Caught in the Flames (50 page)

“How about now?” He pulls into the drive. Most of the snow is melted. There are only a few piles remaining where the earth doesn’t get much sunlight and they’re more like dirty ice. This is why I love Virginia over Minnesota. Here the snow melts between storms. It’s still cold, but it’s a livable cold.

“Is my surprise inside?” I pop open the car door and step outside.

Ash grabs my bag and motions toward the door. “Why don’t we go inside and find out?”

I let loose a little scream and clap my hands before I run to the door.

Ash chuckles as I fumble with my purse and unearth my keys. “Here. Let me.” His breath at my ear causes me to freeze. With his body close behind mine, he reaches his right arm around to slide his key in the lock and twist. “After you.” He backs away and I release the breath I was holding.

Joy fills my heart and wraps around my body like a hug as I turn the handle and push the door open. I step inside and shock overturns my emotions. “Wow,” I whisper. I take a few more steps.

Ash walks in behind me. His boots cause a soft thud on the hardwood flooring and he sets my bag to the side with a hesitant smile. “So . . . I hope you like it.”

“Damn, Ashley, you sure Mr. Fix It good.” I turn to him all wide-eyed and wondered and his lips pull into that radiant smile. I cannot believe he did all this. The floors are sanded and sealed and the fresh coat of paint on the walls makes the space feel like a brand new house. He even made an adorable attempt at arranging the furniture with the pieces of Kiki’s I wanted to keep. Of course I’ll rearrange later, but it’s the thought that has me at a loss for words.

“Just wait until you see the kitchen.” He clasps my hand in his and drags me through the living room. I’m still in awe, glancing over my shoulder, because fuck, I was only gone two weeks.

“Tell me you hired help. There’s no way you did all this.” I scan the kitchen, my gorgeous dream kitchen. It should belong in a magazine and not my home. He’s refinished all the cabinetry in the glossy white I wanted. The countertops are dark granite and the floors are travertine stone, the color of the sample I picked on our last hardware run. Hell, he even replaced the sink and faucet to one I found and pinned.

“It’s okay? You like it? ’Cause if you don’t, we can replace anything you hate.”

“Ash, stop talking. I’m having a moment with my marvelous new kitchen,” I whisper and his lips pull into a breathtaking smile.

“Surprise time,” he announces, and makes me cover my eyes before leading me down the hallway.

“Not much of a surprise after showing me that kitchen. Like, seriously, what can top that?” I tease. His hand at my back sends tingles up my spine and his breath hits my neck from where my hair is pulled up. The soft creak of a door has my curiosity piqued but before I can think too much, Ash removes my hands from my eyes. I blink as my sight adjusts to the bathroom lights.

“Oh, Ash.” My hands drift to my mouth and I mash my lips together to keep the sobs at bay. I blink again but a few tears escape anyway.

“Shit. You don’t like it.” His shoulders drop.

“No. I do. I just. . . . I love it,” I choke out and then wipe the tears from my cheeks. I beam at Ash and step forward to check out the paintings he’s framed and hung along the bathroom wall.

“It’s okay?”

“It’s amazing. The perfect surprise. Thank you.” I laugh and shake my head at the assortment of erotic flowers. “Ash, how the hell did you find these?”

“Now that is a funny story. I was in the grocery store and I overheard two women gossiping about the prints. Barry bought them. He must’ve gotten them and left before the fire.”

“No shit.” I’m still in shock. These are the very paintings I watched her paint. I can’t believe he tracked these down. For me. “So, you what? Robbed a blind man?”

Ash chuckles. “Nah, I bought them from him. He felt bad for me. At least, I think he did. It’s difficult to tell, what with his lack of eye contact.”

“Why would he feel bad?”

“A grown ass man begging for vagina flowers? Jesus, I’d take pity, too.”

I wrap my arms around Ash in a tight embrace. He stills for a second before giving a quick squeeze back. “It’s okay that I hung them in here? I wasn’t sure the best place for them? Bedroom was off limits. And they’re not really appropriate for . . . anywhere really, but I thought they’d make a good conversation piece in here.”

“They’re perfect, Ash. Thank you.”

“All right, so . . .” He braces his hands on my shoulders and steps back. “How tired are you right now?” His brows lift with that mischievous glint. I’m a little disappointed at the space he’s put between us but it doesn’t diminish the excitement from his gift.

“Not at all. Why? What do you have in mind?” I grin and nerves bounce inside while I await his next words.

“You don’t have to, but . . .” He takes my right hand and drags me further down the hall, stopping outside the closed bedroom door. His hand leaves mine to grasp the handle and push it open with a twist. “How do you feel about getting high off paint fumes?”

He steps inside and I gasp. The carpet is gone, the hardwood floor is sanded and ready for varnish. All the furniture is missing and there are five paint colors slapped across each wall. But the thing that has me overwhelmed and now grinning like an idiot are the yellow sticky notes affixed to each painted sample. I step closer to examine the options.

“What if I don’t like any of these?” It’s a bullshit question, though. I love them all. More likely, I’ll have a problem choosing only one. It’s almost unnerving how well he gets my style.

“Then we get more. Either way, I’ve gotta run and get paint.” I consider the colors and the names with an artificial scowl. I maybe have them narrowed down to just three. “You don’t like
any
of them?” He says with a tiny hint of disappointment.

I punch his arm playfully. “I love them.” I nod and point to the one that catches my eye. “What do you think about that one?”

“Fuck me. I knew you’d pick that,” he teases with mock irritation.

I laugh. “What? You don’t like Burnt Ash?”

“Considering my occupation, no not really. I prefer an untoasted version.”

I glance at all the colors again, but my eyes land back on the gray. It’s gorgeous and I’d select the color even if it were named Chase Me Stupid. I lift my chin and scrunch up my nose.

Ash’s eyes dance as his lips fight the smile. I open my mouth to speak but Ash does first. “You want the Ash, don’t you?” He rolls his eyes.

“I really do,” I respond with no truer statement. I want the paint, yes, but I want the man, too.

He just laughs, walks toward the door, and calls over his shoulder, “Be back in twenty minutes. You better have your painting clothes on when I get back!”

I almost shout back something dangerous and bold like “What if I don’t?” or “Maybe you should help me change?” I almost do. But instead, the fear that Ash won’t return my advances has my tongue tied and more confused than ever.

I need to be brave. I need to make my offer.

Maybe I should wait until after we finish painting this room in case things don’t go my way. Then at least I can cry myself to sleep in a freshly painted room. Or maybe wait just a few more days until it’s the weekend. Give myself time to gear up for it.

Yeah. I’ll do that.

I love housewarming parties.

After Ash and I painted my room he helped me move over the remaining furniture from my old house and drag the other stuff out of the basement. It was like one of those DIY reality television shows where we raced against an imaginary clock to finish the house.

Friday night we sat around my kitchen table indulging in pizza and beer when Ash suggested I have friends over to celebrate and show off our work. I jumped all over that and Alicia and Jill were all too happy to oblige my last minute invite, ditching their Saturday night plans for my Housewarming Happy Hour. After Ash left I pulled out my sticky notes and favorite pens and made list after list to prepare for my party. The perfect distraction to my building fear—Ash doesn’t want me.

For a friend, yes, and for that I truly am thankful. The fact he hasn’t once made a move or implied he wants more after spending the last forty-eight hours working side by side gives me little hope he still loves me the way he confessed to Kiki the night of the fire. I’ve missed my shot.

But at least I have his friendship
. It’s enough, or I hope it will be if I keep repeating it to myself.

I’m screwed.

Irritated at myself for wallowing in the disappointment when there’s so much good in my life sends me back to my lists. My life might not be exactly how I want it, but there’s one thing I know how to do, and that’s throw a damn good party.

Jill and Alicia arrive just before five, and when I open the door I’m met with hugs, squeals, and so much love. With the holidays and the way this past month has gone it feels as if it’s been ages since I’ve had time with my girls. I miss them.

Ash enters the house as they begin the oohs and ahhs over the refinished hardwood floors, which starts another round of greetings and laughter. It’s so great to have all my friends in one place.

Alicia and Jill insist that I give them the complete tour and Ash tags along silently. His eyes dance with humor, and a proud smile is a permanent fixture on his face. We go from the living room to kitchen, then naughty bathroom to my Ash colored master bedroom.

“Damn, I think you need to pay this boy! The place looks awesome,” Jill says.

“I agree. You should get him a new car!” Alicia claps wildly.

“Yes! New car. Something manly. Hot. Smokin’ hot.” Jill grins.

“I don’t need a new car and I don’t want Callie buying me shit.” Ash’s tone is more defensive than light.

“I tried.” Jill rolls her eyes.

“Callie, you must really enjoy his company to put up with that travesty parked in the drive!” Alicia laughs.

“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make,” I tease.

“I’m standing right here, ladies,” Ash says, but none of us turn to face him. “I like my car,” he mutters.

“Shouldn’t he be fixing something? Like drinks?” Jill smarts with a smile.

“Y’all can pour your own damn drinks. I’m no one’s bitch.” Ash puffs out his chest and receives glares from the three of us. He slinks back and tries for a smile. “Er . . . um . . . that is, what would you like?” He’s met with radio silence and I almost feel bad that we’re still glaring. “So, wine it is, then? I’ll go pour some glasses.” He backs out of my bedroom with caution and when he turns to walk down the hall, we hear him mutter to himself, “I’m my own man. I’m a man.”

We burst into a fit of giggles.

I open the walk-in closet to showcase the custom shelving Ash installed to hold my shoes, shirts, and dresses so every single item has a place. It’s all organized to my mind’s desire. Alicia’s voice grows serious. “What gives, Callie? When you gonna lock that boy down?”

“What?” I ask like I don’t know what they’re talking about. Of course I want a relationship with Ash. I just don’t know how to approach the conversation. That and I’m terrified of him not returning my feelings.

“If you don’t want him, pass him over. My place could use a fresh coat of paint. And I’ll put out if I have to.” Jill pouts and I narrow my glare.

“You will not touch Ashley. Not one hair on his head. You got that?” Jill’s eyes widen and even I’m taken aback at the venom that drips from my lips. Alicia wraps one arm around my shoulder.

“She’s teasing, Callie. We know you and Ash are meant to be. We’re just tired of watching you two torture yourselves for no good reason.”

“What do I do?” I glance up at Jill. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Go out there and get your man. Grab him by the balls. Metaphorically, of course.”

“Of course.” I nod.
Am I really gonna do this?

“Maybe grab him by the ears instead?” Alicia offers with a lift of her shoulders.
Yes, ears.
The last time I grabbed those… shit. Now I’m turned on.

“Go get your man.” Jill turns me and gives me a little push toward the door.

“What about you guys?”

“We’ll chill in here. It’s all good. Go talk to him. Don’t wait another minute,” Alicia says and I nod at her words. I know all too well how short and precious life is. I need to do this. Not wait another minute. Mostly because I’ll probably chicken out again.