talked. Talked more than he’d expected.
He wasn’t sure what he was more surprised by.
That he’d confessed he might have been the one to get the ball rolling for Skye to end up with the Lancasters or that Skye now was in communication with her brother, Sean.
Not just that one dinner, but she had his number and had texted him once more since.
It didn’t seem as if they were going to reconnect like maybe he would with family, but the door was open and she was willing.
Could he blame her? Probably not.
“Be good for the public. Don’t spill anything,” Clay said and walked away.
Like he’d do that.
And two hours later, he realized it wasn’t a community event, but rather two businesses that were going to become one bringing all their staff together to mingle.
Talk about tension in the air.
The company being bought out didn’t seem all that happy, frowns and sour pusses all around.
It just kept people coming back to the bar and throwing tips in the jar.
“What can I get you?” he asked a woman who stood in the corner.
“That cranberry cider was tasty. I’ll take another.”
“You got it,” he said, pulling the handle back and filling the glass for her.
There was beer on tap too. A local brewery that Clay contracted with. The brewery in turn had Ridgeway Hard Cider on tap in their pub also.
Lots of places around the capital district did.
“I’m Bree,” she said, putting her hand out.
“Ash.” He took her hand and shook.
“Do you work here often? Like in the factory or whatever it’s called over there? Or just fill in once in a while.”
“Both. I grew up here. Clay is my brother. I help in both places when he needs me.”
“Ahh,” Bree said. “Your brother, he’s a bit intense. Not like you.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “No one would ever say we had the same personality.”
“You don’t even look that much alike. I mean, some. The same dark, dangerous looks, but you’ve got a smile on your face.” Bree’s eyes dropped. “And no ring on the finger like him.”
“He’s married.”
“And you’re not?” Bree asked.
“No. Hold that thought.” He moved over to someone else, filled their order, and thanked them for the five-dollar tip, that he shoved in the jar with all the rest of the cash.
The bar was open, the company paying for it all. Those events, the tips flooded in.
He moved back to Bree. She hadn’t taken her drink and left. Looked like she wanted to flirt.
That was all it’d be.
He wasn’t interested in anyone other than the woman he had a date with tonight.
Shockingly, he’d thrown it out before Skye left. Not that they’d call it a date. Just dinner again.
She’d apologized for what she felt was treating him bad as kids.
He didn’t think so. Or not really.
Then at the end, before she left, he’d said, “If you really feel bad and want to make it up to me, you can cook me dinner.”
She laughed. Called him out on what he was doing but then said sure.
He had her number. He had her address.
He was showing up with bells on and a massive smile at six.
An hour after this event ended, so he’d have time to clean up with Clay, then go home and shower quickly.
“You came back to me,” Bree said.
Talk about a bad pickup line. “Don’t have too many other places to be than here.”
He heard Clay snort not that far from him. They were splitting the space behind the bar.
She put a ridiculous pout on her face. Ugh, he hated women who did that. “Aw, I thought it was just to get to know me more.”
“I’m always open for conversation,” he said, being polite.
“If you only fill in here, do you do anything else?” She put her drink to her red lips. “Or let me guess.”
“Sure, you can guess.”
Normally he liked doing that with women. Not with someone he wasn’t interested in.
He’d peg Bree as older than him. Kind of on the prowl.
Almost scary with how aggressive she was being.
Hey, to each their own, but he had what he wanted waiting for him in a few hours.
He just had to make sure he didn’t scare Skye away with those thoughts.
“I bet you work with your hands. Nice and big ones. Your arms too.”
Good grief. “You’d be right,” he said.
She rubbed her hands together. “Construction?”
“I swing a hammer now and again,” he said.
“He’s a jack of all trades,” Clay said, moving over. “Can’t stick to one thing.”
He shoulder bumped his brother, but it wasn’t like it got him to move any.
“I’m not looking for a man to stick,” Bree said, wiggling her eyebrows. “Or not for more than a night if you catch my drift.”
Yep, he did.
And he wished he could escape this when normally he’d just let the night ride with a bunch of laughs and gently turn her down.
“Hard not to get the meaning.”
“Bree, stop flirting and get over here!”
“Looks like you’re wanted.”
“I always am,” Bree said, smirking. “I’ll be back.”
“Dude,” Clay said. “You might need a visit with Blaze after if you touch that.”
He snorted. His brother never changed. “I thought the same thing.”
Ash went back to chatting, flirting, filling drinks, and taking tips.
When the last person was out, he was the first one cleaning.
“Now you’re moving fast,” Clay said. “Got a hot date or something?”
“Actually, I do.”
He picked up the dirty glasses left on the bar and put them in a bin to bring to the kitchen and load into the dishwasher.
Clay came in behind him with another bin. “Don’t tell me it was with the red lipstick lady. That shit was almost dyed to her lips.”
“It probably is, but not her.”
“Someone else you picked up tonight?”
He turned once he was done with his bin. “Nope. What do you care?”
“I don’t. Just don’t want Mom on my case if you are getting into trouble.”
“I stopped getting into trouble years ago.”
He never did much anyway. He didn’t understand why they worried so much.
Sure, did he like to go out and have fun?
Yep.
Did he date a lot and have a few one-night stands?
Absolutely.
Did his mother know about them?
He hoped to hell not.
But it was a thing of his past, and it was where it’d be staying.
In a small town like this, too much got back to his family.
Not just his parents, but his brother the sheriff, or the other a doctor, his sister the attorney.
There were eyes and ears everywhere.
Something he was slow to pick up on as a kid.
“I haven’t heard anything,” Clay said. “Keep it that way. And you can take off.”
“I’ll finish cleaning up.”
“I’ve got it,” his brother argued. “Go. Don’t be late.”
“Once I wipe down the bar,” he said. He never won any argument with Clay, but he wouldn’t leave him doing all the work either.
The minute he threw the rag in the bin, Clay came over and shoved a wad of cash into his hand. “Thanks.”
He didn’t bother to count it. There was no need.
Clay was always fair. Ash never took money for actually working the bar. Not an hourly rate. The tips were good enough, but he was positive Clay always gave more for that reason.
“See you next week,” Clay said. “Remember, I need you at the mill on Wednesday. I’ve got someone out.”
“I’ll be here. It’s on my calendar.”
He strode out the door toward his truck and saw a car in the parking lot. The lights were on, the engine was running, and the door opened.
Fuck.
It was Bree.
“Hey. I was waiting for you to come out. How about we get out of here and get a drink somewhere? You know, maybe my place.”
“Sorry,” he said. “I can’t tonight.”
She moved closer, got too close into his space, her nail coming out to run down his arm. He didn’t have a jacket on. Just his Ridgeway Cider T-shirt.
His skin rose from the chill, not her touch, but he was betting her ego wouldn’t allow her to think that.
“How about a rain check? Can I get your number?”
Letting people down easy had always been difficult for him.
“Sorry, I’m kind of in the start of something.”
“Got it,” Bree said, then reached into her purse. “If you get out of that and want to have some fun, this is how I can be reached.”
When he didn’t reach for the card, she tucked it into the front pocket of his jeans.
Jesus Christ, she was bold.
“Have a good night.” He strode to his truck, hopped in and started it up, driving off the property and hopefully to his destiny.
“Fuck!” He rubbed his hand over his face.
Where the hell had that thought come from?
Maybe the fact that he’d never been able to get Skye out of his mind. Enough that he’d slipped and confessed what he had last night, confusing them both when the words came out of his mouth.