“Come on, I’ll show you how this works.”
He followed her to the banks of ticket machines and fished out change from his pockets for the fare to her stop.
“There’s a place that sells coffee at my stop, and I can buy you a shirt there, too.”
“No worries.” He waved off her offer.
She placed a hand on a firm bicep and paused to take a breath. “I insist. I pay for what I break.”
He laughed. “Shirt’s not broken, babe. Just smells like chocolate.”
She rolled her eyes. “Nevertheless, I’m buying you a shirt. It’s the least I can do.”
“And I’m buying your damn kiddie drink.”
When Skye protested, he put an arm around her waist and drew her in. He pressed his lips to the top of her head. The gesture may have been sweet and innocent, but her head spun with the intimacy of that kiss. She held her breath until he let her go.
Ash’s Metro pass popped out of the machine, and he bent to retrieve it, releasing her in the process. She stared at the way the denim of his jeans hung low on his ass and then averted her gaze before he caught her staring again.
She led him toward the turnstile.What the hell was she doing?
With a wave of her commuter pass over the scanner, the red circle turned to a green arrow, letting her through. He followed, whistling a hauntingly familiar tune.
She had no idea what she was doing, but she didn’t really want to think about it.
He certainly was attentive as they moved through the crowds. He stood beside her on the escalator and even placed a hand on the small of her back when they boarded the train. She didn’t know what she had done to deserve such kindness, but perhaps the universe was trying to even out its karmic balance for the crap it had thrown her way with Spencer. And she didn’t feel guilty about being with another man, needing a distraction from the image of skinny female legs wrapped around Spencer's hips.
Ash leaned over and whispered into her ear, “Where’s this coffee shop?”
People moved around them, exiting the Metro and dispersing into the underground shopping area. She glanced at her cell phone. Still twenty minutes until her shift.
“We should get you a clean shirt first.” She led him to a shop selling tourist shirts and rock-band tees.
As she fished through a pile of shirts, he studied the crowd. Several young girls openly stared, but she could understand that. The guy was drop-dead gorgeous.
His lips twitched into a frown, and he grabbed a ball cap from a rack. He put it on as she pulled out a black T-shirt and held it up.
“What do you think of this one?”
He laughed. “Seriously? The Bangles? An eighties girl band? Is this some form of punishment? Or did you pick that one in honor of today being ‘Manic Monday’?” He picked up a pair of sunglasses with mirrored lenses and put them on.
She turned the shirt around and scanned the front. Heat rose to her cheeks. “Sorry. I wasn’t looking at the band’s name.” She glanced up and snorted. “You’re worried about wearing a Bangles T-shirt with those glasses?”
He took the offending shirt from her hands. With a flip and tuck, he had it folded and placed back in the stack. “What’s wrong with the glasses? Besides, I want a souvenir.”
He wasn’t local. The tension in her spine eased, and her shoulders loosened. She relaxed enough to smile and was willing to flirt a little, knowing he wouldn’t be around for long.
He pointed to a shirt in the window. “How about that one?”
She glanced at the T-shirt emblazoned with the wordsAngel Fireand the band’s iconic logo. “You want that one?”
“I was wondering what you thought of it.”
“The shirt or the band?”
Angel Fire definitely wasn’t an eighties girl band. They were hard rock to the core. And the shirt would look good on him. It was black with the outline of a guitar sporting angel wings on fire, an iconic picture from one of the most popular rock bands in recent history.
She pulled out an extra-large shirt and held it up to his chest to check the size. His eyes widened.
