6. Ashe
ASHE
“ P umpkin spice latte?”
Her voice was soft, almost playful. But my heart jumped like I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t.
I looked up and laid eyes on her for the first time since last night—since I dropped her off at the front door of the inn without so much as a goodnight kiss. No goodbye. No “see you tomorrow.” Just a nod and a terse, “Goodnight.”
I’d been kicking myself since.
It wasn’t what I wanted to say. Hell, it wasn’t even what I’d meant to say.
But I panicked. The second she said she had to get up early tomorrow, that she wasn’t coming back to my place, I’d felt the twist in my chest. The one that said I’d gotten too close.
The one that told me I was about to lose something I didn’t even have yet.
So I’d backed off. Shut it down. Fast.
“Hey.” I stood from my work stool, brushing sawdust from my jeans. “You found pumpkin spice coffee?”
“I took over the coffee machine.” She held out a to-go cup with a white plastic lid. “This place needs some pumpkin spice latte. Everyone’s pretty much done with coffee now that it’s lunchtime, but I figured maybe the local grump might need a caffeine boost.”
I took the cup from her, fingers grazing hers. “I’m not grumpy.”
She raised a brow. “You dropped me at the inn and haven’t spoken to me since. That’s a little grumpy, no?”
Damn it.
“I didn’t mean to,” I said, wrapping both hands around the warm cup. “I just…I figured you were tired.”
She tilted her head. “I was tired. Still wanted you to kiss me goodnight, though.”
I ran a hand down my face. “I’m sorry.”
She nodded like she believed me. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t still confused.
“You want to tell me what happened?” she asked gently. “Because if you’re mad I didn’t come home with you last night?—”
“I’m not mad at you,” I cut her off, fast and firm. “I’m mad at me.”
That stopped her.
I waved her around the table, gesturing for her to follow me beyond the workbench to a bench I’d planned to use for storage that now sat empty. The two of us sat on opposite ends of it, the space between us humming with tension.
“I’ve always known I was wired a little different,” I said. “When it comes to relationships, I mean. Dating.”
Marissa said nothing. Just sipped her own coffee and waited for me to go on.
“I’ve never done the whole girlfriend thing. Never brought anyone home to meet the family—not that I have much family anyway. But I always figured I’d end up on my own. I even picked this town because it’s tucked out of the way. Quiet. Safe.”
She smiled gently. “Safe from what?”
“From getting close to someone.” I let out a breath.
“From getting rejected. From feeling too much and having it ripped away. My parents weren’t exactly role models.
And every time I started to fall for someone in the past, I pulled back.
Told myself it wouldn’t last. That she’d wake up and realize I wasn’t enough. That I’d mess it up.”
Her eyes softened, and I couldn’t stop now.
“Last night, when you said you were going back to the inn, it hit me harder than it should have. My brain started doing its usual damage. Told me you were pulling away. That you didn’t want me after all. That I’d made more of it than it was.”
“Ashe…”
“I know,” I said quickly. “It was stupid. You had to get up early. That’s it. I see that now. But at the time, I shut down. It felt like every past mistake I’ve made all over again.”
Marissa set her cup on the ground and leaned toward me. “So what you’re telling me is, you like me so much, you panicked.”
My lips twitched. “Basically.”
“Ashe.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I stared at her.
“You’re not?” My voice cracked a little, and I hated how unsure I sounded.
She shook her head. “Nope. But if you ever ghost me like that again, I will kick your butt.”
I barked out a laugh.
“I mean it,” she said, trying to sound stern. “You don’t get to push me away just because your brain tells you lies. You talk to me. You tell me what’s going on in that gorgeous head of yours.”
I reached for her hand, wrapping my fingers around hers. “Deal. But you should know something.”
She arched a brow. “What’s that?”
“I’m all in.”
Marissa blinked.
“I know it’s fast. I know we’ve just met, but I’m done pretending I don’t want this. I do. I want you. I want more mornings like this, more pumpkin spice lattes, more of your sass and your laughter and your way of seeing the world like it’s still good.”
She didn’t say anything. So I kept going.
“You’ve ruined me for being alone. You’ve made it impossible to imagine going back to the way things were. And I don’t want to. I don’t ever want to go back.”
Marissa’s eyes shimmered. She squeezed my hand tight.
“I feel the same way,” she whispered.
Then she leaned in and kissed me. It wasn’t the kind of kisses we’d shared during lovemaking—full of hunger and need. This one was like our first kiss—soft, slow, and full of promise.
“I’ve got an idea,” she said as she pulled back. “Let’s close up shop for the day.”
I grinned. “The whole Harvest Market?”
“Just your booth. And mine.”
I looked at her, surprised. “Really?”
She shrugged. “I think we both deserve a day off.”
I stood, still holding her hand.
“I’ll put up a sign on my booth,” I said. “You want to grab your stuff?”
She rose to her feet. “On my way.”
Ten minutes later, we were headed toward my truck. I slung her tote bag over one shoulder, then laced my fingers through hers as we walked, passing the crowd and the vendors and the flurry of autumn colors without looking back.
There were people who called out to us. Others who raised brows. But neither of us cared.
Not when I had her hand in mine.
Not when I knew, deep in my gut, that this was just the beginning.
We weren’t just headed to my place. We were headed toward forever.