Safe and Sound (Twist of Fate 2)

“Buck up there, Jay Z. Beyoncé’s headed this way,” Lucky whispered under his breath after a few moments. I couldn’t help but glance up to see Ash waving over his shoulder to Emily as he shrugged into his coat. Warmth bloomed in my belly when I saw Ash carefully work the gloves I’d given him onto his hands. As he approached, I stood up and gave my palms a final wipe, ignoring Lucky’s snicker.

I flashed Ash a smile. “Shall we boldly go where no man has ever gone before?”

He coughed out a nervous laugh. “Seriously? Alright, then. Make it so.”

“No,” Lucky said firmly. “No way. That is not how this is going to go down. Absolutely not. I refuse to be party to this level of geekitude.”

Ash reached out tentatively to lay a hand on Lucky’s shoulder before leaning in to say something in a low voice. “Lucky, it would seem resistance is futile.”

Lucky’s eyes rolled out of his head before he shot me an accusing glare. “My rates just went up. Consider it hazard pay.”

We arrived at the diner and found a booth toward the back. Lucky and Bennett had brought me there before and I’d fallen in love with their patty melt. Now I ate there every time I was in the area.

I’d assumed Lucky and I would sit on one side of the booth to give Ash the other, but after I sat down, Lucky lurched forward to take the opposite side with a big sprawl of his gangly teenaged limbs, so Ash was forced to share with me. As soon as he slid into the spot next to me, I caught the heady scent of coffee mixed with cinnamon coming from his clothes, and I wanted to drink it in.

After Ash asked what was good to eat there, Lucky and I fought over what to recommend, leaving Ash to watch our heated discussion with amusement. In the end, Ash chose the patty melt, and I nearly shook my head at how good it felt to have that small victory. Like he trusted me or something. I knew it wasn’t true, because I could still see that he carried a certain amount of tension in his frame as he tried not to let his body brush mine in the too-small seat, but I was at a point where I’d take whatever I could with this man. It wasn’t until I flicked a folded-up napkin at Lucky in retaliation for contradicting my suggestion of the patty melt that Ash’s sweet laugh rang out across the table. The sound was like heaven, and I realized how rare it was.

“You two are awful. You sure you aren’t related?” Ash asked, still chuckling.

“Take it back,” Lucky said, flicking the napkin back at me. “The man’s a menace. His only saving grace is his good taste in friends. Oh, and his killer flat-screen and gaming systems.”

I let out a laugh. “You’re easy to please.”

Lucky focused on Ash with a friendly smile. “So, Ash, Aiden wouldn’t spill the beans about you at all. What are you into when you’re not working at Beam Me Up?”

I stared at my young friend, knowing full well he had to have been put up to that question by his fathers.

Ash squirmed a little in the seat next to me. “Well, I… ah… used to play college football.”

“Really?” Lucky asked excitedly. “What position?”

“Kicker.”

“Cool. Were you hoping to go pro or was it just for fun?”

Ash tensed a little next to me and shot me a brief look. “No, um… I definitely wanted to go pro. I’d been playing since middle school and managed to get a scholarship.”

“Wow, so you were good, huh?” Lucky interjected.

Ash dropped his eyes and nodded. “Pretty good, yeah.”

“What happened?” I asked gently, hoping to pull Ash from his thoughts. I let my fingers brush his left hand briefly as he tapped his fingers on the Formica tabletop. The move jarred Ash and he looked at where our hands were nearly touching. His eyes lifted to mine and softened.

“I got sick,” he murmured. “My heart… I couldn’t play anymore.” He held my gaze for a moment longer and then shifted in his seat. “What about you, Lucky? You like football?”

I only half-listened as Lucky explained that he liked watching, but wasn’t interested in playing the game. Ash had once again relaxed and I could feel the heat wafting off his body. At some point, he’d shifted enough that our bodies were almost touching.

Almost, but not quite.

He’d moved his hands to rest on his thighs beneath the table and I could see him rubbing them over his pants. I barely hid my smile because I realized he was doing what I’d been doing at the coffee shop.

He was nervous.

The good kind of nervous.

The kind that meant he knew this almost-date was more “date” and less “almost.”