Chapter 13 Tish
TISH
I circle the RV snapping pictures left and right. Every photo I take has a purpose. It may look like I’m just taking a bunch of pictures for social media, but they’re designed to show that we’re broken down on the side of the road but not broken as a team.
Jake suddenly appears and takes the phone out of my hands. I reach for it, but he pulls it back and grins at me. “You’re taking all the boring shots,” he says and stands next to me, dropping an arm around my shoulder.
“What are you doing?” I demand with a chuckle.
He waggles his eyebrows at me. “Giving you the best picture yet.” Jake holds the phone out in front of us and takes a selfie of the two of us together. “There,” he says, showing me the picture. “Now you’ll get a million hits on it.”
I have to admit, silently, that it is a good picture of us.
Jake is used to posing and his picture is, as always, great.
But I am surprised at how I look.
I don’t always take very good photos. My pictures usually come out with a goofy face or half-closed eyes.
But in this one, my eyes are shining with laughter and I have a nice smile.
Jake and I look like a couple enjoying themselves on some outing with the field of snow in the background. It looks…romantic, and my heart squeezes a little.
“Shit, it’s cold,” Jake says, briskly rubbing his arms.
I raise an eyebrow at him. “You make a living on ice. How can you be so cold?”
“I’m active on the ice.” He raises his eyebrows and gives me a mischievous grin. “You wanna help me workout and warm up?”
Hell yeah I do!
But instead of saying what I’m really thinking, I shake my head at him like he’s a misbehaving child. “You’re hopeless,” I laugh.
“Hey, it was worth a try.”
I glance at Becky to see that she and Krystal are playing quietly by the RV.
Several team players are around the girls, making sure they don’t get into trouble.
I’ve taken plenty of pictures around the bus, now I want to get a picture of the blown tire.
Walking around the front bumper, I almost stumble over Ash who is kneeling on the grown next to the damaged tire.
Ash glances up at me and my eyes drop to the streak of road dust across his cheekbone.
He stands, wiping his hands on his jeans. It’s ridiculous how much I want to touch him, and my hand is already moving before common sense can stop me.
I step close and wipe the smear away with my thumb. I mean to make it quick, a simple practical thing, but the moment stretches.
He doesn’t step back and my hand stills. His hands lift like it’s the most natural motion in the world and settle at my waist.
Heat slides through me so fast I almost sway from the impact. It isn’t the polite warmth of gratitude or friendship. It is a live wire, and the charge bounces between us.
“Ash,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah.” He leans his head down, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath on my face.
He hesitates first, and that undoes me more than if he’d just swooped in and planted one on me.
His gaze drops to my mouth, climbs back to my eyes, then lingers on the place where my pulse jumps in my throat.
His hands are warm at my waist, fingers flexing once like he’s testing his own restraint. I feel the heat of him through my coat, the solid breadth of his chest only an inch from mine.
The slow rise and fall of his breathing brushing my lips with cold air and the faint scent of coffee.
My skin tightens, a shiver surging under it that has nothing to do with wind.
Every rule I’ve lived by crowds my head. Ash is off limits; he’s my brother’s best friend.
But my body doesn’t respond to logic.
My pulse races with anticipation while my mouth tingles with the need to know how he tastes.
He leans in that last fraction and stops, giving me the choice.
That’s what makes my knees weak—his control, the question in it, the promise that he won’t cross the line unless I move it for him.
If I do this, there’s no going back to safe jokes and borrowed hoodies.
He’ll never be just a friend I pretend not to have a crush on.
The thought scares me, but the ache curling low in my belly is stronger.
tip my chin, just enough. His breath catches, his jaw tightens, and I feel the muscles in his forearms shift where they hold me.
His mouth finds mine and the outside world slides away. Heat rolls through me in a clean, bright wave.
He kisses me like I’m a precious belonging, something to savor, and something he’s been holding back for a long time.
My fingers fist in his jacket and I drag him closer until our thighs meet.
He answers with a low sound that rumbles against my lips, and the vibration shoots straight through me, straight to my core.
His thumbs stroke the edges of my ribs, cautious at first, then firmer when I open for him.
I’m the one who breaks away first. I pull back a fraction and search his face.
His brown eyes are dark with desire and the way he looks at me so intensely, like he wants to continue where we left off, almost has me changing my mind.
I am supposed to be the responsible one. I’m supposed to be the woman who learned how to keep her life small and safe because that’s what keeps Becky safe.
I’m also supposed to remember that this is Ash, the man who spent years watching out for me because Trent asked him to, the man who looks at my daughter like she is a person instead of a nuisance.
None of those truths help with the one pulsing under my skin: I want him to kiss me again.
I do the only sensible thing I can think of. I blurt out a question. “Ash.” My voice is husky and I can tell the sound gets to him.
He shivers just a little, and I know it’s not all from the cold air. “Did you put those flowers on my doorstep?”
He frowns. “No. I would have told you if I did when you mentioned them earlier.”
I nod, and the nod does a poor job of hiding the small, ridiculous disappointment that flickers through me.
I didn’t realize I was hoping for that answer until it wasn’t there. My reaction surprises me almost as much as the kiss did.
His gaze drops back to my mouth and the serious line of his jaw softens.
He steps closer by an inch and waits.
I should step back. But I don’t.
I want to feel his lips on mine again. It was so much better than my dream, and I’d thought that was sexy beyond belief.
Footsteps scrape on gravel and we jump apart like guilty kids caught with our hands in the cookie jar.
Carl rounds the front corner of the RV with his phone in one hand and his eyebrows already narrowing.
“Update,” Carl says without preamble. His voice is low and controlled, but his eyes show just how frustrated he is.
“I’ve got three Ubers heading this way. They’ll take first line and staff straight to the rink.
Everyone else waits for the replacement vehicle.
It’s not ideal, but at least it gets us out of this cold. ”
An uncomfortable silence stretches between the three of us.
Carl frowns and looks first at me, then at Ash, then back at me. Ash clears his throat and points at the tire.
“This was no accident,” he says. Is it wrong of me to feel a little thrill at how unsteady his voice is? That the kiss affected him just as much as it did me?
He leans down and points at several sections on the tire, explaining to Carl why he suspects sabotage.
I hear only bits and pieces, though. My gaze is caught by the way his jeans stretch over his muscular thighs. At his capable hands that had been on my waist only moments ago.
Then Ash’s words sink into my dazed brain. “Sabotage?” I repeat with a combination of worry and disbelief.
Ash winces slightly. “Yeah. Sorry, but someone deliberately did this.”
“Who would do such a thing?” I ask, my gaze swinging between Ash and Carl.
“A disgruntled fan,” Carl says. “A rival team. The press.” He shrugs. “Who knows. The list is endless. But we can’t worry about that right now. We need to get our heads in the game and get our asses to the rink and play tonight.”
Carl’s phone rings and he answers, turning his back to us.
With the wind, I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I’m not trying to listen anyway.
Gone is the pleasant heart-thrilling feeling after kissing Ash and in its place is fear.
Someone sabotaged the RV.
Becky and Krystal were on it. What if we’d crashed and they’d been hurt?
Carl ends the call and turns to face us, a worried frown pulling down the corners of his mouth.
“That was the coach from the team we’re supposed to play tonight.
They don’t give a shit that we’re broken down.
I was told, very firmly I might add, that if we don’t show up in time, we forfeit the game. ”