Restoring Romance (Welcome to Romance 1)
Page 26
“You said he had a temper, right? I’m not surprised he got mad. It’s okay if he flew off the handle when you told him, since you were trying not to like him anyway.”
“Well that completely backfired.” Ash rubbed her temples. “When he found out I was his cousin, he wasn’t mad at all. He was nice—so nice I ended up spilling my guts. All about my past.”
“You told him everything?”
“Not everything—I never mentioned anyone abusing me. But I told him about the foster care and Mom’s drug overdose and meeting Lauren and my dream of becoming a chef and owning my own restaurant. ”
Maggie let out a low whistle. “For you to open up like that, it’s incredible.”
“I know! He was so worried about me, he didn’t even fuss about me inheriting the house. And he shushed me every time I brought up the idea of giving the house back to him.”
“He shushed you? And you didn’t sock him in the mouth?”
“Well, no.” Ash felt forced to defend him. “He shushed me in a tender way.”
“Ash, you’ve fallen for him even worse, haven’t you. You better come to New York and get married, like I suggested before.”
“I think we both know we can’t get married.” Ash closed her eyes, remembering how it felt to be in his arms. Though it was an innocent, brotherly act, her body’s response was anything but brotherly. “He made me feel cherished... special.”
“Oh my gosh! Did he kiss you? Are you kissing cousins now?”
“Shut up, Maggie! He didn’t kiss me.”
“But you wanted him to do it, didn’t you?”
Ash groaned, hating to admit the truth. “Yes, I did.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
Chapter Nine
ON MONDAY, ADAM FOUND materials in his shop to fashion a scratching post for Lucky. He could hardly wait for the sun to rise Tuesday morning to deliver it. He’d even left Kujo at home, anticipating the opportunity to spend a little quality time with Ash. After a prolonged period of knocking, Ash’s door cracked open and her face appeared in the dim interior, hair askew and dark circles underscoring her squinting eyes.
“What’s wrong, Ash? Are you sick?” He fought the urge to scoop her up and drive her to the emergency room.
She squeezed her eyes shut as if the daylight hurt. “It’s just a migraine.”
“You look terrible.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Her feeble attempt at a smile broke his heart. He pushed his way inside and set the scratching post against the wall. She stepped back, looking small and frail in her oversized sweatshirt and baggy flannel pants.
“What can I do for you?”
“I’ll be fine. I get them all the time, whenever I’m stressed.”
She shuffled toward the den, lit only by few tiny light beams escaping around the edge of the dark curtain. She climbed onto the couch and rested her head on a pillow, pulling a blanket up to her chin.
“How about a glass of water?”
She nodded.
“A cool rag for your face?”
She nodded again.