Restoring Romance (Welcome to Romance 1)

“I’m going to treat him exactly like I would a brother. If I act like he’s my brother, I’ll feel like he’s my brother.”

“And I believe you because you’ve had so much practice with your own brother. Oh! I forgot—you don’t have a brother.”

Ash blew a raspberry. “Just wait, you of little faith...”

“What are you going to do if this p

lan of yours doesn’t work? What if you still have the hots for your cousin?”

Ash didn’t respond, though she knew the answer. If this doesn’t work, I’m coming home... to New York City.

SUNDAY AFTERNOON, ADAM sat on his parent’s front porch, pretending to read a book while awaiting Ash’s arrival. Her mixed signals had him utterly confused, and he was determined to have a private conversation before dinner.

She’d been so open and vulnerable last week, perhaps because the pain of her headache had lowered her defenses. As she shared even more of her past, he was amazed to learn how much she’d overcome in her short lifetime.

Filled with admiration for her unshakable spirit, he felt inspired to return to his dream of providing a home for unwanted kids, though he wasn’t sure what that would look like. Perhaps simply adding a few adopted kids into the family. Perhaps taking in a number of foster children. And he couldn’t imagine anyone he would rather have by his side than Ash Hendrix.

His optimism bloomed when she accepted his invitation to ride horses at his ranch on Saturday, yet it transformed to irritation as she arrived with Erin and Daniel in tow. He grew more exasperated at her cheery explanation of pursuing a fun outing with her “cousins,” a term that grated on his nerves as she repeated it throughout the day and thwarted his every attempt to speak with her alone.

With any luck, he planned to catch her on the front porch today before she escaped inside. Fortune held and she arrived early to his parents’ house, creeping toward the front door with a large covered basket, while eyeing him like a skittish fawn.

“Can I speak with you for a moment, Ash?” He patted the seat beside him.

After a brief hesitation, her head drooped in resignation, and she turned to join him, perching on the edge of the bench, looking straight ahead, as if contact would contaminate her.

He wanted to take her hand, but she kept them clenched on the basket in her lap. “Ash, have I done something to upset you?”

Her head rotated so fast she could’ve had whiplash. “No! I appreciate all you’ve done, Adam.”

He peered into her sapphire eyes, trying to see the hidden depths. “I thought you felt uncomfortable around me, for some reason.”

“No, I think you’re wonderful. I care about you, Adam. I even made you something.”

His pulse quickened as she rummaged inside the basket and retrieved a plastic container. Surly this means she has feelings for me.

“These are my special chocolate, chocolate-chip cookies.” She held them out in trembling hands.

“Thank you, Ash. This means so much to me.”

He put his hand on hers, and she pulled away like she’d touched a light socket.

“I’m glad you like them. I made batches for all the cousins.”

He gripped the wood bench, pushing back his aggravation while silently counting to ten.

She jumped to her feet, backing toward the front door. “I gave you more since you helped me so much this week. Thanks again, Adam. You’re the best cousin ever!”

He upped his count to fifty.

ASH COULD HARDLY SLEEP Sunday night, remembering Adam’s hurt expression. She’d successfully avoided being alone with him again. Though he obviously cared about her, as he did all his family, he seemed oblivious to the fact that his attentions were stirring something deeper inside her. And if she tried to explain it, he would think she was some kind of pervert, attracted to her own cousin.

Surely, if she approached him in a business fashion, she could bridle her feelings. She bundled up and slogged through the rain to his store, Good As Old, prepared to ask for an estimate on her excess furniture. She’d grown rather attached to the ornate antiques and now planned to incorporate quite a few into her new eclectic design. Ever since Adam checked out a book from the library and explained the furniture styles of each corresponding historical period, she couldn’t look at an old chair the same way. As she watched him describe the designs, his eyes alight with excitement and love, she found herself wishing she were a chair or a settee so that he would speak about her with the same enthusiasm and admiration.

She now understood antiques, unlike mass-produced modern furniture, were individual works of art. Though she still liked the clean lines of modern design, she appreciated how each antique provided a snapshot of history.

Despite her newfound admiration for antiques, she still had more furniture than she could ever utilize. Thus, she came to Adam’s shop with a list of furniture she needed to sell.

She opened the shop door and stepped over Kujo’s sleeping hulk, dripping water while she followed the clank of metal tools to a back room. As she watched him working, unaware of her presence, he moved with a more pronounced limp, occasionally rubbing his left hip.