“You even know how to use that?” I ask.
He reaches for it, but because it’s upside down, it won’t come off. He yanks in every direction but the right one.
Only then do I really look at him. His eyes aren’t plain brown at all, but hazel, laced with flecks of gold I somehow hadn’t noticed before. I step in, brace a hand at his waist, and feel his body tense beneath my palm as I free the knife in one smooth tug.
When I look back up, he’s already looking at me.
My vision narrows until there’s nothing but him, standing too close, mouth parted, with my hand still at his waist.
So I flip the knife open between us. The blade clicks sharp in the space where that almost-something was.
“Boy Scout, bitch,” I say, wrestling my pulse back down from my throat.
“Resourceful.” Ash grins, backing up a pace. “Maybe you should hold that. I’m more the pack mule type.”
“Handsome mule,” I blurt, then wince. “I mean—for an ass.”
He turns his head just enough for me to catch his smirk. Damn it.
He heads down the switchback, toward the river cut into the valley before everything tilts uphill again. Smoke hangs faintly in the air now, a dry, bitter note under the pine.
“You sure you’re okay with this?” I call after him.
“That’s not really a question I can answer,” he says. “If it were me, I’d tell him to go to hell, but if you two are doing it on the regular, then please call the chopper.”
“You’re such an ass. It’s nothing but platonic patronage.”
“You don’t hear how weird that sounds when you say it?” Ash asks. “Like… nineteenth-century, Miss Havisham-style?”
Gravel skitters under our boots, little rocks racing us down toward the river.
“It’s delicate,” I say.
“I can’t believe Alistair bribes guys like this.” He shakes his head. “I knew he dated below his age, but this? He’s willing to let you die?”
“Okay now.”
“No.” Ash laughs once, humorless. “I’m sure it’s real special, what you two have.”
I roll my eyes, but something raw has crept into his voice.
Jealousy? No way.
Even though there’s nothing between me and Alistair, I leave that part hanging. Partly because I don’t feel like justifying myself. Partly because… I want Ash to squirm.
“I’m guessing I didn’t grow up with the options you had,” I say.
“I don’t know. Sounds like you’ve got one pretty unique opportunity.”
“I refuse to be ashamed of permitting a billionaire’s advances so I can do what I love.”
“You can do better,” Ash says.
I stop. “Excuse me?”
“It’s a compliment.” He keeps his eyes on the road. “I’m saying you don’t have to put up with his shit.”
“No,” I say. “You’re insinuating that if you were in my shoes, you’d be doing better, instead of considering that what I said might actually be true.”
