Heart of Ash (3 page)

A man like that would be worth the risk.

Wouldn’t he?

“Jesus,” Kaitlin muttered as Ascot Man leaned back in his chair and went toppling into the sawdust. A cheer went up around the bar and Emily swallowed a guffaw. He’d scared her on the boat, looming over her, boxing her in, reminding her of another man. He wasn’t so terribly daunting sprawled on the floor with peanut shells in his hair. The flare of satisfaction, seeing him humiliated like that, was probably beneath her.

“Who are those guys?” Tara asked.

Holt glanced over his shoulder. “The blond is Ash Bristol. He has the place next to ours.”

Emily’s ears perked up at that. She peeped over at her Greek God.
Ash
. His name was Ash.

And then she stilled. “Bristol?” she asked through numb lips. “As in the Bristol Foundation?”

Cam nodded. “Ash is the heir apparent.”

Emily studied Ash’s features from beneath veiled lashes and saw it. The family likeness. She’d worked many fundraising events with Adam Bristol, the CEO of Bristol Coffee Company, one of Seattle’s most successful roasters. Adam, who was her father’s age, was a wonderful man who cared deeply about many of the causes Emily championed.

If Ash were anything like his father…

Her heart gave a little flip.

Cam took a sip of his beer. “Ash is a friend of Lane’s,” he added, as though that explained everything. But then, it kind of did. Trust fund babies stuck together.

“And the others?” Tara asked.

Cam smirked. “I don’t know the guy in the ascot.” Snorts around the table at that. “But that’s Parker Rieth in the blue and Devlin Fox in the Polo shirt.”

Tara gasped. “That’s
Devlin Fox
?”

All heads swung in her direction, probably because of the vitriol dripping from her tone. Emily had never heard Tara snarl, not quite like this.

“You know him?” Bella asked.

“He writes a Foodie Blog.” This Tara spat as though it tasted bad. “He gave Stud Muffin a bad review.”

“What?” A howl of dissension rose. No one dissed a Dawg and got away with it.

“Why the hell did he do that?” Holt grumbled. Tara’s bakery was the hottest pastry shop in Seattle.

“Because I don’t have gluten free.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the table across the room. And then muttered, “Big baby.”

“They’re all drunk as skunks.” Bella wrinkled her nose, which was funny, because Bella knew her way around a bar pretty well.

Jamie blew out a breath. Her bangs fluffed up. “Looks like it’s frat-central next door this weekend, ladies.”

Tara set her chin. “We should make a pact.”

“A pact?”

Holt and Cam, knowing what was coming, groaned.

“A pact to avoid them.” Tara thrust her fist out to the center of the table and all the women piled their hands on top.

“To avoid the douche bags,” they chorused.

Tara whipped her fist up in the air, sending all their hands flying. “Like the fucking plague.”

It was a Girl Dawg pact.

Immutable and carved in stone.

A hint of regret wafted through Emily like a wraith, though she knew, even if there were no pact, she’d never have the courage to talk to a man like Ash.

Not ever.

And it annoyed the hell out of her.

“Hey.”

Emily jumped. So focused on the starfish in the tide pool, she hadn’t heard anyone approach. She turned, shaded her eyes from the sun and froze.

It was him.

The Greek God.

Again, wreathed by a brilliant halo.

What was it with this guy and halos?

Her friends constantly told her she was whimsical and fey, and maybe she was. But was it naïve to think it could be an omen?

Probably.

But for some reason, she couldn’t squash the hope swelling in her breast.

“H-hey.” Her pulse surged. Panic…and something else whipped through her. She tried to calm her roiling emotions. He was here. Talking to her. The very thing she’d been fantasizing about all evening. It took an effort to ignore her primal response. To stay put. But somehow she dredged up a modicum of courage and didn’t leap to her feet and run away. She even managed a smile.

He hunkered down beside her and the flutter became a full boil. “What are you doing?”

She fixated on the little puddle of life, abandoned when the tide rushed off to occupy itself with more interesting pursuits, and shrugged. “J-just looking.”

“Do you stare at water often?”

Emily blinked. She fought down an incongruous snort of laughter, but it escaped anyway. Before she could stop herself, she glanced at him. He was close. So close she could see the golden tinge of his lashes, the slight stubble on his cheeks, the tiny creases at the corner of his eyes.

His lips quirked, a crooked grin. She liked the way he grinned, though from the lines on his face, she suspected he was more often frowning.

“I…Whenever I can.” She stood and brushed the damp sand from her knees and picked up her wide-brimmed hat. He stood too. Her breath stalled. Because he was tall. Way tall.

Big men made her especially nervous. How odd she didn’t feel that right now. No. This wasn’t fear. It was…something else entirely.

“I’m Ash.” He thrust out a hand.

Her stomach clenched. He expected her to take it. To touch him.

Touch
him
.

She reminded herself it was only a handshake. Nothing more. She reminded herself she was safe. And, indeed, a sudden
comfort
flooded her. She felt, deep in her soul, as if she knew him.

As though her soul recognized his.

Yep. He’s the one.

Exhilaration swept through her, eroding long-held fears. A delicious lightness enrobed her.

Emily believed in trusting her instincts. And her instincts screamed he was someone special. Someone safe.

Of its own volition, her hand met his.

Electricity sizzled up her arm as their palms touched. Caressed. An unexpected and unfamiliar audaciousness settled over her. She met his gaze.

He stiffened. His pupils dilated. They stared at each other. It was probably her imagination that he felt the same simmering recognition.

 “I’m Emily,” she said, her voice sounding oddly coquettish to her ears.

“How do you do, Emily?” That reluctant grin again. Like he was apologizing for smiling.

“I do very well, Ash. Thank you.” She nibbled her lip to hold back a grin of her own. She’d spent hours in elocution classes as a child, parroting these very words back to her tutor. Her mother had been diligent in training her daughters on every element of propriety. At that thought, she put on her floppy hat. Though it was early evening, the sun still beat down. It wouldn’t do to freckle.

“Would you care to promenade?” he asked with a wink, playing along. With his upbringing, he’d probably suffered through the same lessons.

She curtseyed. “I’d be delighted.”

He thrust out an elbow.

Oh dear.
He meant for her to take his arm.

She did, of course. It was the
polite
thing to do. It didn’t hurt that his muscles were firm. They flexed beneath her fingers. And he was warm. She imagined she could feel his warmth seeping into her, melting the ice that had encased her heart since…

No. She wouldn’t think about that.

But she was being fanciful again. This was only a stroll. Nothing more.

She cleared her throat, searching for a topic as they started down the beach toward the point. It was a beautiful summer evening. A cool, soothing breeze drifted off the water, riffling the needles of the fragrant pine trees standing sentinel along the shore. She set her hand on the top of her hat and tipped her face up to the sun.

 “So, Ash, do you come here often?”

“That’s supposed to be my line,” he chuckled.

“A thousand pardons, sir.”

 “I do, though. As often as I can,” he said. “How about you?”

She shrugged. “Now and then. When I can get away.” Even though school was out, her calendar overflowed with commitments to the shelter and the food bank and the tutoring she did at Teen Waystation.

Those kinds of activities gave her mother conniptions. But Emily found it satisfying, helping people who really needed it. If her mother had her way, Emily would spend her days dressed like a poodle, tottering around a garden party eating finger sandwiches and bemoaning the lack of Perrier in Bangladesh.

“Busy life?”

She didn’t quite understand his odd tone, but pressed the ping of uneasiness away. “Mmm. Very busy.”

“Ah. Demanding boyfriend?”

“N-no. No boyfriend.”

“Husband?”

“No husband.”

“Dog?”

She threw back her head and laughed. “I do have a dog.” Six actually, but three were rescues she was fostering. She’d probably keep them. ”And cats.”

“Ah. A menagerie.”

“I love animals.”

She smiled at him and his step faltered. His gaze flicked over her features and settled on her mouth. She licked her lips; it was a purely instinctual response to having one’s lips stared at. She did not expect his nostrils to flare quite like that.

She knew he was thinking about kissing her. Just knew. Excitement rippled through her.

Oddly, there was no panic at the thought.

Just excitement.

Perhaps he was the one.

“So… What do you do, Emily of the Tide Pool?” The words were soft and slow, almost a seduction.

“I’m a teacher.”

The muscles around his eyes tightened, infinitesimally. “A teacher.”

“Mmm hmm.” They rounded the point and the smaller companion island to the west came into view. They headed toward it.

An eagle soared overhead and she stopped in her tracks to watch. “Oh heavens,” she breathed. “How magnificent.” She turned to find his gaze riveted on her face. His intensity sent a ripple of nervousness through her. “An eagle,” she said, in case he’d missed it. “It flew over to the other island.” She pointed. In case he didn’t know where the island was. Also, so he’d look. Over there. His avid attention on her mouth was making her restless.

Obligingly, he looked. “I think there’s a convocation nesting there.”

Emily blinked. “A what?”

“A convocation. It’s what you call a group of eagles.”

“It is?”

“Mmm hmm. A gaggle of geese. A murder of crows. A charm of hummingbirds. A convocation of eagles.”

“A charm of hummingbirds? I rather like that. How do you know all this?”

He stubbed the sand with his toe. “I had a poster on my wall when I was a kid. I used to lie on the bed when no one was home and read it.”

“When no one was home?”

His smile faded. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “There are lots of birds on the other island. I think they flock over there because there are fewer disruptions from humans.” He shot her a glance. “Have you ever been there?”

“Oh no. It’s private property.”

“Yes, it is.” A wicked glint appeared in his eye. “Would you like to trespass?”

“We couldn’t.” She returned her attention to the island as another eagle joined the first. They rose and drifted on the updrafts and circled each other like lovers. “It’s so far.”

“I can take you for a ride on my Jet Ski. We’ll just zip over and I can show you where they nest, and then we’ll come back.”

“Y-you have a Jet Ski? I’ve never been on one.”

He gaped. “Never?”

“Never.”

“Emily of the Tide Pools, who loves staring at water, has never been on a Jet Ski? That seals it. You have to come.”

“But won’t the owner be angry?”

“No one lives there. There’s a cabin, but no one lives there.” He gave her an enticing grin. “Come on. You know you want to.”

It wasn’t the prospect of visiting a forbidden island that set her pulse pounding. It was going there with
him
. On a Jet Ski. Exhilaration whipped through her at the thought of sitting behind him, plastered against him. Wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Okay,” she said. She had no idea why she said yes. No idea why the word came so easily. No idea why her spirit took flight. Maybe because this was one step—a tiny step but a step nonetheless—toward taking back her life. Reclaiming herself from the fear that had chained her for so long.

He smiled at her and, for the first time since they’d met, his smile was absolutely, unequivocally genuine.

Chapter Three

Excellent.

Fucking excellent.

Like a lamb to slaughter.

Ash glanced up at the sky and gauged the color on the horizon. Just starting to show a hint of darkness. He took Emily’s arm and led her back down the beach, past her house, hoping to hell no one saw them. If anyone stopped them, his plans would be for shit.

No one did.

All the guys at his place were sleeping off their buzzes, and he’d already prepped the Jet Ski and had it tied to the dock, so all he had to do was climb on and help her settle in behind him. “You might want to leave your hat,” he said.

She tipped it off, letting it hang down her back. “It’s my favorite hat.”

“Okay.”
Whatthefuckever
. “Put your arms around my waist,” he said over his shoulder, willing his voice not to crack. But Jesus, when she did it, he nearly lost it. Her breasts pressed against his back and it made him dizzy. Because all the blood shot to his cock. He turned the key and revved the engine. “Hold on.”

“Won’t we get wet?” she called into his ear.

“Only a little.” A lie. But a necessary one.

She squealed and clutched him as the craft lurched into motion and water splashed over her feet. He bit back a grin and patted her hands, tightly clasped, as they were, around his middle.

“It’s okay,” he yelled. “Just hang on tight.”

And she did. Bless her. She clung to him like a limpet, molding her body against his, her crotch plastered against this ass. He tried not to think about that, because he didn’t want to steer into the reef.

He’d made this trip a hundred times while he and Parker were building the cabin. He knew every rock, every swell, every wind pocket. He steeled himself as they rounded the point—it always gusted here—and when the blast hit, she clenched him harder.