Paisley couldn’t blame the old lady for asking her if she was okay and guiding her to a seat in the diner. She had been about to pay for the coffee and cinnamon roll she had ordered for a late afternoon meal replacement, but her wallet wasn’t in her purse.
Tiana, the owner of the diner, smiled and told her it was on the house. Paisley thanked her and promised to bring money in as soon as she located her wallet.
The week—or her life, for that matter—couldn’t get any worse.
“You look like you need someone to talk to, dearie.”
The elderly woman—Miss Molly, town matriarch—leaned toward her and rested her paper-skinned hands on top of Paisley’s. Paisley stared into the woman’s kind eye, trying to smile at the eye patch the woman wore on the other eye. The patch was black with yellow smiley faces all over it, but every fourth one or so had a tongue sticking out.
“Do I?” Paisley chuckled. Anyone who knew her would know she was losing it. She wasn’t the sort of woman to chuckle.
“You probably don’t want to talk, and I can respect that. But come on down to my place down the street and put your worries in my worry jar. That’ll fix ya. It fixed your sisters up quite nicely.”
Paisley smiled, but the facial expression felt forced. Cracked. Broken.
If she inscribed all of her worries onto little squares of paper, the universe would explode when Miss Molly performed her “release them into the universe” ceremony.
As a means of dismissal, she told Miss Molly she would do her best to swing by, but Miss Molly didn’t look convinced. Nonetheless, it made a good transition for leaving.
Paisley needed a distraction, and the hipster’s version of The Universe had handed her the perfect one. Maybe she wasn’t ready to admit to anyone that she actually wanted to see Asher when she was at her lowest, but since she was pretty sure she left her wallet there when she was cooking, she sort of had to go there.
She applied lipstick—guaranteed to improve her mood—and straightened the collar on her blouse. She popped in a mint to cover her coffee breath (not that she expected to get close enough to Asher for him to smell her breath…) and walked to the front door.
Asher opened the door before she could even knock. His smile had a direct link to the accelerator of her heart. Her palms dampened—and so did other parts of her as he looked her up and down.
“I heard you pull up,” he offered as an explanation of his prompt attention to the door.
She swallowed.
“Did you come to make me dinner again? Because I had hoped that next time you cooked for me, you’d be wearing the apron. Only the apron.”
Her knees threatened to give out on her. She couldn’t remember another time in her life when she had been so easily turned on by a man. Usually her encounters were scratching-an-itch/relieving-stress types of transactions.
This was more.
She needed to avoid him. Or jump him. One or the other.
“I’m not really the wearing-aprons type. I had to buy that for my little demonstration.”
“You should at least wear it one more time to get your money’s worth out of it.”
His eyes twinkled and her heart pounded.
Paisley cleared her throat.
“I think I left my wallet here. Did you see it? Thin, brown with pink stitching?”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t sound familiar. Want to come in and take a look?”
She accepted his invitation, careful to avoid brushing against him as she entered his home, but unable to avoid the zing of energy that passed between them, jumping through the empty space to send shivers up her spine.
“Pretty sure I would have left it over here on the counter.”
She poked around, but didn’t find it.
She turned around to watch him dig through the couch. She considered stopping him—she had only sat there toward the end of her time there and would have set it down long before then—but the view of him leaning over was too good to pass up. What. An. Ass. On. Him.
Her cheeks burned when he twisted around and caught her staring.
“Is this it?” He held out her wallet.
“Oh, thank you so much. I was mortified at the diner when I tried to pay for my coffee and cinnamon roll and realized it was missing.”
He brought it over to her, and somehow she managed to have a thought beyond the memory of what he looked like naked, which was something she desperately wanted to relive.
No. She didn’t want that. Her erratic emotions were screwing with her head.
To be honest, she preferred the lustful thoughts over the other thoughts.
She always left her wallet in her purse, and she remembered having her purse with her that evening. She couldn’t think of a reason why she would have taken it out.
Without thinking, she opened it. She immediately noticed that while her license and credit cards were in place, the cash was gone.
“Something missing?” Asher scratched the back of his head and studied her, his face serious and concerned.
“Oh, it’s no biggie. I thought I had some cash in there, but I’m probably mistaken. Thanks for finding it for me.”
She didn’t know why she told the lie. She knew she had a fifty dollar bill in there, plus a couple of ones. But she couldn’t stand making him stress about the fact that someone in his family had stolen from her.
Dark clouds passed over his face. His previously jovial, friendly smile turned to a foreboding frown, and she had the urge to run. She also had the urge to reach out and gather him in her embrace. Clearly these urges were conflicting and irrational.
“Do you smell that?” he asked, catching her off-guard.
She sniffed the air. Now that he mentioned it, the unmistakable odor of skunky marijuana drifted into the room.
“Smells like pot.” She stated the obvious, then winced as he bolted up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Loud yelling came from upstairs. A slamming door. A scream.
Paisley ran up the stairs, not thinking about what she might find, only knowing that she couldn’t abandon Asher with whatever situation was occurring.
She followed the shouting. Asher was in the process of watching a teen boy fumble into his shoes as Izzy screamed at Asher for being such an “overprotective dickhead!”
Paisley fanned away the smell of marijuana that filled the room.
As soon as the boy had escaped past Asher, with a firm warning to never show his face again, Izzy moved to a small loveseat in her room, staring at the wall behind Asher as he ranted and raved. And then she burst out laughing.
“You think this is funny?” he hollered.
Paisley immediately felt compassion for the poor girl. She had been through so much. She needed warmth, not yelling. The yelling she expected. Compassion, she wouldn’t.
“Ash, she’s stoned. Everything is funny.”
He whipped around to face her, his nostrils flaring and his eyes bulging.
“Do you think I don’t know that she’s stoned? Do you think I shouldn’t be outraged that my thirteen-year-old niece is smoking weed in my house? That she was alone with a boy in her room? Please, Paisley, why don’t you tell me how I should handle this?”
Paisley knew she had overstepped once again. Seemed to be a problem she’d always have.
“I didn’t mean to interfere.”
She chanced a glance in Izzy’s direction, and her heart died. The young girl’s laughter had passed, leaving her curled up in a ball on the couch, hugging her knees to her chest, her hoodie covering her head and most of her face, as she tried valiantly to form a protective barrier between her and her raging uncle.
Paisley’s apology had deflated a bit of the anger he directed toward her, but she knew he needed intervention.
“Want to go outside to chat for a few?” she asked, steeling herself for his reaction.
She watched as he waged a battle with himself. He had calmed enough that she hoped he saw the ball of vulnerability on the loveseat.
He nodded, started to say something to Izzy, and stopped himself. He stormed past her and she followed in his wake.
As soon as Paisley closed the door, Asher released a pent up breath and started ranting as he paced along his small front porch.
“She wasn’t alone, Pais. She was with an older boy. Another older boy—different from the one at the beach. Jesus, Paisley. She is high. Stoned. Under the influence. Don’t you think she’d have learned from her parent’s mistakes?”
“That’s not usually how it works.”
“Well it should!”
She nodded, sympathetic to his feelings. She remembered going through similar things with Harmony when Harmony was a young teen.
Paisley put a hand on Asher’s arm. He paused, but didn’t look at her. “Just try to remember how hard it was being thirteen…”
“She’s getting high and hanging out with older boys!” His muscle tightened against her palm.
“Not awesome, but maybe she’s crying out for help. Could’ve been worse.”
“Yeah, she could have died of a heroin overdose like her mother. Or she could have trouble with the law like her father. Or she could completely fuck up her life and wind up in jail, on the streets, or dead. Yeah, I think I’ll keep her locked up here if that’s what it takes to prevent any of those outcomes.”
Paisley didn’t have any advice for him. She had no clue how to handle a teenager.
His hands rolled into fists as he struggled for control.
“I don’t know how to help her.”
He had aged ten years in the last twenty minutes, and seeing him on the verge of losing it was painful. More painful than any of the other crap she’d been dealing with lately.
She sat on the step and tapped the spot beside her, inviting him to join her. He hesitated for a moment before lowering himself to the stoop next to her.
All she could hear was the gentle clatter of tree branches rubbing together in the slight breeze, punctuated by the startling zap of the electrical bug zapper on the porch behind them. All she could feel was the spark of his energy jumping from his body to hers, electrifying her in a way that made her feel alive. Fully and truly and actively alive. His shoulder barely touched hers, but she felt closer to him at that moment than she ever had with another human.
Struggling to think of something to say, she was pleased when he began to talk.
“You probably think we’re all fucked up.”
“No,” she answered, wishing she could let him climb in her head and see how she admired him for taking on so much. For his family. Just like she would.
“My brother wasn’t always like that—the way you saw him the other day.”
She waited to see if he’d continue to speak. She honored him with silence—something she had never been very good at gifting to anyone else.
“He started using when he was only a little older than Izzy, several years after our mother died.”
“How did your mother die?”
“Cancer.”
She sucked in a breath. “Mine, too.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking at her for the first time since sitting with her.
He placed a hand over hers, and she resisted the urge to melt into his side. She struggled for words.
“You must have been young when you lost your mom.”
“Yeah. Tenth grade. It was tough watching my dad lose it, my brother barely coping, and trying my best to help out like I promised my mom I would. I didn’t know why she made me promise that—they didn’t tell me she was dying. But I knew. I could see it. And I was so damned pissed that they didn’t tell me the truth so I could do a better job of preparing.”
“Is that why you dropped out? Too much sadness?”
“Sort of. My dad sunk into a deep depression and couldn’t show up to work every day. He had built this business in town and people were doing their best to stay loyal, but when he became unreliable, it left them no choice but to seek services elsewhere. I knew if we didn’t get things back on track, we’d lose everything, and I didn’t want my brother to wind up homeless. So I quit school and took over the business. Dad eventually got better, so he came back to work as soon as he could. I had blown my chance to do anything else, so I took what I had learned and started my own shop.”
“Did he get mad?”
“No,” Asher laughed low. “He gave his blessing. We had too much business for him to manage on his own, and he couldn’t stand taking orders from me, so he was more than happy to have me open a second garage.”
“Sounds like you were really close with your dad.”
“Yeah, I was. Sometimes I wonder if we left Ricky out of too much. I mean, I did everything for him, but my dad and I were the grown-ups. And Ricky was a kid without a mom who was drowning. We didn’t see it. I should have seen it.”
Paisley placed her other hand over the hand covering hers.
“You were a kid yourself, Asher.”
“That’s not an excuse. Ricky’s life was shit after our mother died. He got a girl pregnant when he was only fifteen, and he was already heavily into smoking pot and popping pills. And then his girlfriend—Izzy’s mother—died of an overdose. He’s gone downhill since.”
“When did that happen?”
“Five years ago.”
“So Izzy was only 8 when she lost her mom? How awful.”
“Yeah.”
“I lost my mom a little over a year ago, and I don’t usually feel okay. I can’t imagine not having her as I was growing up.”
“I’m trying to understand what she’s going through.” He paused. “I fucked up in there, didn’t I?”
She smiled. “I’m the wrong person to ask. I know nothing.”
“I fucked up.”
“Asher, you showed that you care about the decisions she makes. You showed her that you have rules and boundaries. You showed her that you’re willing to protect her. I don’t think you did a bad thing at all.”
He turned his head toward her, and his eyes caught the light of the rising moon. From this close, she had the perfect view of his hard jawline, of the subtle scruff covering his jaw, and of the tiny scar on his cheek.
She’d have to ask him about that scar, but for now…
He leaned forward, his lips hovering over hers.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he promised, and her lips parted to argue, but opted to invite, instead.
“Now is your last opportunity to stop me.” His husky voice sent jolts of desire to her belly, and she knew if she tried to stand at that moment, she’d fall flat on her face.
Only something told her that he’d catch her if she fell.
And that she’d never want him to let her go.
“Do you hear me arguing?” she muttered, sucking in her bottom lip as she waited with anticipation of what he was about to deliver.
His lips met hers in a promise of something more than anything they had shared before.
Last time was all about two strangers finding a release.
This was about letting each other in. About touching soul-to-soul. About revealing more than what was beneath their clothing.
Lost in the pleasure of his lips and tongue exploring hers, she almost didn’t hear the door open.
“Eww, you guys!”
Isabel’s voice startled them both, and when they jumped apart, Paisley hit her head on the side rail of the steps.
She rubbed her head as she watched Asher’s attention go to his niece.
“What are you doing out of your room?”
“I’m hungry. And I want to know how long I’m grounded for.”
To his credit, Asher took the time to take a deep breath before responding.
“Was that your first time smoking pot?”
Izzy nodded.
“Is it going to be your last?”
She shrugged. Paisley bit her tongue.
“Is it going to be your last?” Asher offered Izzy the opportunity to give him the correct answer, his tone even but firm.
“Whatever, Ash. Sure, fine. It’ll be my last. I’ll die an innocent kid who never did anything fun. Do we have any chips?”
“Go sit on the couch. I’ll be in in a minute.”
As Izzy huffed and puffed and slammed the door, Paisley tested the load-bearing potential of her legs. They worked.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Asher said, reaching for her hips and turning her to face him.
She didn’t swat him away. She couldn’t. Her body acted on its own—giving him her full attention and as much frontal contact as he wanted.
“You’ve got to take care of her. She’s your first priority.”
He blinked slowly, lowering his head in an expression that made him look so vulnerable she had to fight the urge to offer to take care of the situation for him.
But they weren’t partners in this or in anything else. And she had to let him find his own way.
“Now that I’ve poured my soul out to you, can I get that date?”
She laughed, not expecting those words.
“I guess you owe me one now.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Call me.”
She felt him watch her as she walked to her car. Before she got in, she had an idea she wanted to run by him.
“Why don’t you have Izzy come work for me at the ice cream shop? I could use an extra hand.”
His face turned pensive for a moment before he smiled and nodded. “I’ll do that,” he promised.
Paisley smiled as she drove away. She wanted to give Izzy something to do to keep her out of trouble, but she couldn’t help thinking that having Izzy help her out would mean getting to see Asher from time to time, too.