Dust of Snow (7 page)

“Yeah,” he laughed, his cheekbones coloring a
little. “Sure.”

“Ashley…” I took another step into his
office. “Are you all right? It’s only nine and you look wiped.”

He rubbed his face. “I’m fine. Just a bit
tired.”

Right. If tired meant so exhausted to the
bone he couldn’t see straight. A pang of sympathy went through me.
“Don’t move,” I said and turned on my heels. A minute later, I
barged into Carl’s office. “Is there anything urgent you need me to
take care of before I go?”

“Go?” He glanced at the clock. “Nothing I
can’t handle. Is everything all right?”

What Carl didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
“Yes. I still have to buy my Secret Santa gift, that’s all.” That
wasn’t a lie, but I technically had all afternoon to do that. Carl
didn’t point this out; his attention was already back on his
computer.

“Sure. I’ll see you this evening,
Gregory.”

Back at Ashley’s office in my coat, I said,
“Wrap up. We’re going.”

“What? I can’t leave yet, I’ve got—”

“Oh please, no one is doing anything but
pretending to work today. Come on, let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Ashley asked with a
tentative smile as he gathered his things.

“Early lunch.” I grinned and he huffed a
laugh as he pulled on his dark-gray duffle coat, zipping it up and
doing the toggle buttons with nimble fingers. I led him through the
building, waving at people as we went but not letting anyone stop
us, though I could tell Amal would’ve liked to. Ashley would
probably let everyone tag along, and that wasn’t going to work with
what I had planned. Outside I said, “Let’s take my car. I’ll drive
you back for the party tonight.”

“All right.” He didn’t offer any resistance,
and it had me worried. Not that I knew him all that well, but I
didn’t have to know him: just one look was enough to prove
something wasn’t right.

It was a bright day, one of those
hard-on-your-eyes, fiercely sunlit mornings with light cascading
off all the snow heaped around the parking lot. The sharp light
caught Ashley’s hair, and as I squinted up at him I noticed it had
streaks of blond and red in it. It wasn’t average brown like I’d
thought.

He leaned against my car with an easy smile.
“Has anyone ever told you that you look a little bit like a young
Robert Redford?”

I laughed under my breath as I unlocked the
car, pretending the sun was in my eyes so I had to avert my gaze.
People had told me this before, actually. And by people, I meant
Mother, so I never thought it counted.

“Joke’s on me, then,” I said when we were
buckling up, “since my name is Gregory Peck.”

He grinned. “Was that on purpose?”

“Not exactly.” I started the car and
reversed. “It’s tradition to name the first born in my mother’s
family after the grandfather. Not her fault she married a
Peck.”

“What if you’d been a girl?

“Gregoria,” I said.

“Really?” Ashley made a face.

“I know, right?” I laughed.

Ashley relaxed a little deeper into his seat,
and he gave what sounded like a contented little sigh. “Where are
we going?” he asked when I pulled out of the parking lot.

“Home.” 

FIVE

I MADE THE hazelnut brew I usually kept for lazy
Sundays and went into the living room, where I was confronted by
Ashley’s shapely behind sticking out of my fireplace. Well, not
literally sticking out of it, but he was on his knees, kindling a
small flame. Curlywurly eyed him curiously from the scratching
post.

“Your suit’s far too nice to spend time in on
your knees,” I said. “Go on, let me.”

“You’re wearing a suit too.” His voice was
muffled as he fiddled in the fireplace.

“Mine’s not tailor made.”

I reached his side, and he sat back on his
heels, staring up at me. The little flame caught a piece of old
newspaper and flared, casting shadows over his face, making his
long lashes seem even longer.

“I didn’t think you’d noticed.”

Biting back my reply, I shooed him away from
the fireplace. “Go pour yourself some coffee,” I said. “It’s
hazelnut, so I don’t know if you’ll want sugar in that. I’ll do
this.”

“All right.” Ashley gripped my palm tightly
and I gave him the leverage he needed to rise to his feet. His skin
felt nice and dry against mine, and the imprint of his hand stayed
with me while I breathed life into the fire.

“So, spill the beans.” I blew the steam away
from my mug and led the way back to the fire. I watched as he made
himself comfortable on the other end of the couch. He liked to sit
like me, with his legs curled underneath him, not a care in the
world about rumpling his suit. “What’s got you so tired lately?” I
hoped I didn’t sound nosy. If he called me on it, I’d pretend this
was in the best interest of the company and I was just doing my
job. He didn’t call me out. In fact, Ashley looked relieved.

Still, he didn’t start right away. Instead,
he focused his gaze on a little thread that had come loose from the
armrest, no doubt thanks to my resident feline. Ashley began to
pluck at it, and I hoped the whole couch wouldn’t come unraveled if
he yanked it too hard. The comfortable thing was getting on in
years.

As I waited for him to speak, we sat in
surprisingly comfortable silence, and I was so glad he was here.
With Ashley curled up a couple of feet away and the fire warming
us, my life didn’t seem as empty as it had over the past year. It
seemed Ashley and I were maybe becoming friends.

“It’s embarrassing,” he eventually said.

I reached for him with my free hand without
actually touching him. It made him look up, which was my aim. “It’s
not as embarrassing as you think it is. It never is, and believe
me, I’m a walking encyclopedia on all things embarrassing. You can
trust me. I won’t laugh, and I won’t tell anyone.”

Ashley smiled, his dimples going in for the
kill. Oddly enough it made him look even more tired. Handsome, yes.
Handsome beyond Carl—beyond my wildest dreams, to be quite
honest—but tired to the bone.

“I have something called hypnic headaches.”
The smile twitched, like he was making an effort to keep it in
place, and then it faltered and died. He stared into his coffee as
if it might hold all the answers. That was tea leaves though,
wasn’t it? “They’re headaches that occur at the same time of night.
If I’m stressed, they come with nightmares. Spiders, falling,
accidents, being all alone in an empty world, anything ridiculous
you can think of.”

My heart gave a strange flutter, and this
time I reached farther and put my hand over his. “Can you do
something about the headaches?”

“Caffeine helps.” Ashley smiled wryly.

“At night?” No wonder he was so tired. “What
about the nightmares? Have you talked to someone about those?”

“My doctor, once. He gave me sleeping pills.
It made everything ten times worse.”

“Jesus.”

He squeezed my hand once, maybe to let me
know it was appreciated, or at least not rejected, and then gently
removed his. “It was better for a while, but with this new job I
guess I’m stressed. Especially since Amal is having trouble. I
think the whole baby deal is harder than either he or his wife
anticipated. They’re not sleeping, and his wife doesn’t want him to
travel so much anymore. But he’s in sales, you know? Traveling is
his job. He wants me to reassign him, but he’s had the German
account for five years, and we’re so close to the biggest deal in
the history of the company. I can’t just pull him out now.”

I thought hard. “Give him something to look
forward to,” I said.

Ashley’s eyes shot up and held my gaze. The
fire flickered golden flecks to life in his irises. “Like
what?”

“How far away are you from closing this
deal?”

“Weeks, or maybe a month or two.”

“And he’s got accounts closer to home, hasn’t
he?”

“Of course.”

“Tell him to stick it out until he’s got the
deal. Then allow him to drop Germany, or offer him an alternate job
within the company.”

“I don’t know if there is one.”

“Talk to Carl.” Ashley gave me a dubious
look. “Seriously, talk to Carl. What are you afraid of? He’s not
going to can a new father for wanting to be with his family. He’s a
good boss.”

“You know—” Ashley broke off abruptly and
looked away.

Worry poked at me, but I pushed it aside.
“What? Tell me.”

“Everyone thinks he has a thing for you.”

My mouth dropped open.
Carl
? “He—what?
He doesn’t! He’s straight.”

“And that you have a thing for him.”

“I—” I couldn’t deny he was attractive.

Ashley’s back stiffened, and quietly he
asked, “
Do
you have a thing for him?”

“Not really. It’s nothing… real.” It felt
weird discussing this with Ashley, someone I always imagined was
straight. Suddenly I wasn’t so sure anymore. “But that accent, what
can I say? He’s kind, he’s handsome, and he growls my name.”

By now Ashley was grinning. “And you want to
make him purr like a cat, do you?”

“No!” I shouted, laughing. “Well, maybe a
little. In my deepest, darkest fantasies, but that’s where all that
stays—safely hidden.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

While that was more comforting than I wanted
to admit, I felt the need to steer the conversation away from me
before I admitted anything else. “What about your nightmares? Are
they bad?”

Ashley laughed uncomfortably and fiddled with
his empty mug. “Once I nearly jumped out of the window because I
was convinced the house was on fire.”

“No way!”

Ashley nodded. “The cold woke me up. It was
the middle of winter. It probably saved me a broken limb, if not a
broken neck.”

“That’s terrible. You need someone to sleep
with to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” As soon as I’d said it,
I realized what a cheap come-on that sounded like. I backpedaled
quickly. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” Ashley said softly. “I know you
didn’t.”

The silence congealed into something
uncomfortable, and I desperately wanted to say the right thing to
make it go away. I’d have him in my bed, I realized. Without second
thought, I’d drag him up there and let him do to me whatever he
wanted, if he’d have me. But what would a man like him want with
me? Lamely, because I could think of nothing else, I said, “Let me
grab you another drink.”

“Actually, I think I’ll go home now. It’s
probably a good idea to have a nap before tonight’s party.”

I didn’t want him to go, but I didn’t know
how to express that after the terrible line I’d just fed him. “I’ll
drive you.”

“No need. I like walking.”

“But the salt will ruin your shoes. You don’t
have your boots today.”

Ashley shrugged. “They’re only shoes.” He got
to his feet, and I had no choice but to follow him to my mudroom,
where he put his shoes on.

I opened the garage door. “Pick you up at
seven?”

“Perfect.” He hesitated, and for a second I
thought he might hug me. Instead, he slid his hand over my shoulder
and squeezed it once. “Thanks, Gregory. I needed that.”

“Anytime.”

I watched him go with a strange sense of
loss, which I shook off immediately. I had Secret Santa gifts to
buy, but first, warmer clothes to don before I ventured out into
the wild.

I had Amal as my Secret Santa victim, and I
bought him a Little Mermaid book-clock in downtown Rochester. The
shop owner explained she inserted the clocks into all the books
herself, and I thought it would be a nice little addition for
Amelia’s baby room. Too late it occurred to me Amal probably had
baby stuff coming out of his ears by now, and it might’ve been nice
to buy something just for him.

During one lunch or other in the cafeteria,
I’d overheard Amal saying he would have loved to learn how to ride
a horse as a child. There was a riding school about twenty-five
minutes away, and if the weather held, I could make it there and
back in time with my too-expensive Secret Santa gift.