Chapter 1
Foul Play – forcing a woman who you know has a crush on you to be in your presence and then ignoring her crush on you
“Are you cheating on me, Ash?”
At the sound of Rowan’s deep voice, every single nerve ending in my body lights up until I’m a bomb of feelings in danger of exploding any second now. Don’t turn around, Ashlyn. Don’t turn around. Do. Not. Turn. Around. And…of course, I turn around. I never was any good at following orders even when I’m the one giving them.
When my gaze lands on Rowan, my body begins to vibrate with the desire to throw myself at him. It’s a desire I’ve been wrestling with since I was a freshman in high school when my crush on the six-foot-five-inch football player became a burning desire. And who can blame me?
Rowan’s body should be splashed across the cover of every men’s fitness magazine. Preferably while he’s wearing as little clothing as possible. His shoulders are broad, and his hips are narrow. And I know the former professional athlete is hiding miles upon miles of muscles under those clothes. Muscles my tongue would love to explore.
But it isn’t his body my fifteen-year-old self fell for. Nor is it the kind face or the sparkling brown eyes. It isn’t even the lips always kicked up in a half smile.
No, my idiot teenage self fell for him when he rescued me. With my birthday falling in October, I was the youngest kid in my class. Everyone in my freshmen class loved to remind me of the fact by teasing me with the nickname ‘baby’. Needless to say, I hate the word baby.
One day I decided I was done with the teasing. I was going to show that bitch Meadow I wasn’t a baby. And I was going to show her with my fists. I managed to get one shot in before she pinned me to the ground and began scratching my arms and pulling on my hair.
Rowan arrived on the scene – my shining knight in football pads. He hauled Meadow off of me and dragged me to the nearest restroom where he proceeded to clean up the cuts on my arms with more gentleness than a man his size should have. I’ve been devoted to him ever since.
“I asked if you’re cheating on me, Ash,” Rowan says and brings me out of my daydream of sliding my fingers through his hair.
I narrow my eyes at him. “My name is Ashlyn. No one calls me Ash.”
The left side of his lips kicks up in a smirk. “I do.”
And him calling me a name no one else uses caused me to think he was finally noticing me as someone other than his friend’s little sister. But Rowan made it perfectly clear he doesn’t consider me as more than a sister he needs to protect at the parade last week.
Which is when I initiated Project Ashlyn Will Get Her Ass Over Rowan Now. How’s it going thus far? Well, I’m standing on the sidewalk outside of Clove’s Coffee Corner drooling over the object of my every desire. In other words, week one of the plan is a failure. Me and plans aren’t the best of friends.
“Not anymore you don’t,” I insist. “The name is Ashlyn. Learn it. Use it. Or don’t use it. Whatever.”
I go for nonchalance. Considering how my voice is growling, I don’t think I succeed.
Rowan raises his hands in surrender. “Sorry, Ashlyn.” He emphasizes the second syllable and I want to smack him. “But you haven’t answered my question.”
Question. He asked a question? When? I cock my hip and place my hand on it.
“What question?”
“Why are you cheating on me?”
Cheating on him? I’ve never had Rowan. How could I possibly cheat on him? What idiot would dare to cheat on this man? Not this girl. I’d covet and cherish him and ensure he knew how special he is.
He nods toward Clove’s Coffee Corner. Oh.
For the past year since I’ve been home after graduating from college, I’ve gone to Bake Me Happy, Rowan’s bakery, pretty much every day. His donuts are to die for. To. Die. For. As my more than generous behind can attest to.
But step one of the get over Rowan plan was to stop dropping by his bakery every day hoping he’ll notice I’m no longer a little girl in need of saving from some bully named Meadow. Thus, my coffee from Clove’s place today.
“Her coffee’s better,” I claim and watch as every single muscle in Rowan’s body tenses. I think I hit a nerve. I bite my lip to stop the smile from escaping and stretching across my face.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me. Clove makes the best dang coffee in Winter Falls,” I say much louder than necessary.
“Prove it. In front of me and everyone else.”
Everyone else? I scan the area and realize the nosy citizens of Winter Falls are surrounding us while eavesdropping on our conversation. They don’t bother pretending they weren’t listening. Not in Winter Falls. You have to pass a test to prove you’re a busy body before you can live in this town. I wish I were joking.