Ash detected her herbal scent long before she slithered up close to the bar and parked herself right next to him. The big, bad wolf in him latched on to the heady mix of fragrance and pheromones that floated along with her.
Her dangerously short slip of a dress, five-inch stilettos, and at least ten pounds of antique diamonds that sparkled against her wrists, neck, and earlobes all made up some pretty packaging on the outside. Ash found himself dead curious to see what lurked underneath. Not just her body. She had power, and he needed to know where it came from.
“What you drinkin’, darlin’?” Her eyes homed in on the girly drink on the bar next to Ash, the one he had tasted and set aside in exchange for his Old Fashioned. Her voice felt like a cool satin sheet sliding across his chest on a steamy night in July.
Ash was doing his best not to drool. He kept his eyes focused on hers, despite knowing full well her nipples were trying to poke through the thin, shiny fabric of that dress. But even focusing on her eyes—her long lashes accented with the tiniest of rhinestones that gave her the look of an unearthly snow queen—gave him an insta-boner.
“Ah…” He looked for words. Words, man, think of words. The woman asked you a question. “Old Fashioned. What’s your poison? I’ll fix you whatever.”
“Hey, that’s my job,” Bobby said, interrupting, but Ash ignored him.
“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the girly drink. Every time she spoke, her lashes fluttered at him like she was beckoning him to come closer.
“Ah…some sugar water that my man Bobby here thought would help him seduce the ladies.”
“Hey!” Bobby said.
The snow queen smiled and picked up the drink. “I love these colorful cocktails,” she said. “Makes me happy to look at them.”
Bobby cleared his throat. “Ma’am, let me make you a fresh one. That one has Ash’s cooties all over it.”
She leaned sideways against the bar and sassily thrust out one hip. She spoke to Bobby but kept her eyes trained on Ash. “I ain’t scared of Ash’s germs. He looks like good people to me.” And then she winked one of those gorgeous eyes, picked up the cocktail, and held it aloft.
“To Ash and his cooties,” she said, raising her glass. Ash laughed and raised his drink, not knowing what to say back.
“Rosemary,” she said as if answering the question by reading his mind. “That’s my name.”
He nodded and they clinked glasses. “To Rosemary. My favorite flavor.”
Ash and Rosemary kept their eyes locked on each other as they sipped their drinks. It was the kind of stare-down that preceded either a lively bout of fist-fighting or fucking, and if the two of them kept it up, one or the other would have happened right there at the bar in front of everyone. Ash had a feeling he would have to pay Bobby for property damages, whether for fighting or fucking.
Rosemary laughed as she watched Ash wolf the rest of his drink, swipe a tiny dribble off his chin, and slam his glass on the bar. Then she surprised him by following suit, with a bravado that matched his. Shit, a woman who can drink, too.
He held out his hand. “Ashton Boudreaux. I don’t believe I caught your last name.”
She smiled coyly and accepted his proffered hand. “DuChamp.”
If Ash had been drinking as she announced her family name, he would have done a spit take. “Did you say DuChamp? As in DuChamp Shipping?”
She sighed and pushed her empty glass toward Bobby. “Bartender, how ’bout another one of those,” she said, laying on the drawl thickly. Then she turned back to Ash. “And DuChamp Trucking. And DuChamp Sugar. And DuChamp Steel. Yes. That one. Got any more questions about my rich daddy?”
Ash could tell she was on the verge of walking away. He wisely decided against asking any more questions about her family or its well-known mountains of money. “I do not,” he replied. “You got any questions about my daddy and his smaller-but-respectable fortune?”
She raised an eyebrow. “And tell me, Ashton, who is your daddy?”
Just then, Pen barged in on the conversation and slung an arm around Ash’s shoulder. “Why, everybody knows his daddy! Ash here’s the son of Jimmy Chicken! Remember? I told you about him.” Pen slurred her words, clearly having pre-gamed for ladies’ night at the Wolfpack Tavern. “I’m so glad to see y’all are getting acquainted! Rosemary, Ash. Ash, Rosemary; Bobby, Rosemary. Rosemary, Bobby. Y’all, Rosemary is officially in the crew now, I hope that’s okay. She is the best. The. Best.”
Yes, Pen was always this gregarious whenever the group got together. Especially when she’d already knocked back a few before the party started.
Rosemary laughed. “We did some shots at my place. Don’t worry; we took a rideshare here.”
“Aww, drunk Pen is so cute,” Ash said, putting an arm around his friend’s waist, though curious why, with all of that DuChamp money, Rosemary hadn’t made use of her chauffeur. He didn’t dare ask, though. Not after the way Rosemary had bristled at the mention of her father’s company. Turning to Bobby, Ash remarked, “Ain’t our Pen the cutest?”
An amused Rosemary glanced back and forth between the two friends.
“Oh, no,” Ash said, anticipating Rosemary’s question. “We’re not a thing,” he said. “We’re just friends, always just friends. We’ve known each other since, what, homeschool days?”
Pen laughed, “Yeah, I gotta remember to tell you a story about the time Ash and Bobby and the rest of the crew put on a big talent show just for the parents…”
Bobby cut her off, coming around the bar and putting
