There it was again, him nibbling at his lower lip.
“Is something wrong?”
“Something’s been bugging me, and I’m not sure how to bring it up.”
“Ask me anything.”
He yanked on his ear. “I’m not sure I should.”
“Is it about Spencer?”
She hadn’t thought about Spencer all day. Ash was too much fun.How could she ever go back to Spencer, knowing a man like Ash might be waiting for her?Giving back the ring appealed to her more and more.
Settling—that was what she’d been doing with Spencer.And didn’t she deserve so much more?
The past had taken her parents and destroyed her chance to grow up in a loving home. Perhaps she’d been too focused on taking back the past. It was time to give back the ring and pave a new future.
“Well, yeah, I guess we should talk about him,” Ash said.
She bit her lower lip, hesitant. “But that’s not what you wanted to ask, is it?”
He shook his head. “Not really.”
“Then, what?”
“Do youreallynot know who I am?” He kicked his ankle across his knee and leaned his elbow on the armrest.
He’d placed particular emphasis on the wordreally, which made her neck itch.Why would he think she should know him?
His finger traced the cut Spencer had put under his eye. The split in his lip was almost healed. Even now, the ghost of Spencer invaded their privacy.
She gave a shrug. “Should I?”
His expression pinched, and he shook his head. “It’s just…well, it’s been a long time since I’ve met someone who didn’t.”
“Okay, now, you’re worrying me. Are you a criminal or something?” She smiled, feeling awkward about teasing him because his brows shot up at that comment. Leaning forward, she placed a hand on hisknee. Her expression softened. “Did you go to my high school or something? You’re not Ash Hoorelbeck, the guy with the braces and headgear from shop class who used to shoot spit-wads at me? ’Cause, if you are, you’ve really changed…”
He laughed. “No. But I’m ready to kick that guy’s ass.”
She smiled. “So, are you a drug dealer?”
His eyebrows shot up again.
“Criminal? Stalker? What?” She poked her finger at him, confused. “What does it matter? You chased me. You kissed me. If you’ve forgotten, I was the one running from you. And you’re the one who stalked me the next day, buying all those hot cocoas. Who does that?”
He shrugged. “Me, evidently.”
“Well, you bullied me into bringing you on this trip,” she teased.
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t usebully, but yeah, I was persistent.” His fingers unlocked his cell phone, swiped, and tapped the screen. He handed it to her. “Tell me if this looks familiar.”
The sigil of a band filled the screen. It was a guitar with fiery wings, and to the side, a grouping of the band was barely discernible, their bodies cast in shadows but with spotlights hitting their faces.
Humoring him, she squinted. They did look familiar. Right—the coffee shop, laughing and lounging. Their names were scrawled at the bottom of the screen—Blaze, Bash, Bent, Spike, and Noodles.
Nervousness simmered in his emerald gaze, and his breath pulsed in and out.
Why did panic line the edges of his eyes?
