known he would do it anyway.
Now he went inside the store and bought some snacks for the road. Chips. Candy. Gum, because she seemed to like gum. Since Michael was occupied, Roman left twenty dollars on the counter beneath a can of soda.
After finding a place in the Cadillac for his purchases, he walked into the uncomfortable tension at the picnic table. “Everything okay?” he asked Ashley.
“Yeah.”
“You ready to go?”
“Yeah. But, uh, we’re going to have another passenger.”
“What do you mean?”
But he understood even before he finished articulating the question, because when he lifted his eyes, Stanley was there with his arms crossed, his gaze steely and determined. Michael looking apologetic but resigned.
“Stanley’s coming with us,” Ashley said.
“Why?”
She looked at her toes. “He won’t say.”
Michael started spewing out information then, something about Stanley’s right hip and North Korea, he didn’t drive anymore, Michael would take him but the campground neededtending, somebody had to, and Ashley was headed up north anyway, so they’d got to talking—
Busy sorting through all the implications of this announcement, Roman tuned him out.
Stanley’s demand. Ashley’s assent. The way she didn’t seem to want to meet his eyes today. Those were the key elements.
“Do I have any say in the decision?”
Her shoulders straightened, and her chin came up.
He’d seen her do that before. She’d been chained to a palm tree at the time.
Whatever this was about, Ashley had already made up her mind.
“Where’s he going to sleep?”
“I told him he could have the spare bed in the Airstream.”
“Did you?”
Her arms went around her stomach.
He’d seen her do that, too. In the trailer. Her pose for doubt and discomfort.
Those kisses on the steps, beside the campfire—she regretted them now. He’d taken advantage of her sympathy, but the more she’d considered his life, the shape of it, the less sympathy she must have had. He’d never been anything but hard on her. He was her enemy still, and one step back must have been all it took for her to see how inadvisable last night had been.
He was the son of a killer, as inept at human connection as his father. A bad bet.
She knew he had nothing to offer.
Roman thought all this automatically, the fear sweeping in and then just as quickly sweeping back out.
Something was going on, but it wasn’t that. There were women who’d change their mind about him, and then there was Ashley, who never changed her mind about anyone, even when she should.
“He can’t sleep on the ground,” she said quietly.
“No. I don’t suppose he can.”
Her blue toenail polish had chipped. Her toes were wet with dew from the grass, and they looked a little blue themselves. He resisted the urge to cup her face in his hand and bring his mouth to her ear and whisper, What’s going on?
He wanted to seduce the truth out of her, each kiss softening its tiny barbs until she let go of it with a happy sigh.
He wanted to kiss her until she took him back, gave him again what he’d had with her last night by the fire. That easy heat. Her smoky laugh and the slide of her tongue against his.
The peace. The hope.
But he shut it down. This trip—this morning—this awkwardness. None of it was about him. Not in any way that was simple.
What he had to do next was calculate a way to win Ashley’s assent to the demolition before Carmen’s deadline. Not because he wanted to, but because if he didn’t, he would lose the development. He would lose Heberto, and he wasn’t prepared for that.
He wasn’t prepared to reconfigure his entire future for Ashley Bowman, and short of that, he had no business wanting anything when it came to her. No business staking claims.
“Load him up,” he said. “I’ll wait in the car.”
Finding her bag beside another that had to be Stanley’s, he loaded them both into the back of the Escalade. He climbed behind
Now he went inside the store and bought some snacks for the road. Chips. Candy. Gum, because she seemed to like gum. Since Michael was occupied, Roman left twenty dollars on the counter beneath a can of soda.
After finding a place in the Cadillac for his purchases, he walked into the uncomfortable tension at the picnic table. “Everything okay?” he asked Ashley.
“Yeah.”
“You ready to go?”
“Yeah. But, uh, we’re going to have another passenger.”
“What do you mean?”
But he understood even before he finished articulating the question, because when he lifted his eyes, Stanley was there with his arms crossed, his gaze steely and determined. Michael looking apologetic but resigned.
“Stanley’s coming with us,” Ashley said.
“Why?”
She looked at her toes. “He won’t say.”
Michael started spewing out information then, something about Stanley’s right hip and North Korea, he didn’t drive anymore, Michael would take him but the campground neededtending, somebody had to, and Ashley was headed up north anyway, so they’d got to talking—
Busy sorting through all the implications of this announcement, Roman tuned him out.
Stanley’s demand. Ashley’s assent. The way she didn’t seem to want to meet his eyes today. Those were the key elements.
“Do I have any say in the decision?”
Her shoulders straightened, and her chin came up.
He’d seen her do that before. She’d been chained to a palm tree at the time.
Whatever this was about, Ashley had already made up her mind.
“Where’s he going to sleep?”
“I told him he could have the spare bed in the Airstream.”
“Did you?”
Her arms went around her stomach.
He’d seen her do that, too. In the trailer. Her pose for doubt and discomfort.
Those kisses on the steps, beside the campfire—she regretted them now. He’d taken advantage of her sympathy, but the more she’d considered his life, the shape of it, the less sympathy she must have had. He’d never been anything but hard on her. He was her enemy still, and one step back must have been all it took for her to see how inadvisable last night had been.
He was the son of a killer, as inept at human connection as his father. A bad bet.
She knew he had nothing to offer.
Roman thought all this automatically, the fear sweeping in and then just as quickly sweeping back out.
Something was going on, but it wasn’t that. There were women who’d change their mind about him, and then there was Ashley, who never changed her mind about anyone, even when she should.
“He can’t sleep on the ground,” she said quietly.
“No. I don’t suppose he can.”
Her blue toenail polish had chipped. Her toes were wet with dew from the grass, and they looked a little blue themselves. He resisted the urge to cup her face in his hand and bring his mouth to her ear and whisper, What’s going on?
He wanted to seduce the truth out of her, each kiss softening its tiny barbs until she let go of it with a happy sigh.
He wanted to kiss her until she took him back, gave him again what he’d had with her last night by the fire. That easy heat. Her smoky laugh and the slide of her tongue against his.
The peace. The hope.
But he shut it down. This trip—this morning—this awkwardness. None of it was about him. Not in any way that was simple.
What he had to do next was calculate a way to win Ashley’s assent to the demolition before Carmen’s deadline. Not because he wanted to, but because if he didn’t, he would lose the development. He would lose Heberto, and he wasn’t prepared for that.
He wasn’t prepared to reconfigure his entire future for Ashley Bowman, and short of that, he had no business wanting anything when it came to her. No business staking claims.
“Load him up,” he said. “I’ll wait in the car.”
Finding her bag beside another that had to be Stanley’s, he loaded them both into the back of the Escalade. He climbed behind
Similar Books
