9. The Trouble with Thorns
Chapter 9
The Trouble with Thorns
Ash
M y eyes trail Ori’s figure as she disappears up the stairs. When the now unlocked door closes behind her, I release a forceful sigh and scrub my face.
Talk about an unexpected turn of events.
I never, in a million years, thought Ori and I would end up as lovers.
Or that I would turn her down for a second round.
I hurt her with my response. I saw that mischievous, sexy as fuck light go out in her eyes and the mask she wears to protect herself from assholes like me slide into place.
She handled it well, pretending it didn’t bother her to be just another night of fun—another notch on Asher Hammond’s belt.
What did Ori tell me right before I made my move? She didn’t want to be another name on my list, but I ensured she became one.
All because I can’t allow any woman too close. Not even one as mesmerizing as Oriana Thorne .
At least I was on the level with her last night, telling her the bare, brutal truth about my theories of love and romance.
She knew.
Still doesn’t negate one undisputed fact.
I. Am. An. Asshole.
With a grunt, I shove on my jeans and boots, rolling my neck to work out the kinks.
Back to my previously scheduled life.
My boots thud against the stairs, erasing any possibility of entering Black Lotus unseen. Wouldn’t have mattered anyway, since both Braden and Zane are lounging on the reception area couch, wearing smug, matching, ‘cat who ate the canary’ grins when I walk in.
They plan on having a field day with this one.
I plan on cutting them off at the pass.
“Don’t even say it,” I warn, pointing at each of them in turn. “Not one fucking word.”
Braden chuckles as he pulls out his phone to check the time. “I’m heading next door for some coffee. Unless you’d rather go in my stead, considering how you and Oriana have made up.”
“Made up in all the right ways,” Zane pipes in, earning a dark glower from me. “Don’t deny it, man. You reek of sex.”
It’s hardly the first time I’ve done the deed without a shower to wash away the previous night’s festivities, but somehow, Zane’s words rub me the wrong way.
Especially when it comes to Ori.
I know he’s pressing my buttons. Here’s hoping he catches the energy wafting off me and stops. Immediately.
No such luck .
Zane snickers, resting his hands behind his head, a mocking grin on his face. “Those library types are always the wild ones. You’d never think it to look at her, but I guarantee that woman has some serious tricks up her sleeve.”
“Watch your damn mouth,” I mutter, fixing him with a no-holds-barred glare.
Zane’s eyes widen at my tone, and he throws up his hands in surrender. “Shit. Take it easy. I didn’t mean anything by it. Hell, the woman is gorgeous. If I had a chance to bang her?—”
My hand reaches out to smack him against the back of his skull before my brain can even contemplate why. “I said, shut the fuck up about Ori.”
“Leave it alone, Zane.” As usual, Braden steps into his role as the official peacekeeper of the shop.
“Whatever,” Zane replies, his mouth set in a tight line.
“Hey Ash,” Braden says, pointing toward his office. “I need your opinion on my custom piece. Want to take a look?”
Cracking my knuckles, I roll my shoulders and follow Braden to the back of the shop, catching Zane’s glower as I pass.
Once inside my brother’s office, I collapse into a chair with a loud exhale.
“You okay?” Braden inquires, leaning against the desk.
I shrug. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
Judging by his expression, my brother doesn’t believe a word coming out of my mouth. “You sure about that? I know Zane’s a little crass, but you don’t normally take his head off like that.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, eyes squeezed shut as if that alone could stop the aggravation from spilling over. “I don’t appreciate the shit Zane said about Ori. He doesn’t know her.”
“And you do?”
Must be my brother’s turn to tread on thin ice.
“Not you too, man.”
Braden shakes his head and gives me a light punch in the arm. “Nah, it’s not my business, although Zane is right. Oriana is a beauty. Wicked smart, too.”
Does he think I overlooked those parts of her after spending hours locked in her arms?
I scowl at Braden, but his grin only widens at my obvious discomfort over this topic.
Brothers. Can’t live with ‘em, illegal to bury them in a shallow, unmarked grave.
“Just saying. You could do way worse than a woman of that caliber.”
“Nothing happened.” I grit out the words, my patience at its end. If Braden refuses to change the direction of our conversation, I’ll steer the train off the damn track.
Grabbing his tablet, I scan over the intricate floral and vine design.
Gotta hand it to my brother—he’s a genius with floral blackwork shading.
“My client has real pale skin, so it’s going to pop,” Braden remarks.
I know someone else with pale skin. But she doesn’t have any ink. I should know. I saw every inch of her last night.
She doesn’t need it. Her body is its own work of art.
Every inch of Oriana Thorne is luscious fruit—delicious, tempting, and fucking forbidden after last night .
No matter how much my dick and mind hate the concept.
Braden nudges me, snapping me from my thoughts. “What do you think? Yes or no? It works, right?”
I toss down the tablet and release an aggravated grunt. “Will you stop asking about last night? There is nothing between Oriana and me. Case closed.”
Braden grabs the tablet, closing out the drawing app. “I meant my design. But now I know where your head is at.”
I survive another fifteen minutes before Oriana once again pervades my brain, dancing around my thoughts like a siren beckoning me to the depths.
Last night, I was eager and willing to drown just to make the moment last.
Here’s the thing: I’ve had a lot of great sex. Copious amounts of between the sheets action. Gorgeous women of all ages and appearances. Utilized more positions and toys than a porn flick or sex store.
And I enjoy the hell out of sex. Sure, I’ve had some low points, but all together, it’s been one crazy enjoyable ride.
Then there are my hours with Oriana.
When I was with her, nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered.
But there’s no way, despite her pussy being the pinnacle of perfection, that it’s affected me this much.
I’m working it up in my brain, making it bigger than it is .
Creating this narrative that fucking her was next level, voodoo shit that has turned me upside down.
Fucking. Love the term, hate it regarding Ori.
That’s it. I have to lay eyes on her. Maybe then, in the light of morning, I’ll see her for what she really is: a beautiful, smart woman who has given me the go-ahead on my speakeasy dream.
A friend who will celebrate the speakeasy’s opening with a gratis cocktail.
Someone I can wave to and smile at when we pass on our way to separate lives.
Nothing more.
Then, I’ll be able to stop fixating on last night.
Simple.
Scrubbing my face with my hands, I toss down my pencil and walk toward the front door.
All I need is some caffeine, a shower, and possibly a lobotomy.
“I’m getting some coffee next door. You want some, Zane?”
Yes, I make it a point to direct my question to him. It serves as my unofficial apology for being a dick earlier.
Zane shakes his head, his gaze intense as he dials in his tattoo machine, meticulously preparing for his next client. “I’m good.”
That’s a lie, if his short, clipped tone is anything to go by, and it’s my fault for his bad mood this morning.
With a hard exhale, I close the distance between us. “Hey man, I’m sorry I lost it on you earlier. I just …”
But I don’t finish my statement because, truthfully, I have no idea what to say. Myriads of emotions flood my mind, and I have zero idea what to do with any of them .
“It’s cool, man.” Zane looks up, a reassuring smile crossing his face. “We’re good.”
Just like that, our beef is forgotten.
If only the memory of Oriana Thorne’s curves were that easy to erase.
Before I head to Ori’s store, I duck downstairs and take a quick shower in the basement bathroom. It’s in serious need of an upgrade, but at least it’s this side of clean and the water pressure is good.
Besides, Zane mentioned I reek of sex, and I have a full day of clients. Despite my reputation, I prefer not to lead with that.
I pause for a moment outside the shower, the bar of soap and a shop towel in my hand. I still smell Ori on my skin, the faint hint of her moisturizer and heat.
Even hours later, she lingers there.
At least until I wash the last remnants of her away.
I need to get out of my head. Correction. I need to get her out of my head.
Hopefully, seeing her again will shake back into place all the shit that’s now jangling around in my brain.
Twenty minutes later, I push open the door of One More Page, the bells jingling as I step across the threshold.
Sucking in a breath, I wait for the woman of the hour to appear.
No such luck, as Mina pokes her head out from behind a bookshelf and shoots me a coy grin. “Asher Hammond. ”
“Morning, Mina.”
The willowy blonde walks toward me, and I give her an appreciative once-over. She’s a beauty—a true California girl who’s never set foot in California.
But despite Mina’s obvious good looks, she doesn’t do it for me.
One, because I know Braden has a thing for her, although he will never admit that fact. Per him, she’s too young. Too innocent. And that is too much of a dangerous combination.
But I also know my brother has banged women far younger than Mina. Hell, she’s twenty-five, not eighteen.
But the real reason her long and lean looks don’t do it for me?
I've recently come to realize that I have a type.
A particular kind of woman who makes me weak in the knees and causes my heart to do things no heart should ever do. A woman who takes my breath away and occupies my every thought.
A woman I can’t allow myself to go near again.
And that's a fact I must keep reminding myself.
Every damn second.
“Two days in a row. That’s a new record. Cup of joe for you?” Mina asks, arching one well-manicured brow at me before heading toward the coffee bar.
It’s hard to determine if the woman is digging for information, but for now, I opt to play it off.
“I hear you serve the best coffee in town.”
“Among other things. I’m surprised to see you here again so soon. Out of character for you. Or is this your new normal?”
Her wink solidifies it .
She suspects something. Now, to determine how much and in what detail.
Hey, women talk about this kind of crap. I know, because I’m often the topic of conversation where the women of this town are concerned.
I tug a hand through my hair and chuckle. “You caught me. I have an ulterior motive this morning.”
“Knew it.” She bites her lower lip to keep from laughing, but her eyes dance with amusement.
Sorry, kid. I’m not caving that easily.
“I need some books on the Roaring '20s. Topics like architecture, fashion, food. That sort of thing. I figured you fine ladies would be the people to ask.”
Mina nods, the sarcastic gleam falling from her eyes. “Oh, I assumed you were here to visit with Ori. Guess she signed the paperwork for you?”
I rock back on my heels and shove my hands in my pockets, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Now I can’t hold up my end of a basic conversation with a woman I don’t want to sleep with?
“Well, not yet, but she’s agreed to the idea. I’ve been dreaming about this for a long time, so I want to dive in right away. Why wait, right?”
“I can’t wait to see what you come up with. It’s going to be so much fun.” Mina hands me a cup of coffee and motions to the far side of the store. “Grab a seat and I’ll look. See what I can find.”
I relax into a buttery soft leather armchair and take a swig of the coffee.
Braden was right. Best damn coffee in town.
A few customers mill around the store, browsing the racks of books, while soft jazz flows out of the speakers and a fire crackles warmly from the stove in the reading nook.
I get it now. There is a comfort and warmth within these walls, a haven from the busy and often blustery world.
Then again, knowing the owner, I’m not surprised.
Oriana Thorne is a glowing fire after a hard day.
Once again, I’m thinking about her.
I grab a hardcover off the table and peruse the pages. It’s about local legends, and trust me, there are tons of ghost stories in these mountains.
I should know. My life is one of them, and not because of encounters with the spirit world.
My ghost prefers a different type of haunting, taking up residence in my soul and ensuring no one else stands a chance.
Her name is Lucille, and her presence is everywhere, permeating all the layers of my heart and reminding me what happens when you dare to love someone that much.
After she ripped my world apart ten years ago, I mired in self-loathing for a while, until my friends grabbed me by the collar and talked some sense into me.
They reminded me of her flawed character and questionable past, all things I overlooked because of my hopeless adoration.
To them, Lucille was like a bad case of fleas who needed to be shaken off without a second glance. Then, I needed to move on and live my best life—the ultimate payback.
Somehow, I don’t think my morphing into the town player is quite what they had in mind.
But I’m happy and I am living my best life .
I don’t need one woman by my side when I have a line of them waiting for their chance.
Variety is the spice of life, right?
Plus, when you don’t get attached emotionally, you’re safe. Getting your heart smashed is not something I recommend, especially not when it can be just as easily avoided.
Lucille ripped my soul to shreds and no matter how much I’d love to forget that massacre, it’s burned into my brain.
Etched like a tattoo, a permanent reminder of that one time, I led with my heart and left a fool.
I’ll never tread that path again. Not for any woman.
Mina perches on the couch across from me, placing several books on the oak coffee table. “We don’t have anything specific to speakeasies, but I’m sure we can order something. These books delve into the ’20s as a whole, covering everything from architecture to Prohibition. Maybe you can glean something from them.”
“This is a good start. Thanks.” I flip through the pages of one book, chancing a few glances toward the back of the store.
I know Ori’s office is back there, which means she’s likely back there. Avoiding me.
I fucking hate that idea.
Mina returns with a laptop in her arms and shows me the screen. “Check this out. It covers Art Deco design, and the lost art of the speakeasy.”
“It’s perfect. Damn, you’re good.”
“Wasn’t me. Ori found it.”
So, she is here, which means she’s definitely avoiding me.
Mina, oblivious to my inner monologue, prattles on about the topics covered in the book. All I can manage is a forced smile, my gaze drifting repeatedly to the back of the store.
After last night, she’s going to pretend she doesn’t know me? What nonsense is that?
Then it hits me.
It’s the exact same nonsense I’ve been telling myself all morning. Only difference? I’m not used to being on this side of the situation and I can say without a doubt, I don’t like it here.
“Ori is a regular guru with research,” Mina explains, chuckling as she types into the laptop. “Give that woman any topic and she’ll return with piles of information. Anyway, she told me to order it for the store. You can browse through it whenever you like.”
I tear my gaze from the rear of the store and send Mina a wink. “Knew I’d come to the right place.”
Mina nods, her gaze on the screen. “We’re pretty accommodating here.”
“So Braden tells me.”
Now it’s my turn to bite back a laugh at the pink flush spreading across Mina’s cheeks.
Damn, she’s got it bad.
And for her, that ain’t good.
“I’m glad he approves. He’s generally so quiet in here,” Mina stammers.
Probably because you make him nervous, too.
I shake my head and take another swig of coffee. “Braden is shy. Shyer than me, anyway. But he’s a damn good man.”
Bragging on my brother isn’t a rarity, although I hope Mina doesn’t catch on to the fact that I’m prolonging this conversation, and it has nothing to do with her crush on Braden.
She fixes me with her light blue gaze. “He always said the same thing about you, but until recently, Ori held a far different opinion.”
I snort, running a hand over my jaw. “Glad I could convince her otherwise.”
Mina crosses her arms tightly over her chest, her eyes narrowing as she holds my gaze. “I bet you did.”
Shit. Time to backtrack.
“That is not how I meant it. I’m glad Ori is on my side now, or I’m on hers. We’re on the same side.”
Now I’m babbling like a moron.
Judging by Mina’s stilted expression, she isn’t buying what I’m selling.
I take pride in being one of the good guys in Sparkwood, but recent events make me wonder about the truth in that claim.
Seems the first thing people assume when they see me is how I’m a good-looking good time. One who has been sampled by countless women, with countless more in the wings.
A shallow facade covering a broken and dark pool where no one dares to tread. Mainly because I deny everyone entrance.
I damn near let Ori in last night. There was a moment after our third round, where she drifted off against my chest. She lay there, so warm against my skin, her breathing soft and even.
I stroked her hair, dropping kisses to the sweet-scented strands, and imagined a moment, decades from now, where we lay together just like this. After years of love, arguments, the highs and lows of life, we still found peace in each other’s arms.
I only allowed it to linger a few seconds, but for that brief instant, I felt whole again.
Or I just read into something that wasn’t there, much like I did with Lucille.
Tossing the book on the table, I crack my knuckles and steal another glance down the darkened back hallway of the bookstore.
“She’s not back there,” Mina states, her mouth a thin line.
So much for flying under the radar.
“You mean Ori?”
Mina scoffs and wags her finger at me. “Yes. The woman you’ve been looking for this entire time.”
Silence fills the space between Mina and me as her words settle over me like a blanket.
The woman I’ve been looking for this entire time.
What the hell is wrong with everyone this morning? Seems the staff of both shops are determined to marry me off to the petite bookstore owner.
Well, they need to settle down. Ori and I spent one night together. It hardly qualifies as marriage material.
“Did Ori say something happened between us?”
Mina shakes her head. “Not a word, but there was that unfortunate incident with the vacuum cleaner. What else could leave such a mark on her neck, right?”
I sputter my coffee, earning a wicked grin from Mina as I recall the hickey I gifted Ori the night before. “Shit. Forgot about that. Did you mention it to her?”
“Kind of hard to ignore, considering it was front and center on Ori’s throat. She grabbed her purse and bolted home to change into a turtleneck. Damn vacuums.”
I glide my tongue ring along my lower lip, chuckling. “Vacuums are known to possess a fierce temperament at times.”
“Hopefully it will fade away before any of her dates take notice.”
What the hell?
I cut my gaze from the far wall to Mina’s face, trying to gauge if she’s serious with that statement. “I didn’t think she was dating anyone.”
“She’s not, but there have been plenty of men asking her out. Can you blame them?”
Okay, she’s baiting me and damn it all, it’s working. I tap my boot along the floor as the aggravation flows through my body.
Time to slide on my ‘I don’t give a fuck’ face. After all, it’s not like my bed has been cold.
“Can’t blame them at all. She’s one hell of a woman.”
“Not the love ‘em and leave ‘em type, though. Ori is a real romantic. A firm believer in true love and happily ever after. Just waiting for the right guy to come along and sweep her off her feet.”
“Look—”
Mina waves her hand, dismissing whatever cockamamie excuse I planned to employ. “Heavens, I didn’t mean you . Ori isn’t your type. Not your style. Not your vibe. I know that, and so does she. It’s your loss, though, because the woman is fabulous.”
Tell me something I don’t know.
Mina stacks the books in a neat pile, smiling at a customer when they enter. “Besides, you’re not her type, either.”
Time for me to leave because now my temper wants a piece of the action.
I sure as hell was Ori’s type last night.
And she was my every fantasy come to life.
Grabbing my coffee, I stand up and offer Mina a mock salute. “I’d better get back, but thanks for ordering that book. Let me know it comes in.”
“Will do. See you guys at the festival.”
Thank God. A truly benign topic.
Our holiday festival is an outdoor street fair hosted every year by the powers that be in Sparkwood. Yes, outdoors. In winter. In upstate New York.
While the residents of Sparkwood know how to have fun, no one ever accused us of possessing a lick of common sense.
“Absolutely. Wouldn’t miss that tradition.”
Mina grins at me. “Ori thinks we’re all nuts for hosting a festival outside in the freezing cold.”
“Maybe we can convince her otherwise.”
“Maybe you have a better chance of that,” Mina replies, her eyes crinkling with thinly veiled amusement. “I have to ring up a customer.”
Do I let Mina have the last word? Yes, because if she’s anything like her boss, she’s got an arsenal of comebacks at the ready.
Of course, no one has a mouth like Oriana Thorne.
No one.
For the first time, I leave One More Page as a friend. This concept should reassure me, but I’m more confused than ever as questions swirl in my brain .
How many men have asked Ori out? How many offers has she accepted? How long until a man does swoop in and yank her from the market?
And why the fuck do I care so much?
I replay last night’s events over and over until I’m so tangled up in emotions that I’m tempted to pick the lock to Ori’s office and await her return.
Then, I’ll take exactly thirty seconds to sink inside her and finish what my brother interrupted this morning.
Not her type, my ass. I’ll make her beg for more, all the while screaming my name.
Leave it alone, Ash. Better yet, leave her alone.
Yep, that’s the safe option.
And yet, it feels like the worst choice imaginable.