“Take your time, baby,” he murmured as he stepped out of the kitchen, leaving the door swinging.
“Did that fine-ass man just call our girl ‘baby’?” Monty breathed out.
My blush was prominent, and I knew it would take at least half an hour for it to go away. “I’ll be back a bit later,” I announced. “Alex, if you would put the cakes in the oven at four, I’ll be back before they’re done.”
“Who is that?” Monty and Russ demanded.
“Guys, you saw him at the funeral.”
“Yes, but who is he?” Russ pressed, glancing at the door, a slow smirk forming. “Is he your boyfriend?”
I paused, looking at the door and then back to Russ. “I don’t—I don’t know,” I stammered. “We haven’t had a chance to have that conversation yet.”
Alex nodded in understanding, pulling her braid over her shoulder. “Well, there’s a lot going on.”
“Yes,” I agreed, a soft sigh leaving me as I looked over at Felix’s picture on the wall. A twinge of pain hit my heart then, his worried face coming to my mind.
“So it’s new?” Monty guessed. “This thing between you and Red Snake boy.”
I blinked and twisted my neck. “What?”
“Red Snake as in the place where Margo’s boyfriend works?” Alex pieced it together aloud.
“One and the same.” All three of them looked at me, awaiting confirmation.
“He works for Red Snake Investigations,” I told them, noting that Scott was no longer in the kitchen. I didn’t have time to look. “Okay, I have to go. He’s waiting for me. See you in a bit.” I pulled off my apron, ran to my locker to grab my stuff, and met Ash in the dining room.
He was standing in front of the wall of windows, looking out at the ocean, his hands in his pockets. His suit jacket was hanging over his strong forearm, giving me a chance to ponder how his shirt hadn’t managed to tear around his broad, muscular shoulders and back. As I slipped between the empty tables, getting closer, the ridges and dips of his large body became more prominent. My eyes lingered on the back of his strong neck for a few seconds before I called his name.
“You ready, gorgeous?” he asked.
“Yes, I—what are you doing?” His hand slid underneath the straps of my purse and the medical bag on my shoulder, pulling them away from me. “I can carry those.”
“I know,” he said, taking my hand in his. He led me to the parking lot and steered me toward the docks.
“Where are we going?” I asked, looking up at him. The sky had gone gray, the first round of weeklong storms coming earlier than I expected. My eyes followed the dark trail in the sky, finding a terrifying wall of clouds hovering over the water toward the horizon.
“Parked my truck at Margo’s place,” he answered, his shoes thudding against the wood planks while my heels followed in time. “Your feet okay?”
“They will be when I change out of them. I just…I don’t know. When I stepped into the kitchen, all I wanted to do was cook. I forgot about everything else.”
He grunted and let go of my hand. “Right,” he muttered.
“Ash, what—ah!”
I was cradled in his arms then. My hands locked around his neck as I gaped at him. “Y-you just—you’re carrying me,” I sputtered, my chest heaving.
The small lines around his eyes crinkled as he smiled at me. “Yeah, I am.”
“Why?”
“Because those shoes are killing you and we still have a few minutes of walking.”
“I can walk, Ash. It’s not a problem,” I argued.
“I know, but I don’t like seeing you in pain.”
My fingers curled into his hair as I scanned his face. “Ash,” I murmured.
