Chapter 15
Ash woke up cold on a hard floor in the middle-of-nowhere Plumas County, yet he couldn’t stop smiling. Why did no one tell him that being this happy could obliterate a cold, damp morning or a wooden slab for a bed? Why was there no guidebook that spelled it all out for you, letting you in on the best-kept secret that being ass over elbow in love fixed everything? Except both his ass and his elbow realized that he was in bed—or in a sleeping bag—alone. Warning alarms should have fired off inside his overactive imagination, but instead he just kept on smiling, confident that after what happened between him and Willow last night, there was no way she’d bolted, even if it had freaked her out.
Then he smelled the most glorious scent next to Willow Morgan’s shampoo… coffee . Ash pushed himself up to sitting and was ready to scavenge the nearby floor for something resembling clothes when Willow emerged through the tent’s flap with the French press he’d packed—a super-buff camping one, of course—along with two camping mugs.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Willow announced and then held out her hand that held the two empty mugs, offering one to him.
“What time is it?” he asked, his voice gravel after several hours of not being used…and an hour or three of using his voice in ways he hadn’t known were possible… A deep growl emanating from somewhere in the depths of his soul? A string of curses as Willow sheathed him like a sword when he’d thought for sure she’d been ready to pass out? As the night before replayed in delicious, achingly slow motion, Ash began to ache—and stiffen—in the present.
“Almost eight,” she told him, dropping down to a crisscross-applesauce position as she pressed the French press and then poured them each a steaming mug.
“Almost eight ?” Ash said. “Who is up and boiling water for coffee at almost eight in the morning when we have this whole portion of the campsite to ourselves, which means sleeping in?”
Willow raised her brows, then dipped her gaze to where the flannel blanket had slid off his lap to expose his unhideable erection.
“You look pretty awake to me,” she teased.
“And you look like you’re wearing entirely too many clothes.” He set his coffee mug down and then did the same with hers. “Coffee can wait.” He tugged on the string to her hoodie and then took the liberty of unzipping it.
She laughed. “The coffee will get cold.”
“I’ll drink it cold.”
Willow groaned with mock exasperation but then climbed over him, sliding her yoga-pants-clad pelvis over his hardened length. She groaned again for a whole other reason and then pushed a grinning Ash onto his back.
That morning they did, in fact, drink their coffee cold.
***
It was well after ten when they’d tacked up Midnight and Holiday and taken to the trail. The morning chill was already gone, and the sun shone brightly overhead.
“How long did you rent that camping site for?” Willow asked as their two mares walked leisurely side by side.
“As long as we want it,” he told her. “Another night. A week. A month…”
She laughed. “We can’t just avoid the real world indefinitely. And you only told me to pack essentials.”
“There’s a general store at the check-in lodge.” Ash glanced in her direction. “Why can’t we avoid the real world indefinitely?” Hell, he could live in that tent and eat nothing but shitty mac and cheese until the end of time if Willow stayed with him.
She eyed him warily. “Because we have work to do,” Willow reminded him. “We have a song to write, record, and get approved by both of our labels. And don’t forget that Sloane has you in damage-control mode right now. I know you said you wanted to keep a low profile as far as my socials are concerned, but shouldn’t you be making some sort of public statement about the…you know…”
“Arrest?” he asked with a laugh. “I know the song is important to you. It is to me too, but not because I’m looking to use it to boost my image. I don’t give a shit about my image.”
She stared at him for a few seconds, then shook her head and laughed, turning her attention back to the trail.
God, he loved seeing her in that straw hat and boots. But regardless of what Willow was wearing, she fit so well into Holiday’s saddle.
“You were made for riding,” he told her. “You took lessons as a kid, right?”
She glanced at him and nodded, then pivoted back to the direction they were riding. “In that first year, my adoptive parents tried anything and everything to get me ‘involved’ in my new life.” She let go of the reins with one hand to make air quotes. “I was so determined to resist. Dance classes?” She wrinkled her nose. “Gymnastics? No thanks.” She shrugged. “Then one day they took me to this horse farm, and something clicked. My mom…” She cleared her throat. “My birth mom…thought I was too young to ride when Colt started taking lessons. Guess when I finally got to do it, it made me feel closer to my brother.”
He knew enough of the rest not to push her any further. Colt, five years her senior, did not do well in foster care after he and Willow lost their mom, even landing himself in juvie for a short stint. Willow’s adoptive parents didn’t want to take in a troubled and supposedly violent teen and thought they were giving her a fresh start by separating her from her only living relative.
Ash gently brought Midnight to a halt as they reached their destination. He hopped down, grabbed his day pack, and tied her to the grazing post as Willow did the same with Holiday. When they were free and clear of the horses, he pulled her to him and simply hugged her while she held on tight.
“You okay?” he asked after she took several long inhales and exhales. “I didn’t mean to break the rules by bringing up the past.” He’d just wanted her to know how much he appreciated her riding, one of many in a long list of talents Willow Morgan possessed.
She gave him one final squeeze and then took a small step back so she could look up at him. “It’s okay,” she assured him with a bittersweet smile. “I lost a lot, but I have everything I want now…short of having my mom back.” She flicked the brim of his hat and let out a soft laugh, her small attempt at the levity he knew she needed now.
“ Everything ?” Ash asked.
She nodded, and her sad smile turned into something that looked a little more hopeful.
“I’m not assuming that I’m on that list of everything ,” he began. “But I thought you should know that whether you want me or not, you have me, Wills. All of me.”
She rose onto her toes and rewarded him with a soft kiss. “You’re on the list,” she whispered. “And I really missed you calling me Wills .”
Ash grinned. He was pretty sure he’d smiled more since waking up this morning than he had in years. It still felt a little surreal.
“Come on,” he told her, holding out a hand. “We don’t have too far to go, but the terrain might be a little rough. I promise it will be worth it.”
Willow eyed him skeptically but took his hand. She trusted him at the very least to get her from point A to point B safely, but the point was…she found him worthy of her trust, and that meant everything.
The rocky path was no longer slick with morning dew, so they were able to maneuver their way from the grazing post and through the trees with ease. There wasn’t an actual need for him to hold her hand, yet neither of them made any move to let go.
The trees began to part, and they both slowed as they came to an outcropping of rock, one that overlooked a large swimming hole and across the way…a waterfall.
“Shut the front door,” Willow said softly, but he could hear the wonder in her voice.
“It’s not the biggest waterfall around,” Ash replied. “But it’s one of the prettiest. And we can swim in it too…if you want.”
She let go of his hand and then used hers to backhand him on the shoulder. “Ash Murphy…you did not tell me to pack a bathing suit.”
He waggled his brows at her and grinned. “Who said we need bathing suits when we both came equipped with our birthday suits?”
Willow’s mouth fell open. “It’s a public swimming hole.”
He held out his arms and pivoted right and then left. “And yet I don’t see another soul other than you and me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You can’t rent a public swimming hole and waterfall.”
“Maybe not…” He sighed. Then he pulled off the backpack he’d brought with for the day and opened it up so he could reach inside and produce the green two-piece swimsuit. “But I have this.” He smiled sheepishly as her mouth fell open yet again.
“That’s my swimsuit,” she told him.
Ash nodded. “I can’t tell if you’re the happy kind of surprised or the pissed-off kind of surprised, but I’m really hoping it’s the former.”
Willow glanced from Ash to the waterfall and back to Ash again, her jaw set. “You went through my stuff.”
It was a statement, not a question, but Ash answered it anyway. “I didn’t, actually. But Jenna maybe did. On my behalf. I just… The second I realized Colt and I weren’t going to settle our differences caveman style, I knew I wanted to take you somewhere and give us a chance to just be. I wanted to take you here. So when Jenna made it back to the house before you did, I asked her if she had a suit you could borrow, and she told me that if you brought one, it’d be in your underwear drawer and that any woman could find another woman’s underwear drawer with an error count of one or less. Is that true? Because she was in and out of the house in, like, thirty seconds, and she brought me this.”
Willow’s expression softened, and he watched the corner of her mouth begin to curl into the beginning of a grin.
“It’s always a top drawer,” she told him. “Not every woman keeps her swimsuit in the underwear drawer, but if she’s staying somewhere that’s not home and only has some of her belongings…”
“Looks like your sister-in-law knows you well,” Ash remarked.
This made her smile, which made him smile. Had he mentioned how much smiling he was doing today? His cheeks were starting to hurt. No. That was a lie. Nothing hurt when Willow Morgan was nearby. Not his cheeks. Not the bruise on his ribs. Not the ache in his chest he’d been nursing since the moment she walked off his tour bus and out of his life.
“Jenna is the kind of person who makes you feel like she’s known and loved you all your life. My brother is a lucky man, and I guess that makes me lucky by proxy.” She laughed. “They’re proof that it works. The whole love thing.” She shrugged. “At least for some people, right?”
She snatched the suit from his hand before he could respond. “I guess I better find a secluded spot to change. Meet you in the water?”
She headed back toward the trees and left Ash standing there to overthink her assessment of Colt and Jenna’s relationship. At least for some people. Did that mean Willow didn’t see the whole love thing working for her? For them ?
Ash shook his head, effectively shaking away the thought…for now. They were still stretching the bubble of the fairy tale. As far as he knew, Cinderella or her coach or whatever still hadn’t seen the stroke of midnight, which meant Ash wasn’t going to waste time worrying about the real world. Not when Willow was somewhere in the trees shedding her clothes and putting on a swimsuit to dive into a waterfall…with him.
Ash climbed down to the small beach area that was surprisingly still empty and stripped down right there. After all, he’d snuck on his swim shorts beneath his jeans while Willow had made the hike to the campsite’s not entirely horrible —her words—public restroom to freshen up after their prolonged morning coffee.
He kicked his clothes and boots into a pile next to the backpack and stretched his arms overhead, tilting his head up and closing his eyes as he basked in the warmth of the sun.
“Pink-flamingo swim trunks,” he heard in Willow’s familiar teasing lilt.
“Are you surprised at my need for atten—” Ash teased back as he opened his eyes. But then his mouth went dry, and he couldn’t even finish his last syllable. Hell, he’d lost all ability to form words, let alone string them together into coherent sentences because Willow wasn’t simply standing there, teasing him about his pink flamingos. She was standing there in an emerald-green bikini top that covered her breasts with nothing more than two well-placed triangles of fabric. And the bottoms were more of a tiny pair of shorts that he knew—once she turned around—he’d see hugging her ass in the best possible way.
“What’s the matter, cowboy?” she asked, striding closer so she could toss her clothes on the pile with his. Then she tugged on the tied drawstring of the aforementioned pink-flamingo trunks. “Cat got your tongue?”
Ash nodded because…words. What were words again?
“You’re probably wondering why I even had a suit with me if I was going to be holed up at a horse ranch writing a song.”
He cleared his throat. “No,” he managed, but the word sounded more like a growl. “Not wondering. Just. Enjoying.”
Willow laughed, then ran her index finger along the waistband of his swimsuit, and Ash sucked in a breath. “The songwriter at a loss for words,” she mused. “This is fun. And because I want you to know how wowed I am by this place, the reason I brought a suit was because Colt told me about a swimming hole a short ride from his guest ranch that they take guests to for a day trip. But I’ve seen photos on the ranch’s website. The place is cute, but…”
“Mine is better?” he asked, his voice low and rough as his ability to speak finally returned.
She bit down on her bottom lip and nodded.
“Just so you know,” Ash added. “We’re never leaving this place. We live here now. And I’m burning the rest of your clothes so that all you have left is that green work of art.” And because two could play her daring little game, he took it one step further and dipped his finger just beneath the hip-hugging band of her tiny green shorts, gliding it across her soft, pale flesh. Her breath hitched, and Ash gave himself a mental pat on the back. He leaned in, his lips and stubble trailing across her cheek until his mouth reached her ear. “I’m not sure why this place isn’t overrun with tourists yet, but I’m going to take our lack of audience as a sign that I should probably kiss you senseless right here on this beach before our little bubble of privacy is broken.” Her whole body shivered, but just to double-check, he asked, “Is that your way of giving me permission?”
“Yes,” Willow whispered.
So he snaked his fingers into her hair, cradling her head in his palm as he dragged his lips back across her jaw until they found her mouth.
She parted her lips and moaned as his other hand reached around her backside to see—or at least feel—just how good those tiny emerald shorts hugged her soft yet toned behind. In the distance he heard what sounded like children shouting, and he knew their bubble was about to burst.
“Grab on,” Ash told her, and as if she knew exactly what he intended, Willow hooked her arms round his neck, and he grabbed her by the thighs, lifting her onto his hips, her pelvis gliding over his erection. He swore, knowing that there would be no satisfaction as far as the things Willow Morgan did to him. At least not here. So he kissed her hard and deep, their lips making a promise to finish what they started when they got back to the campsite. For now, a plunge into a cold swimming hole should do the trick.
Willow yelped, and Ash swore as the water hit their skin. Soon they were soaked and laughing, the kiss and their arousal giving way to something more playful and definitely more G-rated as the first of what would be many tourists emerged onto the sand where they’d just stood.