Aspen has a one-track mind, and who knows how long she’ll be that way. It might seem fun for now, but can I see myself still chasing her like this a year from now? I don’t want to regret all the time I spent doing it. Especially if it ends up going nowhere.
I rub my face with my hands and groan. Well, this isn’t anything I have to decide right now, and fuck me, I’m dying to taste more of her—in every damn way. I’d like to believe she’s the one for me, and that true love conquers all. But who knows?
My phone vibrates. I pick it up and see that Aspen has texted me. Despite my confusion moments ago, my heart jumps. This is the first time she’s started a text conversation with me!
Aspen: Hi, Ryker. I never thanked you for helping move the inspection date. You still haven’t told me how you did it. Or what I owe you for it, which still makes me angry. Nonetheless, I have exciting news. The inspection passed. So, thank you. What do I owe you?
My grin strains my cheeks. I helped her, and she’s finally handling it well. More or less. Maybe this bodes well for the other way I helped that she doesn’t know about yet.
Ryker: I’m glad I could help. Can I flirt and say I can think of a few ways you can thank me, or would that make you mad? I’m guessing that’d be too crass and my teasing would piss you off. So, I won’t say that.
Aspen: That’s a clever way to not say what you’re saying. And yes, it would piss me off.
Ryker: Sometimes I like when you get pissy though. You’re cute when you do.
Aspen: Don’t even go there.
Ryker: I want to go there. Aspen, I can’t stop thinking about our kiss.
Aspen: What kiss?
Ryker: Ha ha.
Aspen: What? ;)
Ryker: I’m looking forward to seeing you in your black dress at the silent auction Wednesday. Can I at least offer you a ride to the event?
Aspen: Sorry, no. I’m going with my mom. OK, I have to go, a customer is waiting. Oh, and thanks for your standing order for the next few weeks of quiche and pies delivered to your office.
Ryker: Like I said before, I like eating your pie.
Aspen: Stop it.
Ryker: What? Whose mind is in the gutter now?
When she doesn’t respond, I close the messaging app and set my phone on my desk. I glance around the office, and my mind goes back to the conversation I overheard in the kitchen between Maria and Ronald, and I clench my fists.
19
Aspen
Tonight is the big night.
I went to the spa for a pedicure—something I never do because of the cost and the time involved—and now I’m running late getting ready. Actually, I had to transfer the final down payment and sign papers at the closing on the hotel, and then I had to get my pedicure for gorgeous red tootsies for tonight’s extravaganza.
What a day!
I bolt up the stairs in my condo and run to my closet, where my new dress is hanging on the door. I’m bubbling with energy about tonight’s Chamber of Commerce annual silent auction. It’s one of the biggest events of the year in our little town. The Who’s Who of Genesee County will be there, including all the business owners, mingling and networking.
Mom and I are eager to spread the news that we’re officially the proud new owners of the historic Rose Hotel. And for those who haven’t heard yet, it’ll be a perfect opportunity to share our plans to transform the historic hotel into The Rose Bed-and-Breakfast. I grab a towel and hang it on the door as I hop into the shower to scrub up, paying extra attention to shaving my legs. It’s rare I wear a dress. As in, never.
Although I’ve been excited about this event for over a month, for the opportunity to promote our new venture—I must admit—I have another reason that’s tickling me about going.
Ryker will be there.
I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that I’m spending extra time on my hair and makeup. Ahem, for business, of course.
I’m not pursuing him, but I’ve enjoyed the flirting, and so it’s going to make for a playful night. I can’t wait to see what he wears tonight, too. God knows, I expect he’ll make my spine shiver with just one look at him in a suit.
I’m hesitant to admit it, but Ryker pops into my head at the oddest of times throughout the day. It’s a little unnerving, given how loudly I insist I’m not interested. Not to mention, the subtle aching he’s put between by legs.
We’ve exchanged a few brief text messages, but thankfully, he’s been missing-in-action the past couple of days, busy working with his dad. So the distractions have been minimal.
I’m still confused by my feelings, but I’m getting used to the tug-of-war between my heart and brain. For tonight though, I’m ignoring all of that. I just want to see him. Besides, life is about to get extraordinarily busy next week, and my “Ryker problem” won’t be an issue.
After I get out of the shower, I blow-dry my long, blond hair and use a flat iron to straighten it, making it even longer down my back. I turn on some David Bowie music while I put on my makeup. I add extra dark eyeliner, mascara, and a little smoky eyeshadow. Next is blush, then shimmer powder on my cheekbones, and—last but not least—my favorite cherry-red lipstick. I definitely look like I’m going out for a night on the town.
I step into my new dress and pull it up on me. I reach behind me and pull up the zipper, shimmying my chest so the dress settles perfectly over my girls. I
