He totally understood what Ash was talking about. The thought of going back to being that little kid with the tattered clothes and shoes filled with holes and mustard sandwiches scared the hell out of him. He’d fought so hard, all his life, to not be that kid.
He swallowed hard and forced what he hoped was a dazzling smile. It must have been, because Ash responded instantly. She wiped away her tears and sat up a little straighter. Her watery smile echoed his. They were both there, both lost, in a way. Both trying to find something in each other.
Fake boyfriend or not, the underlying sentiment was anything but.
“It’s okay.” He set his hand face up on the table and after a moment’s hesitation, Ash slowly entwined her fingers with his. He’d be a liar if he said that his cock wasn’t affected by her touch, and he’d sure as hell be a liar if he said there wasn’t an uncomfortable squeeze going on in his rib cage. “I get it. I’m not going to let them sink your beautiful ship. No way. We’re going to show up to that damn reunion, guns blazing. It’s them who are going straight to the bottom of the ocean if they think they can take us on and win.” He shot her his best panty dropping smile before he remembered he didn’t have to charm her. She’d come to him. Out of all the men out there, she’d picked him.
“Alright.” She left her hand in his and slowly her smile grew more confident until her eyes shone again. He vowed then and there that he’d damn well make sure that no one ever, ever robbed that sparkle from Ash again. “Uh- but can I please introduce you as Mr. Nightshadow, at least to my mother?”
“Not a chance,” he laughed. “But you can let me take you out tomorrow night for dinner so that we can get to know each other. I think we have a few things we need to get nailed down before the weekend.”
There was that trace of hesitation again, and surprise that he hated to see, as though she couldn’t really believe he was real and that what they were doing was real- neither could he, but for a whole different set of reasons.
“Yeah,” she finally agreed in the softest, most feminine voice possible. It did all kinds of inappropriate things to his neither region. “Dinner tomorrow. I’m free at six.”
“Make it seven and I’ll come pick you up.”
“Okay.” She withdrew her hand from his and stood slowly.
He watched her walk out of the coffee shop, hips swaying gently with her stride. He was right. She did have a great ass. A phenomenal ass.
He had his work cut out for him, but he couldn’t remember the last time the prospect had ever seemed so fun.
The hesitant, unconfident, shy, doubtful Ash was going to be long gone by the time the weekend rolled around. He’d do his best to show her that she was indeed sexy in every way possible. That she was beautiful, all woman, smart as hell, brave, successful, and that she could indeed kick some serious ex-classmate ass.
CHAPTER 7
Ash
Somehow over the course of thirty-six hours, her life had done a completely one-eighty.
At seven on a Monday night, she was usually already in her pajamas, cuddled up with her laptop, Slappy snoozing either on her legs or off to the side, a cup of tea, maybe even a sappy movie on in the background, creating some killer romance for her characters. Sometimes literally. The paranormal genre was exciting to write in. There was all sorts of murder and mayhem.
God, it’s official. I’m a total dork.
That was, until Mr. Nightshadow happened into her life. One message later and BAM! Like literally, speech bubble, comic style, BAM, huge red and yellow letters and all, she was sitting in the booth at the back of a fancy restaurant with a guy who was walking, breathing, living, sex.
And he was her boyfriend for the next week.
She’d never wished she had the power to stop time more than she did at the moment. Or maybe it was somehow possible that she could have a time machine invented in the near future so that she could relive what was sure to be the best week of her life over and over and over again.
“Do you know what you’re going to have yet?”
Ash set down her menu, flustered. She hadn’t read a single thing. She knew she was blushing. She’d put on makeup for her date, picked out a nice little black dress- yes she actually owned one- out of her closet, and worn sensible flats so she didn’t tumble down the stairs of her apartment on her way to her first real, well, kind of real, date in over a year. She didn’t often wear makeup, but she hoped that the foundation and blush went a little way to hide her tendency to turn completely red, compliments of having fair skin and light hair.