“The Lodge.” Where he’d spent the most incredible night. With Fisher’s sister. Dammit.
“My dad’s place. And my sister’s, too. She lives there—guess that makes you two roommates. Didn’t you stay out there before? When you came for your interview?” Fisher was too busy piling the steaks onto a platter to see her reaction.
But Ash saw. She was breathing heavy and staring at the ground, her full lips parted slightly. When her gaze darted his way, the impact slammed into him. Heat coiled low in his belly, liquid fire, making the urge to reach for her threaten his calm. Especially now that she was within reach. He cleared his throat, took a sip of his beer and finally answered. “I did.”
“I’m surprised you two didn’t run into each other when you stayed there originally.” Fisher carried the steaks inside, leaving the two of them alone on the deck.
Ash couldn’t tear his gaze free. The longer they stared, the more weighted the air between them grew. Pressing in. If he didn’t put space between them, he feared the same current that had landed them in bed the first time would lead them there again. It was real, fiery and undeniable. Knowing he was staying at the Lodge didn’t help. She was at the Lodge.
It was a good thing he was a man of his word. One night, that was what they’d agreed on and that was the way it had to stay. For both of them.
The Lodge was a big place. If they were both careful, they’d avoid one another. No point in making things uncomfortable because they’d...slept together. It had happened. It was over. Their night together had been a beautiful fluke.
Still, the tiniest sliver of doubt remained.
What if it wasn’t? What if the two of them, together, could be something...more? He tore his gaze from hers, forcing himself to follow Fisher into the house. He wasn’t up for something more. He wasn’t sure his heart would ever be up for it—even with someone as wonderful as Renata.
* * *
Renata couldn’t stop talking.
John-Asher Carmichael sat across the table, looking for all the world like he was enjoying himself, while she was on the verge of falling apart. How did you behave when your one-night stand showed up for dinner at your brother’s house and would now, apparently, be an everyday part of your life? Worse, how was she going to see him without thinking of and achin
g for the incredible things they’d done and shared? The hopes and dreams she’d poured out while she rested her head against his chest...
It was warm. Very warm. She plucked at the front of her shirt and glanced at the cuckoo clock on the wall. It was early yet—meaning she was stuck for a long, torturous dinner. Her only option? Apparently, put her Director of Tourism face on and gush like a fool. She tapped into every bit of interesting and not-so-interesting piece of information she could think of to help pass the time. Her nervous energy kept the words flowing—while preventing anyone else from really participating in the “conversation.”
The longer she talked, the more confused Fisher looked.
Kylee appeared to be fighting laughter.
And Ash? Well, she was doing her best to look at the ornately framed bouquet of pressed, dried flowers over his left shoulder versus the actual man. If her gaze accidentally bounced off his, she sputtered to a stop and lost her train of thought.
“Pie?” Kylee asked, holding a piece directly in Renata’s line of sight. “Maybe take a breath,” she whispered.
Renata’s stomach growled. She’d poked at her steak, mashed all the toppings into her plump baked potato and cut her green beans into bite-size pieces, but she was fairly certain she hadn’t eaten a thing.
“Buttermilk pie is my sister’s favorite,” Fisher explained.
Ash said, “It does look delicious.”
“I used your mother’s recipe, too,” Kylee said, setting the plate in front of her. “Eat,” she mouthed.
Renata sighed. Fine. She’d eat.
She’d killed a good hour and a half with her aimless chatter. Dinner was done, and dessert signaled impending freedom. Besides, her face hurt from smiling and she was sick of the sound of her own voice.
“You’re an encyclopedia on all things Stonewall Crossing, the Hill Country, and every plant, animal and water source in the region,” Ash said, taking a bite of his pie.
“That was...something,” Fisher agreed. “Felt like a test review or cram session. Planning on quizzing us later?”
He and Ash chuckled, pricking her pride. “Maybe I will.” She scrambled for a logical explanation. “You know I...I take my job seriously.” And she did. But that didn’t explain her bizarre behavior this evening. Had she really listed off the reasons bluebonnets had become more prolific the last four years? And why oak wilt was such a threat to the Hill Country? She shoved a massive bite of pie into her mouth to prevent any further outbursts of random conversation.
“Renata can’t help it. It’s in their blood, I think. The Boones are tied to the land.” Kylee smiled. “They love this place, the people—pretty much everything about it. The more time you spend with them, the more you’ll learn.”
“Can’t say that I blame them. It’s beautiful country.” Ash glanced out the window. “Photography is my hobby—I can tell I’ll have plenty of inspiration.”
“Tell us about yourself, Ash. Where are you from?” Kylee asked.