“Compared to having fun, rest is highly overrated.” She dug in her purse to retrieve a five-dollar bill, sporting a sassy grin as she waved it at him. “You won.”
With a wink, he pushed it back at her, loving her sense of humor. “Compared to savoring victory, money is highly overrated.”
“I have to admit this has been the best birthday, ever—maybe the best day of my life.”
Ash’s declaration, underscored with a tired smile, warmed him in an unexpected way, and he yearned to gift her with more such days. Though she’d been thrilled at the helicopter ride, she seemed equally awestruck when he took her to his ranch. If she was faking her enthusiasm, she certainly fooled him.
He couldn’t help comparing her wide-eyed eagerness at having a horse eat a carrot from her hand to Darla’s nervous countenance around the ranch animals. No doubt, Ash would’ve attempted to climb on and ride bareback if he hadn’t warned her off, promising to let her ride with a proper saddle on another day.
The sun was setting as he drove her home, and so far, he’d avoided the paint color issue. He had no idea what colors she wanted to use, but he assumed it was something loud and obnoxious. He didn’t want his grandmother’s house to be painted any of the colors he’d seen in Times Square. But the truth was, the more time he spent with Ash, the less he cared about the perfect preservation of the family home.
He’d set out to fulfill his mother’s wish that he treat Ash like family, and make up for his insensitive behavior. And Ash insisted they could only be friends. But right now, it simply felt right to have Ash riding in the front seat of his truck.
Her smile was addicting. Once he’d seen her lush lips curve upward in a grin, crinkling the corners of her sparkling blue eyes, he became obsessed with making her smile over and over again.
“How old are you?”
Her question came out of the blue, and he couldn’t help feeling a little defensive. He was only four years older than her, but thirty sounded ancient.
“How old do you think I am?”
“Oh, so you’re going to play that game, are you? Fine... let me look you over.”
She leaned forward, her eyes roaming up and down. He made sure his gut was sucked in, not that he had any extra weight. Between his work on the ranch and his woodworking, he had muscles aplenty.
“I’d say you’re not a day over thirty-eight.”
“Thirty-eight! Do I look that old? I’m only thirty!”
She snickered behind her fingers, and he knew he’d been had.
“Okay, fine. You asked a question... now it’s my turn. Where did you live in Texas before you moved to New York?”
Was it his imagination, or did she turn a little pale?
“Houston and Dallas. What kind of music do you like?”
“Country, classic rock, jazz, and big band.”
“Seriously? I figured you for pure country.”
There it was—that contagious smile of hers. An effortless grin slid onto his face. He’d smiled more today than he had in the past ten years... he couldn’t help it.
“Naturally, I like country music. But Mom and Dad taught me to like classic rock and jazz, and Grammy liked big band music.”
“Grammy?” Her face clouded. “Tell me the truth—do you hate me for living in her house? For changing it?”
“You knew about my grandmother?” He kept his eyes on the road, trying to hold his emotions in check.
“Not until Erin told me last Sunday.”
“What did she tell you?”
“She told me all about you and your brothers and how close you were to your grandmother. She also mentioned that you’re allergic to cats.”
“She’s right about the cats.” He glanced over and caught the ghost of a smile. “She’s also right about me and Grammy.”
“Will you tell me about her?” she asked in a small voice.