IAN DRAGGED HIMSELF out of bed at ten the next morning. Usually he never slept that late. He couldn’t. But usually he didn’t remodel an entire bathroom in one day and then fuck his new girlfriend three times in one evening and then stay up until two in the morning to have phone sex with her. A man needed his eight hours of sleep after such an eventful day. He rose from bed and pulled on yesterday’s jeans and a white T-shirt with the words Asher Construction in strong black letters across the back.
He was halfway down the stairs to the kitchen when he heard the sounds of movement downstairs.
“You back for more already?” Ian called down the steps as he stretched and yawned.
“More what?” his father, Dean Asher, called back. “Or do I not want to know? Although I think I know.”
Ian paused on the stairs, winced and rubbed his forehead.
“Ian?”
“Hi, Dad. I forgot you were coming by this morning,” Ian said as he squared his shoulders and made his way down to the living room.
“Apparently so. You up for skiing today?”
“I will be. Give me a minute.”
“Take all the time you need.”
His father was a young-looking fifty-six with pale blond hair very gradually turning gray. Ian remembered last year at the opening day of the local baseball team Asher Construction sponsored that his dad had worn a team T-shirt and a ball cap. One of the coaches had assumed Ian and his father were actually brothers instead of father and son. Ian could only pray he aged as well as his father. But for all the good genes, Dad was still very much Dad and Dad did not look happy with his son this morning.
“Coffee?” His fathered handed him a steaming cup. “Hope you don’t mind I made a pot.”
“Don’t mind,” Ian said. “Thank you. I needed this.”
“I believe it. You had a late night?” Dean Asher raised his eyebrow.
“Sort of.”
“More than sort of, I think. You should clean up after yourself a little better.” His father nodded toward the corner of the living room where a condom wrapper lay on the bare floor where he’d fucked Flash after their little photo session. He’d thrown away the condom but must have been too preoccupied with her beautiful naked body to pick up the foil wrapper after they’d finished.
“Oops,” Ian said. “You got me. Your son has sex sometimes.”
“Where did I go wrong? Anyone I know?” His father took a big sip of his own coffee.
Ian walked over to the sink and turned the water on. He splashed his face with cool water and then cupped his hands to wet his hair with it.
“Veronica Redding,” Ian said as he grabbed a dishtowel off the rack to dry his face. He dropped the dishtowel onto the counter, leaned back and waited for his father to pronounce judgment.
“Veronica Redding? You mean Flash Redding? Our welder?”
“That’s her. You sound surprised.”
“I am. For a couple reasons.”
“And those are?”
“Well...quite frankly, I didn’t think she liked men.”
Ian rolled his eyes.
“Sorry,” his father said. “Female welder, short hair, got a tattoo of a half-naked lady on her bicep...you assume things.”
“Trust me, she likes men. But as Flash would say, you’re half-right.”
“My apologies for assuming,” he said. “However, there is still the little issue of her being an employee of Asher Construction. Unless you’ve put in your two weeks’ notice without telling me about it...”
“Not me, her. She quit two days ago.”
“Did she quit because she wanted to quit? Or did she quit because you asked her to quit so you two could...”
“I had no idea she was quitting until she quit. She got a new job and she starts in January. We’re pretty much closed down for the month except for the billing department and the interior painting on the office complex in Hood River. She’ll get her last paycheck next Friday. For all intents and purposes she is an ex-employee of Asher Construction.”
“Well, that’s too bad. I hate to lose a good welder. They’re not so easy to find.”
“Don’t think of it as the company losing a welder. Think of it as your son gaining a girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend? That sounds pretty serious for two people who have been only dating two days and it better only have been two days.” His father was merciless when it came to employees violating company rules. Even when that employee was his own son.
“It’s only been two days. Sort of,” Ian said.
“Sort of? What do we mean by sort of?”
With a weary sigh, Ian sat down on the leather stool next to the kitchen bar. His father remained standing despite the presence of three other perfectly good stools to sit on. It was much too early to be having this conversation. When his father used the royal “we” nothing good was about to happen.
“What ‘we’ mean is that Flash and I have had feelings for each other for a long time. We acted on it—one night only—about six months ago. I ’fessed up to Mac Brand, who told me to break it off with her or he’d get rid of both of us, and I did. It didn’t happen again. Not until after she quit. That’s what I mean by ‘sort of.’ Satisfied?”
Ian gave all his attention to his coffee while his father turned his back and stared out the window onto the deck and the snow and the mountain.
“Flash Redding is a very good welder,” his father said. “I was very happy to have her as an employee of Asher Construction. I would have liked to have had more women on the crew.”
“I wouldn’t want to do it if I were a woman,” Ian said. “Some of the shit those guys said to her would turn your hair white.”
“You’re going to turn my hair white, son.”
“What did I do now?”
His father turned around and placed his hands flat on the counter, leaning over like he was looking at blueprints.
“I’m trying to see you and her working out,” his father said. “I’m afraid I can’t quite picture it.”
“Don’t worry. I can picture it.”
“Son, she’s a great welder and she works her ass off, but is she really the sort of girl you need to be committing yourself to?”
“Yes.”
“You sure about that?”
“Why wouldn’t I be sure about it?” Ian demanded. “I like her. She likes me. We enjoy each other’s company and you can take that to mean whatever you like.”
“Ian, I love you with all my heart. You’re my only child and—”
“Here we go.” Ian sighed into his coffee. Luckily his father didn’t hear him.
“As my only child, I can’t help but worry you’re getting in over your head here. People who date, who get into serious relationships with each other, need to be compatible. You’d agree with that, wouldn’t you?”
“More or less,” Ian said. “I know it doesn’t look like that on paper, but Flash and I have a lot in common.”
“You do? Might I ask what you two have in common? Other than...” He nodded at the condom wrapper on the floor. Ian rolled his eyes and walked over to pick it up and throw it away. Why did he always turn into a teenager around his father?
“Flash is a welder. I work in construction,” Ian said. “She likes bar food. I like bar food. She...” Ian struggled to come up with something else, something that didn’t involve sex. “Craft beer. We both love craft beer.”
“Craft beer? This is something to build a relationship on?”
“Come on, it’s Oregon. Half the marriages in this state are thanks to craft beer.”
“Probably half the children born, too.”
“At least half,” Ian said.
“Is she Catholic?”
“No, she says she was raised nothing. But she’s very respectful of religion.”
“Ian, does she even ski?”
Skiing was the other religion observed in the Asher family.
“No. She’s an artist.”
“Ah, yes, I remember her telling me that a long time ago. She’s good?”
“Incredible.”
“And you’re such a big art connoisseur you know that she’s that good?”
Ian counted to five in his mind. He loved his father. They got along great three hundred and sixty-four days out of the year. Today must be day three hundred and sixty-five.
“Okay, so you have a point. I know nothing about art. But I don’t have to know a lot about art to know she’s good. She has an installation up at the Morrison this month. That’s one of the galleries the Asher Foundation supports, right? If they think she’s good, she’s gotta be good, right?”
“The Morrison is a reputable gallery, yes. But they also have a habit of putting on shows by artists who are edgy or offensive just to get the press and more bodies in the door.”
“Flash sculpts flowers, Dad. Flowers. Climbing rosebushes made of aluminum. Eight-foot sunflowers made of copper. I hate to tell you this, but sunflowers are not edgy.”
He raised his hands in surrender.
“Forgive me. I just assumed a girl like her was—”
“A girl like what?” Ian asked as he returned to the kitchen and sat back on his stool again.
“A girl with her unique style, I mean.”
“Unique? Have you been to Portland recently? She looks like half the women in that town. Which is yet another reason to love Portland.” Ian still had his apartment in the Pearl District. He wished he was there right now. “It’s not 1965 anymore. Put the cane down, Dad. Stop yelling at kids to get off your lawn.”
“So sue me, I’m a little old-fashioned,” his father said as he poured a second cup of coffee for himself. “I just remember a time when women looked like women. I assumed my son had similar taste in ladies. Clearly I was wrong.”
“Flash looks like a woman. A woman with short hair and a few tattoos. It’s not like she’s walking around in a snowman costume or a bear suit. Not all women have to look like Miss America contestants. Most women don’t.”
“It’s fine. None of my business,” his father said. “You have your fun with her. She seems like the sort of girl you can have fun with. You’re still young enough to play around before settling down with someone nice.”
Ian should have known this was how his father would react. He hadn’t wanted to admit to himself or to Flash but he should have known...
“I hate to tell you this, but if and when I settle down, it’s going to be with her. At least I hope so.”
“You’re being selfish, Ian.”
“Selfish? For dating who I want to date? How the hell is that selfish?”
“Son, nobody knows better than I do how ugly it can get when two people from very different worlds fall in love. Now, I have set you up on dates with some of the classiest, loveliest, nicest and most accomplished women in this state and—”
“Why don’t you ask them out if you like them so much?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You’re only fifty-six, Dad. Are you ever going to get married again?”
“Some of us are a little busy running the state and managing your inheritance.”
“Busy? You take every single January off and spend it in the Mediterranean. Maybe take that month and go out on some dates. I know some of the classiest, loveliest, nicest and most accomplished women in this state, according to you. Although you should know that two out of three of those ‘classy’ ladies you’re so enamored of asked me back to their places on our very first date. So this idea you have in your head that there are two types of women—the girls you ‘have fun with’ to use your words and girls who are ‘nice’—probably needs to go because nice girls like having sex, too. Yes, I am having fun with Flash. I’m also falling in love with her. So if I were you, I’d get used to the idea of having her around, because she’s not going anywhere except to every Asher company party, every Asher fundraiser and, as long as things keep going as well as they have been, every single Asher family gathering. I might even talk her into coming to Mass with us on Christmas Eve.”
“You do that. I’d love to have her in church with us.”
“Is this a photo op for the campaign?” Ian asked.
“No, it’s the truth.”
“Good to hear it. Now...are we done here? Because if I remember correctly you are here to ski with me, and the more we talk, the less we get to ski.”
“We’ll go as soon as you’re ready.”
“Good,” Ian said, climbing off his stool. If they were skiing, then they weren’t talking about his personal life. Not talking about his personal life was his favorite thing to do with his father.
“Son?” his father said before Ian was halfway to the door.
“Yeah?” He turned around.
“I do like Flash. I want you to know that. I don’t want you to think I dislike your girlfriend. I like her very much. You caught me a little off guard. That’s all.”
“Glad you like her. You should like her,” Ian said.
“Your mother...” Dean Asher said, and paused before going on. “Your mother had a very hard time trying to fit in with my family. I wouldn’t want someone you love going through anything like that. I wouldn’t want you going through that, either.”
“Do you regret marrying her?”
His father looked up at him in shock.
“Never. I regret what happened after, yes. But not marrying her. I would never regret that. I have you, after all. Ivy gave me you. And even if she hadn’t, even if we’d never had children... No, I wouldn’t have regretted marrying her.”
“My mother wasn’t the sort of woman your parents wanted you to marry, right? Just remember that every time you see me with Flash.”
His father nodded.
“I’ll remember that. I’ll remember that, and I’ll try very hard to get used to the idea of having a daughter-in-law named ‘Flash.’”
“She also answers to Veronica, you know.”
“Veronica. I’ll call her that instead. Good Catholic name. Named for Saint Veronica?”
“Named for the girl in the Archie comics.”
“I’m going to pretend it was for Saint Veronica.”
“You can do that,” Ian said. “But you really should go look at Flash’s stuff at the Morrison when you get a chance. She’s very talented. You’ll be impressed.”
“I’ll make a note of it. In the meantime, I’ll stay out of it. You’re a grown man.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Now hurry up and get ready or I’m leaving without you.”
“Going,” Ian said. He made it two-thirds of the way to the door when his father said his name again.
“Yes, Dad?”
“You weren’t kidding? Two out of three of those ladies I set you up with tried to get you back to their places on the first date?”
“Two out of three, and no, I’m not kidding. Disappointed?”
“Very. If they’d gone out with me, it would have been three out of three. You’re losing your touch, junior.”
Ian laughed all the way to his bedroom. He kept his mouth shut and didn’t tell his father the whole truth—it had been three out of three.
* * *
FLASH ALMOST CALLED off her evening plans with Ian. She was so sore from hauling and scrubbing and sanding Ian’s heavy iron fireplace screen in her workshop that she almost wanted to sleep more than have sex.
Almost.
But for Ian’s sake—and her pussy’s—she rallied at about seven o’clock that evening, took a quick shower, threw on clean clothes and drove the thirty miles up the mountain to Ian’s chalet.
Chalet? She couldn’t believe she was the girlfriend of a man who lived in an actual chalet. The last guy she’d been seriously involved with had lived in more “shack” than “chalet.”
She pulled into the long drive that led to Ian’s chalet. She spied smoke coming from the metal chimney pipe and felt a sense of comfort at the sight. That chimney smoke signaled that someone was home, someone was awake, someone was waiting for her. And that someone was Ian Asher, who she’d been falling for since the day he showed up at Asher Construction a year and a half ago to take over as the new VP. The rumor had been his father had been prepping him for the role for years, letting him work his way up the ladder at Asher Custom Homes, a smaller residential-only construction firm in Portland. When the former VP had retired, Ian had got the job. She still remembered the day he showed up, gathered the entire crew into the large conference room and introduced himself.
“Yes, the rumors are true,” Ian had said, “I am the owner’s son. I would apologize, but I’m afraid it would get back to Dad. In case you’re worried—and I would be if I were you—I am qualified for this job with something other than my last name. The city of Portland and the surrounding counties are going through a massive growth spurt and people are feeling the growing pains. Rents are going up, and people are being squeezed out. The rest of the country has finally noticed us and they like what they see. So they are coming, and we’re going to be ready for them. Asher Construction will be the first call developers make when they want to build sustainable, affordable and beautiful housing, and low-energy, cost-efficient environmentally friendly office buildings. We’re going to be part of this city’s renaissance, all of us. It takes a talented team of people to build a city. You all build the buildings. I’m here to build the team. Any questions?”
Flash had to stop herself from raising her hand right then and there and saying, “Yeah, I have a question—will you marry me?”
Instead she’d kept that question to herself as she watched Ian introduce himself to every single person at Asher Construction from the foreman of her crew to the two young women who ran the payroll office to the janitor who kept their headquarters clean. When he shook her hand, he said, “So you’re the famous Flash Redding? Dad calls you his ‘Lady Welder.’ Nice to finally put a face with the legend.”
She’d been so flustered by his handsome face, his bright and genuine smile, his height and the width of his shoulders that his perfectly tailored suit accentuated so well that when she finally opened her mouth to speak, well...it wasn’t good.
“Lady Welder is my porn name,” she’d said in reply. Her very first sentence of greeting to the new boss and it was a stupid dirty joke? She braced herself to get fired on the spot or at least sent to HR for a talking-to. Of all the stupid crass things to say.
“Weird,” Ian had said. “Lady Welder’s my porn name, too. One of us is going to have to change our name or our fans are going to get very confused. And disappointed.” Then he’d given her a little “I’m your boss but I can take a joke” sort of smile and moved on to the person standing next to her.
Eighteen months ago she regarded her feelings as nothing more than a work crush, something to enjoy, something to make work more fun. A harmless crush on an older man with money and power and prestige. It was like having a crush on a celebrity—as playful as it was pointless. Nothing would ever come of it, right? She’d been crushing on the burlesque star Dita Von Teese for four years now and hadn’t even gotten one phone call from the woman. Same with Ian Asher, right? A Harvard-educated man commonly referred to in the newspapers as the “scion of the Asher Construction empire” was not the sort of person who dated lady welders. She wasn’t even sure what a “scion” was, only that people like her were never called that. Ian was a safe crush. Nothing would ever happen between them no matter how cool she played it, no matter how hard she tried to flirt with him without him noticing, no matter how many times she made him laugh with some sarcastic remark about plumber crack, the scourge of the construction business. No matter how much she wanted it to happen, it wouldn’t happen.
And then it happened.
Now eighteen months after Ian started at Asher Construction, she was officially his girlfriend. She should have been on cloud nine with happiness. And she was. One foot was on cloud nine with happiness. The other foot was firmly on the ground, ready to run the second things started turning south.
She pushed her worries into a back corner of her mind as she pulled into Ian’s driveway. He saw her coming because he opened the garage door for her and let her pull inside. His own car was outside the garage under a tarp. Bad sign. More snow coming tonight?
When she walked into the house through the garage entrance, she found Ian lying on the floor in the living room flat on his back.
“Help,” he said.
“Have you fallen and you can’t get up?” she asked, standing over him.
“I fell down a mountain.”
“What? You fell down a mountain? Are you okay?”
“Technically it’s called ‘skiing,’ but let’s be honest—it’s controlled falling. And I did it today for the first time this season. I hurt.”
“You went skiing today?”
“Dad made me. And now I can’t move. I hate being old. Why am I so old?”
She shook her head in disgust.
“You’re thirty-six not ninety-six.”
“If you throw yourself down a mountain for eight straight hours, you will feel ninety-six. I don’t recommend it.”
“Well, I’m only twenty-six and I feel ninety-six.”
“Did you ski, too?”
“No, I worked on your fucking fireplace screen all day. It’s done, by the way.”
“Oh,” he said. “Thank you?”
“Don’t thank me. Just share the floor. Scoot over.”
“I hurt too much to scoot.”
Flash put her booted foot on his hip and pushed, sliding Ian two feet to the left.
“I didn’t give you splinters, did I?” she asked as she dropped to the floor and stretched out on her back.
“I sanded the shit out of this floor before I refinished it. It is as smooth as Al Green’s voice.”
“That’s pretty smooth.”
“It’s going to be very hard to fuck you if I can’t move,” Ian said with a sigh. “And I was really looking forward to fucking you.”
“It’s okay. We can fuck later.”
“I’m going to think about fucking you,” he said, and put one hand over his eyes. “That I can do. My brain is the only part of me that doesn’t hurt.”
“Are you doing it?” she asked.
“Yeah. Totally doing it. Damn, I’m good. I have excellent technique,” Ian said.
“Just tell me when I come so I know.”
“You’re almost there. Almost. Al...most...there... You came. Then I came immediately after. Whew.” Ian dropped his hand from his face to his chest. “Wow. I hope it was as good for you as it was for me.”
“Better. You fucked me so hard and so good I can’t move.”
“I’m an animal.” Ian made a little growling sound and Flash laughed so hard she groaned from the muscle pain in her back. “Ready for round two?”
“Not yet. I need more time to recover. But I admire your stamina.”
“You know what might make us feel better?” Ian asked as he flopped onto his side not unlike a fish on land.
“Morphine?”
“Even better than morphine.”
“Heroin?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of something not incredibly dangerous and illegal.”
“Vicodin?”
“The hot tub. We could take off all our clothes and get into my hot tub. What do you think?”
“I think I’d rather have the Vicodin.”
“You really don’t like hot tubs? I thought you were kidding.”
“They make me nervous.”
“Why do hot tubs make you nervous? If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll wear my lifeguard whistle and you can put on some of those arm floaty things.”
“I’m not nervous I’m going to drown. It’s just...”
“What?”
“It’s embarrassing.”
Ian’s eyes widened. “Tell me the embarrassing thing right now. That is an order.”
“I got a rash in a hot tub when I was a kid. That’s all.”
“A rash.”
“Yes. A butt rash.”
“You got a butt rash from a hot tub when you were a kid. Like...a small rash?”
“Not small.”
“Big?”
“Picture a pizza, Ian. That was my twelve-year-old ass.”
“Oh, my God! That’s so disgusting. I’m never eating pizza again. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll still eat your ass, but I’m not touching pizza.”
“See? You’d be hot tub shy, too, if one turned your ass into a pizza. I couldn’t sit for a week. I had to sleep on my stomach. My poor mother had to put the ointment on me. It was a nightmare.”
“Where did you get this hot tub butt rash?”
“We went on vacation when I was a kid and stayed at a hotel with a hot tub.”
“Okay, hotel hot tub was your first mistake. And your second. One mistake for each ass cheek. Those things are cesspools.”
“Now you tell me.”
“My hot tub is brand-new, just installed. I cleaned it myself, bleached it twice. The water is perfect. It will not give you a case of pizza butt, I swear.”
“You’re never going to let me forget about the pizza butt thing, are you?” she asked.
“No. Never. As long as we both shall live.”
“Yeah, I thought so. Now you have to tell me something embarrassing.” She slowly rolled onto her side to face Ian.
“Something embarrassing? Okay, this isn’t as embarrassing as pizza butt, but I could tell you about the time I had sex with my girlfriend and I forgot to get rid of the condom wrapper and my dad found it on the living room floor the next morning.”
Flash winced in sympathy.
“Oh, that’s bad. When was this? High school?”
“This morning.”
Her eyes went wide. “Oh, shit! What did your dad say?”
“He gave me that dad look, you know...” Ian contorted his face into an expression of seriousness mixed with sternness with a dash of trying not to laugh. “Then he asked, ‘Anyone I know?’ which is a weird thing to say if you think about it.”
“Did you tell him it was me?”
“I did.”
“Did he freak out?”
“A little at first because he thought you were still an employee. I told him you quit.”
“That’s all?”
“Mostly,” Ian said, shrugging, which she was impressed he could do while lying on his side on a hardwood floor.
“So it wasn’t all?”
“He said he had concerns about us dating. The usual dad stuff. No big deal.”
“What are the usual concerns?”
“Flash, they’re no big deal.”
“Tell me what he said.”
“Nothing important. He has concerns you’ll be uncomfortable with the Asher family when we’re being all...” Ian put his finger on the tip of his nose and lifted it.
“Being all important? Being all rich and important? Being all rich and important and doing important people things?”
“Right. But still, this is Portland, not LA or New York. I wanted to remind him we’re Ashers, not Rockefellers. We’re not even Kardashians. I refrained from saying all that out loud. Barely.”
“Your dad has a point.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“He does. I will be uncomfortable. I am already uncomfortable.”
“That’s because you’re lying on the floor. Get up. We’re going to the hot tub. If we’re going to have a serious relationship talk we’re going to do it naked and in one hundred degree water. Up.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes. I’m the boss. When I say jump you say—”
“Who?”
“Close enough.” He rolled over into the push-up position, and with an impressive show of both grace and muscle he jumped to his feet. He reached down and held out his hand. She groaned and let him take her by the arm and drag her to her feet.
“Can you take your clothes off or do I have to undress you, too?” he asked.
“I can undress myself.”
“Too bad. I’m going to do it, anyway. Arms up.”
“I can’t move them.”
Ian shook his head. “Pathetic.” He took her by the wrists and lifted her arms over her head. Once they were up, he grasped her sweatshirt by the bottom and yanked it up and over her head. Then he unzipped and yanked her jeans down, which was when Flash reminded him that it’s usually necessary to take off someone’s shoes before you took off that person’s jeans. He suggested in the future she invest in skirts preferably with nothing on underneath. She said she’d give that some thought, but considering he lived on top of a fucking mountain with twenty fucking inches of snow on the ground, she’d probably stick to wearing both jeans and underwear. He conceded defeat.
Finally she stood naked—completely—in the middle of Ian’s living room.
“You’re right,” she said, running her bare foot along the hardwood. “This floor is very smooth.”
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you over the sight of your nipples.”
She looked at him through narrowed eyes.
“Ian, stop staring at my tits and take your clothes off.”
“I can do both at the same time,” he said as he pulled off his long-sleeved black T-shirt and pushed his jeans to the floor. He covered his crotch with his hands.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Don’t look at it. It’s not ready yet.”
She threw back her head and laughed. Ian pulled her to him while she was still laughing and kissed her. He had this amazing gift for making her laugh and an even more amazing gift for making her stop laughing on a dime. His kisses were nuclear. They split her open down to her atoms. She melted when he kissed her like this, melted and burned. His tongue tasted like pure heat and his lips whispered words into her mouth, words like “Yes...” and “You want this...” and yes, she did want it. She wanted it all as long as it was coming from him. Slowly he pulled back from the kiss.
“Okay,” he whispered against her lips. “Now it’s ready.”
“Can I look?”
“If you can catch me.”
“Catch you?”
Ian darted away from her and to the door that led to the deck and the hot tub. She’d never seen a naked man run so fast. Nor had she ever heard a grown man squeal in that particular high-pitched manner when his feet hit the snow on the deck.
Nothing to do but follow him. As soon as her bare feet hit the deck she knew why he was running and squealing.
“Fuck!” she screamed when her toes touched snow.
“Run, Flash, run!” Ian called to her as he jumped over the side of the hot tub and into the water.
“It’s too cold to run.”
“Run, anyway!”
“I hate you!” She didn’t hate him but yelling it made her feel better. She raced and skidded across the deck to the hot tub and Ian reached out and pulled her over the side and into the water.
She sunk immediately down into the water all the way up to her ears. With her eyes closed she simply let herself absorb the water’s heat deep into her body. One by one all her muscles relaxed.
“Do you still hate me?” Ian asked as he wrapped her in his arms and pulled her naked body against his naked body. She twined her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck.
“So fucking much.”
She kissed him so he knew she didn’t mean it. She shouldn’t have worried. His cock was already hard against her stomach. She reached between their bodies and stroked it slowly, exploring every ridge and every vein and every beautiful inch of it.
“Are you having fun down there?” he asked, a wide grin on his face. His words turned to steam as he spoke.
“I am. You’re very hard. It’s flattering.”
“You should be flattered. I don’t get stage-three wood in a hot tub very often.”
“Stage-three wood? There are stages?”
“There are stages.”
“Tell me of these stages while I play. I’m already fascinated,” she said as she squeezed him with one hand and cupped his testicles with the other. His mouth fell open slightly and he took a quick breath. Could he be any sexier? It made her weak sometimes. She hated being weak, yet she loved being with Ian so she was either going to have to get rid of Ian or get used to feeling like this all the time.
Ian pressed a soft kiss under her ear. Okay, maybe she could get used to it.
“Stage one,” he said. “Flaccid.”
“Boring.”
“Right? But it’s the default position. We like boring in public. If the world made sense men would wear fluffy skirts for boner camouflage and women would wear pants.”
“Women do wear pants.”
“Someone isn’t.” He cupped her ass and pinched it.
“What’s stage two?”
“Yawning and stretching. You know, like you do when you wake up in the morning, but you’re not quite bright-eyed and bushy-tailed yet. That’s stage two.”
“So stage two is when your cock is awake but it hasn’t had its coffee yet?”
“Right.”
“So stage three is postcoffee?”
Ian nodded. “Three cups. Wide awake.”
“Your cock is wide awake right now?”
“It is ready to take on the world.”
“Is there a stage four?”
“Oh, yeah. Stage four is serious business. It’s caffeine and adrenaline. It’s so hopped up it can’t sit still. Stage four is usually the last couple of minutes before coming. You know that moment during a shuttle launch when all engines are firing and it’s like hovering a couple feet off the platform? That’s stage four.”
“Is there a stage five?”
“Coming is stage five. There is no stage six. You go immediately from stage five to stage one. Like...in seconds.”
“I like stage three,” Flash said, running her hand up and down him again in one long stroke. “How long can you stay here?”
“A long time with the proper amount of stimulation. But if it’s more than four hours, I have to call my doctor. That’s what the commercials say, anyway.”
“Am I giving you the proper amount of stimulation?”
“The perfect amount. Absolutely perfect.” He put his arms on the side of the hot tub and laid his head back. Flash half sat, half floated on his lap while she played with him, teased him, tenderly caressed him.
“You feel really good,” she said.
“You’re telling me.”
“I mean, you feel good to me,” she said, holding him closer, relishing his nearness. “I wanted you for a long time. It’s nice to finally be able to have you. I had a crush on you from the day you started.”
“You did?”
“I did. Big-time.”
He shook his head. “I’m stunned. From the first day?” he asked.
“The very first day. You gave your speech to the company and took the time to talk to every one of us. And you were so handsome. Are handsome. Were handsome. You were then and still are very handsome. And sexy.”
“I feel so stupid now,” he said. “I’m trying to figure out a time in the past year and a half when I knew you had feelings for me. I can’t. You played it way too cool.”
“I did suck your cock and let you fuck me and come on me. That wasn’t a hint?”
“I’m trying to remember a time other than that night.”
“The week before when we were alone at work together? I was practically throwing myself at you,” she said. “You didn’t get the hint.”
“I was close to getting the hint before your stupid ex-boyfriend walked in.”
“Oh yeah, Killer. Why did I date that guy again?”
“You tell me,” Ian said.
“Before I was trying to stop thinking about you. Didn’t work,” she said. “My crush on you wasn’t budging.”
“I thought it was me who had the crush on you,” Ian said. “I assumed you slept with me out of curiosity or boredom or, you know, he’s here and I’m here so why the hell not?”
“That night was not a ‘why the hell not’ situation. It was a ‘I have to have this man or I will die because my pussy will murder me’ situation.”
“Did you know I had feelings for you?”
“I knew you were attracted to me. But that’s a little different.”
“How did you know?” he asked. “I tried not to be obvious about it.”
“You have a tell.” She tapped the side of her nose, pointed and winked at him.
“A tell? Like a poker tell?”
She nodded.
“What’s my tell?”
“When you’re working and somebody says something to you, you answer them while you’re still working. Unless it’s me. You always stopped what you were doing if I said something to you, no matter how minor,” she said as she traced circles around the head of his cock with her fingertip. “Steve or Jack or Davis could ask you something while you were reading a contract or blueprints or something, and you’d answer them without looking up. With me you put whatever you were reading down on your desk. Then you looked up.”
“I liked looking at you.”
“I got that feeling. I liked looking at you, too. You’re pretty sexy for a suit,” she said.
“You like my suits. Admit it.”
“I love your suits. They make you look...powerful, important, in charge. I like a man who wears authority well.”
“You like me.”
She nodded again, smiling.
Ian grinned that grin again, that “I love my fucking life” grin, which he wore so well. The world had been very kind to him and his one redeeming virtue was that he knew it and appreciated it.
“Since I’m in charge here,” he said, “I’m going to give you an order.”
“I order you to order me.”
“Tell me why you’re uncomfortable.”
“I’m not. This hot tub is great.”
“You know what I mean.” He looked at her, grin gone. He was Mr. Serious Ian now. She much preferred Mr. Horny and Distracted Ian.
He put his hand on her face, caressed her cheek.
“Tell me,” he said. “You play your cards close to your chest. Let me see some of your cards, okay?”
“It’s dumb,” she said. “I know it’s dumb and you’re just going to tell me it’s dumb.”
“I am not. Tell me.”
“You come from a wealthy, powerful and big-deal family and I don’t.”
“That’s dumb.”
She splashed water in his face.
“I deserved that,” he said.
“You did.”
“But it is dumb.”
“Ian...”
She moved off his lap and sat next to him.
“I’m only teasing you,” he said as he dragged her bodily back into his arms.
“Ian, I have worked at a construction site for two years now. The only woman on a construction crew. I’ve been called a slut. I’ve been asked how big my cock is. One guy calls me Lady Gaga all the time.”
“No, that’s gotta be a compliment.”
“Not when the sentence starts with ‘Shut the hell up.’”
Ian winced. “I know a lot of the guys felt threatened by you. I’m sorry. I did my best to make it a safe place to work. I know my best wasn’t enough.”
“It was subcontractors mostly, other guys on other crews who didn’t know me and thought they could get away with saying that stuff.”
“Can’t fire the subcontractors,” Ian said. “If they don’t work for me, I can’t fire them.”
“Right. Even if you could, if you fired everyone who said something inappropriate at work, you would have fired everyone. Myself included.”
“That’s true. There was the porn name incident.”
“Lady Welder is a great porn name.”
“Yes, and it’s mine. Go get your own.”
“Knowing what you know about what my life has been like the past couple of years, do you really think it’s irrational of me to be nervous about dating you?” she asked, and waited, wanting a serious answer, needing a serious answer.
Ian gave a heavy sigh and sat up in the hot tub.
“No. It’s not irrational. You’ve had to put up with a lot of shit over the past couple years, and I don’t blame you for worrying about having to go through another couple years of proving your worth to people who don’t get you.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m glad you understand where I’m coming from. The last guy I dated before you had full-sleeve tattoos and a blue Mohawk. He was a bartender at a music club. We matched. You and I, we don’t match very well. We clash. We’re like Joe Biden and Joan Jett.”
“I can’t believe you called me Joe Biden.”
“He’s the first Catholic guy I could think of who wears suits all the time.”
“First of all, Joe Biden and Joan Jett would be the founders of the greatest rock n’ roll supergroup ever. And second, we do not clash. You’re sexy. I’m sexy. We match.”
“You’re not listening to me.”
“I am. I swear I am. Okay, let’s discuss it. Yes, my father has a lot of money and a lot of companies and he’s kind of important out there.” Ian pointed west toward Portland and presumably the world at large. “But I don’t have a lot of money. I make a good salary, but I’m not rich. I own no companies. I’m not important to anyone but my father, my family, my friends and you.”
“I know all that. I know you don’t care that I don’t have much money or that I live in a kind of crappy apartment or any of that. I know.” She raised her hands in surrender. “But I also know people aren’t going to expect to see someone like me with someone like you. Not even me. When I picture you, Ian Asher—scion of the Asher empire—with somebody, it’s not me.”
“Who do you picture me with? Is it a guy? Because I picture you with other girls sometimes.”
“Ian.”
“Is he cute? Is he well-hung? I’m shallow enough to admit that’s important.”
“Ian.”
“Does he like me or is he just using me for sex? I hope he’s just using me for sex. I don’t want to break his heart, but I’m already in a serious relationship.”
Flash had no choice but to sink under the surface of the water in the hopes of drowning. She lasted all of one second under the water before her face nearly melted off from the heat and she resurfaced.
“He is using me for sex, isn’t he? I knew it,” Ian said with a sigh.
“You are the most annoying man I’ve ever wanted to have sex with right now,” she said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
“Too late. I’m stage one again.”
“What? That was fast.”
“I can’t help it,” he said with a shrug. “You were talking about my father and it wilted.”
She put her feet flat on the hot tub floor and stood up, showing him her naked body dripping with water and illuminated from behind by the deck light.
“That’s helping,” he said. He reached for her again and she stepped back out of his grasp.
“No touching,” she said. “Not until you at least pretend to take me seriously for a few seconds. It’s all I ask.”
“I’m taking you very seriously,” Ian said. “You’re my girlfriend and I’m wild about you. I think you’re amazing and sexy and amazingly sexy. I want to spend a lot of time getting to know you, hanging out with you, being with you in bed and out of bed. And in hot tub and out of hot tub. Clothed and naked. All of that.”
“This sounds very good to me.”
“Good. I don’t want to be worrying every time we’re out in public together that you don’t feel like you belong with me just because my father has a lot of money. It’s his thing, not my thing. After my mother died, he threw himself into work. He was making millions while I was making those stupid handprint turkeys for Thanksgiving and cardboard Christmas trees covered in cotton balls. Dad’s work has nothing to do with me other than he owns the company I work for.”
“Don’t pretend he’s not planning on your taking over the empire.”
“He wants that, yes. And he’s planning on leaving me his money. But—believe it or not—I love my father. I even like the guy most of the time. I’m really hoping I don’t see a penny of the Asher money for decades. I want him to live a very long time and he probably will. My grandfather is still alive, and he’s in his late seventies. The Ashers have good genes.”
“You move in very different circles than I do. Can you deny that?”
“I go to Dad’s corporate functions and campaign fundraisers when he asks me to go. I’d like you to come with me when I go to them but I won’t make you. They’re boring, but they’ll be less boring if you’re there.”
“You won’t feel weird being at some big fancy campaign fundraiser with me on your arm?”
“No. Weird is not the word. Erect is the word. Which gets us back to the idea of men wearing the fluffy skirts in public.”
“I’m picturing you in a poodle skirt. It’s very...arousing.”
“Speaking of arousing...this is very adorable of you.” He waved his finger in a circle in her general direction.
“What?”
“You being nervous about dating me. I’ve spent the last year and a half being slightly terrified of you. It’s nice to know I make you a little nervous, too.”
“It’s not nervousness. I have pride, Ian.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
She flicked water at him. It went right up his nose. Score.
“I have pride and I’m not going to take it well if your father’s friends treat me differently than they treat you. You understand what I’m saying? I’m not going to stand by silently while your dad’s friends talk to you and ignore me.”
“Knowing some of Dad’s friends they’ll ignore me and hit on you.”
“Or they’ll treat me like shit.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“It’s already happened.”
“What? What do you mean?” Ian sat up. Now he was taking her seriously.
“I hate to tell you this, but certain members of your world have made it clear they don’t want me in it.”
“What do you mean?”
“A couple months ago, I tried coming into your world and I wasn’t allowed in. You think I’m making up being worried about us being a couple?”
“What are you talking about? When do you try to come into my world?”
“Two months ago, I tried to come to the twenty-fifth anniversary party for Asher Construction.”
He narrowed his eyes at her.
“You didn’t come to the party. I was there.”
“I said I ‘tried’ to come. I didn’t make it inside.”
“Chicken out?” He wouldn’t blame her if she did. In October, his father had thrown an anniversary celebration at Portland’s most elegant hotel. It was a black-tie affair and everyone from the mayor of Portland to the coach of the Portland Timbers came. Everyone who worked full-time for Asher Construction had been invited but with the invitation stressing the requirement of formal attire, almost none of the rank-and-file workers had shown up. He’d hoped Flash would show up. He would have given half his salary to see her in a cocktail dress. All night he kept one eye on the door and one eye on whoever he was trying to have a conversation with. But Flash never showed.
“I don’t chicken out,” she said. “I came. I came in a dress, a gorgeous dress Mrs. Scheinberg had lent me. Red, strapless and stunning. I had black elbow gloves. I had my hair professionally done so I looked like a redheaded Twiggy with tattoos. And I showed up at the front door looking like a million dollars and then some. And they wouldn’t let me in.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Security wouldn’t let me in since I hadn’t RSVPed in time. I told them I worked for Asher Construction on the crew. The guy laughed and said, ‘As what?’ I told him I was a welder. He laughed again and said, ‘Sure thing, honey. Nice ink, but the Ashers don’t like crashers.’ He was pretty proud of himself for that one.”
“Fuck.”
“I tried to get him to find your father. I asked for Mr. Asher and some guy came over and said I should probably run along before they had to call the police.”
“Did this man kind of look like Gene Hackman?”
“Yeah, kind of. Had the mean eyes.”
“That’s my dad’s ex-campaign manager, Jimmie Russell. He’s kind of an asshole.”
“I noticed. He and that security guard looked at my tattoos and my piercings and my hair and decided I wasn’t good enough to be in the same room as you and your family. He told me to run along back to my strip club because my pole was waiting for me.”
“He said what?”
“You heard me,” Flash said. “And you want to know the really wild thing?”
“Probably not, but tell me.”
“That dress Mrs. Scheinberg lent me was vintage Givenchy. It cost thousands of dollars when Dr. Scheinberg bought it for Mrs. Scheinberg in 1960. It’s worth a fortune now. I was dressed better than him, your father and you combined.”
“You didn’t deserve that,” Ian whispered, true words but they didn’t seem like enough.
“Nobody does.”
“Men like Russell don’t know something valuable when they see it. But I do.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I spent that entire four-hour party watching the door, hoping you’d show up. I got cornered by one of dad’s friends trying to talk me into investing in some scheme of his. That must have been when you tried to get in.”
“I didn’t care about the party. I only went there to tell you I was sorry for what I’d said when you dumped me. And maybe make you a little sorry you’d dumped me. Then they kicked me out. Not much humiliates me, Ian, but that was humiliating. I cried in Mrs. Scheinberg’s apartment when I gave her the dress back.”
“Jesus Christ...”
“I don’t think you can say that anymore, now that we know you’re Jewish. But I’m not sure. We’ll have to check the bylaws.”
He laughed and groaned at the same time.
“Ian?” she asked. “You okay?”
He shook his head.
“No? You aren’t okay?” she asked.
He looked up from the cradle of his hands and smiled.
“I hate everything forever,” he said. “On earth. Right now. This second.”
“Welcome to my life.”
“I told Dad I thought the black-tie anniversary party was a waste of money and a bad idea. I said we should have a company barbecue. Something everyone could come to without feeling like they had to drop a ton of money on formal attire. He said every Asher event was a campaign fundraiser whether we wanted it to be or not. Fat cats don’t go on picnics, and we needed the fat cats on our side. I lose a lot of these arguments.”
“I’m glad you tried, though,” she said.
Ian leaned his head back against the edge of the hot tub and exhaled so hard a whole cloud of smoke billowed from his mouth and nose and up into the night sky.
“I feel like I’m always apologizing to you,” he said. “And here I’m doing it again. I’m sorry. That was a horrible thing to do to you and say to you and I would have put Russell in the hospital if I’d known what was going on.”
“I know it wasn’t your fault. I know you would have let me in the party. It’s not you. It’s just...nobody wants to see the captain of the football team with the weird Goth girl at school. They want to see him with the head cheerleader. I’m not a cheerleader, Ian. I eat cheerleaders.”
“Literally or in a sexual way?”
“Both,” she said. “I’m a bisexual cannibal and proud of it.”
“You’re wrong, by the way.”
“About what?” she demanded. “I’m never wrong.”
“About the football captain and the weird Goth girl. You said nobody wants to see them together. I want to see them together.”
“What about your grandparents? What about your dad’s business partners? What about your friends?”
“I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. And they shouldn’t, either.”
“What if your grandmother says something to you about my tattoos?”
“Never too early for the old folks’ home, Grandma.”
“Oh, my God, you’re ridiculous. Can you not be serious for three seconds?”
“I can’t help it,” he said with that grin again, that gorgeous grin. “I’m too happy.” He put his hands on her waist and gently drew him to her.
“You’re cute when you’re happy,” she said. “Why are you so happy?”
“Because two days ago I thought you were walking out of my life—forever. And now you’re my girlfriend. Why wouldn’t I be happy? I’m stoned to the gills on hormones. Aren’t you?”
“Stoned?”
“Happy?”
“I’m—” she settled onto his lap again, straddling his thighs and resting her chin on his shoulder “—cautiously optimistic.”
“It’s a good start.” He kissed her cheek, her forehead, her lips. “I want you to be happy, though. You make me very happy.”
“I know I do,” she said, and pushed her hips into his erection. He was back at stage three again.
“Not that kind of happy. I mean, also that kind of happy. But also the regular nonerect kind of happy. My dream girl now my girlfriend. Why wouldn’t I be happy?”
Flash raised her eyebrow?
“I’m your dream girl? Really?”
“Apparently I have a thing for women with ink, short hair and very bad attitudes. Maybe it’s an opposites attract thing. Maybe it’s a fetish. I don’t know and I don’t care, but you’re the sexiest woman on earth, you’re terrifyingly talented and you get me off like nobody’s business. And you’re also nearly impossible to read, impossible to please and impossible to impress. So when I do read you, please you or impress you, it means something. I like that you make me work harder than I usually have to,” he said. “Most women smile all the time because they’re told they’re supposed to smile. I love that you don’t smile except when you mean it. When I make you smile I feel like I won a contest—first prize.”
Flash smiled.
He cupped her chin in his hand. “Yeah, just like that. I’m a winner.”
“What should I give you for a prize?” she asked.
“You,” he said. “You’re all I want.”
“Then you can have me.”
He took her in his arms and turned her, pressing her back to the side of the hot tub. Her legs were wrapped around his hips and his arms around her lower back. He lifted her up so that her breasts were out of the water, and as soon as the cold winter’s night air touched her skin, her nipples hardened. Ian lowered his head and licked the water off the center of her chest. His took both her breasts in his hands and lightly squeezed them as his tongue tickled the sensitive skin of her neck and chest. She was warm from the waist down and covered in delicious goose bumps from the waist up. When he took one of her nipples in his hot mouth, she flinched from the shock of pleasure. Her breasts were so sensitive in the cool air and every touch and every lick she felt all the way to her back and down into her hips. Weightless as she was in the water, it was easy to lie back with her legs around Ian and her back arched to the sky as he sucked her nipples and rolled his tongue around them. First one, then the other, then back again. Over and over he lavished them with attention with his mouth and his tongue. He caught her mouth in a sudden hard kiss. He cupped her with his large hands again, squeezing them harder this time, pinching her nipples, rolling them between his fingers and thumbs while she moaned into his mouth. His cock was brutally hard against her thigh. She wanted it inside her so much her pussy throbbed.
“I need to be inside you,” he said, pressing his chest to her breasts. She loved his chest, his hard flat stomach. She would never get enough of his body.
“Then come inside me.”
“Can I?”
“You know you can.”
“You know what I mean.” He licked her from the tip of her shoulder to her ear, nibbling her sensitive skin with his teeth. “You’re my girlfriend now. We’re committed. I want to act like it.”
“You want to come in me.”
“Will you let me?”
“Have you been tested recently?” she asked, putting her hands on his shoulders. She needed breathing room.
“Yes. You?”
“Right after we slept together,” she said. Ian raised his eyebrow at her. “What? Don’t take it personally. You can’t be too careful.”
“I’ll try not to. What do you say?”
“You’re in charge,” she said.
“Not with something like this. You tell me.”
Having sex without a condom was serious relationship business. She had an IUD and wasn’t worried about getting pregnant. And if Ian was okay and she knew she was...
“If it’s too soon,” he said, “no pressure. It’s just, condoms and hot tubs don’t really mix. Not that I’ve tried.”
“You’ve tried,” she said. Ian nodded. “Is that why you want to?”
“No,” he said. “That’s not why.”
“Why?”
“You never make anything easy, do you?”
“No, I don’t. Tell me why.”
Ian rested his forehead against hers. His hands held her by the waist. They were so close they were breathing the same air.
“Because I want to, because I want to be closer to you, because I want you to feel like I’m serious about being with you. And because I don’t want anything standing between us and you seem to think there is. I promise, nothing’s going to come between us except what you want between us.”
Flash shivered and it wasn’t from the cool night air.
“I don’t want anything between us,” she said. She lifted her wet hands and slicked his hair back from his face. She wanted to see his eyes. They were burning blue like the hottest part of a flame. His lips were slightly parted. He was breathing hard and so was she.
“Neither do I. But if it’s too soon—”
“It’s not too soon.”
“Because if it is too soon—”
“I’m in love with you, Ian, and I have been for a long time. It’s not too soon.”
Ian’s eyes flashed with surprise.
“You’re what?”
“I’m in love with you and I have been for a long time.”
“How long?” He sounded so surprised she almost laughed except now wasn’t the time for that. “I know you said you wanted me from the day I started at work, but that’s not...that’s not love.”
“Since that night in June. Six months. That’s why—”
“That’s why it hurt you so much when I had to break it off with you.”
“That’s why,” she said. “I had a crush on you at work, that’s all. You were sexy and I liked you, wanted you. But I didn’t let myself have strong feelings for you until that night. I hadn’t planned on it. I wasn’t gunning for you. I never thought in a million years anything would really happen with us other than work flirting. We went back to your place and we had crazy sex and then you asked me to spend the night, which I didn’t expect. I woke up at about 4:00 am and thought I should probably just sneak out. I tried and you woke up and caught me. You remember?”
“I remember.”
“And you pulled me back into bed with you and you kissed me senseless and then you got on top of me and got inside me again and when you pushed in you said my name. You said—”
“Veronica.”
She closed her eyes and remembered that moment he entered her, the way her name had fallen from his lips like he’d been holding his breath, and when he exhaled, it was her name that he breathed. He’d never said her name before—only Flash, never Veronica. She’d forgotten he’d known her real name and then to hear him say it in that breathless desperate way while he was penetrating her, it was like he’d cut her open all the way to her heart.
“The way you said it like it was a magic word or something, like you were asking me for something or begging me for something or praying for something, but it got to me. It was just about sex before then. And when you said my name, my real name, then it was real.”
“It was real,” Ian said. “It was the most real night I’d ever spent with anyone.”
“I’m telling you this because you said you didn’t want anything between us. Now that I’ve told you there’s one less thing between us.”
Ian ran his hands up and down her sides, over her breasts, over her chest, over her neck and up to her face.
“Veronica...” he whispered.
“I’m here.”
“I wasn’t saying it to you,” he said. “I was saying it for me.”
“I love you, Ian.”
“Flash—”
“I want you to take me to bed and do everything you want to do to me,” she said. “And I don’t want anything between us. Okay?”
Ian kissed her forehead and it hurt almost as much as when he called her by her name.
“Okay, Veronica. Nothing between us. Not ever again.”