Chapter 8
Willow had managed to rain check writing and sharing any sort of formal meal with Ash for three whole days. But her big mouth—signing herself up for a family reunion at Eli and Beth’s place—made it impossible to get out of the barbecue with her newly returned neighbors, her brother and sister-in-law, plus Casey, Boone,andAsh tonight.
“Don’t Eli and Beth want to settle in before hosting everyone? They just got back last night. With ababy,” she’d reasoned to Colt when he’d called her with the “good” news that morning.
“They’re settling in today, getting Maddie back on her nap schedule and seeing a few patients at the clinic,” her brother had explained. “But it sounds like Eli is itching to have both of his brothers in one place for the first time in years, and he said Beth can’t wait to meet you.”
So…yeah. A big ole family reunion with all the Murphys and Morgans under one roof or sky or whatever. No big deal. Willow wasn’t anxious at all.
Hence the multiple batches of toffee shortbread she’d baked while Ash spent the afternoon with Midnight in the arena.
“I was gonna ride today,” she mumbled to herself while sliding the last cookie off her spatula and onto the cooling rack. But for some reason, after the other afternoon, in addition to writing and eating, she’d avoided riding with him.
President and founder of the Ash Murphy anti-fan club? What had she been thinking, teasing him like that? Even now, as she thought about the exchange, she had to suppress a grin.
The front door flew open, and she startled, flinging the spatula in Ash’s direction.
“Whoa,” he replied, holding his hands up. “Do I need to start making formal announcements of my arrival so I don’t risk another concussion?”
Willow rolled her eyes. “I didn’t throw the spatulaatyou. Just in your general direction.”
He rubbed the spot on his temple where the ceramic-induced gash was finally scabbing over. “Is that where you aimed the vase? In my general direction?”
She wiped her hands on her apron, and then—with as much dignity as she could muster—strode to where the spatula lay on the floor at Ash’s dusty-booted feet. She picked it up and offered him a nervous smile. “Sorry,” she told him. “You just caught me off guard.”
He crossed his arms and raised his brows, and Willow tried not to notice the sleeve of his T-shirt stretched over his biceps. Tried…and failed.Because despite not being as naïve as she was four years ago, she was a human woman with eyes. And Ashton Murphy was an undisputed sight to behold, onstage or off.
He raised a brow. “For the spatula or the vase?”
She hugged the spatula to her chest and sighed. “Both,” she admitted. “You scared the shit out of me that first night, but I know you didn’t mean to. I should have apologized for hurting you, and I didn’t. So…to clarify… I’m sorry for chucking the spatula in your general direction.” She sighed. “And I’m sorry for knocking you out with the vase.”
His blue eyes bored into hers, and it took everything in her not to look away.
“And scarring my otherwise flawless face?” he teased, brushing his fingers over his temple again.
Willow winced. “Ugh. Yes. That too. Though most people think scars add character, right?” She really had clobbered him, hadn’t she? Clobbered him. Hated him. Avoided him. Was it enough, finally? Because Willow was so tired. How did she convince her heart to finally let go and leave the past in the past?
Ash took a small step forward and gave her a conspiratorial grin. “Areyoumost people, Willow Morgan?” he asked.
Willow’s throat grew dry, and she had to swallow before she could reply.
“No,” she told him. “I’m not most people.”
He surprised her with a grin. “No,” he agreed. “You’re not.” He brushed his hands off on his jeans. “I’m going to shower and then head over to Eli and Beth’s a little early. Figure my official reunion with brother number two shouldn’t be with an audience just in case Eli wants to offer a similar greeting to Boone’s.”
Willow winced. “You really have taken your share of beatings since you got home, huh?”
He leaned back and shrugged. “Probably deserved most of it, right?”
And despite the smile still on his scruffy, unshaven face, Willow felt a small tug in her chest.She’dbeen punishing Ash Murphy in her head and heart for years, but this was the first time she considered that maybe all this time he’d been doing the same thing to himself.
“No,” she told him, though she wasn’t sure where she was going with her disagreement yet. “I don’t think anyone ever deserves to get hurt, Murphy. It just happens. That’s life. You’re either the hurteror the hurtee.”
This time he was the one to protest with a shake of the head. “Some people are neither,” he told her.
Willow sighed. “Aren’t they the lucky ones?”
“They really are,” he agreed.
