"You look like something even the cat wouldn't want to drag in," Fran greeted me as I entered the store.
"Well, I feel like something even the dog wouldn't want to bury," I replied, grabbing an apron off the hook behind the old fashioned counter where a dated cash register sat. Not that we actually used it, Fran kept it for nostalgia reasons. Even in sleepy Woodfalls, we actually had computerized registers.
"Rough night?" she asked with double meaning, eyeing me critically. Fran was the only person who knew why I was really here. I felt it was only fair to tell her the truth, since one day I may just disappear again. For all her feistiness, she is still a sweet lady. If she had concerns about me working here, she never let it show, and has always paid me under the table to keep me off the books. It was just a safety precaution because I wasn't sure if anyone would ever come looking for me. Truthfully, I really didn't even need to work. I had a trust fund that had been turned over to me the day I turned twenty-one. The days leading up to my disappearance, I'd gone to the bank each day and withdrew the allotted amount that wouldn't raise a red flag. My window of opportunity was short though, because once the monthly statement came in, the gig would be up. By the time that happened, I was long gone with enough liquid cash to keep me comfortable.
"Not like you think," I answered, unpacking a box of candy bars. "I went out with Tressa and Brittni," I added as explanation for my hungover appearance.
"Ah, I see," she said chuckling. "Tipped up a few too many, did ya?
"A few I could have handled. The dozen or so after that is what killed me," I said, grimacing at the memory of my puke party earlier. If I never drank whiskey again, it would be too soon. "But at least I can cross getting trashed off my list."
"I don't remember trashed being on your list," she chirped, hoisting up a heavy box of canned goods before depositing them in front of the shelf where they needed to be unpacked.
"Oh, it wasn't, but after the pain I felt this morning, it was a last-minute write-in because I'm never going there again," I said, coming around the counter to help her carry the heavy boxes to the appropriate aisles. "I told you to stop lugging those heavy boxes around. That's why you hired me, right?" I chastised.
"Oh, sugar, I've been lugging boxes around before you were ever thought of. I hired you so I'd stop being the crazy old woman who talks to herself all day."
"You're so full of it. I know for a fact that Mr. James from the hardware store comes in here daily just to see you."
"He just likes the jerky I keep in stock," she smirked, pulling a box-cutter out of the pocket of her apron and carefully slicing the clear tape that sealed the carton.
"I believe you. Not. He comes in here because he wants to ride the Fran train," I retorted, tongue-in-cheek.
"Bite your tongue, young lady," Fran admonished me. She acted scandalized, but I knew better. Fran was a reality TV junkie, especially The Real Housewives. She claimed they were better than soap operas any day. "I should wash your mouth out," she threatened.
"Don't deny it. I've seen the way he checks you out when he's here. Just like I've seen you admiring his backside," I added, wagging my eyebrows at her.
"Honey, at our age, our asses are either boney as hell or a saggy mess of flesh. There's a reason our eyesight goes the older we get."
I snorted with laughter at her bluntness. That's why I enjoyed working with her so much, she always kept it real.
The tinkling of the bell over the door stalled any further comments. Fran shuffled off to the stockroom to deposit the empty boxes while I continued stocking the shelves. I could hear the customer in the next aisle and didn't bother to look up, figuring it was Mr. James to see Fran again. A moment later though, a shadow fell over me and I stiffened momentarily when the heavy cologne the individual was wearing swirled around me. It was a scent that was already imprinted in my memory bank. I whirled around with dread, knowing exactly who towered over me. My precarious stance and the fact that my head wasn't a hundred percent back to normal worked against me as I lost my balance and landed hard on my butt. The momentum of my fall sent me crashing into the pyramid of cans I had just assembled, making them fly in every direction.
"Well, shit," I grumbled when I found myself flat on my back at his feet. Would there be no end to embarrassing myself in front of him?
"Here, let me help you up," he said chivalrously in the same sexy voice from the night before. If I'd had any thoughts that his voice only sounded sinful the night before because of the amount of alcohol I had consumed, I was delusional.
"I got it," I said, hoisting myself up with as much dignity as I could summon. Once I got myself upright, I finally spared a glance at him. To my dismay, he was studying me in the same bemused manor he'd done the previous evening. Without whiskey clouding my brain, I didn't find it as cute to be the object of his amusement. "What are you doing here?" I sniped.
"Is the store closed?" he asked, looking around.
"Not 'in the store, here.' I mean, what are you still doing in town? I thought you were just passing through."
"Disappointed?" he asked. "I decided after our engaging conversation last night that maybe I'd check out all the perks you mentioned of living in a small town. You made it all seem so appealing, so I thought, 'hey, I gotta be missing out.' I thought I could make it into a story. You know, a whole expo on small-town life and the dynamics that pull a community together, something like that. It dragged you here, so there has to be some kind of story."
Well, hell. He was sticking around because of my blabbermouth. I'd say I officially had the worst one-night stand ever. Not only did I pass out before the grand finale, I'd also convinced him to stay, taking away the anonymity of the whole one-night thing. If the floor opened up and sucked me in at the moment, it would have been more welcome than facing my failure in front of me.
"Are you okay?" he asked, grasping my elbow as if to steady me.
"Absolutely. Why?" I asked, extracting my elbow from his grasp.
"You looked kind of green there for a second."
"I guess I was just surprised to see you again after last night…" I said, letting my voice trail.
"Ah, yes. Last night was epic, unlike any other. Definitely eye-opening and educational. Who knew darts could be so much fun?" he remarked.
"Damn, we did play darts?" I asked, sagging weakly against the shelf behind me and knocking several cans over in the process.
"You got something against cans?" he asked, bending over to pick up the mess.
"We played darts?" I repeated, unwilling to move on. The thought of stripping my clothes off in front of everyone at the bar made my blood run cold, especially here in Woodfalls.
"Well, 'play' would be stretching it. You were too busy taking your clothes off to play darts."
"Holy shit, kill me now," I said, covering my face with my hands. "Are you telling me Joe and Mr. Jones saw me naked?"
"Was Mr. Jones the grumpy guy a couple tables from where you and your friends were sitting?"
"Yes," I said weakly, feeling sick all over again. There was no way this would stay a secret. Brittni may have joked about her mom's knack at sniffing out gossip, but it was closer to the truth than not. Once she got wind of it, the story would be bounced around until every resident in Woodfalls had heard about it.
"Then, no, neither of them saw you naked," he said, grinning wickedly.
"What?" I squawked out, not sure I heard him right.
"I said, 'neither saw your boobies,'" he answered, reminding me of yet another embarrassing aspect from the night before. I'd completely forgotten about the whole boob conversation.
"I'm not ordinarily like that," I clarified.
"Oddly enough, you mentioned that several times last night, among other things."
"You know, it's really not very gentlemanly to remind a lady of a bad night," I sniped.
"I never said I was a gentleman," he replied, turning on heel to leave.
"Wait, what about, um...did we...you know," I stumbled out, loathing the fact that I had to ask.
"You mean did we make wild passionate love all night?" he asked, turning back around and walking toward me.
"Uh, yeah," I whispered as my pulse stuttered before kicking into hyper-speed as I hung on his answer.
"You don't remember my hands all over your body, or the way you moaned when I kissed you here?" he asked, seductively caressing my neck.
All I could do was shake my head. I dragged my bottom lip into my mouth and gnawed on it before abruptly releasing it. His eyes darkened as they settled on my now damp lips.
"Or here," he asked, stroking his thumb across my bottom lip.
My body responded instantly to his touch. Biting back a moan, I looked up at him expectantly, willing him to remind me what his lips had felt like on mine.
My breath came out in short pants as he leaned in close and grazed his lips over my ear. "Too bad you passed out before we could do anything," he whispered. "Maybe one of these days we'll both get to see what it feels like," he added, nipping my earlobe before abruptly turning and walking away.
Just like that, I was a puddle of lust. All my embarrassment from the night before disappeared in the blink of an eye only to be replaced with regret. I wanted to wrap myself around his chiseled body and pull him tightly between my legs. Never in my whole life had I ever reacted so radically to someone. I felt like a cat in heat, or at the very least, a horny teenage boy.
It took a few seconds for reason to finally make an appearance. "Get a grip," I finally muttered to myself when I realized I was still watching him. "Sure, he was hot, but seriously, there was nothing special about him," I lied as I distracted myself by re-stacking the pyramid of cans I had knocked over. The fact that Nathan had decided to stick around nixed any plans of us ever hooking up. I was only looking for a one-night stand, not a relationship, and definitely nothing that would lead to any sort of attachment. My indulgence the night before had cost me maybe the hottest night in bed I would ever have, but it wasn't like I could rewind time.
Chapter 4: The Decision
Nathan
Going to the store had been a mistake. I'd woken up this morning with the plan to call the client, but as I was showering, I couldn't shake Ashton's image from my mind. Against my better judgment, I decided to head to the small store where she worked. There was no reason to go. I had all the information I needed to end the case. I just wanted to get a glimpse of her one last time before I walked away. It was a purely selfish move, but I figured no one would get hurt. My client would have to wait a little longer for Ashton's location, but a few hours never killed anyone.
Feeling jittery from my decision to put off the call, I decided to walk to the store rather than drive to clear my mind. The air outside had a crispness that wouldn't be felt in Florida until mid-December. It was actually a pleasure to walk outside without sweating my ass off from humidity, and had me contemplating whether I should hang up my scuba gear and head north. I'd miss diving, but the trade-off might be worth it. I'd lived in the same city in Florida all my life, and only stayed out of habit. When I was younger, I had lived in a small one-story house with my parents, though I don't really remember it. The summer I turned seven, my asshole father flipped my life upside down when he decided he liked nailing his secretary better than living with us. My mom was too proud and hurt over his betrayal to take his money. The bills had piled up and eventually we were forced to leave the house behind. My grandparents welcomed us into their house, but it was way too small, even for four people. It was only for a short time anyway, while my mom scrimped and saved every cent she could. A small inheritance from a distant aunt added to our nest egg and finally, she was able to buy a single-wide trailer for us to live in. I was young enough to find the move to the trailer park exciting and different than our old neighborhood that was mostly made up of grouchy elderly couples. There were plenty of kids to play with, and during the summer, the trailer park opened the community pool. I was in hog heaven. It would be years later that I would realize how hard it had been on my mom to lose our house.
Living in a trailer did have its downfalls. It seemed every time we turned around something needed to be repaired. The repairs always seemed to set Mom's teeth on edge, but it was the Florida storms that worried her the most. During hurricane season she would watch the TV incessantly all hours of the night any time there was a storm brewing over the ocean. When I was ten, I asked her why we lived in a trailer and not a house if storms worried her so much. Her eyes had filled with tears before she swallowed hard and sat me down.
"I bought this trailer because that's all the money I had. I wanted something that was ours. No one will ever be able to take this from us. We will never be without a home again," she'd told me with steel in her voice. At that moment, I hated my lying sack of shit father more than anything. He took away the one thing that meant the most to her. I swore at that moment I would one day buy her a house just like the one she had lost. That day never came. She died three weeks before my twenty-third birthday. Not long after Jessica had torn my world to shreds. Within days, I had lost the two women I had loved—one from betrayal and the other from the irresponsible teenager who decided to run a red light.
I pushed the memories back to the far recesses of my mind. Now was not the time to get sentimental over memories that were best forgotten. I didn't want to remember how my mom had worked herself to the bone to provide for me, too proud to ever take money from my prick of a father.
By the time I made it to the general store, my past was locked away in the vault where it belonged. One solitary car sat forlorn in the dusty lot when I reached the store. I recognized it instantly as the one that had been parked in front of Ashton's cottage when I dropped her off the night before. Pushing the door open, I convinced myself that seeing her one last time would give me the closure I needed before reporting her whereabouts.
Of course, the little head took over again and rose to the occasion as soon as I laid eyes on Ashton bent over, stacking cans. My eyes traced the rounded curves of her ass and down a pair of perfectly-sculpted legs. I wanted nothing more than to put my hands on her hips and pull her flush against the part of me that was hard with arousal. When I left the store fifteen minutes later, I was in physical pain. I couldn't remember a time I'd ever wanted a woman as much as I wanted her. She was every bit, if not more enticing than she'd been the night before. Without the alcohol to loosen her up, she had blushed as red as a sunburn when I had teased her about her memory lapse from the previous evening. I could have stood there all day talking to her, but eventually, what had started as playful banter had escalated to downright lust. Dragging her delicate earlobe into my mouth was almost my undoing, and I had to force myself to walk away from her before I hauled her up in my arms and took what she'd offered so willingly the night before.
