5. A Tent
A Tent
Manning the booth went better than I thought it would—not that I had high expectations to begin with.
I made a few sales and, when I took a small break, found a woman who makes artisan soaps infused with magic.
Overall, a good day. Since Wednesday went so well, I feel more confident as I stroll into the market the next day.
And then I see Ash.
Putting a tent up over my table like he owns the damn place.
I stomp over and glare at him. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”
“Exactly what it looks like, Goldilocks.” He turns from his handiwork, grinning at me with all the self-satisfied glee in the world. “Putting up a tent.”
“Thank you, genius, I can see that. I meant, what are you doing putting up a tent around my booth when no one asked you to? For no apparent reason?”
“It’s supposed to snow today. I didn’t want all your merchandise getting ruined so I got here early with two tents—one for you, and one for me.”
The pure kindness of the act threatens to steal the breath from my lungs. He may have ulterior motives. He may be using this as an excuse to see me, as an excuse to talk to me, as an excuse to continue this antagonistic-but-somehow-mostly-playful banter we’ve got going on.
But the look in those emerald-green eyes says he genuinely cares and wants me protected. Happy.
It rips at the part of me that feels so goddamn lonely I can barely stand it. Fuck, Ash, why do you have to make it so difficult to protect you? I can’t let you get hurt, too.
I pick at the white fabric. “No one asked you to do this. What if I had brought my own tent?”
He shrugs, grin falling just a tad, which makes my chest hurt. “I don’t see one, so I think that’s a moot point.”
“Surprised you know what that word means.”
“Gigantic brute school is very thorough when it comes to vocabulary.”
“Apparently.” I’m taken aback by how easy it is to banter with him. How fun. “Well, if you’re all done then, can you leave? I don’t want you scaring away potential customers.”
“I don’t know,” he says, voice dripping with sex and good God it’s attractive. “I think I deserve a thank you for my hard work.”
I cross my arms, his eyes following the movement. The hunger in them causes my body to tremble. “I’m deciding not to call this vandalism and report you to whomever oversees this outfit. That’s your thank you.”
“May I request a different kind of thank you?” His voice lowers, the moment of lost confidence nowhere to be seen.
I inhale sharply. “You may, but that doesn’t mean I’ll agree to it.”
“That’s fair.” He comes in close, but not touching. Never touching. I get the feeling that’s the line he won’t cross. Not until I tell him to. The thought makes me shiver. “Come with me somewhere tomorrow morning.”
I scoff, even though the idea of going anywhere with Ash Cedar causes an unwelcome frisson of glee to slide up my spine. “Does that usually work? No details, no real plan? Just ‘come with me’?”
“Work in what way?” His half smile curves up on one side, and suddenly I want that beard scratching every inch of me. “Are you implying something untoward?”
A cool breeze stirs the tent, bringing with it the scent of snow. And him.
Instead of answering, I glare at him. Maybe if I turn mute suddenly he’ll think I’m insane and simply go away.
“So, whaddya say, Goldilocks?” He smirks and gives me a nonchalant shrug. “I mean, I can always take the tent back down.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
The cocky expression on his face says he absolutely would. I heave a giant breath and throw my hands in the air. “Fine! I’ll accompany you to whatever utterly archaic activity you have planned to say thank you for doing something no one asked you to do.”
He shifts, drawing attention to the strain of his shirt across his chest. His presence is overwhelming. I need to get him away from me before I do something ridiculous like hit him for being so attractive.
Or worse. Kiss him.
“I’ll need your phone number. So I can come and get you in the morning.”
“Absolutely not!” I shake my head and step back. “Why don’t you just tell me when and where to be, and I’ll show up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?”
“Because I’m not an idiot. I do that, you won’t show up.” He chuckles, obnoxiously warm and bubbly and bright. “Give me your phone or I’ll stand here all goddamn day bothering your customers until you do.”
Fuck you, you giant monster.
I hesitate for a beat—two—before I finally give in. Seems I can’t say no to him as easily as I like to think.
As I hand him my phone, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m making both the biggest mistake of my life and the best decision I’ve ever made.