ASHTON
Some women want to be wined and dined on Valentine’s Day. They want roses and romance.
I’d rather be fajita-ed and margarita-ed with a side of chips and a big, fat bowl of salsa.
We are not the same.
—Ashton’s Secret Thoughts
The departure board flickers...again. Only this time, the damn thing flashesdelayed.
Seriously... did someone forget to tell me it’s Groundhog Day? I’ve lost count of how many updates my flight has already had. But at least then it had times. Now...This... There isn’t even a time listed now. I suck a slow breath in through my nose...Hold,one... two... three... and exhale... two... three...It’s the same calming technique reserved for taming pre-performance jitters and whenever I have to deal with my utterly fucked up family, which luckily isn’toften. Of course, at the moment, it’s not even remotely helping to calm my quickly spiking freak-out.
I’m not sure how much worse this day can get.
“Don’t glare at it,” a deep, sexy, incredibly annoying voice lectures, proving yet again I’ve underestimated just how much the universe hates me. The voice is delicious. It’s also a voice I know all too well. Or at least knew at one point in time. A voice I can’t stand.Guess it can get worse.“It’s already doing its best to screw us without the lube.”
Squaring my shoulders, I force a smile. “A complaint you hear often, Jameson?”
I don’t want to look up. I don’t have to, to know who’s stopped beside me. I’d recognize that deep timbre and cocky confidence anywhere. Not that I don’t look anyway. Jameson Murphy has spent a lifetime being a lot of things, including a gigantic pain in my ass most of the time, but he’s also incredibly easy on the eyes in an infuriatingly annoying way.
Yup... still gorgeous. Warm golden-brown hair streaked with flecks of sun-kissed red highlights. The kind of color women would pay thousands to replicate but this jerk was born with. Hazel eyes that can straddle the line between luck-of-the-Irish green when he’s smiling, to icy cold gray when he’s angry. Not that I’ve seen him angry often, but I have seen it.
Unfortunately, I’ve seen this man often enough to have memorized those damn eyes. And everything else too... A strong jaw chiseled from exquisite marble, broad, strong shoulders, and biceps bigger than my entire thigh. He’s sporting a perfectly tailored hunter-green peacoat and a charming grin that no doubt has launched a thousand bad decisions—none of them mine, thankfully.
Jamie is gorgeous and funny and a complete asshole.
“I’m not glaring,” I snap. “I’m manifesting violence.”
Violence I might just direct his way since my mother isn’t standing in front of me yet.
He laughs—because why not? Like this is all one big joke instead of the universe actively testing the strength of my sanity. Newsflash—sanity left the building when I got the call this morning that Mom had been in another car accident and this time was looking at charges... again.
“What are the odds that every time I get stuck in an airport, you’re somehow involved?” the ridiculously tall ginger giant asks, laughing, like this is all a joke. I guess, technically, he’s not quite as ginger as he used to be. Not nearly as much as when we were kids. Definitely still a giant though.
“High,” I reply, rolling my eyes. “Chaos tends to follow me.”
No truer words have ever been spoken.
Really, it follows my mother, and apparently, even distance can’t save the rest of us from her fallout.Damn. I’m going to need something stronger than breathing techniques to get me through the rest of this day.
“Yeah,” he agrees, eyes dropping briefly to my mouth. “It always has.”
I shake my head and turn to face the board again, searching for an update on my flight to the one place I’d rather not go back to... Philadelphia.
Still delayed.
Still mocking me.
“You meeting some hot date for Valentine’s Day?” Jamie asks, stepping closer until we’re shoulder to shoulder. Or more accurately, my shoulder to his pec. I’d love to say he’s freakishly tall, and maybe he is... kind of, but I’m also unfortunately short. Something that’s never helped me out, even in pointe shoes.
I almost laugh in his face.Almost. A hot date for Valentine’s Day would be nice. Not likely but nice. My original plans fortoday included Netflix, ice cream, and a horror movie where the hot guy dies.
Enough said.
“None of your business,” I snapeventually, refusing to give voice to my thoughts, even if my answer does make me sound like a petulant child. I swear this man brings out the worst in me. Always has. Always will. I’ll never understand how he and his brother are related. They couldn’t be more polar opposites.
“So that’s a yes.”
