Dust of Snow (25 page)

“I still don’t like it.” Ashley lapsed into a
brief silence, and then quietly said, “I think you should move in
with me.”

My nostrils flared, and I nearly dislodged
Curly as I bolted up. “I’m not calling you because I need
protecting! I’m calling you because he upset me and I just need you
to listen. I don’t want to move in with you. Not if you’re asking
me out of some sort of knight in white armor complex you’ve got
going on.”

Ashley gasped in my ear. “Gregory, that’s out
of line.”

My heart hammered but I stood my ground.
“Maybe, but I don’t want David’s cloud hanging over something
that’s supposed to be such an important moment in our relationship.
We’re only starting out, and I don’t want to rush. I can’t… don’t
come home early, okay? I’m fine. I just wanted to talk to you.”

He sighed. “And I screwed it up.”

“No, you didn’t. Just don’t treat me like I’m
not an adult. I know I’m… I don’t know, more sensitive, I suppose.
It doesn’t mean I’m incapable.”

“I know that, Greg. I’m sorry I made you feel
that way. I really am.”

“It’s a sore spot,” I whispered, and Ashley
remained quiet. “Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sweet dreams. And just… make sure the
chain’s on the door? Is it okay if I ask that?”

I settled back down, petting Curly. “It’s on,
and yeah. It’s okay.”

After sleeping past noon, I showered, shaved,
and daydreamed about what Ashley and I would do to ring in the New
Year. There were fireworks and a concert downtown, but I’d always
watched those people on TV and wondered why on earth they were
spending hours in a crowd in subzero temperatures. Better to be in
front of a fire with a hot toddy and a hotter man. I actually
wasn’t sure what a hot toddy was, but it sounded good.

Whistling “Auld Lang Syne,” I picked
dark-gray jeans that, according to Ashley, made my ass look like
two peaches getting cozy, a dark burgundy shirt, and a cream
cashmere V-neck. By the time I had styled my hair and dabbed some
aftershave under my ears, my phone chimed.

Had to stop into the office. Won’t take
long, want to meet me here? We can go for a late lunch
.

I groaned. The last thing I wanted was to go
into work on a day we had off, but seeing Ashley sooner rather than
later won out. And maybe we could act out one of my favorite
fantasies involving Ashley, me, and Carl’s desk.

I felt oddly nervous when I pulled into the
spot beside Ashley’s car. Ash had only been gone one night, but
giddy excitement and nerves turned me into an infatuated teenager.
I had to steady myself before I pressed my keycard to the
magnet.

The office was deserted, and the unfamiliar
hush did nothing to steady my frantic heartbeat. So I wouldn’t
start to sweat, I shrugged out of my coat and peered into Ashley’s
office, but I could tell the light was off as I neared.

How odd. Had I somehow missed him? There was
another entrance but it sat at the other side of the building. Why
would he leave through that one when his car was so close to the
main entrance? Besides, he would have seen my car in the lot and
come back for me.

About to open my mouth to call out, I saw
faint light coming from the direction of my desk. Relieved, I
hurried over, anticipation now winning out on the nerves.

“Hey,” I said, rounding the corner. “Are you
done—” I blinked. No one at my desk. The light came from Carl’s
office, which should be locked. And the light flickered, like…
candle light? I gasped quietly, and then bit my bottom lip so my
smile wouldn’t split my face in two. I tiptoed over.

“Oh, Ash.” I pressed my hands to my mouth.
There were candles on pretty much every safe surface in Carl’s
office. The couch had been pushed aside, and a large checkered
blanket was spread on the carpet. A basket with food and a wine
cooler filled to the brim with ice stood beside it, two upturned
champagne glasses waiting.

Barefoot but still dressed in a suit and tie,
Ashley stood near the desk biting his lip. “Surprise?”

“You can say that again. This is
amazing.”

With a grin, he wrapped me in his arms and
hugged the breath out of me.

“Every time I see you,” he breathed in my
ear, “I swear my heart grows bigger.”

“Three sizes, like the Grinch? They have
pills for that,” I said, but my voice wobbled a little, and he
squeezed me harder.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he said, laughing a
little. “I was afraid I’d fucked up. Curly’s really okay? You’re
really okay?”

“Fine. We’re both just fine. Look, I
overreacted. I—”

“No.” Ashley cupped my face in his hands and
kissed me. “No, you were absolutely right. You deserve everything
done right.” He tilted his head toward the candles and the blanket.
A smile played on his lips. “You forgive me?”

“Of course I do, you dumbass,” I whispered,
and I tugged at his tie so he’d kiss me again. It was that, or
burst into stupid, happy tears.

“You hungry?” he mumbled against my
mouth.

“Mmm, yes.” I squeezed his butt with both
hands, and Ashley chuckled, leaning back to look at me.

“I’m starving,” he said. “Come on, kick off
your shoes.”

“How did you even get in here?” I asked as I
spread out on the blanket on my stomach, leaning my chin on my
hands. Ash sat in front of me, legs crossed. He uncorked the
champagne bottle with a loud pop, but didn’t let the cork fly.

“Carl let me in.”

My mouth dropped. “He knows we’re here?”

“Yes, because apparently you take your keys
home with you like the guard dog you are. I raided your entire desk
and I was afraid I’d have to set up between the damn cubicles when
he showed up.”

I frowned. “Carl was here? Why would he come
in when he gave us all the day off? Shit, did something come up
with the—” Ashley snapped his fingers in front of my nose but he
looked amused.

“Since I’m the guy who spent forty minutes
lighting candles, can I be the only man in your life for the
night?”

“Sorry,” I said, sheepishly. “Come on then,
pour me a glass.” Ashley flipped over one of the flutes and let it
dangle between his fingers. I took it from him and he dimpled at
me.

“I’m happy you’re here.” He poured the
champagne. “I thought since we met at work, it would be appropriate
to celebrate New Year’s here.
Our
new year. And that time I
had a nap in here, I might have had a few fantasies about you in
this office.”

“How scandalous.” I waggled my eyebrows.

He had all sorts of food in the basket, and
we nibbled on grapes, crackers with cheeses I couldn’t pronounce,
pâtés, pineapple and melon pieces, apple slices, and finally
strawberries dipped in chocolate. When one bottle of champagne was
empty, he pulled another from behind the couch, and as the candles
burned lower, we stretched out on the blanket. I held his hand and
rubbed my thumb over his knuckles.

“Do you think you’ll have to travel more
often now that Amal is staying local?” I asked.

“I have to travel pretty regularly anyway.”
Ash lifted our entwined hands and kissed my palm. “But until we
find someone to take over Germany, yes, I’ll be gone more than
usual. Does it bother you?”

“No.” I made a face. “I guess a little.”
Ashley squeezed my fingers and I looked at him. His dark eyes
danced with the golden light of the candles, but he looked
solemn.

“You know you can trust me, don’t you?” he
asked me softly. “I mean, when I’m with someone, I don’t date other
people, or sleep around. And now that I’ve got you…” He ducked his
head and shook it, smiling.

“What?” I asked, my heart feeling like it
might fly out of my mouth.

“Well…” He rolled over onto his front and
into my space. “Let’s just say I’m kinda hoping I won’t be sleeping
with anyone else ever again.”

I pulled him close and kissed him, tangling
my fingers into his hair. He felt so good, and he smelled so
good
—like fabric softener and strawberries and apples—I was
quickly losing track of my thoughts, but this was important, so I
pulled away again.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you when you’re
gone,” I said, tracing his wet bottom lip with my thumb. “It’s that
I’ll miss you so damn much.”

Ash pushed my thighs apart with his knees and
nuzzled my cheek as I arched up against him. “Want to get out of
here? We can go home and watch the ball drop. That sounds dirty,
doesn’t it?”

“Mmm,” I agreed, a little dazed and eyeing
Carl’s desk with a bit of regret. Together we quickly packed
everything away and put the couch to rights.

“Hold on a second.” Ashley stopped me with a
hand to my chest before I could start blowing out the candles. He
touched my cheek, put his hands on my shoulders, and looked me up
and down. A lopsided smile began to tug at his mouth, and one
dimple appeared. “Gorgeous,” he said, and when he met my eyes they
were hooded and a little shy. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Oh, please,” I said, trying to wave him away
but secretly pleased as a puppy with two tails. “I’m the lucky
one.”

Ashley grinned and kissed me lightly, and
then deeper, before he pulled away with a shuddery breath. “Look,”
he said, oddly hesitant. “Asking you to move in when I did was a
bad idea, and I’m not doing this for any other reason than I want
you to have…” He bit his lip and laughed under his breath. “This is
going to sound stupid.”

“Hey,” I said, pulling him closer. “You can
tell me. I won’t think it’s stupid.”

Ash lifted his hand and unfolded it to show a
key in his palm. “I really like the idea of you being at my house,
even when I’m not. So when I’m traveling, and you miss me, maybe
you could—”

“Yes,” I said, closing my hand over his. “Of
course. And as soon as I get the locks changed at my place, I’ll
give you a key too.”

“Okay.” Ashley’s gaze flicked between my eyes
and my mouth, and he got a dark gleam in his eye before glancing at
Carl’s desk. “You know, while we have this place to ourselves, it
would be a shame not to use every opportunity, wouldn’t it?”

I nodded so hard my teeth practically
rattled. “It’s like we share a brain.” I shoved him against the
desk-- fantasy number 12—and sank to my knees.

“Fuck,” he gasped, and I met his lust-blown
eyes. “That is so hot.”

“Happy New Year, Mr. Montgomery.”

A YEAR LATER

I THOUGHT THIS year’s holiday party would be better
than last year’s. And it was, really. No vomit and no David, which
were definitely bonus points. But while I’d omitted my name last
year, this time I’d been looking forward to my Secret Santa. Only I
waited, and I waited, and watched others exchange gifts, and…
nothing.

I even took up station by the dessert buffet
so everyone had to walk past me. It was ridiculous and petty, but
it put me in a bad mood. By ten o’clock I had to admit defeat. It
stung—I couldn’t lie to myself—but any number of things could have
gone wrong.

Time for punch. I had it on good authority
(Patricia) that it was spiked to the metaphorical eyeballs. I
dipped the ladle—which wasn’t a metaphor, sadly, since Ashley stood
in deep conversation with Carl underneath the mistletoe, don’t
think I didn’t notice—and filled my paper cup. The first swallow
burned like a motherfucker, but after that it was a piece of cake.
The second cup went down faster than the first, and the third went
down as easy as me on a lazy Sunday morning. I sniggered at my own
joke, just when Patricia snuck up on me.

“What’s funny?”

“Blowjobs,” I said, and then clapped a hand
over my mouth.

Patricia gaped at me before bursting into
laughter. And she kept laughing, so out of control she had to cling
to my elbow to keep standing.

“Jesus, Gregory, I bet my mascara is all
messed up now.” She wiped at her cheeks. It was, so I took a napkin
and helped her dab at the black goop.