ON ONE CONDITION

S.I.N. SERIES, BOOK TWO

K. BROMBERG
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 PRAISE FOR K. BROMBERG

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ALSO WRITTEN BY K. BROMBERG

Driven Series
Driven
Fueled
Crashed
Raced
Aced

Driven Novels
Slow Burn
Sweet Ache
Hard Beat
Down Shift

The Player Duet

The Player
The Catch

Everyday Heroes
Cuffed
Combust
Cockpit
Control (Novella)

Wicked Ways
Resist
Reveal

Standalone
Faking It
Then You Happened
 Flirting with 40
UnRaveled (Novella)
Sweet Cheeks
Sweet Rivalry (Novella)

The Play Hard Series

Hard to Handle
Hard to Hold
Hard to Score
Hard to Lose
Hard to Love

The S.I.N. Series

Last Resort
On One Condition
Final Proposal

Holiday Novellas
The Package
The Detour

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events,
and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously.

Copyright © 2022 K. Bromberg

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission
of the publisher.

Published by JKB Publishing, LLC

ISBN: 978-1-942832-44-7

Cover design by Indie Sage, LLC

Editing by Marion Making Manuscripts
Formatting by Champagne Book Design

Printed in the United States of America

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

TITLE PAGE
PRAISE FOR K. BROMBERG
ALSO WRITTEN BY K. BROMBERG
COPYRIGHT
EPIGRAPH
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
 CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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 This love left a permanent mark
This love is glowing in the dark
These hands had to let it go free, and
This love came back to me . . .
—Taylor Swift

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 PROLOGUE

Asher
Fifteen Years Ago

Ledger cuts the engine just outside the gate to the farm. Lights are still on
in the house, which means Gran is probably peeking out the window to
make sure I’m home by my curfew.
I shift in my seat to look at him.
He has both of his hands propped on the steering wheel as the ticking of
the cooling engine filters in through the open windows. He glances at me
and gives me a lopsided smile before emitting a nervous chuckle.
It’s like everything changed between us over the past few hours and yet
nothing really has.
He’s still him.
I’m still me.
And yet . . . we’re connected now in a special way that I don’t think I
expected to feel.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly, his eyes searching my face.
I nod, surprised at the sudden awkwardness after what we just did.
“You?”
“Yeah.” That crooked smile evens out as he laces his fingers with mine.
“I promise I’ll be better at it next time.”
“How exactly do you plan on practicing?” I ask. He whips his eyes to
mine and then his face softens when he realizes I’m just teasing him.
“Ledge?”
“Yeah?”
“It was perfect,” I whisper.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he nods. “It was, wasn’t it?”
I squeeze his hand and look toward the house just in time to see one of
the curtains move.
“I have to get inside.”
 “I know. I wish you didn’t have to, though.” He stares at me for a beat
before climbing out of the truck and rounding the hood to open my door for
me. There’s something about the way he looks at me that makes me wish
we could just climb into his truck and keep driving.
Away from this town.
Away from its judgment.
Away from its dismissal of me.
Ledger must see it in my eyes because he wraps his arms around me and
pulls me into him. His skin is warm from the summer night and smells like
a mixture of sunscreen and sun.
“We’ll only be apart for a few hours,” he murmurs against the crown of
my head. “My dad will be busy with Barbie or Bunny or whatever her name
is, and your gran and pop will be asleep.”
I nod, my bottom lip between my teeth, as I look up at him. “Meet back
by the willow tree, right?”
“Yeah. In our spot.”
“At eleven thirty?”
“Mm-hmm.” He leans down and presses his lips to mine. His kisses
always make me feel. Warm. Wanted. Loved. It’s the best feeling in the
world.
And truth be told, of the handful of boys I’ve kissed, Ledger is
definitely the best at it.
The creaking of the screen door sounds seconds before I hear, “Asher,
honey?”
“Coming, Gran,” I call out with a roll of my eyes as I take a few steps
toward the house, Ledger’s and my linked hands outstretched between us
for as long as possible until they break. I turn and face him. “Promise you’ll
be there? At the tree?”
“On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
He holds his hands out to his sides. “That you’ll love me forever,” he
whisper-yells before flashing me a grin that could light up the darkened sky.
Laughing, and feeling like nothing in the world could ever ruin this
feeling, I jog back to where he’s standing and press a kiss to his lips. “I
promise.”
I turn and take off running through the fields toward the house, emitting
a whoop as I go. When I hit the steps of the veranda, breathless but still
giddy, I turn back to look at him one last time. He’s standing in a strip of
moonlight. His hands are shoved in his pockets, his back is against the bed
of his truck, and he’s looking straight at me with that smile still on his lips.
I blow a kiss in his direction and know that I’ll always think of him like
this. My moonlight boy who said he’d love me forever.

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 CHAPTER ONE

Ledger
Dear Sharpe International Network,
We, the members of Cedar Falls City Council, are writing to object to
certain issues pertaining to your recent purchase and current renovations of
The Retreat. While we value free enterprise, we also value the citizens of
our town and their livelihoods. In your quest to resort-ize, commercialize,
and bastardize our town, many small businesses that have been staples in
our community for generations now worry about being wiped out by your
big-business mentality.
In the original application for your conditional-use permit submitted to
our City Council on February 13th, Sharpe International Network proposed
that your resort would create new jobs and help stimulate our economy. As
of the date of this letter, you have yet to keep your promises. All contracts
issued by S.I.N. thus far have been awarded to firms from Billings and
beyond. Not from Cedar Falls proper.
While we understand you are a business that needs to remain profitable,
we are a town that needs to protect its citizens and their way of life. The
City Council has decided that it will only grant a final certificate of
occupancy after the following condition has been met. A founding board
member from your firm must stay in Cedar Falls for two full months to
oversee the project. We feel that with boots on the ground, you will see the
importance of following through with your promises and ensure that the city
council of Cedar Falls can communicate promptly with said founding
member as needs arise.
Until that condition is met, neither a final inspection nor a certificate of
occupancy will be granted.
Until then,
Cedar Falls City Council
 “They’re kidding, right?” I laugh the words out as I glance from the
email on my laptop and at my brothers. “Bastardize their town? Such
bullshit. When The Retreat is done, it will bring more tourism to Cedar
Falls. More business. More everything to boost their economy.”
I knew buying the property, in this specific location, was a bad decision.
But the past is the past, right? What happened years ago are things my
brothers don’t even know about. And I plan to keep it that way.
“Apparently they think differently,” Ford says from his seat across the
conference table. His feet are on the table, his hands clasped behind his
head, and his eyes narrowed as he rereads the same email on his laptop.
“And why aren’t we contracting locally?”
“Because the local companies aren’t big enough to handle it? Not of the
caliber we need?” I take a guess. “Ask Hillary,” I say of our on-site project
manager. “She’ll have the answers.”
“We can ask her all we want,” Ford says, “but it’s not going to fix the
problem.”
“Or stop them from holding our permits hostage,” Callahan adds.
I look at Ford and then at our brother, Callahan. He’s standing at the
wall of windows that line our conference room, staring at me with the same
expression Ford has.
There are three of us, identical in appearance, and yet so very different
in every other aspect.
“Why did we agree to purchase this place again?” I groan and pinch the
bridge of my nose. Headaches upon headaches upon headaches. “I thought
new projects were supposed to be thrilling and exciting.”
“Nothing is thrilling and exciting when you’re as uptight as you are,
Ledge,” Callahan says and smiles as only a little brother can.
I flip the fucker off.
“Dad. Dad is the reason,” Ford says to bring back our focus, knowing
damn well how easy it is for Callahan and me to get distracted by our
squabbling. “We were trying to do something in his honor. Remember?”
And he’s right. We bought the old hotel to upgrade it into a S.I.N.
property in Dad’s honor. A place we could all take our families someday
and give them the same experience we had as kids. Nature. A different
perspective. Time to unplug for a while. Unplug? Jesus, the thought of
going for more than an hour without my phone gives me the hives.
Somewhere my brothers and I could be a family instead of work partners
and remember what it was like to be a kid.
But who knew the one town where we spent a few months each summer
was going to make it so hard for us to do so?
“Can somebody tell them that we’ll make good on our promises?” I ask.
“Can’t that be enough? Two months in that Podunk town is enough to drive
a grown man crazy.”
“Yes. We forgot. You were the only one not thrilled with the idea,”
Callahan says with a roll of his eyes. “Pretty-boy Ledger is too good for the
country now.”
“Not too good, but Jesus, couldn’t we have picked a more contemporary
location? One with more places than Main Street as the big attraction?”
“Montana is hot property right now,” Ford says with a shrug.
“Yeah. Yeah.” I wave a hand his way, knowing he’s right. “But . . .” It’s
not New York? It’s too far away from everything? My last time there was
an experience I wish to forget?
“Dude, you loved that place when we were teenagers,” Ford says.
He’s right.
I did.
Right up until I didn’t.
“Hell, it was the only place Dad let us be teenagers instead of his
Sharpe protégées.” Callahan crosses his arms over his chest and clears his
throat. The pang is there for all of us. Our father’s absence is still
monumental.
I smile at my early memories of Cedar Falls. The long days outdoors
and the late nights necking in the woods. How our father, Maxton Sharpe,
would release his tight reins on the three of us because it was a small town,
and he thought trouble wouldn’t find us. It still did. The freedom we were
given there was unparalleled to the rigors of prep schools and the pristine
reputation necessary back home.
The reputation that had us rushing out of there fifteen years ago and
never looking back.
Not that my brothers knew otherwise.
“There was fishing and hiking and beers—”
“Lots of beers,” Ford says, and I know we’re all thinking about how we
bribed Dad’s staff to buy them for us.
 “And who could forget all those small-town country girls,” Callahan
adds with a cocky smirk. “They were desperate for boys from anywhere but
there, thinking we were way more sophisticated than we really were.”
“Ah, the good old days,” I murmur.
“Maybe that one girl,” Ford says. “What was her name? Ashlyn?
Ashley?”
“Asher,” I murmur and run a hand through my hair. Asher Wells.
Another pang but for very different reasons. “God. That’s a name I haven’t
heard in years.”
But I lie.
Isn’t that the first person I thought of when my brothers approached me
with the idea of buying the hotel? Asher, the girl who handed me my first
real heartbreak. The first real scare. And to this day, it’s still one of the only
secrets I’ve kept from my brothers.
A secret that’s so old and buried that it does no good to bring it up now.
Jesus.
Asher. My lavender girl.
I can still see her sitting beneath the willow tree with leaves tangled in
her hair and fire dancing in her eyes.
“Asher. That’s it.” Ford snaps his fingers. “The only female I can
remember who gave you a taste of your own medicine by breaking your
heart before you could break hers,” Ford says. “Or maybe you learned it
from her. The art of not getting too attached.”
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes. “Just because I choose to date and not get
tied down like you,” I say to Callahan, “doesn’t make me an asshole.”
“Not an asshole. Just . . . perfectly Ledger.” Callahan chuckles. “Why’d
she break up with you again? Your dick too small?”
Both Ford and Callahan burst into laughter. I shake my head and cough
out the words, “Fuck you.”
Next topic, please.
“Do you think she’s still in Cedar Falls?” Ford asks absently.
“Doubt it. She couldn’t wait to get the hell out of that town.” I hope she
did too.
“Okay. Enough reminiscing about the whole two minutes it took to lose
your virginity, and the poor girl who had to endure those short, fleeting
moments,” Callahan says, earning another flip of my middle finger. “How
are we going to handle the situation with this bullshit request?”
 “They have us over a barrel. We don’t have any choice but to comply,”
Ford says.
“You checked with our lawyers? Can they add this stipulation?” I ask.
“They can do whatever they want to do,” Callahan says. “We dealt with
strict demands on the Santa Fe project and, after wasting money fighting the
city in court, we still had to comply.”
“Fuck,” I mutter as I run over the construction schedule in my head and
the plans for the grand opening. Two months before obtaining occupancy
permits will delay us. “This is going to cost us. We’ll have to push the
grand opening back. Give it a cushion just in case.”
“It’s a bump in the road,” Ford says, ever the pragmatist. “All projects
have them.”
“It’s a ridiculous request, is what it is.”
“So you’ve said. Ridiculous as it may be, we’ve already bought the
place. With millions of dollars on the line, we don’t have a choice, do we?”
Callahan asks.
“We’re too busy. None of us can afford to lose two months away right
now.” I run a hand through my hair. “That’s what we hire project managers
and directors of construction for. We need to find a workaround. That’s all
there is to it.”
Callahan looks at me as if I’m being unreasonable. “And what exactly
do you propose to do because throwing money at them—which is what
you’re going to suggest as a solution—will only make us look more
corporate than we already look.”
“Or guilty of what they’re accusing us of being,” Ford finishes for him.
“So, what is the solution then? Hire everybody in town? Fine. We’ll do
that,” I say. “To not put the stores on Main Street out of business? It’s not
our fucking fault if that happens. We sell hospitality. How is that going to
put the hardware store or bakery out of business? I mean, this letter is
absolute bullshit.”
“It is what it is,” Ford mutters.
“What did Dad always tell us?” I ask. “To situate ourselves in a position
of power. So how do we do that? What’s going to give us the upper hand?”
“We go to Cedar Hills for two months,” Ford states.
“Falls,” I correct, glancing over the email again before shutting my
laptop. “It’s Cedar Falls. And since you’re heading out there to live for the
foreseeable future until this is fixed, it’s probably best you get the town’s
name right.”
“Me?” Ford barks out the word and puts his hands up in surrender. “No
can do. This trip is squarely on you, Ledger.”
“The fuck it is.” I glance back and forth between my brothers as grins
widen on their faces. “Not happening.” I push up out of my chair and move
toward the windows that Callahan just vacated, before turning to face them.
“Absolutely not,” I say as disbelief slowly trickles through me.
I know their schedules.
The projects they’re tied to.
The obligations they can’t leave mid-operation.
But I swore I’d never step foot in that town again.
Callahan barks out a laugh the minute he sees the realization hit my
face. This one is on me. “What was that?” he teases.
“Look. I have an appreciation for all places. Urban. Tropical. Country.
But wouldn’t this better suit—”
“When have you ever liked the country?” Ford asks.
“I did. As a teenager.”
“Ha. But now with your Rolex and designer shoes, you’re too good for
it?”
“Wouldn’t this project be better suited to one of you who knows the . . .
less urban areas better?” Christ. Please save me from this proposed misery.
Sure, the past is the past, but it’s not a place I want to revisit. Was it great as
a teen? Yes. Is it even better for our clientele looking for this kind of
retreat? Of course, it is. That’s why we bought the property.
But it’s definitely not what I like now.
The past is the last thing I want to dig up, regardless of whether Asher
Wells is long gone or not.
“What’s the problem?” Callahan asks as he pops a grape from the fruit
platter in the middle of the table into his mouth. “Is spending two months in
Montana not on the Ledger-approved ten-year plan?”
Ford stifles a snicker as he looks at Callahan and says, “I’m sure we
could squeeze it right between the bullet points of ‘I’m not getting married
until I’m forty’ and ‘I want an article solely about me in Forbes
Magazine.’”
“To think he doesn’t want us in that article.” Callahan sighs and shakes
his head in mock sadness, clearly enjoying himself at my expense. “You
still have a ten-year plan, don’t you?”
“Of course, he does,” Ford says.
“I was just checking. I wasn’t sure if he’d moved on to making mood
boards or whatever the in thing is called these days.”
“Vision boards, Callahan. Keep up with the times.” Ford chuckles.
“You guys are assholes,” I mutter, but I’m secretly enjoying their banter.
It was less than fifteen months ago that the three of us were in a different
place, a different headspace, where Ford and I were at complete odds with
Callahan. Disappointment. Anger. Resentment. Unresolved feelings that
arose after our father’s death threatened to tear us apart.
But look at us now. Now we can call each other assholes and fuckers,
laughing while we do it, knowing our bond is stronger than ever.
“Yes. Right. We’re assholes,” Callahan scoffs as he turns to me, humor
etching the lines of his face. “Have you progressed from your bullet-point
planning to making vision boards now?”
“Fuck the both of you,” I say while fighting a smile.
“He hasn’t denied it,” Ford says.
“Not once,” Callahan continues.
“There is no vision board,” I assert.
“But there is still a ten-year plan somewhere, right? Complete with
goals and dreams laid out in spectacular fashion or some shit like that?”
Ford asks. “Are there bullet points or is it a tiered outline? Or have you
made posters of each item and have them plastered on the walls of your
home office?”
“I’m voting the poster route. Laminated. Glossy and—”
“If that’s the only thing you guys can razz me about, then so be it,” I say
while flipping them off again.
“It’s not the only thing,” Callahan says. “We’re going to have even
more fun watching you get used to the slow-paced country life of
Montana.”
“Sixty days.” Ford draws out the two words. “That’s a long time for you
to be outside of the concrete jungle and off the structure-approved plan.”
Sixty days.
Fuck.
That’s forever in my world.

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 CHAPTER TWO

Asher

He draws my attention the minute he walks into Hank’s.

Draws?
Hell, more like he commands it.
Through the dim haze of the bar, I can make out a dark head of hair,
broad shoulders, and expensive clothes. He has an unapologetic presence
that says he doesn’t give a fuck who’s staring at him because he likes the
attention.
And the locals in here are staring. Sizing him up. Wondering what the
hell he’s doing in a bar in Junction City when fancier ones—by small-town
standards—are down the highway in Cedar Falls.
I study him from my spot behind the bar, expecting him to turn and
walk out, and secretly wanting him to. There’s something about him—an air
of authority, a confidence, a familiarity I can’t place—that completely owns
my attention.
I’ve had enough trouble in my life with men like him.
He’s just a customer, Ash. You’re feeding his ego. An ego that most
likely revels in the boost you’re giving it. So, stop staring.
For once, I heed my own warning—it’s not often it happens—and turn
my back on him to dry glasses fresh out of the dishwasher.
But I know the minute he sits down at the bar. I can feel the weight of
his stare and smell the faint yet expensive scent of his cologne.
And yes, I know it’s expensive. After filling in for my best friend, Nita,
from time to time, I can tell the difference between a drugstore cologne and
a high-end one. Junction City is on the outskirts of Cedar Falls, the gateway
to the wealthy person’s recreational areas. Ski slopes on one side of town,
rivers and lakes on the other, and a whole host of scenic “look at me” places
for pictures to be taken and posted on social media in between. They stop
into Hank’s Bar for a quick drink and to experience that small-town
atmosphere while bitching about its lack of Cristal or some other fancy shit.
So yes, the man at my back might be handsome and is more than likely
charming as hell, but I’ve been there, done that. The flirting, the cell
number left on a napkin, the promise of a good time while he’s in town.
Sometimes I take up the offer because variety is few and far between
when you’ve lived in one place your whole life. Other times I just smile and
endure the flirting, knowing the whirlwind weekend of great (sometimes)
sex and pretending I’m one of them isn’t always worth the emptiness that
comes when they leave.
Because despite the promises, they never call.
Ever.
“I think the town you’re looking for is about twenty miles that way,” I
say, motioning in the direction of Cedar Falls without turning to face him.
“And how do you know what I’m looking for?” There’s amusement in
the tenor of his voice. There’s also something else that has me pausing.
“Well, no one stops in Junction City unless you’re a local or utterly
desperate,” I say as I dry another glass.
“Maybe I’m not like everybody else then.”
“That remains to be seen,” I murmur and wipe my hands on a towel.
“So, apparently, does my ability to get a drink in this place.”
My laughter is sharp as I turn to face the smart-ass, impressed with his
quick wit. But when I finally see him, my next words die on my lips.
I stand behind the bar, eyes blinking, head reeling, and look at the man
who was once the boy who stole my heart.
And then broke it into a million pieces.
My moonlight boy who said he’d love me forever.
But the person in front of me isn’t a teenage boy anymore. No. He’s
undeniably all man, who has only gotten more attractive with age. His dark
hair has a wave to it that’s been styled with product. His eyes are astute and
aloof. And the smile he offers damn near knocks me off my feet before
freezing me in place as a flash of recognition shoots through his amber
eyes.
Ledger Sharpe.
A name I’ve never forgotten . . . even if I wish I could have.
“Asher?” His voice sounds as shocked as I feel before his eyes quickly
dart to his right and left—as if he’s expecting someone else to be there—
before coming back to mine. “What . . . what in the hell are you doing
here?”
“Ledger.” His name is a breathless two syllables as I try to gain my
bearings. “I—what—I mean . . .” Why?
Why are you here?
Why does seeing you bring back a million emotions—elation, anger,
surprise, shame, longing—despite the passage of time?
Why are you even more handsome now?
Why did you leave without a word?
Why did I give you so much power to break my heart?
“Christ.” He runs a hand through his hair, and it falls back perfectly into
place as he stares at me, with his head shaking ever so slightly and his jaw
lax. “Never in a million years did I think that you’d still . . .”
“What? That I’d still be here?” I ask. The chuckle that follows is self-
deprecating. And just like that, I’m transported back to that night. To those
life-altering events and the scars they left behind. To the shattering of my
heart. My guard is up. “Yeah, you know us simple folk. We never leave.”
My smile is strained despite my racing heart. Even after all these years, the
humiliation exists, the embarrassment over what I felt is still real, as I try to
process the fact that Ledger Sharpe is in front of me.
It’s what I prayed for night after night—for him to come back. But that
was fifteen years ago.
Life has changed.
I’ve changed.
“You know what? I’m going to go.” He abruptly stands up from the seat
he just sat in, the scrape of the stool drawing even more glances our way.
He’s angry? What the hell? And yet for some odd reason, panic I shouldn’t
feel sparks to life.
“Ledger. Wait. Don’t go . . .” There’s misplaced desperation in my voice
that I hate the sound of.
I hate feeling it even more.
His brow furrows as if he’s confused by my request—as am I—but with
his eyes locked on mine, he slowly lowers himself back onto the stool. The
low hum of chatter throughout the bar begins anew as customers go back to
their own business, bored already with whatever is going on between us.
But I’m not.
 I’m rapt with attention, struggling with seeing him again after all this
time, while attempting to process the tumult of emotions storming through
me. For a few unspoken moments, we study each other, and I can only
assume he’s remembering everything about our past too.
His expression begins to soften despite the tension remaining in his
shoulders. “It’s been a minute, hasn’t it?” he finally says, but there’s an
edge to his tone, an uneasiness about him. It’s almost as if he’s uncertain
how to act when I know he entered this bar moments ago, an extremely
confident man.
“It sure has,” I murmur.
Images flash through my mind. First kisses. First loves. First everything
in that final summer that was filled with laughter and living, laden with
promises and predictions for our future. A summer where I felt like I was
someone’s everything for the first time in my life.
There’s unsettled silence between us. The kind that years apart and lives
lived causes—when you know the person that was, but not the person in
front of you now.
Those amber eyes of his always won me over. The same eyes staring at
me now, asking questions I don’t think I know the answer to even if he were
able to put words to them.
I clear my throat. “What can I get you to drink?” I ask as if he were
some random customer. I need to stop my thoughts from tumbling too far
into a past we cannot change. A past that hurt for way too long.
“What craft beers do you have on draft?” he asks.
“We only have domestic. I’m sure that’s not up to your standards—”
“Meaning?” His brows furrow.
“Meaning guys like you, ones with pedigree, prefer the expensive shit,”
I say with a bite to my tone. That one word will be forever burned into my
memory.
“Pedigree?”
I grab a glass and dry it again, needing something—anything—to do
with my trembling hands. The anger that riots through me burns its way
into hurt. “Yep. Nothing average or run-of-the-mill will do for you.”
His chuckle is low, but his eyes are curious as he leans back, head
angled to the side, and crosses his arms over his chest. I can assume he’s a
smart man. Does he think time would fully erase the hurt after what
happened? After what was said and the insecurities and humiliation it
caused?
He may not have been the one to say it, but he went along with it.
Does that matter, though? It’s been, what? Fifteen years? What’s done is
done, Asher. Let it go.
Our gazes hold for a beat until he gives the subtlest of nods that seems
to indicate he’s going to play along with whatever attitude I’m giving him.
“You imply that I think I’m too good for a Coors Light and in turn too
good for this place in general.” It’s a statement. Not a question. And the
look he gives me says he wants whatever fight is brewing here. “That
wasn’t the case before, was it? And it sure as hell isn’t the case now.”
Liar. It’s my first thought.
Leave the past in the past. That’s my second.
I draw in a deep breath, determined to heed the second one, but
struggling with the task already. Scars may fade but they can still run deep.
“I’m not implying anything. I’ve learned the hard way about men like you.”
“Men like me?” He lifts a lone eyebrow, confusion etched in the lines of
his handsome face. “I don’t remember you being this judgmental before.”
“Huh. And here I thought you didn’t remember me at all.”
He startles. “Didn’t remember you?” He coughs the words out in
disbelief, his eyes narrowing. “After everything we shared? After the hell I
went through? How can you—”
“The hell you went through?” I all but screech. “What about—”
A ruckus breaks out in the rear of the bar, with shouts and the clatter of
glass bottles falling. I move to calm the situation, but Hank is there already,
breaking up the fight between two regulars we all know by name because
this isn’t the first time it’s gotten heated between them.
I take advantage of the quick reprieve and short distance from Ledger to
try and gain some clarity and gather my thoughts.
The hell I put him through?
The last time I saw Ledger Sharpe was the night I gave him my
virginity. It was also the night that my naiveté in thinking all people are
considered equal was shattered.
I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath.
My anger, my snark to hide my hurt—hell, this whole direction of our
conversation—won’t get us anywhere. Not that I want it to. But in the same
breath, I can’t deny the emotions seeing him has dredged up.
 Go. Be nice. Be polite. Make small talk. Then serve him his beer so he
can get on his way back out of my life.
Again.
He tracks me as I make my way back to him. “Look. Everything is
perfect. Obviously, we have a past. It’s best if we leave it alone.” I muster a
strained smile I don’t expect him to believe. “Sound good?”
His snort is unconvincing, the displeasure in his eyes even more so.
“Sure. Fine.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “Right after you explain to me what
you mean by men like me . . . because last I knew you, you seemed to like
men like me.”
Touché.
I did.
I still do.
I’d be lying to myself if I said otherwise, and yet, men like him are the
reason I’ve lived my adult life trying to prove I’m more than enough. That
I’m more than a motherless girl with no future. It was men like him who
cast me aside because I didn’t meet the Sharpe standards.
My thoughts become crazy as the memories renew my fury. Don’t be
angry. Ignore the hurt. It was years ago. But it’s so much easier to hide
behind the anger and use it as a defense than to admit seeing him has
opened wounds I thought had healed and faded.
I clear my throat. “Men like you,” I state and find my footing that his
unwavering stare is constantly knocking askew. “Clearly one who thinks
he’s too good for this establishment, this town, the people in it . . . maybe
even this state, but for some reason, shock of all shocks, he’s sitting at this
bar.”
“Not by choice.”
“Of course not. You just proved my point. On that note”—I lift my chin
toward the direction of the door and lean my hips back against the counter
behind me—“you know where the door is.”
“Asher Wells speaks her mind now? That’s new,” he says with mock
surprise and, for the first time, I see a hint of the personality that my
teenage heart used to be madly in love with.
“I’m not the same person you used to know. A lot has changed,
Ledger.”
“Clearly.” A ghost of a smile paints his lips. It’s smug and arrogant and,
Jesus, does it suit him perfectly. There’s confidence to back it now, an
acknowledgment that he is who he is without apology. “I like the change.
It’s becoming of you—”
“No, you don’t.” I snort and cross my arms over my chest, a defense in
and of itself. “You think I’m being a bitch—which for the record, I am. I
think I have a good cause too. Just as I’m sure you’ve followed in your
father’s footsteps, opting to be the asshole whenever you feel like it, simply
because you can. Or do you still toe the line, always doing what you’re
told? Do you still need Daddy’s praise? To be the best of the best or you’re
not considered good enough?”
My temper gets the best of me with this incoherent ramble that I can’t
help. It’s hurt or be hurt. It gets everything you once wanted to say out since
this might be your only chance.
But I’m so caught up in my feelings that I don’t give his grimace a
second thought.
“Hey, Ash. Can I get another, sweetheart?” a regular asks from across
the bar.
“Coming right up, Larry.” I move away to pour Larry’s beer, thankful
for the reprieve. Maybe Ledger will give up and go back to wherever he
came from while I’m distracted.
“Why am I sensing that I missed part of this conversation somehow?”
Or maybe not. There’s a chill to his voice, a stiffness to his posture.
I’ve pissed him off.
Good.
That’s only an iota of what he deserves.
I stare at him, my jaw clenched and hands fisted. Why am I letting the
memory of what happened still affect me? It was a long time ago. It’s done
and over with. “You know what? You’re right. You’re not worthy of my
anger,” I finally say, hating that while I tell him that, I still want to ask a
million questions.
Why did you leave and never come back?
Why didn’t you call?
Was everything you told me a lie?
Why did you let him tear you apart like that?
That’s enough, Ash. Enough wondering. Enough anger. Enough
forgetting what you promised yourself minutes ago—that the past is the
past.
 This is the first impression you give him of who you are and what
you’ve made of your life? All you’re succeeding in doing is looking
unstable.
Get your shit together, even if it kills you.
“You’re right. I’m probably not worthy of your anger.” He meets my
eyes and something softens inside me at his comment. At him giving me an
out to somehow justify the spiteful words I just slung at him. “But hey, if I
had known asking for a Coors Light would make you this upset, then I
easily could have picked something else. A Heineken. A Corona. Which
beer is best paired with the side of animosity you’re serving?”
“Quit making fun of me.”
He offers his lopsided, mischievous smile that has one reluctantly
tugging on the corners of my mouth. I’m transported back to ice cream
cones on the docks and kisses that left me breathless.
There’s something about you that until this very moment, until seeing
you standing there, I didn’t know would still pull on parts of me.
“Everything good here?” Hank asks as he steps behind the bar, eyeing
me with curiosity before taking in Ledger. “Asher taking care of you all
right?”
“Yes. She was just about to pour me a Coors Light, but she had to finish
reading me the riot act about how much she dislikes me first.”
Jesus. I’m filling in for Nita. The last thing I need is to cause paying
customers to complain and get her in trouble with the boss.
“Don’t take it personally,” Hank says, followed by his baritone bark of a
laugh and a wink my way. “For what it’s worth, she doesn’t exactly like
anyone.”
I narrow my eyes at Hank as he emits a big belly laugh before moving
to the far end of the bar to chat with some regulars.
“Asher?” Ledger asks my name like a question, but when I look his
way, there’s a sudden change to his expression. It’s almost as if he just had
an epiphany or figured out an answer to the question he never asked. “A
minute ago, you said something. About what I put you through—” He gives
a quick shake to his head and as quickly as the expression appears, it’s
gone. “I think you’re wrong. We do need to talk about what hap—”
“Telling me I’m wrong isn’t the best way to make me like you again.”
“I didn’t realize you had to try to. You never had to before.” The quiet
confidence in his tone paired with the bittersweet look in his eyes has me
struggling to think of a response.
How is it possible to go from anger to uncertainty in such a short span
of time?
Confused and unsettled by the sudden feeling, I turn around to find a
clean glass on the counter behind me, even though there’s a stack of them
right in front of me.
I’m a grown woman, for God’s sake.
We were teenagers.
It was a lifetime ago.
I’ve moved on with my life and so has he.
I rearrange more glasses before grabbing one and moving toward the
tap. “What are you in town for? A trip with your family again? Is it your
first time back since . . . before?” I ramble, my concentration on the beer
and its foam head instead of Ledger. “The town has changed. The old hotel
was bought and is being built into a resort. The whole town is up in arms
over it.” I pour some foam out. “The ski resort is even fancier than before,
if you can believe that. The rich ladies and their outfits even more
outrageous than the ones we used to make fun of.”
Ledger sits in silence as I rattle off comments, avoiding eye contact with
him. But when I set the glass down in front of him, he closes his hand over
my wrist.
His touch.
At one time it was everything my teenage heart yearned for.
My eyes flash to his, but I don’t pull my hand away. I’m sure he can see
it in the look I give him—a tinge of nostalgia, a bit of what could have been
—but he doesn’t say a word. Rather, he just nods ever so slightly as if he
understands, and offers a soft smile.
“You look good, Asher. More than good,” he murmurs. “I hope you’ve
been happy.”
The kindness in his words almost unravels me. Vulnerability I don’t
want to feel wells up as tears threaten, which I successfully fight back. It’s
been a tough few months. Moving Gran to an assisted living facility. Losing
Pop so unexpectedly. Then learning to shoulder the responsibilities to keep
The Fields afloat when Pop guarded everything. Combined, it’s all but
drowned me. So much in such a short span that his sympathy, his sincerity,
get to me.
 “Trudging along,” I say as I pull my hand from his grip. “And you?
You’re good?”
He nods again as he studies me in that silent, disarming way of his.
“Are you still sketching those insanely beautiful landscapes? I always
figured I’d stumble upon one somewhere and know right away it was
yours.”
“No. Not anymore.”
“I thought you were going to art school. To—”
“Plans changed.”
“That was your dream though.”
“Dreams change.” I look at the door as another customer walks in and
welcome the distraction. “You never answered my questions.”
“Because I wanted to know about you more.” He takes a sip of his beer,
his eyes never leaving mine until he gives a roll of his eyes. “Fine. What are
your questions, Ash?”
He says my nickname like no time has passed, and we’re still familiar
with each other. I can’t bring myself to correct him.
Maybe I don’t want to.
“Why are you here?”
“I was driving to Cedar Falls from the airport. After a day full of
traveling delays, I thought a beer was in order. I saw the sign for Hank’s,
the busy parking lot in front of it, and . . . here I am.”
I cross my arms and huff at his response. He smiles.
“I didn’t mean in Hank’s, and you know it. Stop mocking me and
answer the question.”
“You always were bossy,” he murmurs, showing me he does remember
me. The old me, anyway. “That big resort that the whole town is up in arms
over?” He raises his hand. “That would be mine.”
Realization slams into me. “You’re S.I.N.?”
“Guilty as charged.” He glances around as if he’s waiting to encounter
animosity if anyone overhears him. “Sharpe International Network,
otherwise known as S.I.N.”
Talk about being blindsided. I knew his father was big in the hospitality
industry and ridiculously wealthy. That was clear by where they stayed, by
the outrageously expensive everything Ledger and his brothers had, and by
the cars they drove while here. But I had no idea S.I.N. was that company.
“How did I not know this?”
 He shrugs. “We rebranded a while back and since we’ve added on so
many international properties in the past ten years, we became S.I.N.”
“We?”
“Yes. We.” The grief in his eyes is fleeting, but I catch it nonetheless.
“My father died two years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” My words are a polite reflex for a man vilified
in my memories.
He nods in acknowledgment. “My brothers and I run the company
now.”
“For the company’s sake, let’s hope you don’t bicker as much as you
used to.”
“At times.”
I laugh. It’s the first time I have, and somehow it eases the heaviness
between us. “So you’re here in Cedar Falls to do what exactly with the
hotel? Calm the mob over its mere existence?”
“Something like that. Mayor Grossman deems it necessary that I stay
here for the next two months to be at his beck and call or else he’ll withhold
our occupancy permits and prevent us from opening.”
“I could lie and say that surprises me . . . but sadly, it doesn’t. He’s a
greedy man who thinks more of himself than should be legal, and with
reelection coming up . . .”
“Great. Something to look forward to.” He rolls his eyes.
“Are you sure you don’t want to drive back to the airport and escape
while you can?”
“It’s that bad, huh?”
“Depends on what side you fall on.”
“And what side do you fall on, Asher?” he asks, but for some reason, I
feel like the question he’s asking means so much more than whether I agree
with the new resort in town or not.
And before I can answer his question, Nita shows up like a whirlwind of
energy and chaos, as is her usual fashion.
“Oh my gosh,” she says, hastily tying an apron behind her waist as she
pushes her way behind the bar. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank
you.” She leans in to kiss me on the cheek, giving me the disruption I
unknowingly needed. “You’re a lifesaver. A total freaking lifesaver, Ash.”
It’s in that moment she must sense the connection between Ledger and
me because her motions falter as she looks from me to him and then back
again.
“Well, hello there handsome,” she purrs in a way that only Nita can get
away with without coming off as forward or desperate. “I’d offer to get you
something a tad sweeter to whet your palate, but it seems to me that Asher
here was taking care of you just fine. I’ll—uh, go clear some tables so you
two can, you know, finish whatever needs finishing.” She looks Ledger
over, and the nudge she gives me is anything but subtle.
If she only knew . . .
“No need to leave and clear anything,” I say as I untie my apron and
scrunch it into a ball, needing something to do with my hands. It’s as if the
events of the last fifteen minutes have come crashing down on me, and I
suddenly need a minute alone to think and process and . . . breathe. “You’re
all set here.” Nita eyes me cautiously, wondering no doubt, why I’m acting
so weird. “I really need to get going.”
“You’re leaving?” Ledger stands up abruptly, his barstool loud as it
scrapes across the floor when he does.
“Yes. I was only helping Nita out while she went to a school function
with her son.” I offer a strained smile as my heart races in my chest. “This
isn’t my—I don’t regularly work here.”
How does this end?
Do I just walk away? Do I get anything else off my chest while I have
the chance to? Do I even want to? Or is this enough for me? Will I finally
have the closure I didn’t realize I needed simply from talking to him?
“That means you can stay and talk then.”
“I can’t. I have . . . things to do,” I say and give Nita an air kiss on the
cheek before heading toward the back storage room to grab my things.
I have a sudden need to flee. To have some solitude and some quiet.
Two things that are impossible to have when his presence is clouding my
every thought like it is right now.
I’ve just about reached the end of the bar and the door to the back room
when Ledger grabs my elbow.
“Asher. Wait. You’re going to leave just like that? Without another
word?”
It’s a horrible feeling, isn’t it?
But I don’t put words to the thoughts. Can’t. It’s best to leave this as is.
In a better place. More settled. As is.
 “I have to go,” I say to save face, but when I turn and meet his eyes, my
feet refuse to move.
“You sure?” He dips his head to be on my level so his eyes can search
mine.
“I’m sure.”
He rocks on his heels, clearly not believing my lie but letting me think
he does anyway. For that, I’m more than grateful.
“It was great to see you, Ash.” There’s that lopsided smile again. It’s
genuine and real, and I hate that despite our past, a part of me sags at the
sight of it. “Actually, it’s better than great.”
“It was nice to catch up. Good luck with everything.”
“No. Not yet.” He sighs and glances around the bar before he meets my
eyes again. “Look . . . we were kids, starry-eyed and not prepared for
anything life was going to throw at us. Things happened that . . . that
happened. Things I still don’t understand, and that I’m starting to think
neither of us could control. We could talk about the past and dwell on the
what-might-have-beens, but that would be pointless.”
“Agreed.” I nod when, in reality, I want to dissect every word he just
said to me. “It was good seeing you, Ledger.” I start to walk away, but his
words stop me.
“I’m going to be in town for a couple of months. I’d like to get together
sometime . . . have a drink. Catch up.” He glances down for a beat before
meeting my eyes. “Be friends.”
Emotion is thick in my throat as I stumble for a response I’m not sure I
know the answer to. “Maybe.” I push on the door and look over my
shoulder at him. “We’ll see.”
When I walk through the door and it shuts, I lean my back against it and
blow out a long, drawn-out sigh.
I can’t see him again.
I don’t want to.
I do want to.
Shit.
There’s something about Ledger Sharpe.
Yes, he owned my heart once upon a time, but he’s right. I’m not a
starry-eyed teenager anymore.
So much has changed from the girl he once knew.
I’m stronger.
 I’m independent.
I’ve finally found my purpose.
And I’ll be damned if I’ll let his handsome face and a pocketful of
nostalgic memories get close enough to me to change anything about me
this time around.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER THREE

Ledger

Pushing my chair back from my makeshift desk—the kitchen table of my

rental house—I scrub a hand over my face and sigh in frustration.
Nothing is holding my attention. Fucking nothing. Not the emails I have
waiting to be answered, not the talking heads blathering on the television
across the room about the expectations of record travel this year, and sure as
hell not the absolute silence inside and outside this modest house on the
outskirts of Cedar Falls.
Because all I can think about is Asher Wells.
What happened before.
The heartbreak.
The fear.
The constant looking over my shoulder every time I received an email
or text from her that I’d leave unanswered.
But to make things even more confusing, tonight I felt her anger and
sensed the hurt beneath the surface. I watched her struggle with both, and it
wasn’t until almost halfway through our conversation that it hit me—she
doesn’t know. What I was accused of. Why the Sharpe family up and left out
of nowhere.
Why I never spoke to her again.
That has to be why she was so angry. And for good measure. But I was
angry too. Wasn’t I the one who’d had the most to lose?
That’s the only explanation as to why she was so upset seeing me again.
It has to be.
Christ.
I give a shake of my head to clear it.
It doesn’t work.
She’s still there.
Still owning my every thought.
 How goddamn arrogant is that of me to assume I still affect her? There
could be a dozen reasons why she was rattled and not a single one of them
had to do with me. Right?
Just like there should be a dozen reasons why I should be working and
not obsessing over her misplaced anger and a past I thought was dead and
buried.
Jesus, Ledger. Get over it.
With a sigh and renewed determination, I read the email in front of me
again. But I don’t get past the second sentence because it’s fucking
impossible to focus.
She’s making it impossible.
Asher Wells is still here.
She’s really fucking here.
Talk about being blindsided. I was certain she’d left town long ago. I
figured that the only people who would be left from that summer would be
her gran and pop. I stressed over it, and then felt guilty that the teenage boy
inside of me was relieved when I looked up Pop only to find out of his
passing. That sounds terrible considering Pop didn’t present any threat to
me now . . . but it still worried me that he’d be here. That he’d remember.
But I was wrong about Asher. She is here. And when she turned to face
me from behind the bar and those storm cloud-colored eyes of hers met
mine, I was instantly transported back to fifteen years ago. Back to that last
night, that last kiss, where she stood in the moonlight by my truck, those
same eyes staring into mine as she promised she’d come back and meet me
later.
And the disbelief and utter heartache that came next.

“You’re not to see her again.”

“Dad . . . what are you talking about?”
“I don’t like repeating myself. You heard me.”
“I love her,” I blurt out.
“You’re thinking with your dick, Ledger. Every good man does at some
point, but this is the wrong time and the wrong person to do it with.”
I shove up out of my chair. “You can’t tell me what to do,” I shout.
His hands are fisted in my shirt in an instant, his face inches from mine.
His voice is a cool, even tone when he speaks next. “You’ll do as I say. I
will not have you disobey me on this. Pretend she never existed. Pretend
this summer never happened.”

Nothing can dampen the memory or roller coaster of emotions I went

through that night. The pain, the anger, the confusion, the . . . agony.
I did nothing wrong . . . I know that.
Now.
And yet, hell, I’m standing in this quiet house remembering when it’s
been forgotten for so long, aren’t I?
It’s fucking stupid really. Hell, it’s been over a decade. I’ve had many
lovers since then, many women who’ve occupied my bed and my time so
that Asher’s and my teenage puppy love was merely a blip on my radar . . .
and yet seeing her tonight . . . fuck, seeing her tonight gave me pause.
Nostalgia. Isn’t that what this is? An unexpected walk down memory
lane?
It’s more than that and that’s what’s fucking with my head.
It’s created the desire to know her now. It’s reawakened an attraction to
her I can’t deny. It feels so wrong for me and yet so goddamn right. I’m not
a player by any means, but I’m also not one who pursues my exes once
we’ve parted ways. The been there, done that mentality in full effect. And
yet there’s something about Asher that had me pursuing her tonight. That
already has me wanting to see her again.
“It’s utter fucking madness is what it is,” I mutter to the empty house.
The teenage girl owned me way back when, and the woman she has
become seemingly holds my interest now.
I take a sip of my beer and step out the door into the backyard. It’s not
like I’m getting any work done anyway. I contemplate the silhouette of the
mountains against the night sky. The stars burning bright overhead that the
city lights I normally live beneath drown out.
She was just as beautiful as I remembered. Even more so. The mane of
auburn hair is longer now. Those big, gray eyes of hers still overly
expressive. The curves of her body more pronounced, more feminine, than
they used to be.
Clearly, the years have physically been kind to her, and yet, I sense
they’ve hardened that wide-eyed wonder she used to have too. I guess they
have for both of us. My naiveté was ripped away that last night together. I
wonder what stripped her of hers?
 But with age comes experience. Wisdom. Perhaps hardship. That shy,
innocent teenager she once was, is no more. She speaks her mind and
clearly doesn’t care who she offends. The jut of her chin in defiance wasn’t
there before. I love the sight of it and at the same time, am curious about
what made her change.
Plans change.
Dreams change.
Weren’t those her words tonight?
She shouldn’t still be in Cedar Falls. She had huge dreams of leaving
this town and an even greater talent to get her there. A prestigious art
school. An apartment in the big city. The chance to experience real life—the
good and the bad—on her own. Wasn’t that what she wanted? What she
aspired to do?
I bring my beer to my lips. What the hell was so important that she gave
up her dreams to stay here?
Plans change.
I know better than anyone. Plans do change.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER FOUR

Ledger
Seventeen Years Ago

“Pace yourself, Callahan.” I glance over to my brother who has just shot-
gunned his third beer in less than twenty minutes. He glares at me, crushes
the can in his hand before tossing it over his shoulder, and then flipping me
off.
“Okay, Dad.” He rolls his eyes and then points to one of the girls to his
side. “Grab me another, will you?”
I grit my teeth. He’s out of control as per usual. Dad’s been chill with us
doing our own thing here—more so than he’s ever been in our lives. The
last thing I want Callahan to do is fuck it up by getting so shit-faced that
Dad will notice and tighten the reins on our freedom.
Then again, it’s Callahan. Screwups are allowed when you’re him.
But not when you’re me.
I glance at the beer in my hand and wish like hell I could say fuck it and
be more like him. The problem? I’m sure if I did, our punishments would
still be different.
You’re my first born, Ledger. The one most like me. I expect more from
you than anyone else.
Fucking great. Perfect. I down the beer and try to forget who I am. Try
to enjoy this newfound freedom here in Montana when every second at
home is academics and sports and positioning myself for a future that’s
preordained.
When I toss my can to the side, it’s then that I see her standing on the
outskirts of the party. Long legs. Tan skin. A red tank top with lacy white
bra straps just beneath the fabric. Reddish-brown hair down her back. And
. . . there’s something about her standing to the side, observing like she
doesn’t exactly belong, that owns my curiosity.
That and the fact she’s a walking wet dream.
 I can’t help but stare.
“Ledger. Bro. Can I grab another?” the local kid we’ve been hanging
around asks me. Hell, in reality, everyone’s been hanging around us
considering we have the beer, but he’s actually one we’ve befriended in the
two weeks since we arrived.
“Sure. Yeah. Uh—who’s that, though?”
“Who?” he asks as he steps forward to look in the direction that I lifted
my chin.
“Her.”
“Lavender Girl?” He snorts.
“Lavender Girl? What are you talking about?” I ask, desperate to look
again but afraid to seem too interested.
“That’s what we call her around here.”
“Why?” But he’s headed toward the cooler before I get the word out.
I chance a glance toward her again. And this time when I do, I’m met
with a pair of gray eyes that don’t look away.
I walk over to her, my nerves dampened by the beer. Her eyes grow
wide, almost fearful, as I approach. Skittish. For some reason I get the
impression that she doesn’t normally run with this crowd. Doesn’t quite fit.
Maybe I feel the same in a different way.
She’s even prettier up close. Way out of my league.
Her breath hitches when I stop in front of her.
“Lavender Girl, please tell me you’re not going to run away? I just want
to say hi.” I hold my hands out to my sides, my confidence bolstered by my
buzz. “I’m Ledger.”
Her lashes flutter as her eyes lift to meet mine.
Thud.
“Hi.”
Then she smiles . . . and I’m a goddamn goner.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER FIVE

Asher

I sit behind the wheel of my car with the door open, one leg firmly planted
on the ground, the other on the floorboard, and simply take in everything.
The house before me. Its paint is faded, and its steps are worn, but there
is a presence about it that has a soft smile ghosting my lips. The porch
swing is where I spent hours upon hours lost in the pages of a book while
my grandfather, Pop, helped work the fields beyond.
Memories hit me.
A shadow passing in front of the window as Gran would move about
with her perpetual need to tidy and dust and be occupied. Anything to make
her feel somewhat normal despite the partial paralysis and ailments her
stroke caused. And how I’d go back over it when she was fast asleep
because her attempts were futile at best.
The blue hue on the walls from the television lighting up the room. Its
hum was not to be outdone by Pop’s booming laughter, which echoed out
the windows he liked to leave open to let the summer’s warm night breeze
in.
The light scent of sage or cinnamon floating through the air. The creak
of the raised wood floors as I’d walk over them to give each of my
grandparents a kiss on their cheeks. A wall full of framed photographs
documenting every embarrassing stage of my life.
There were never reminders of the things I was missing. A father I
never knew. A mother that wanted freedom more than she wanted me.
Just pure and unconditional love.
Grief still raw and real overwhelms me. It’s amazing how so much can
change in three months. How life moves on and yet you feel like you’re
standing still. How everyone else’s life goes back to normal while some
moments I struggle to simply breathe from the grief that consumes me
without warning.
 Grief, I thought I was familiar with given I never had a mother or father,
but now realize that I never truly understood until I lost Pop. My rock.
That’s why I welcomed the distraction by helping Nita tonight. A
chance to get out and away from the quiet and somewhat deafening solace
that most nights are a comfort here.
And suffocating at other times.
Insects trill to the left of me and draw my focus to the land that has been
a part of my family for decades. Our hands in the dirt, our sweat mixed with
it, as we turned the fields each year. The fertile soil of this valley where
lavender is planted in perfect rows, side by side. Year after year they
survive the harshest weathers to thrive in the mildest of summers.
It’s where I spent my childhood learning the meaning of hard work,
discipline, and sometimes defeat—all softened by Gran’s gentle hugs or
Pop’s quiet love.
The stalks rustle in the breeze swooping down off the mountains.
Home.
The place I couldn’t wait to get away from fast enough. The place that
called me back out of desperation and duty. The place that is a part of
everything I am—good and bad.
And a place that sheltered me from the cruelty of the world. Cruelty I
hadn’t been subjected to until Maxton Sharpe, Ledger’s dad, showed up on
this very porch that night.
Ledger.
That’s a person I haven’t thought about in years. And I say person
because to me, he’s been frozen in time—a teenage boy with floppy hair,
most days a shirtless torso, and a smile that told me I was his whole world.
But he’s no longer a memory to recall. He’s here. In Cedar Falls. And
according to him, he will be for a while.
And he wants to catch up.
Classic avoidance. Isn’t that why I drove endlessly tonight? Down road
after road to avoid coming home to the quiet of this farm and the endless
thinking it often prompts?
Driving with the windows down and the music blasting is so much
easier than trying to figure out how seeing him again has made me feel.
I shake my head as I climb out of the car. It’s been a long damn day, and
a glass of wine and some reality television might be the perfect way to
unwind. To distract.
 But as I round the car, the porch swing creaks and, for a second, despite
being startled by its sound, I half expect to see Gran there waiting for me to
come home.
“Jesus.” I jump when I see Nita, a bottle of wine in hand and a soft
smile on her lips. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at Hank’s? Is
everything okay?” My words come out in a tumble.
“Calm down, worrywart,” she says, holding out a red solo cup filled
with wine as I climb the steps. “It’s past two. That’s how long you’ve been
driving in circles and then sitting over there in that car of yours. You were
so preoccupied you didn’t even see my car.” She points to where her car is
on the side of the house.
“You’re right.” I have no problem admitting it to her. “Sorry.” I take the
cup she’s offering and plop down on the swing beside her, the motion
making it rock.
Crickets chirp around us, and I’m grateful for the silence Nita gives me
as I let that first sip of wine settle in.
“You want to talk about it?” she finally asks. “About him?”
“Him?” I feign ignorance.
“Oh, come on.” She slaps my thigh playfully. “You and I both know that
fine piece of man at the bar tonight is who has you overthinking, probably
driving around aimlessly, singing Total Eclipse of the Heart at the top of
your lungs.”
I shrug, hating that she’s right, before holding up the red solo cup to
avoid her question. “This is classy.”
“You know how we do it.” She laughs and taps the edge of hers to mine.
“So . . . do you want to explain to me why Mr. Sexy Man left you this for a
tip?”
Nita holds up a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill and written in Sharpie
across its face is a telephone number.
“Huh.” I wish I could say I feel indifference, but I feel anything but.
“Huh? Is that a good huh or a bad huh or simply a shut-up, Nita, huh?”
I take the bill from her and play with its corners until the ten numbers in
bold black marring its face blur together. “It’s the it appears Ledger Sharpe
likes trying to buy forgiveness from his ex-girlfriend type of huh.”
“Wait. What?” she screeches. “You dated that man? That fine-looking
specimen I was flirting innocently with?” Her eyes are wide and her
expression is surprised.
 “I did, but it was a long time ago though.”
“Like how long?” She shifts so she can face me, her penchant for gossip
rivaled by no one.
“Like from age fifteen to seventeen.”
“Oh, girl.” She waves a hand at me. “You were just babies.” She takes a
sip and makes an approving sound. “If you ask me, I think you need to see
how much better the man is now.”
“Jesus,” I mutter and take another drink. “Thanks, but I didn’t ask.”
“That phone number,” she says, pointing to the hundred in my hand,
“says he wants to do the same.”
My only response is a heavy sigh as I lean my head back to look at the
stars and push the swing.
“What are you not telling me?” she asks.
“His family used to come here every summer. Him and his brothers.
They’re identical triplets—”
“Hold up. There are three men in this world who look just like him?”
She holds a hand to her chest in a dramatic fashion. “There’s hope for me
yet.”
“I hate to break it to you, but there is no hope.” Especially if they all
turned out like their father. Willing to play in this town so long as they
could throw their cash around and leave it all behind. “They’re one of
them,” I say, and she knows exactly who I mean by them. The wealthy. The
people who look at townspeople as their servers, guides, or waitstaff, but
definitely not their equal.
She pushes my shoulder. “Let a girl dream, now, will you? Fantasy has
no boundaries.” She closes her eyes and a cat ate the canary grin graces her
lips as if she’s imagining just how good it could be. A soft hum escapes as
if she’s satisfied. “Okay. Fantasy played out. Now you can carry on.”
“There is so much wrong with that.”
“I know, but I never claimed to be wholesome.” She flashes me a grin.
“You’ve been keeping secrets from me. Now tell me about them. About
him.”
“His father and the three boys—Ledger, Callahan, and Ford—would
come to Cedar Falls every summer for three months. The dad was always
working in some capacity and so the boys had the run of this place without
much supervision.”
 “In a small town like Cedar Falls?” She whistles. “The girls must have
been salivating.”
“Yep. We all were but . . . one night . . .” I remember the fireworks
exploding over the lake and how their booms echoed around the valley.
How after the display I stood on the outskirts of a party on the shore,
wanting to join in with my classmates but feeling out of place, always on
the outside. I was just about to leave, but then I saw him, Ledger, and my
feet refused to move. He was tan and had the cutest lopsided grin and, when
I looked back again, he was right in front of me.
Lavender Girl, please tell me you’re not going to run away?
My smile is bittersweet as I remember. “One night we met and from
there on we were inseparable.”
“Three months inseparable?”
“It was more than that. It was three months for three summers. We
talked during the rest of the year and then fell right back where we left off
when he arrived in June. It was like we both knew there were other people
we flirted and messed around with during the time we were apart, but when
summer happened, we only had eyes for each other.”
“For three years? What happened?”
I nod. So many good memories. “We made plans that last summer
together. Big plans. Ones for our future. Ones for us.” I smile wistfully.
“Looking back at it now, I know they never would have worked. We came
from two completely different worlds, but we thought they would and, at
the time, that’s all we saw. That’s all that mattered.”
“He was your first, wasn’t he?” she asks softly.
“We were each other’s . . . at least that’s what he told me, and I believed
him. We’d fooled around before then—a lot—but the night we finally went
all the way ended up being the last night we ever saw each other. Until
tonight that is.”
“What do you mean it was the last night? How did I not know any of
this? I’ve been your best friend for almost thirteen years. Apparently,
you’ve been holding out on me.”

My heart thumps in my chest as I stare at myself in the mirror. My

cheeks are flushed and my smile is wide.
We did it.
 We actually did it and . . . oh my God, it was . . . okay? I giggle, unable
to take my eyes off my reflection.
Do I look older?
Changed?
Like a woman?
I mean, I know it’s not supposed to be great the first time. Well, at least
according to the girls at school it isn’t, but the way he kept asking if I was
okay. How gentle he was when I could tell he was trying so hard to go slow.
How he held me afterward and whispered how much he loved me.
I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
Tires crunch on the gravel driveway outside, but all I can think about is
getting ready. Once Gran and Pop are asleep, I’m sneaking out to meet
Ledger again.
There’s a knock on the front door.
I don’t want this night to ever end.
Muffled voices float down the hall and through my closed door.
Possibilities fill my head. Meeting up while we’re in college. Becoming
engaged. Getting married. Having the life away from here I’ve always
dreamed of.
I hold my hand up and look at it as if I have a wedding ring on my
finger. Asher Julia Sharpe.
“It has a nice ring to it.” I smile again, unable to take my eyes off my
reflection in the mirror. I’m so glad I saved myself for him. So glad that
soon we’ll go to college and be able to be with each other all the time.
He said we’ll find a way to make it happen and I believe him. I’ve never
believed anyone more in my life.
The voices raise in pitch. Pop is upset? That’s a rarity.
It gives me pause and then, I hear the next words loud and clear.
“The last thing he needs is someone like her to bring him down,” a
masculine voice says. But the voice definitely isn’t Pop’s. Nosy, I head down
the hall without thought, curiosity and dread on equal footing. “He has a
bright future ahead of him, an empire to run, and I won’t have him
sidetracked by a motherless girl with no pedigree and no future. This is
non-negotiable. Do you understand?”
“You have no right to come in here and order us around. We’re not your
—”
 “He’s my son. I have every right to look out for his best interests. And
she’s not it.”
I subconsciously reject the idea that they’re talking about me. Why
would someone ever say that? But as I turn the corner and the man
standing before Pop comes into view, I know I’m wrong. Maxton Sharpe.
Ledger’s dad. His features are similar enough, but it’s the way he carries
himself, his mannerisms that are just like his son’s, that confirm my
assumptions.
“What do you mean I’m not in his best interest?” I march into the room,
tears already burning in my throat. “You think I’m going to bring him down
because I’m not rich or—”
“Asher, go back to your room. Right now,” Pop demands, his eyes
steely, his voice hard. I can’t remember a time when he’s ever spoken to me
like that before.
“Pop—”
“Go!” he shouts without looking my way.
“No. Stay,” Maxton says to me before looking back to Pop. “She needs
to hear this.” Maxton’s eyes soften as he takes a step toward me, but I’m not
fooled by them. “I’m sorry if you heard what I said. I was harsh.” He hangs
his head as if he’s apologetic, but it’s all for show. Even I know that. “I was
merely trying to push you away to protect you from the truth.”
“What do you mean the truth?” I ask.
“I’m ashamed to admit it, but my son used you. He got what he wanted
from you, Asher,” Maxton says, his eyes boring into mine as shame washes
over me.
Gran and Pop now know what happened tonight.
He knows.
The room spins around me. Our private, meaningful moment, now
public knowledge.
“What are you talking about? He didn’t use me. He—”
“He’s not meeting you later like you two planned either.” No, no, no. “I
had his phone. I read his texts. You’re not the only one, if that helps.” I
want to cover my ears and stop the noise. “In fact, he’s been seeing a
couple other girls this summer and is out with one of them right now. He’s
—”
Liar.
“No, he hasn’t,” I whisper, my head shaking and my mind not believing.
 “He has. He is. He’s down by the willow tree right now.” I wince. “Oh
no, he didn’t con you into thinking that was your special spot too, did he?”
His sigh is heavy as he shakes his head, disappointment all over his face.
Tears blur my vision as I stare at a man I’ve never met but truly hate. “I
don’t believe you. I need to talk to him. There has to be an explanation.”
“Does a teenage boy really need one other than hormones?”
I stare, blinking at this man who just turned my world upside down. All
I can think of is Ledger’s easygoing, flirty nature. The way he fit in with
everyone here. All the girls wanted him. It was even a running joke between
us. Am I the fool here? For believing him? I mean, it would be so easy for
him to be with one of them during the hours I worked here at the farm.
Gran squeezes my hand, and it breaks the pieces of me I’m trying to
hold together.
He’s wrong.
He has to be.
Cedar Falls is a small town. Gossip is the norm here. Rumors are the
currency teenagers trade. I would have known. I would have heard about it.
“We’re leaving Cedar Falls tonight. I think it’s the best course of action
after . . . everything. I’m sorry. I never taught my son to treat girls this
way.”
“I think you need to leave now,” Pop says, opening the door.
“I’ve blocked your number from his phone and erased your information
from his contacts, so he can’t hurt you again. I think it’s best for everyone,
all around. A clean break. I’d hate for this to get . . . messy, if you know
what I mean.” Maxton gives Pop a warning look that I don’t understand.
“You’re lying. You have to be,” I shout as tears I didn’t realize I was
crying hit my lips.
“I’m sorry. Truly I am.”
“No. This isn’t—he wouldn’t—”
“I thought he was better than that too.” He bows his head briefly.
A sob lodges in my throat. “Gran.” I look over at her, and she squeezes
my hand. “He wouldn’t . . .”
“Come on, Ash.” When her arm goes around my shoulder, I sag into
her. “Let’s go to your room.”
I struggle, wanting to hear the rest of what is being said, needing to, but
Pop pushes Maxton out the front door and shuts it behind them.
More is said. More arguing. More . . . I don’t know what.
 All I know is that when I ran out the front door against Gran and Pop’s
wishes later that night and went to the willow tree as we’d planned, Ledger
wasn’t there.

“Whew. That’s rough. When I’m wrong, I admit it and yes, I was wrong
about the man. Shit. I’m usually good at reading people too. Clearly, he is a
dick of epic proportions,” Nita says as she pours more wine in our cups.
Her words make me smile. “Honestly, I don’t know what to think.” I
shrug, thinking of the look Ledger gave me after Hank interrupted us. The
unspoken epiphany it looked like he had. “For the longest time, I believed
that Ledger had used me. That he took pride in taking my virginity before
moving on. I was humiliated and heartbroken and hated Ledger as much as
I loved him.”
“I sense a but coming here.”
I nod. “But I knew Ledger. Like, you don’t spend three years getting to
know somebody and be wrong like that.”
“Do you think his dad was lying to you about it?”
“It all came down to pedigree. Something I didn’t—don’t—have. He
looked at me as a girl from the wrong side of the tracks. Think about it. I
have no parents who claim me. I live in this small town that’s a blip on a
map. There is no way I could ever be good enough for the golden son he
was grooming to take over his empire.” Even saying the words now cause a
mixture of disbelief and disgust.
“I’d like to say it makes sense but only in the worst kind of way.”
“I know what you mean—and I agree.”
“What did Gran and Pop say about it?”
“Whatever Pop talked to him about that night outside is a mystery. Pop
grumbled about assholes and avoided all talk of the Sharpes, while Gran
babied me and my broken heart for months. She told me that’s what the
boys we don’t want in our lives did and was glad he was gone.” I take a sip
of wine and savor its tartness on my tongue. “I think it was easier for them
to let me be heartbroken than to believe I wasn’t good enough.”
“So his dad lied to you. He was fine being blunt and honest about his
reasons until he came face-to-face with you. Then what? For some reason
he took pity on you and decided to blame his son for breaking your heart
rather than Ledger doing it himself?”
“That’s my guess,” I murmur.
 “Did you ever try to call him? Ledger? Get in touch with him? Did he
try to call you? I mean, it’s the twenty-first century, there are so many ways
to talk.”
“I did try. My texts and calls didn’t go through so I’m assuming his dad
did block my number. Either that or Ledger got a new cell. I left messages
on his social media. His email. Nothing. That’s why at first, it was so easy
to believe that Ledger did use me. If that weren’t the case and he still loved
me as I loved him, he would have tried to get ahold of me, right?”
“True, but his dad was a powerful man who—”
“Controlled him? I don’t know, Nita. He was an adult going to college
that next month. Surely, he could have reached out once he was living on
campus. It just . . . it just never made sense to me.” I push the swing. “And
then I got to the point where I realized that even if we did reconnect, it
wouldn’t matter. It’s not like his father would suddenly approve of me or
think I was good enough for Ledger. I didn’t want to open myself up to that
kind of humiliation all over again.”
“So, you let it go?”
“I did. I had to. Besides, a guy like Ledger was a catch. It was easier to
think he’d already moved on to some girl with a prestigious last name and a
fat bank account.”
“What if you thought wrong?” she asks softly.
“I can’t live my life in what-ifs.”
“I can understand that.”
“You know what stung the most though?” What told me what we had
wasn’t real . . .
“He never contacted you.”
“Exactly.” I give a definitive nod. “He knew where I lived and could
have written me. He knew my phone number because it didn’t change. If
you truly love something, you fight for it.”
“And he didn’t fight for you,” she murmurs.
And yes, it’s ridiculous to expect that from a teenage boy about to start
his life out from beneath his father’s wings, and yet what we had was
special. Unique. Ours.
“Pop would have fought for Gran.” My smile is bittersweet thinking of
their love. “That’s the only real relationship I’ve known to compare it
against.”
 Nita leans her head back, closes her eyes, and pushes the swing with her
foot. “That was fifteen years ago. You’ve changed for the better in that
time. I’m sure he has too. Maybe tonight was Fate’s way of stepping in to
try and fix past wrongs.”
“That’s absurd.”
“I don’t think so.” She places her hand on mine. “If you think it was his
dad’s doing, then maybe there’s more to the story. Maybe there’s a reason
he didn’t reach out. Maybe this is your second chance.”
“That’s a lot of maybes.”
“Maybe it is,” she jokes.
I smile and remember the way Ledger looked at me tonight before I left.
As if there was a story in his eyes he was ready to tell. A story I’m not
certain it matters that I hear.
“When he stopped me at the end of the bar, it was to ask me if we could
meet to catch up sometime.”
“And?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to. All you need to know is that seeing him tonight got
to you enough that you went on a long drive home. You only do that when
something affects you. He affected you.”
“Perhaps.”
“Past aside, when I walked into Hank’s and saw you, the look on your
face . . . it’s not one I see on you very often. You looked . . . I don’t know. I
can’t put it into words, but now, I’m not exactly sure I like that he’s the one
who put it there.”
Another owl hoots followed by the distinct flap of its wings. We both
watch as one swoops out of the trees and down to the ground to grab
something near the rows of lavender.
“Do you have any idea how his dad’s words affected me? How many
ridiculous scenarios I have played out in my head in the months, maybe
even a year or two after he left? I used to imagine becoming some famous
artist and that Maxton would be at one of my art shows, completely
enamored with my work. He’d try to buy a piece of my collection, and I’d
refuse his money. I’d tell him it wasn’t for sale for men like him. That he
wasn’t good enough to buy them. And then I’d remind him of who I was,
where I was from, and tell him how very wrong he was.” I shake my head
softly, staring into the night and remembering how I’d play the scene over
and over in my head. “Guess that won’t exactly be happening now, will it?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I snort. “Look at this place, Nita. I’m holding on by the skin of my teeth
right now. Between Gran’s medical debts that nearly crippled our savings,
to the fire a few years back that wiped out basically everything but the
house, I wouldn’t exactly call Asher Wells a raging success. Not to mention
how Pop took his expertise in running this place with him. I have no idea
what I’m doing.”
“I don’t want to hear your bullshit. You’re still fighting, still holding on.
So many people in this world aspire to own their own business. Look at
you. You do own one.”
I appreciate her pep talk but see it just like that. A way to make me feel
better. And although I know there is the Ledger scale and the Asher scale in
terms of both esteem and liquid assets, I think the real issue is that seeing
Ledger reminds me of a time when Gran and Pop were my whole world.
Still in my world. When I had them to turn to—to wipe my tears away, pull
me in for a quick hug, and promise me everything was going to be all right.
“I’m being ridiculous. Sorry. I just miss Pop so much and Gran’s
presence around me every day,” I whisper on a sob.
“Oh honey, I know.”
I scrunch my nose and groan. “Just ignore me. Better yet, ignore
everything I said tonight. I sound like a Negative Nancy.” I emit a self-
deprecating laugh. “I’m just struggling is all. It’s like I lost a part of myself
when I lost Pop, and seeing Ledger unexpectedly tonight when I’m already
emotionally vulnerable, kind of knocked me off my stride. I became this
wishy-washy woman who didn’t know if she should hate him or make
peace with him, when I’m not a wishy-washy person at all.”
“It’s okay to be vulnerable. It’s okay to be confused. Hell, it’s perfectly
okay to be wishy-washy every once in a while.” She puts her hand on mine
and squeezes. “You’ve been to hell and back these past few months, and
wishy-washy is a lot better than I’d be in your shoes.”
“Thank you. Truly.” What would I do without her friendship?
“Any time. What did Gran always tell you?” What didn’t Gran tell me?
She was always offering me tidbits of her wisdom. “Life will always throw
you hard times, Asher Julia Wells, and having a pity party won’t solve
anything,” she says, mimicking Gran’s tone as she nudges my shoulder.
“But I think tonight, in Pop’s memory, Gran’s absence, the unexpected
appearance of an ex, and being wishy-washy, we throw one. But we’ll
definitely need a lot more wine if that’s on the agenda for the night.”
“Good thing my kitchen is stocked.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER SIX

Ledger

“Why?”
“Why what?” Mayor Grossman asks from his seat in the middle of the
raised lectern amid six other city council members. There’s a smarmy look
on his ruddy face that tells me I’ve been invited to this Cedar Falls City
Council meeting with a purpose in mind other than to welcome me to their
robust city. Insert eye roll.
“Why the two months?”
“Because someone like you doesn’t understand the Cedar Falls way of
life,” he says.
“Someone like me?” Seriously? Asher was definitely right. This man is
on a power trip simply for the sake of show and poll numbers.
“Yes. You think you’re better than we are. New York City and all that.”
He waves a hand of indifference as if that will explain his lack of reasoning.
“And all that. Gotcha.” I chuckle and just as I’m about to speak, he
carries on with his ridiculous show of authority.
“You don’t get us, our town, or our desire to preserve our way of life.
You see dollar signs and profit—not lives and their livelihoods.”
“And so, my presence here for two months serves what purpose?”
Requiring that I come to a town hall meeting to watch you pound your chest
is bullshit. “With all due respect, Mayor Grossman, I know this town. I
know its people. I spent summers here growing up as a kid, hence why my
brothers and I wanted to buy this resort as an homage to our late father. He
loved this town.”
Murmurs ripple through the audience at my back. Too bad I can’t tell if
they are for or against me.
“That’s a novel idea but you can’t barge into this town and think your
money will make you welcome. You may have known Cedar Falls ten,
fifteen years ago, but that doesn’t mean you still know it now.”
 Something catches in my periphery and I look up just in time to see
Asher cross her arms over her chest and give a subtle head shake. I’m
guessing she’s saying the same goes for her. That I knew her then and don’t
know her now.
I lose my concentration and have to force myself to remember where we
were. What I’m doing.
“Isn’t this why you’ve insisted I be here? So I can get to know the town
to your satisfaction?” I meet the eyes of the other six council members.
“We have a running history in which we do good for and by the people
of Cedar Falls,” the mayor continues without answering my question.
“As any city council should.”
“And you have a reputation for coming in, gutting a town of its jobs and
charm without any regard for the city.”
“I beg to differ, Mayor Grossman.” Jesus Christ. This is Ford’s realm.
The kissing the babies and shaking hands shit. Not mine. “Sharpe
International intends to leave a positive footprint wherever we have a
property.”
“A positive footprint?”
“Yes, sir. As noted in the request sent to my office, we failed on our
promise to hire locally. I’m here to satisfy that condition, among other
things.”
“Among other things?”
Why does he keep repeating what I’m saying?
“Yes, sir.”
“But let’s face it. You’re only here because we threatened to hold your
permits unless you came here to understand our way of life.”
I stare at him and question where he’s going with this. “We take a
vested interest in all our properties. While I can’t say that our schedules
would have allowed one of my brothers or me to stay in town for a full two
months during the renovation, we definitely would have been here on and
off to check on its progress. And what we couldn’t check on personally, we
fully trust Hillary Deegan, our on-site project manager, to do just as good of
a job as we do.” I pause for dramatic effect. “We always strive to go above
and beyond for the community. In turn, that helps make our resort
profitable. And that, Mayor Grossman, puts dollars back into your
community.”
 “Above and beyond. A vested interest.” He lowers his glasses to the top
of his nose and stares at me above their frame as I nod.
Can we speed this up? I have shit to do. Millions of dollars to spend and
deals to make. Things way more important than kissing some pompous
man’s ass for a simple goddamn permit.
One that we can’t live without no less.
This is below my pay grade. So fucking below it my back aches trying to
stoop to its level.
Doesn’t he have a cow to go tip somewhere? A defenseless animal to kill
in the name of sport?
“Is something the matter, Mr. Sharpe?”
“Of course not.” I offer a go-fuck-yourself smile. “What else could I
possibly have to do than to stand here and listen to you repeat my own
words back to me?”
“Like above and beyond and a vested interest,” he repeats.
“Correct.” Check your temper, Ledge. “Just like those.”
“Strong words coming from a man who just last night was overheard at
Hank’s saying”—the mayor looks at a paper in front of him—“‘the best part
about this town is that I get to leave it when my two months of torture are
up. It’s a fucking fishbowl.’ Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but those were
your words, weren’t they?”
Motherfucker. Someone heard my conversation with Ford while I was
standing outside of Hank’s.
Goddamn small town, everybody knows everybody, and everybody
loves to know everybody’s business.
I’m fucked.
Utterly and totally fucked.
Mayor Grossman waits for my response with expectant eyes as the
citizens who chose to attend chatter behind me. They aren’t exactly thrilled
with my insult to their town and in turn, them.
“Mr. Sharpe?” he prompts.
Backpedal.
Fix your fuckup.
Evade.
“My intent wasn’t to insult—”
“Of course, it wasn’t.” His smile matches his tone—sarcastic. “But
since you find our town . . . lacking in all areas, then we, the town of Cedar
Falls, have decided to put it on Sharpe International to make some
improvements in the town being as our success will be your success and
all.”
“Improvements?” What the actual fuck? “Meaning?”
“Meaning we feel it’s important that a venture as big as yours should
have more of an investment in the overall well-being of our community.
Should help make our citizens profit while you do.”
Is he extorting us?
“There is nothing in our agreement with the city that states an
investment is required in the town over and above the resort itself.”
“Well”—he glances at the other council members on either side of him
before looking back at me—“you know us Podunk folk, we don’t exactly
abide by rules. It’d be a shame to do all this construction and spend all this
money, especially now that you’re in the home stretch of it, and not be able
to get your certificate of occupancy. What is it they say? Another day,
another dime wasted?”
I emit a nervous, disbelieving chuckle as I scratch my temple.
Think. Fucking think, Ledger.
But there is nothing to think about. They’ve got me over a barrel and
they know it. We have tens of millions already invested in this property and
its renovations. We can’t exactly abandon it, and no one’s going to buy a
half-constructed resort if we were to bow out.
“And what exactly do you expect from us?” It’s all I can think to ask.
I’m normally not thrown by curveballs. I am this time.
Without having lawyers at my back to consult like I normally would,
I’m still ninety-nine percent sure Grossman has zero authority to do this.
He’s a dick. Plain and simple. What he doesn’t know is I’ve dealt with
much worse dickish behavior in New York City. I know how to play this
game. How I need to appear that I’m at this Podunk town’s mercy
regardless of the legalities of it.
Kill them with kindness.
Jesus. It just might kill me in the process.
“You’re a successful businessman, Ledger Sharpe.” His smile doesn’t
reach his eyes. “I’m sure you can think of something to appease us.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER SEVEN

Ledger

“Hold the fuck on. You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“As a heart attack,” I say to Ford as I lean back in my chair and close
my eyes. “The fucker is going to extort us. From what I gather, he’s up for
reelection soon, and it looks as if he’s going to run on the I-made-big-
business-my-bitch platform.”
“Hence the letter with the required two months and now this bullshit
request.”
“Exactly. The problem is the ultimatum he gave us is subjective in
nature. There is no do this and get this, like there was with his first
command. What he’s asking now is just . . .”
“He’s beating his chest.”
“Along with other things to get off,” I mutter.
“Can we just pause for a moment in your misery so I can revel in the
glory that always-perfect Ledger fucked up?” He emits an exaggerated
laugh. “You didn’t think to be cautious talking on the phone to me when
you were standing in front of a locals-only bar?”
No. I didn’t. All I could think about was Asher and how by the time I’d
run out to the parking lot to chase after her, she was gone.
“You called me at a bad time.” It’s the only excuse I can give without
having to explain more.
“Then you shouldn’t have picked up. Easy enough.”
“Enough gloating,” I say as I open my eyes and lift a hand in farewell to
Hillary who’s heading out the door to meet with God knows who. Let the
Cedar Falls City Council ass-kissing commence.
“Fine. But it’s such a rarity, so I have to enjoy it while I can.” He emits
a satisfied sigh. “The question now is, what are we going to do about it?”
“Hillary and I brainstormed a bit. We think our best bet is to bring in
local artisans. Paintings by locals. Items in the numerous gift shops devoted
to the local talent.”
“Won’t that harm their sales in town? Undercut them somehow?”
“We haven’t worked the details out, but I’m sure we can come up with
something to appease everyone.”
“So basically, use the resort to showcase the people of Cedar Falls?”
I nod even though he can’t see it. “Maybe a few other things. Hillary
mentioned at the last city council meeting that they were trying to scrape
together tax revenue to give the elementary school a new library or the
assisted living facility on the outskirts of town a new HVAC system since
theirs has been on the fritz for years.”
“So help the kids and the elderly. No one can bitch about that.”
“My thoughts exactly.” I blow out an exaggerated sigh. “But still . . .”
“But still . . .” Ford repeats. “Other than that shitshow today, what are
your thoughts on Cedar Falls as a whole?”
Only Ford and Callahan visited the location before we purchased the
old hotel here. I was tied up in another deal and couldn’t get away.
I can’t say I was exactly upset by that turn of events. For many reasons.
“You mean beyond the signs posted in every window saying shit like
Big business kills small business and Take your S.I.N.s elsewhere?”
“It’s that bad?”
“There are a few that say A resort equals more jobs and Tourism means
more money, so at least we have a few people on our side.”
“Where were they during the town meeting today?” he jokes.
“Exactly.” I draw in a breath and contemplate his question. “Cedar
Falls. Well, it’s definitely not Manhattan, that’s for sure.”
“You mean it’s not rife with the stench of the subway or the smell of
urine on exhaust-stained concrete buildings that you’re so used to?” He
laughs.
“There’s definitely none of that here.” I stand up and lean my ass
against my desk. “Nor are there street vendors shouting at you or crowded
sidewalks to push your way through or subways to hop on or—”
“Things most people would abhor—”
“But that I love.”
“You’re going to fight this assignment kicking and screaming every step
of the way, aren’t you?”
“I prefer to call it more of a silent protest.”
 “Ha. Says the man who’s never bitten his tongue in his life. Don’t
worry, you’ll be back in your tower in the sky in no time.”
“Fuck off.” Nothing at all wrong with my tower in the sky with the
endless views of the city I love. “But as for this town . . .”
“You mean this Podunk town,” he ribs, but I don’t take the bait.
“Objectively, it’s a good location and the facility has good bones to
work with.” I move to look out the window of the temporary office Hillary
set up for me on-site. From this vantage point, I can’t see the resort’s
trademark lake or the reflection of the mountains around us, but the serene
image is burned in my mind. The same image I plan on having our
marketing team use to push the hell out of this soon-to-be overhauled resort.
“The additions we’re making will only make it more attractive to our
preferred clientele. They’ll have luxurious lodging with a top-of-the-line
spa for those who aren’t big into outdoors and all of the activities to do if
they are.”
“Agreed. But that’s what we do best,” Ford says. “I’m asking about the
town. You’re good at reading things, and I want your take.”
“First impressions? The town is still small but definitely scenic. It has a
homey, mom-and-pop feel that will entice families as a whole, and a cool
artsy vibe the childless socialites will love. Outdoor adventure outfits are
everywhere so that will add to the allure.” I scrub a hand over my jaw. “It’ll
more than work.”
“Glad we’re on the same page. I felt similarly. As for construction, are
we still on schedule? Have we hit any hiccups?”
“Ask Hillary. That’s her domain.”
“True, but you’re walking in with fresh eyes. What are you seeing?”
“We’ll make the schedule, give or take a few days.” I pause. “I take that
back. Hillary is currently working on getting local contractors on-site. That
might push us back because we’re going to have to hire them regardless of
whether they meet our skills needed or standards required.”
“Simply to appease Grossman.”
“Yep. So that alone might throw a wrench in our pace, but we’re being
held up anyway with this two-month bullshit, so I’m sure it’ll even itself
out.”
“Okay. I’ll let Charles know,” he says, mentioning our director of
construction. “She’s already hiring locals? I love how quickly she works.
That should help bolster public opinion.”
 “Your guess is as good as mine. I’m sure Grossman will pull something
else out of his ass, some other hoop we need to jump through. Maybe this
time he’ll require we light it on fire or something to get a final inspection.”
“We’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t.”
“Easy for you to say while sitting in our office in Manhattan.”
“I’m in your office. My feet are up on your desk.”
“Funny.”
“Your chair is rather comfortable. I’m gonna have to get one of these for
my office.”
I grit my teeth. The fucker knows how particular I am about my desk
and is pushing buttons simply because he can. “Asshole,” I mutter.
His laugh floats through the line. “God, you are so easy to rile up. It’s
rather pathetic, Ledge. How’s the place you rented? Is it okay?”
“If you’re asking if it’s a log cabin with an outhouse for a bathroom and
trophy heads of deer lining the walls to make my time here even more
authentic, I’m sorry to inform you it is not.”
“And to think I wanted to come and visit for a walk down memory
lane.”
“Spare yourself. And me,” I joke.
“Come on. It would be fun. We could go to our old stomping grounds
and pretend we’re kids again. No responsibilities. No rules.”
I smile at the thought. I did exactly that yesterday. Drove around where
we used to hang out. I told myself it was for a bit of nostalgia, to get a lay
of the new land here that’s developed over the years, but somehow, I found
myself by an old willow tree. And from the willow tree, somehow my car
drove itself to the side of the road, enabling me to stare at a huge sign that
said The Fields.
The house looked the same as I remembered it. White clapboard, a
wraparound veranda, the red front door. It looks like the Wells’s had
expanded over the years since the lavender went as far as I could see, but I
didn’t pay much attention to that part of it back then. All that mattered was
getting lost somewhere in the rows where Asher and I could lay on our
backs, stare at the stars, and then make out without getting caught.
I don’t know what I was hoping for in going there. Asher to be on the
front porch? To have another chance to talk to her? Hell if I know.
“Ledge? You there?”
“Yeah. Sorry. What did you ask?”
 “Your rental?”
“It works. Small house in a quiet neighborhood. It doesn’t really matter
since I’ll be here working most of the time. Is that it? Is your
micromanaging over now?”
He snorts. “Someone has to do it since you’re not here to.”
“Funny.” How the tables have turned. It wasn’t long ago I was putting
Callahan through the paces, much like Ford is doing to me now. Back then,
there was no laughing though. Only resentment.
“Make sure you give us an update on what happens.”
“There you go micromanaging again,” I mutter. “Don’t you have
something else—another five projects or so—to give someone else the
Spanish Inquisition over? I assure you I have this handled.”
Needing to stretch my legs, I move out into what will be the main lobby
of The Retreat. With the changes we’ve made, it’s expansive and more on-
brand for a S.I.N. property. I glance down the wide hallway toward the
random sounds of construction where we’ve added three wings to the
existing structure. Ahead of me, men are working on tiling a wall that will
be the entrance to the new luxury spa we’ve brought in-house. Three pallets
of marble tiles line the far wall to be used for new flooring.
“This place will shine, Ford. We’ll get through this bullshit with the city
council and this place will fucking shine. Whether it’s used as a winter
retreat for the ski enthusiasts or an outdoor haven for those who like the
outdoors in summer, customers will get the luxury they expect from us.”
“Which is exactly why we bought it.”
“Mm-hmm,” I murmur as I head back to my office.
“Everything else good? You seem a little distracted.”
“I’m fine. Just . . . busy. I’m heading out the door to meet up with one
of the outdoor adventure companies in town. I want to see if they’ll work
with us and put together some exclusive packages for the resort.”
“You know we have people for that, right?” He chuckles. “Last I
checked, being hands-on with the details wasn’t exactly your forte.”
“And last I checked, I was in my office in Manhattan.”
“When in Rome, right?”
A smart-ass comeback is on my lips when heavy footsteps have me
looking up and doing a double take. Asher is storming down the hallway
toward me. “Ford? I have to go.”
“Problem?” he asks.
 “That remains to be seen.” I end the call without an explanation because
I’m too busy watching her.
Every furious, gorgeous inch of her.
Her eyes lock on mine as she crosses the room and comes to a stop in
front of my desk.
“Well, this is a surprise,” I say, fighting back a smile that she scowls at.
I may have wondered the other night why or how I was still attracted to her
after all these years, but right now, I don’t care what the answer is.
All I know is I am.
All I can comprehend is that we’re different people now than we were
back then.
And seeing her here, full of fire, only serves to make me want her more.
Her jaw is clenched as she smacks her hand down on the desk between
us in a dramatic fashion. “I don’t want your pity.”
“Pity?” I ask as she moves her hand to reveal the hundred-dollar bill I
left her with my number on it.
“Yes. I don’t need a ridiculous tip from you because you feel sorry for
me.”
My smile is slow and deliberate. “And here I thought you were pissed
because I left my phone number on it. Whew.” I mock wipe my brow. “So
that means you did want my phone number then? Good. At least I read that
right.”
Her glare is adorable. The flush to her cheeks. The defiance in her
stance. “You’re not cute.”
“People tend to tell me I’m more sexy or brooding over cute so yes, I
agree with you on that one. Definitely not cute.” I cross my arms over my
chest, look down at the bill on the desk, and then back up at her with a lift
of my brows.
She mirrors my posture, arms crossed over her chest, and just glares at
me. She doesn’t know what else to say, does she? She waltzed in here,
made her point, and now doesn’t know what to do.
What’s going on in that head of yours, Ash?
“I think we should probably talk about things. Us. What happened,” I
finally say. “That way we can move on. Forward. Start anew.”
“I moved on years ago.” She juts her chin out but fuck if her eyes don’t
say differently. Good to know. “I don’t want to talk about anything.”
 “We need to.” I take a step toward her and her back stiffens. Hmm. Her
indecisiveness and lack of confidence I saw in her the other night is gone.
Interesting.
“No, we don’t.”
She always was stubborn.
“Fine,” I say and then take another step, hoping my next words will
surprise her just as they did me when they popped into my head. “Then
we’ll talk about how all I’ve thought about since seeing you the other night
is how much I want to kiss you.”
Her head jostles, her eyes widen, and her lips fall lax.
Good. We’re on the same page. She feels whatever this is too.
“If that doesn’t make you want to talk, I’m not sure what will,” I say.
Her eyes flick up and down the length of my body as I take yet another step.
“No.” A shake of her head. “There’s nothing to talk about.” A shift of
her feet. “The past is the past and that’s where it’s going to stay.”
“All right.” I close the gap between us so that I’m close enough to see
the rise of her shoulders, smell the mint on her breath, and feel the heat of
her body. She takes in a sharp intake of a breath. “If that’s the case”—I lean
in so that her hair tickles my cheek as I whisper in her ear—“I’m Ledger
Sharpe. Nice to meet you, Lavender Girl.”
It takes everything I have not to act on the urge to kiss her. Fucking
everything. She was in my dream last night, on my mind in the shower, and
who I looked for in the crowd after the town hall meeting.
I step back and reach my hand out for her to shake as her eyes hold
mine, our breathing the only sound accompanying the silence in the room.
Asher looks me up and down in a slow appraisal, her lips ghosting in a
smile and her eyes lighting with humor. “Thanks, but . . . I’m not
interested.”
She hesitates—briefly—as her eyes flick to my lips and back up before
she stalks from my office with the same determination she walked in here
with.
But that hesitation gave me all I needed to know.
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I walk out toward the lobby of the
hotel so I can watch Asher’s hips sway as she strides toward the parking lot.
I don’t want to talk about it.
Fine.
Then we won’t.
 But I’m here for two months, Asher Wells. And in that time, we will
most definitely cross paths. And hopefully, do a hell of a lot more.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER EIGHT

Asher

I haven’t even made a dent in them.

Not at all.
I scoot the chair back from behind Pop’s desk, look at the stacks of
papers that he’d piled on every surface of his desk, and pinch the bridge of
my nose.
I’m sure this whole process would go much faster if I stopped being
distracted every couple minutes by thoughts of Ledger.
But I’ll allow myself the thoughts of him after I walked into his office
and successfully did what I set out to do. Make a second first impression.
Show him that the scattered, emotionally indecisive woman he met the
other night was an anomaly.
And fortunately, I was able to do just that before I took notice of the
way he stood behind his desk, arms crossed and cocky as hell. Yes, his
arrogance irritated the shit out of me, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to
myself that it turned me on too.
His firm thighs pressed against his slacks. The way his biceps strained
the sleeves of his dress shirt. The purse of his lips as he challenged me. The
timbre of his voice and the heat of his breath when he leaned in to whisper
in my ear.
How is this possible? How can I want a man who walked away without
a word? That goes against all reason and rationale and yet . . . here I am
thinking about it, about him, when I have way more important things to deal
with.
“Like these equally enthralling stacks of paper,” I mutter to myself
before taking a deep breath, determined to tackle another of them.
They have no rhyme or reason. I’m sure their composition made sense
to Pop, but I’ve yet to figure it out.
 Medical bills and assisted living bills for Gran. A letter from a supplier.
Payables stamped past due for equipment. A credit card bill from two
months ago. What do all these things have in common that he’d categorize
them together? What is the method to his madness?
Was. What was the method to his madness? I’m still having a hard time
thinking of him in past tense. Gran had been on the decline for so long that
while putting her in an assisted living facility was the right thing to do for
her medical needs, her absence here at the house was deafening. But Pop
. . . despite his obvious grief, was joking with me on the front porch one day
and then never woke from his nap on his rocker on the porch the next. I
swear he died from a broken heart over being apart from Gran.
If only that kind of love existed for everyone.
The stacks, Asher. Focus on that. On your goal to at least tackle one
stack a day until you clean this mess up.
Then what? When you can see the top of this desk, will it be real to you
that he’s gone?
I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh loudly as I fight the tears that
threaten. I refuse to cry. Refuse to break down—again. His presence looms
so largely over everything and yet this house, this farm, everywhere he
touched, feels so empty without him.
Especially as I sit here, surrounded by everything that represented him,
and feel woefully underprepared.
Sure, I’ve been running The Fields since Pop passed, but if I’m honest
with myself, I’ve been doing the bare minimum. This office, his haven, was
too hard for me to face.
But the world moves on even though those of us left behind feel frozen
in place.
I look around me. Little trinkets he’d kept over time clutter the shelf
across from me. Some of my old landscape sketches are mounted on the
wall to the side of me. A picture of Gran is framed on the desk next to the
monitor.
This office was his haven. His place to hide when he said he needed a
break from the estrogen in the house so he’d have an excuse to research
whatever was his latest interest on the Internet. Or tiptoe out back and sneak
a sip of whiskey that he thought Gran didn’t know about. She did.
The space is a room toward the back of the main house, a large porch
Pop closed in years ago, that has an exterior door facing the fields beyond.
It served as the business center for The Fields as well as his solace.
“Next up, emails,” I say to myself in mock enthusiasm and punch a fist
in the air. I’ve been going alphabetically through the folders in his inbox.
One by one, I’ve been opening each folder, reading through its contents
and, if it’s still relevant, I keep it. If not, I delete it.
Pop clearly was a pack rat when it came to emails too.
“Fuckers.” I laugh when I see the inbox name and love how even now,
he can make me laugh. I’m not sure what I expect to see in a folder labeled
as such, but it’s definitely not marketing emails from S.I.N. about buying
the old hotel in town or updates on its status from the Cedar Falls City
Council.
Pop knew who S.I.N. was, didn’t he? Who owned it?
He was keeping track of their progress, of the company, but why?
Because once a father, always a father.
Wasn’t that what he always said to me? That no matter how old I was,
he’d always be my father, he’d always tell me the truth even when I didn’t
want to hear it, and he’d always try to protect me from it.
Is that what he was doing?
Making sure the man who damaged me couldn’t hurt me again?
I scroll through the emails. They’re all blanket newsletters, nothing
personally addressed to him, and yet he kept them.
Sure, he’d grumbled about the resort coming to town, but when I
pressed him on why, it was the same reasoning everyone else in town had,
so I thought nothing of his displeasure. I simply figured he was old school
and feared what the soon-to-be-completed resort would do to the other
mom-and-pop businesses like ours.
It was a logical conclusion to make, but now that I’m staring at this
cache of emails, I can’t help but think there were other reasons for his
dislike of it.
Reasons that date back to that night fifteen years ago.
It’s all conjecture, really. Silly, imaginative conjecture, and yet once
again, I’m led right back to Ledger.
It seems Fate keeps pushing me to interact with him.
The knock on the exterior door of the office makes me jump.
“Miss Wells?”
“George.” I hold a hand to my chest. “You scared the crap out of me.”
“My apologies, ma’am.”
 “It’s fixed?” I ask about the irrigation line that sprung a leak overnight.
We woke up to the south field being flooded, which is never a good thing
with a crop like lavender that likes well-drained soil and a dry root base.
“We’re still working on it. Danny went to the hardware store to grab
some couplings and pipe, but . . .”
“But what?”
He looks at his ball cap that he’s holding in his hands and then back up.
“The card on file was declined.”
“Crap. Sorry.” I suck in a quick breath. “It’s . . . I’m behind on
everything. Pop’s filing system is a little hard to figure out.” I stammer out
the excuse, pointing to the stacks I’m going through because I don’t even
know if I had the credit card bill that I’d be able to pay it. “I’ll get you some
cash.” Within seconds, I’ve rifled through my purse and handed him fifty
dollars. “That should cover it.”
“Thanks,” George says, but he’s still standing there staring at me after I
return to my seat.
“Is there something else?” I ask.
He twists his lips and shifts on his feet. “There are rumors you’re going
to sell The Fields.”
“Sell?” I ask and he nods. “Who exactly would I sell it to?”
He shrugs and I can tell he’s more than uncomfortable. “It’s been a
rough couple of years. Some of the guys figured with Pop gone that you’d
sell off what you could. That way you might break even from . . .
everything. Move on.”
The fire that wiped out our crops and shed full of equipment and tools a
few years back. The added land we had to purchase to cultivate to add
quantity while the new crops came to fruition. Gran’s care expenses kept
adding to it. The barn Pop had built, the one he’d planned to use as a
workshop, which now sits empty. The ridiculous expense of his funeral that
added to it.
“This place, this land, has been in my family for generations. It will be
passed to me when Gran is no longer here. As much as this life wasn’t my
dream for myself, George, it was theirs. I have every intention of keeping it
going.”
He nods. “But it’s yours now and technically that means you can do
whatever you want with it, right? I mean, there’s nothing preventing you
from selling it. That’s what everyone’s saying, at least.”
 What the actual fuck? That’s the rumor going around? This town thinks
so little of me they assume I’d sell out?
Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised considering this is the same town
that has always judged me for my mom’s lack of discretion before I was
born.
“My word is what’s preventing me. I made a promise to my
grandparents. To the people who have given me everything. What kind of
person am I if I go back on that?” I say the words but wonder how I’m
going to manage this. A farm to run. An office to manage. A life I’m not
living. And bills that are inches thick.
The easy way out would be to sell.
He knows that. I know that. And as tempting as it is, I promised.
“And what about the resort people? Is it true they wanted to buy it?”
“What?” I cough the word out.
“Pop mentioned something about them trying to buy up everything and
screw everyone over like usual.” He shakes his head. “It had been a long
time since I’d seen him that hot under the collar.”
“When was this?”
“It was after he found out who bought the old hotel.” He pushes his hair
off his forehead. “He just kept going on about no matter how good their
resort might be for this town, he’d never give them business after what they
did.”
I’m right. I know I am.
Pop still held a grudge over the man who looked down on the Wells
family.
I nod absently because it makes sense. Pop knew who owned S.I.N. and
he never forgot the man who insulted him, his pride, and most importantly,
me.
“I’m sure he had his reasons,” I say softly. “But I assure you, I have no
intention of selling.”
“Okay.” Our eyes hold. “I’ll tell the guys. It’s just that we all have
families and if we need to look for other jobs, then . . .”
“I get it.” I nod, hating that my throat feels like it’s closing up. “No one
needs to worry. I know Pop considered you guys family, as do I. I don’t
want you worrying.” I offer a strained smile and hope it reaches my eyes.
Our gazes meet, and I can see he still has doubts. “What else is there? What
other rumors are floating out there that I can squash?”
 He looks at me with trepidation, almost as if even if I did disprove
them, he wouldn’t quite believe me.
And it kills me, because they trusted Pop without question. That just
means I’ll have to prove my words and my ability to run the business even
harder.
His smile is quick. The dart of his eyes over his shoulder and back even
quicker. “Nothing. There’s nothing else.” He takes a step back. “I need to
take this to Danny so we can get the irrigation fixed.”
“Okay. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Hey, George,” I call as he takes a few steps down the stairs, and I rise
to move to the open door.
He turns back to look at me. “Yeah?”
“It’s been a rough few months. I know the guys probably don’t have
much faith in me—understandably—but please know I’ll do right by you,
by them . . . by Gran and Pop.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he repeats. “I’ll let you know when it’s fixed.”
I watch him walk away, his words repeating in my head. Nothing.
There’s nothing else.
I lean against the doorframe and stare out at rows of bright purple.
Folgate lavender to the left is closing in on time to harvest. Royal Velvet
lavender variant lining the slopes near the back of the property is coming
along and will be ready in the next few months. And then there is our
workhorse variant, the one that blankets most of our fields, Grosso
lavender. That’s where the irrigation line burst overnight and luckily George
caught it on his early morning rounds.
We could have lost some healthy crops.
And that’s something we definitely can’t afford.
These are the rows I ran between as a child, losing myself in an
imaginary fairy world where my mother existed and the men of Cedar Falls
didn’t wonder which one of them was my father.
This is where I wandered with tears streaming down my face after
giving up my dream to go to art school so that I could stay here and take
care of my grandmother after her stroke. Her medical bills were so
overwhelming they ate all that had been saved for my education.
This is where I sat and stared at the purple until it blurred when my
heart was shattered into a million pieces that late summer night.
 “The last thing he needs is someone like her to bring him down. He has
a bright future ahead of him, an empire to run, and I won’t have him
sidetracked by a motherless girl with no pedigree and no future.”

And now, this is where I’m going to pull up my bootstraps and make
something of the promises I made, even when I have no idea how I’m going
to.
But I will because there’s no way in hell I’m going to give Maxton
Sharpe the satisfaction of being right.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER NINE

Asher
Twelve Years Ago

“It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of, Nita.” I spin around my dorm room
with an outfit held up to my body before looking at myself in the mirror.
My smile is wide and my eyes are wild with excitement. These first two
months at the Pratt Institute have been incredible. Everything I ever
dreamed of.
I’m finally chasing my dream.
“Tell me all about it,” she murmurs in her sleepy voice.
“It’s the city. It’s like it’s alive with all its lights and high-rises and big
classrooms with floor-to-ceiling windows. There’s culture and refinement
right beside the gritty and raw reality of life.” Even I’m not immune to the
dreamlike quality of my own voice. “I feel like it’s a mixture of every place
I’ve never been—”
“I think anywhere would feel like that compared to Cedar Falls.”
“It’s more than that.” I sit down on the edge of my bed. I recall what felt
like the endless undergrad classes I took at the community college to try
and cut down on costs. The promises from Pop that he’d do whatever it
took to make my dreams come true and give me the opportunities to be
whomever I wanted to be. My chance to be the someone others thought I
couldn’t be. All the blood, sweat, and tears, and it’s finally happened. “It’s
like I’m meant to be here.”
“Of course, you are. It’s all you’ve ever wanted. And with your crazy,
mad talent, you deserve to be there.”
I smile. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be going on and on. Especially when I’m
here and you’re—”
“Still in Cedar Falls?” She chuckles. “Don’t you dare hold out on me. I
want to hear everything. Let me live vicariously through you. What about
the men? Tell me all about them.”
 “You’d die. Finely tailored suits and dress shirts rolled up to the
elbows.”
“Forearm porn. Yummy.”
“Definitely forearm porn. But it’s so much more than that. They’re
educated and refined with a little bit of street thrown in. Ugh. Each one I
meet is better than the next.”
“These are the guys in the program? Because if so, you need to pull
some all-night study sessions.”
“No.” I laugh because the guys in the program are eccentric and quirky
along with talented. Even though I’m artsy, it has never been the vibe I’m
attracted to. “I’m talking about the men in the city. The ones who walk fast
on the sidewalk as if they are off to a very important meeting. The kind that
makes you want to stop and stare because they exude an air of authority.
They look . . .” exactly how I imagined Ledger would look in his element.
The thought comes out of nowhere. A flashback to a past I’ve learned to
stop giving a second thought to.
I shake the thought away. How weird that it crept in, right now in this
moment, after I’d permanently scrubbed him from my mind.
Or at least tried to.
But truth be told, I have looked for him in the crowd every once in a
while before coming to my senses.
“Right?” Nita asks, bringing me out of my thoughts and to the present.
“I’m sorry. Your phone cut out,” I lie.
“I said, so they’re basically the polar opposite of every man here in
Cedar Falls.”
“Exactly.”
“So older men, then. Classy. Worldly. They are right up your alley, then.
You’ve always had a thing for that type.”
“Maybe.” I giggle. “You’ll still come visit me, right?”
“Yeah.” Her voice is soft, and I hate that she doesn’t have this
opportunity. Hell, I can’t even believe that I am getting the chance. “I will.”
“And everything back home is—”
“The same. Boring. Lonely without you here to be my partner in
crime.” She sniffs, and I hope I haven’t made her sad. We’ve been
inseparable since we met during our first semester of junior college. She
had just moved to Cedar Falls with her mother and needed help finding her
way on campus. I offered to show her to class since we were in the same
general education math class. We’ve been thick as thieves ever since. She’s
the sister I never had. And doing this here without her feels like I’m
gloating.
My heart constricts but my happiness overshadows it. And she’d want
that for me. I know it, but it doesn’t make it any easier.
It’s like I’m starting over. No one knows me, knows my name or my
history, and since I arrived months ago, I feel like I can be whoever I want
to be. I can reinvent myself so I’m not Asher Wells the small-town girl and
product of a promiscuous mother who isn’t going to amount to anything,
but rather Asher Wells, the aspiring artist and cultured city girl.
It’s the most liberated I’ve ever felt.
My cell beeps, and I look at the screen to see that it’s Pop. “Hey, I’ve
gotta go,” I tell Nita. “Pop’s on the other line.”
“Sure. Dump me for Pop,” she teases, but she knows my love for my
grandparents. “Call me later. Love you.”
“Love you too.” I end the call with her and pick up Pop’s call. My
cheeks hurt from smiling so much. “Pop! Hi. Oh my God. I have so much
to tell you. I’ve—”
“Asher.” His voice is a whisper with grief-laced despair in its threads.
“Pop? What’s wrong?” My heart sinks to my feet.
“It’s Gran. She collapsed. They’re saying that—” His voice breaks into
a sob. “I can’t lose her, Ash.”
My hands shake. The dress I’m holding falls to the ground as the world
drops out from under me.
“I’m . . . I’m on my way.”
“No. It’s okay . . .”
But it’s not.
I have to go.
I have to be there for the only people who have ever been there for me.
What I didn’t know when I walked away from that world of opportunity
—of utter happiness—was that I’d never get it back.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TEN

Asher

“Gran,” I warn playfully.

“What?” she asks innocently, her speech slurred, while hiding my
checker piece she just palmed from the board.
She gives me that soft, crooked smile that I’ve been on the receiving
end of my whole life. It’s full of love and warmth, even though I know she’s
struggling to simply endure most days. And yet, like the selfless soul she’s
always been, she’s still trying to make me smile and feel her love.
I cling to the sight of it. Today’s a good day. She’s lucid and seems at
peace.
Her first stroke paralyzed her left side completely, and it took over
eighteen months to recover from. Five years later, her second affected her
memory and added some nerve damage more than anything. And her third
one, four months ago, left her struggling to make decisions and bound her
to a wheelchair.
The decision to move her to the assisted living facility was agonizing.
She and Pop hadn’t been apart for almost sixty years, and there I was telling
him I could no longer provide her medical needs. That I’d failed him. And
that it was finally time to get her the help she needed.
His heart broke more than mine that first day we left her here, but he put
on a brave face for me. I heard his soft crying through the bedroom door
every night for the next few weeks.
I made the decision. I told him it was time. And then he died of a
broken heart, alone, and without the love of his life by his side.
The guilt I feel over it steals my breath most days.
And the times I visit Gran when the staff tells me she’s struggling more
and more each day, that her mental capacity is declining faster, I wonder if
it’s her broken heart that is winning the battle or her worn-down body.
Those days? Those are the ones when I pull out of the parking lot, park a
mile down the road, and sob till I can’t cry anymore because I feel like my
decision was the catalyst for all of this.
It’s a rarity that she feels good enough to get out of her bed and be
wheeled to the rec room. The staff knows on those days to call me
regardless of the time because I’ll be there as soon as possible. That I
wouldn’t miss it for the world.
That call came today.
Her smile and mischief are the only things I need.
“You’re going to beat me handily enough. I assure you, you don’t have
to cheat,” I say, moving my black checker from one square to another for
my turn. “Your turn.”
But when I look up, Gran is looking across the room, fixated on
something. Expression blank, eyes astute. For the briefest of seconds, I
panic, worrying that something is wrong with her.
I follow her gaze and freeze.
What is he doing here?
Ledger is standing on the far side of the recreation room. He’s huddled
in a conversation with another woman in a sharp business suit and the
director of the facility. They are discussing something in hushed voices, I
assume to avoid disturbing the residents.
I watch for a few moments, as does Gran, until hands are shaken
between the trio as if the meeting is over. Ledger’s laugh carries over to
where we sit and just before he walks out, he turns to scan the room again.
The surprise when he sees me is exactly how I felt when I saw him
standing there.
He gives me a strange look—surprise, confusion, I don’t know—before
he says something to the people he’s standing with and makes his way
across the room.
“Well, look at this handsome thing walking our way,” Gran murmurs as
she attempts to sit up straighter when physically she can’t. “Tall.
Handsome. Those shoulders. I do believe he is just your type.”
I cough to cover my laugh. Jesus. It seems Gran is friends with Fate.
And who knew a handsome man could make her the most lucid she’s been
in weeks?
“He’s not my type,” I mutter, hating that it’s hard to pull my eyes away
from him.
I try.
 I really do.
Liar.
“Ladies,” he says with a subtle nod in greeting as he approaches our
table.
Will Gran recognize him?
“It’s all her fault,” Gran says, pointing my way with her good hand, a
sly smile on her half-frozen mouth and a twinkle in her eyes that I haven’t
seen in forever.
“What’s my fault?” I ask thoroughly confused.
“Whatever it is we’re in trouble for, dear. He’s in a suit—and looking
good in one I might add—so whatever he came over here for, it’s your
fault.”
Gran just hung me out to dry.
I stare at her, slack-jawed. It’s then I realize that I’m so used to Gran’s
slurred speech I know what she said. I’m just about to rephrase it for
Ledger, but he beats me to the punch.
“No one’s in trouble,” Ledger says clearly making sense of her
enunciation while unbuttoning his jacket as he comes to a stop. “I saw two
beautiful women sitting over here, and I couldn’t resist coming over and
saying hi.”
Smooth. Real smooth, Sharpe.
“Well, hello there,” Gran says with a fingertip wave and a pathetic bat
of her eyelashes. “Please. Join us.”
Ledger glances my way, almost as if to ask if it’s okay. Every part of me
wants to tell him to leave me be with Gran and not cloud this time I have
with her by adding the confusing mess of “us” to it. At the same time, I
haven’t seen Gran this spry in so long. A small, irrational part of me is
afraid it’ll leave if he does.
I give a slight nod in consent, prompting him to pull out the spare chair
at our table and take a seat.
“Thank you,” Ledger says, smiling warmly at Gran. I can tell he’s
looking for any sign of recognition, but she shows none and for that I’m
grateful.
“Adele,” Gran says and holds out her hand to him. Ledger’s gaze
flickers my way and before he can answer with his unique name that I fear
Gran will most definitely remember, Gran’s spitfire kicks back in. “And
yours must be Handsome.”
 I have to give him credit because his expression of what the hell
vanishes as quickly as it appears. “Okay. Sure.” He chuckles as he shakes
her hand, his cheeks flushing.
“It’s always better to keep a little mystery when courting.” She winks.
“Good to know,” he murmurs.
“This is my granddaughter, Asher. She’s single, you know. Ready to be
courted.”
“Gran,” I warn.
“It’s always important to know your options,” Ledger says, his smile
genuine.
“Exactly.” Gran pats his arm and then squeezes there. “Oh my. Look
how fit you are.”
Did she seriously just say that?
Yes. Yes, she did, and she hasn’t moved her hand away yet.
“Does your girlfriend enjoy that? Your strong physique?” she continues,
adding to this deliberate show of flirting she has going on.
“No girlfriend,” Ledger says, his eyes holding mine briefly.
Her grin is wide, and the finger she points at him when she slowly lifts
her hand is gnarled from arthritis. “Get you a girl who likes to argue.” She
waggles her eyebrows. “That means the bedroom will never be boring.”
“Jesus, Gran,” I spit out as Ledger just looks at me with the lift of an
eyebrow and a ghost of a smile.
“I’m old, dear. I have a lot of advice to give and like to say what’s on
my mind.” She glances my way for a beat, her expression falling blank
again, and I fear I’ve lost her. But just as quickly as it appears her mind
fires blanks, she gives the subtlest shake of her head before focusing back
on Ledger. “That’s the freeing part of getting older. Not caring what anyone
thinks of you.”
“If that’s the case, Adele, might I trouble you for some advice?”
Gran seems thrilled to have a purpose that’s something other than sitting
in her wheelchair. “Of course. Is it love advice? I’m really good at that. I
was with my Richard for over sixty years.” She holds a hand to her heart
and gets a wistful smile on her face. “I argued a lot if you catch my drift.”
She winks.
Ledger coughs through his laugh, and I want to pretend I didn’t hear my
gran just say she was good in bed. Clearly, she’s having more than just a
good day today.
 “Sure. I guess my question can be classified as about love in a sense.”
“Goody.” If she could rub her two hands together in anticipation, I’m
sure she would be.
“There’s this girl,” he says. I immediately shake my head in response to
Ledger Sharpe asking my grandmother for love advice about me. Because
that’s what he’s about to do, isn’t he? The glance he gives me partnered
with the sly smile is all I need to see to know I’m right.
“What about her?” Gran asks.
“We haven’t seen each other in a long time.”
“Did you do something wrong to her? To hurt her?”
Ledger hangs his head for a beat to look at where he’s playing with a
checker piece. “The more time that passes, the less I know the answer to
that question,” he murmurs before looking up and directly at me. My breath
hitches and my pulse starts to race. “Everything I thought was certain didn’t
feel so certain anymore once I saw her again.”
“So you have seen her again then?” Gran asks, and Ledger finally
breaks his gaze from mine to look at her as he nods. “Force her to talk to
you. Tell her your side.” Gran pats his hand in sympathy. “Easy.”
“Not so easy. She refuses to talk to me about the past.”
Gran smiles wistfully, almost as if she’s remembering something from
her own memory, before looking back at him. “Pin the girl down and kiss
her. That’ll remind her exactly of who you are and what you had. Then I’m
certain she’ll stop and listen.”
A smile slowly crawls onto Ledger’s lips. “You think that will work?”
he asks Gran but holds my gaze, arching one brow.
“I do,” she murmurs.
“I disagree,” I say, trying to break up this little tête-à-tête. “If she’s
angry at you, she’s angry at you and you don’t have any right to invalidate
that anger.”
Ledger chews the inside of his cheek as he leans back in his chair. “No
one’s invalidating anything.”
I snort and roll my eyes as Gran does her best to narrow hers at me.
“Did you ever try to get in touch with her over the years? To talk to her?”
Ledger nods, and I immediately reject his response. I lived it. I was
there, I want to shout at him. “There are two sides to every story, Asher.”
His gaze pins me in place. The teenager I used to know wasn’t as in
control of his emotions as the man is before me.
 But his jaw tics and his eyes swim with challenge.
“Okay, everyone,” the activity director says to the room. There’s
shuffling and murmuring as heads turn to look her way. “We’re going to
move into the sunroom for a bit now and watch a movie.”
Gran rolls her eyes before looking at Ledger. “Thank you for spending
time with me.” She pats his arm. “Maybe one day Asher here will find a
nice man like you. We used to say to keep her honest, but I’d rather he kept
her on her toes.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Ledger says, reaching out and patting the top
of her hand.
Gran blinks several times as she looks at him before turning to me. “I’m
really tired.” Her face falls a little and I can sense her starting to fade, as she
often does. This is when the cognitive decline becomes apparent and for her
own dignity’s sake, I rise immediately so she’s not embarrassed by it.
“Perfect time to rest then while everyone else watches the movie.”
She nods slightly, her lack of words telling me her downward spiral is
coming fast. Within moments, I have her favorite nurse helping her to her
room for some privacy with a promise to put the game away and come kiss
her goodbye after she’s settled.
The minute she is out of earshot, I turn to find Ledger studying me. I’m
annoyed with him, and I’m honestly not sure why.
Is it because he stole some of my time with Gran? No. That can’t be it,
because look how lively he made her.
Is it because I’m jealous that he was able to do for her what I wasn’t
able to?
Yes. No. Maybe.
All I know is, he has been nowhere for fifteen years and now, all of a
sudden, he’s freaking everywhere—in my town, in my thoughts, in an
assisted living facility for God’s sake.
I square my shoulders and head back to the table where he still sits.
“Thanks for amusing Gran. That was nice of you, but you can go now.
She won’t be coming back out for some time.” The smile I offer him is
strained. I then pick up the checker pieces and board.
“That’s all you’ve got for me, Ash? Shame, I don’t think Gran would be
very receptive to such hostility.” Why does he say things like that with a
smile? One that says I’m being ridiculous, and he’s not annoyed or fazed or
anything in the least?
 “And I don’t think she’d be receptive if she knew who you really were,”
I grit out as I close the box on the checkers and head to the game closet
down the hallway without looking back at him.
I don’t realize my mistake until I’m at the far end of the long, narrow
walk-in type closet, and his footsteps sound behind me. I put the game on
the shelf in its place and turn to find Ledger standing there, his broad
shoulders eating up the small space.
“What are you doing here, Ledge?”
“Talking to you.” There’s that disarming, I’m not doing anything wrong
but annoying you grin again.
I blow out an exasperated sigh. “No. I mean here. At the facility. In this
closet. Here.”
“Talking to you,” he repeats.
“Well, I only talked to you because of Gran. Now she’s gone, so I don’t
have to be polite anymore.”
“So that means you don’t want to talk about what happened?” He takes
a step closer to me.
“No. I told you I didn’t. Let it go.”
“Only if you will.”
He’s trapped me in my own words. If I let the past go, then I have no
reason to be angry with him and every right to want that kiss he almost gave
me—and that I’ve thought about way too much.
“Go away,” I mutter. He steps closer to me and reaches out to play with
a strand of hair that’s fallen over my shoulder.
“Pin the girl down and kiss her. Weren’t those Gran’s words?” he
murmurs.
The space closes in all around us. I shift to get out of the confined space
and his undeniable presence that eats it up.
He’s close.
Too close.
I can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. Feel the warmth of his breath
whispering over my lips. Feel his fingertips as they release my lock of hair
and trail ever so softly down my bare arm.
My nipples harden.
He’s the one who walked away and didn’t look back.
My fingers itch to touch.
He’s the one who broke your heart.
 My mind wants to forget.
Walk away, Ash.
He leans forward. The hitch of my breath fills the room. “This isn’t
over, Asher. Not by a long shot. I’m not a patient man, but I’ve waited
fifteen years to kiss you again . . . what’s a few more days?”
A lifetime.
He cups the side of my face and runs his thumb over my bottom lip. It’s
a simple act and yet his touch alone ignites every nerve ending in my body.
His eyes are on mine, asking, wanting, pleading.
“Ash,” he whispers, and my heart leaps. My name on his lips. Is it
possible to miss a sound? If so, I didn’t realize how much I did until right
now.
He leans in as time suspends and—
“In the game closet.” We jump apart seconds before the orderly, who I
presume made that statement, clears the doorway and walks into said closet.
Ledger coughs into his hand to hide his smile.
“Mr. Sharpe?”
“Yes,” he says, turning to face her as I continue fussing with the box of
checkers as if the lid of the box isn’t on properly. My heart’s hammering
rapidly, and I’m not sure if it’s because of him or my fear that one of Gran’s
caretakers might think I’m fooling around in here.
“Helen wanted to ask you a few more questions since she saw you were
still here,” the orderly says, referring to the facility director.
“Great.” He smiles. “I’ll be happy to answer them.” He takes a few
steps toward the door before looking back at me. Mischief sparks in his
eyes. “Community outreach.”
“What?”
“What I’m doing here. Community outreach.” His eyes run up and
down the entire length of my body, and I swear I can almost feel his gaze as
he does.
And without another word, he walks out of the closet leaving me staring
after him.
My fingers automatically go to my lips wishing he’d kissed me.
Wishing I knew what he tasted like. Wanting to be reminded what it felt like
again.
Ledger Sharpe was a caring lover the first and only time we were
together.
 Was that just because it was the first time? Is he still like that with the
added finesse of years of practice?
I lean against the wall and bury my head in my hands.
When have I ever thought shit like this?
Go away, Ledger.
Go away and leave me to my boring life and unpredictable, sometimes
fulfilling sex life.
I’m supposed to be angry at you.
I’m supposed to stick to my guns.
But, Jesus.
You’re better than the memory of you ever was.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER ELEVEN

Ledger

With a sigh, I pull into the driveway of my rental. It’s simple, with its basic
gray clapboard siding and flowers lining the path to the front door, but like I
told Ford, it could be way worse.
But there’s a reason I’m sitting in my car staring at the house. And it
happens to be the same reason I drove back and forth down Main Street
twice on the way home.
Asher.
The woman has eluded me. I went to the farm the other day, but when I
knocked on the door, there was no answer. Then on the way home just now,
I thought I saw her walking on the sidewalk and talking to someone in front
of the hardware store. I figured I’d make a convenient stop and
“accidentally” run into her, since I can’t get her out of my head. But on the
second pass by, I was clearly seeing things that weren’t there.
You’re losing it, Ledge.
“Clearly small-town life is making you crazy,” I mutter as I climb out
and around to my passenger door to grab my laptop and files.
“Hi.”
I jump at the sound of the high-pitched voice behind me. When I turn,
I’m met with a little girl about seven or eight—fuck if I know since kids
aren’t exactly in my wheelhouse. She has a pair of uneven, blond pigtails,
black-framed glasses over a freckled nose, a box in her hands, and jeans
with holes in the knees.
She stands and stares expectantly at me as if she’s waiting for me to
speak.
“Uh, hi.” I look around to see if her mom or dad are around. “Can I help
you?”
She twists her lips and narrows her eyes for a beat. I’m being sized up
by a kid. Fucking perfect.
 “I brought you cookies,” she finally says, pushing the box toward me.
“But I’m not sure if you like cookies because they are made with flour,
chocolate, sugar, and real butter. You know, non-organic, gluten-filled
crap.”
Stifling a chuckle, I take the box from her and lift the lid to look inside.
Not bad. “I’m from New York. Not California. I like all that crap. Thanks.”
I tip the box at her in a thank-you gesture, but she doesn’t get the hint and
move out of the way.
“New York, huh?” Her hands go to her hips. “Exciting stuff. Is it true
there are rats in the sewers the size of alligators there?”
“Probably. It’s the people you have to watch out for more than anything.
They’re the real rats who will eat you alive.” Come on, kid. Move along.
“My mom told me you might be brusque and rude.”
I do a double take. “She did? Why’s that?”
“She said you wear a suit, are from the city, and probably don’t have a
personality worth talking to as a result of having the life sucked out of you
from sitting behind the glass walls of a skyscraper all day.”
I cough over my laugh. “But you’re talking to me, right?”
“I am . . . but I haven’t decided if I like you yet.”
“Good to know.” This kid is pretty spectacular. She’d fit in perfectly in
Manhattan.
“Apparently the clean air we have here, plus getting a little dirt on your
shoes, will make you nicer. Maybe.” We both glance down at my shoes.
“No dirt.”
“I guess I’m still rude, then.”
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” she whispers and offers me a grin with a
missing front tooth.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“I’m Tootie.”
“Tootie?”
“Yep. It’s short for Trudy because who names a kid Trudy these days?
So I made up my own version of it that suits me better.”
I feel like I’m talking to a thirty-year-old with her matter-of-fact
statements, but that little giggle she gives reaffirms I’m not. “I think Tootie
fits you perfectly.” I smile at her. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get
some work done.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks as I step past her.
 “Excuse me?”
“You know, a woman that comes over and then sneaks out about the
time that school starts, and Mom tells me not to stare at her or ask why
she’s not wearing any shoes.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“If I can’t say fuck, then you can’t say Jesus Christ.”
I open my mouth to speak but am at a loss for words as I glance around
again for any parent concerned where their child is. “Um, Tootie? Does
your mom know where you are? Shouldn’t you be doing homework or
something?”
“First, homework is a thing of the past. Some brilliant person declared it
to be busy work and decided to free us kids from its shackles.” She flashes
a grin. “And second, Mom is inside on the phone telling all of her friends
about you.”
“Yay for no homework.” It’s all I can manage to say before Tootie
continues.
“She said you have a nice butt, but you seem a little uptight. That she
wouldn’t mind kicking your tires—whatever that means.” But her ghost of a
smile tells me she thinks she knows exactly what it means. And regardless
of how much I want to laugh, I’m a little uncomfortable having this
conversation with a kid. “Oh, and she gives you two weeks before you run
back to the city because you can’t handle things here.”
“Two weeks? That’s all? Good to know.” I glance at the house next door
where Tootie pointed and see a woman standing in the window with a cell
phone to her ear suddenly move out of sight. “It’s probably best if you don’t
tell her that you told me that part about kicking my tires.”
“Okay. Then I guess I should also leave out the part where I tell you that
we didn’t really bake these cookies ourselves. Mom bought them from
Cedar’s Bakery so she had an excuse to come over here and talk to you
herself. Guess I ruined that plan.”
“I’m glad that you did.”
“Is it true you’re here to fuck up our town?”
Christ. I cough over my laugh. “Who told you that?”
“Everybody who means nothing.” She shrugs and, somehow, I
completely understand what she means. “It’s like adults can’t ever make up
their minds. They want more jobs in town but complain when someone like
you tries to make them. They want more people to visit but then complain
when there’s traffic, or they have to wait too long for a table to eat at
Bessie’s Diner. You adults are super confusing.”
“We are, aren’t we?”
“For sure.” She gives a definitive nod that has her pigtails bouncing.
“So, are you?”
“Am I what? Messing up the town?”
“No. I don’t care. It’s not like it matters to me. I meant are you going to
Connor’s too?”
“Who’s Connor?” My head spins with her constant change in topics.
And also, why is everything in this town named after somebody?
“The man who owns Connor’s,” she says as if I’m an idiot.
My patience for talking to little people is about done. My sigh says as
much and she just puts her hands on her hips to say the same. “What is
Connor’s?”
“It’s where all the adults go to act funny and dance and . . . kiss.” She
shudders. “Sometimes when Mom has to pick up friends from there, I get to
go inside for a second. I can’t wait to be a grown-up.”
“Huh.”
“Yep. Huh,” she repeats. “Time to go cause more trouble.”
She skips down the sidewalk toward her house. “Hey, Tootie?” I ask so
that she stops and turns to look at me. “Do you know an Asher Wells?”
Brilliant, Ledger. Ask an eight-year-old about her.
“Why?” She narrows her eyes at me.
“It’s a long story.” I give her a half-smile while feeling like an idiot. “I
was just wondering if you did.”
Tootie angles her head to the side as she thinks. “The purple lady?”
“Lavender?”
“Same thing.” She rolls her eyes. “Yep. I know her.”
The kid runs at the mouth and the minute I want her to talk, she clams
up. Fucking par for the course for me today.
“That’s all you’re going to give me?”
She squints at me as if she’s figuring out if she wants to tell me more or
not. Almost as if she’s protective of the people who live here from outsiders
like me.
I can respect that.
“She’s nice if that’s what you want to know. And super pretty. My
momma is jealous of her legs but not jealous about what people say about
her.”
“What do people say about her?”
She shrugs as if she doesn’t know, but I do. Christ. Even after all these
years it still seems Asher Wells is still being judged for her mother’s
promiscuity and reputation.
“We had a field trip to her pop’s farm last year to learn about growing
and stuff. Peter Doocey didn’t listen and got in trouble for trying to pants
Dylan Abernathy. There was a big to-do over it. Pop was nice. He even
gave us ice cream and didn’t care if it dripped when we ate it.”
“Ice cream is always good.”
“He’s dead, you know. Died around C.J.’s birthday. That made me sad
so I can’t imagine how it made Asher feel. Probably way more sadder than
me. Momma sent flowers to her but was angry over what she paid for on
the Internet versus what was actually sent. It was a whole thing that I don’t
care to get into.” She rolls her eyes and gives a shake of her head. “I
wonder if we have another field trip there if Asher would be the one to give
us the tour?”
“Maybe.”
“Mom said hi to her in town the other day, but don’t worry, they’re not
close enough for her to call her on the phone and talk about how fine your
butt is. She only does that to Lacey.”
“Good to know.” I give a quick shake of my head. “Thanks.”
“Connor’s.”
“What about it?”
“Are you going? She’ll probably be there tomorrow night. It’s the place
to be on music night.”
“Thanks for the info.”
“Yep. No problemo.” She flashes a mischievous grin and a wave before
skipping away.
Really, Ledger?
You just asked a kid you barely know about a woman you want to know
more.
You do seriously need help.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TWELVE

Asher

I no longer study the face of every man in Cedar Falls.

It took me a long time to get to that point, where I stopped comparing
my nose with theirs, the shape or color of my eyes, or the curve of my
mouth.
And I’ve learned to live with the silence and cold shoulders from the
older women in town. The ones who wonder if I’m the bastard child their
husband had when he cheated on them or had a torrid affair with the town
floozy before they were married. The ones who fear my mom will someday
come back, fill in the “father” portion of my birth certificate, and ruin their
happily ever after.
Then there’s the notion of siblings. Do I have a half-sister or half-
brother? Do I have more than one? Am I friends with them? Do I dislike
them?
I learned to stop obsessing over it a long time ago.
And yes, the odd stares and quiet murmurs have dissipated over the
years, only to be stirred up when someone new moves into town and the
Cedar Falls Stepford Wives step in to fill them in on everyone’s business.
But it doesn’t make living life in this small town any easier. Reputations
stick to last names even if you were simply born into it without a choice.
The upside to it all? It’s freeing in a sense. People already have their
opinions about me, so why not live my life and enjoy myself while I’m at
it?
If I flirt openly with a man, then looks are exchanged suggesting I’m
just like my mom. If I hide from the world and keep to The Fields, then it
appears I’m ashamed of who I am.
I’m neither.
I’m simply me. The me that Gran and Pop loved and cherished and tried
to be parents, grandparents, and friends to so I wouldn’t do without.
 And fuck the assholes of this town for judging and ostracizing me for
something I had no control over. It’s been thirty-two years, people, so get
over it.
Just like Judy Jensen needs to right now from her seat on the other side
of the bar in Connor’s Tavern. It’s not my fault her boyfriend pursued me
last year. I told him no, time and time again. But the trouble he caused gave
me the stigma that I’m a homewrecker against all rational logic.
Like mother, like daughter in their eyes.
The music is low and the chatter is loud, so I just smile and wave cattily
to Judy to let her know I see her shooting daggers my way.
“She’s such a bitch,” Nita says as she slides onto the barstool across
from me.
“She is. Her problem, not mine.”
“You want to know what else is a problem?” Nita asks, but the mischief
in her eyes tells me something is going on.
“What?”
“You sitting here, checking the door every few seconds to see if a
certain someone is going to walk through it.”
“You’re so full of shit.”
“You didn’t deny it,” she says with a knowing smile.
She’s right. I didn’t, because I have been checking the door every time it
opens, both wanting and not wanting Ledger to walk through it.
Our almost-kiss from the other day is etched in my mind, replaying on a
loop.
“It’s not a crime to want to see him.”
“Clearly,” I say.
“And it’s okay to wonder if the chemistry is still there, which . . . for the
record, it is.”
“Thank you for the observation.” I take another sip of my wine and
stare at Judy until she looks away again. “I have chemistry with a lot of
people. Besides, isn’t it normal to still have it with someone you’ve been
attracted to in the past?”
“Not so sure on that one. Nice try, though. In my personal experience,
I’d rather stab my exes with a fork in their eyes when I’m done with them,
not stand in a game closet and lie when you tell him you don’t want to be
kissed.”
“It was not a lie.”
 “Whatever you say,” she says, clearly not believing me.
And she shouldn’t. Because no matter how many times I tell myself I
don’t want him, I’m still pulled right back into that connection with Ledger
we had years ago when I see him.
“Look, it’s completely okay to forgive him for whatever his father did
that night. We don’t blame kids for their parents’ actions, right?” She lifts
her eyebrows, unknowingly tapping into the thoughts I was just having.
All I can do is shake my head. “Touché.”
“And if you believe the flip side of the coin and that Ledger did, in fact,
cheat on you, play you, what have you, you can always chalk it up to the
past and forgive him.” She smiles wide and waves to someone over my
shoulder before turning her attention back on me. “You guys were young.
Naïve. I don’t know. People change with experience. They mature and
become more considerate.”
“Are you sure we live in the same town because a lot of these people
here haven’t gotten any better—in any respect—with age.”
“True.” She laughs and holds her hands up in acknowledgment. “I stand
corrected.”
“At least you admit it,” I say.
“I do, so long as you understand that it’s completely okay to want to
take Ledger up on his offer to catch up. To talk. The two of you can be
Cedar Falls outcasts together.”
“Funny.”
“I try to be.” She flashes me a dazzling smile.
“Why are we having this conversation again?” I groan. “Haven’t we
talked about this ad nauseum?”
“Then stop mind-fucking it and fuck him instead.”
I choke on my sip of wine. “Way to be blunt.”
“Is there any other way to be?” She dazzles me with a smile. “How
about I be even more blunt?”
“I have a feeling it doesn’t matter if I say yes or no because you’re
going to say it anyway.”
“Glad we’re on the same page.” She gives a definitive nod and then
chuckles. Oh, she’s definitely starting to feel her wine as much as I am. “So
here’s the thing. If you want to continue to hate him as you have every right
and are so desperately trying to do . . . then girl, let’s just admit that there is
nothing wrong with a good, angry, hate fuck.”
 “Jesus.” I try not to spit out my wine. I was not expecting her to go
there. But then again, it is Nita. She holds nothing back.
“What? Are you telling me that a bout of hate fucking isn’t good for the
soul? The back-scratching, shoulder-nipping, skin-bruising variety of sex?”
She mock shudders in pleasure. “It’s invigorating. Primal. Incredible.
Maybe that’s exactly what you need to get over this hump and . . . I don’t
know. Forgive him. Write him off. Use him as he used you.”
I absolutely hate myself for picturing what she’s saying. For imagining
his lips on mine and that deep tenor of his voice groaning my name. For
being turned on by it. For wondering what Ledger’s like in bed. Because
with age comes practice and . . . yes, now I’m definitely wondering.
“You’re delusional,” I say despite my body’s visceral reaction.
“Perhaps, but you know I’m right.”
“Well . . .” I say and give her a look saying I can’t argue with her, which
prompts us both to burst into laughter.
“There is another option too.”
“What? The option that this conversation is ludicrous and you’re out of
your mind?”
“You have deflection down to an art form. It’s really rather admirable.”
I know she means well, but Ledger has already taken up too much free
rent in my head since that night at Hank’s. I’ve run every scenario through
my mind. I’ve rationalized and justified and tried to understand how I can
still desire a man who hurt me so deeply. It has to simply be physical
attraction, right? Because we’re nowhere near the same people we were
years ago.
Stop saying the past is the past, Ash, if you keep dredging it up.
My only conclusion has been that it’s probably best to keep him at
arm’s length. Self-preservation at its finest.
At least, that’s my current theory.
And at the end of the day, the decision to sleep or not to sleep with
someone is mine regardless of how hot Nita’s description of it might be.
Sure, Ledger is incredibly attractive. Yes, there is no question about our
chemistry. But he lives in New York City, and I still live in Cedar Falls.
That one fact hasn’t changed over time.
Then there’s the fact that if we were to . . . act on this tension vibrating
between us, it would merely be a fling. That’s all it could be. Call it self-
preservation or learning from past mistakes, but I simply don’t have time
for a fling. Not one I already know will hurt me in the end.
Plus, I prefer to not give the Judy Jensens of this town more fodder for
their gossip. The rich city guy choosing me and not one of them just might
push them over their pretentious edges.
“Yoo-hoo. You still with me?” Nita asks as she passes her hand back
and forth in front of my face.
“Yes. Sorry. Just thinking about something I forgot to do today,” I lie.
“Like Ledger?” She laughs at her own joke while I roll my eyes. “I still
think you should call him.”
“Maybe,” I say for the sake of ending this discussion.
“Now’s as good of a time as any.” Nita looks at my cell phone on the
table and lifts her eyebrows.
“Tomorrow’s an even better one.”
We both burst out laughing. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“I know I am, Nita,” I say, rising from the table and enveloping her in a
hug from behind. “But is it so wrong that I want to sit here with my best
friend, drink till I’m tipsy, and dance with some random man who’ll
probably step on my toes more times than not? Uncomplicated is my goal
for tonight. I’ve had a shitty week, and I want to stop dwelling on the fact
that the one and only man I’ve ever let break my heart is somewhere in this
town tonight. Maybe I’ll call him. Maybe I won’t. But the one thing I know
for sure is I want another glass of wine, and then we’ll go from there.”
“Whoa, girl. Take a breath.” Nita laughs. “Anything else you need to
get off your impressively cleavage-ridden chest tonight?”
“Nope.” I sit back down beside her and emit an audible exhale. “But it
felt good to get it all out.”
“To manifest it?”
“Something like that,” I say and take another sip of wine. My buzz is
just within reach, and it’s something I welcome wholeheartedly.
“There is one problem with your line of thinking though,” Nita says,
giving a nod to Connor as the fresh drinks are delivered to our table.
“What’s that?”
“You know there are no random men in Cedar, right? We know every
single one of them.”
“That’s true. Then I’ll rephrase and say dance with a harmless man.
Does that work?”
 “It does. Harmless is good. I just might look for one to occupy my—
ahem—time tonight as well.”
“Oh really? Is that so?”
“Yep.” Her grin widens. “Miller is spending the night at my mom’s
tonight, and I do not have to work either job tomorrow. So I’m childless
with no one to take care of and have nowhere I need to be by a certain time
tomorrow. It’s glorious.”
“And a rarity.” My smile softens as I meet her eyes. Being a single
mother isn’t easy, but I’ve never heard her complain once. She loves her
son and their life despite doing it all on her own. “You most definitely
deserve some of that back-scratching sex more than I do.”
“Amen, sister.” She gives me a high five and then startles. “Uh-oh. I
think you’re going to win the race to being horizontal.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There’s a man standing at the end of the bar right now giving you the
eye.”
Ledger.
Why is he my first thought? And even worse, why, when I turn to look
where Nita is motioning, am I disappointed that the man looking my way
isn’t him? Instead, it’s Carson Allen.
Of course, it is.
“Carson’s always giving me the eye.” I roll my eyes at her before
looking back at him and waving.
“That man has loved you ever since you backed into his car six years
ago,” she murmurs as he starts to make his way through the crowd.
“I think he should take that as a reason why he shouldn’t like me.”
“But he’s funny and harmless. You could do worse.”
“I have done worse.”
Nita belts out a laugh as Carson approaches our table, his smile wide
and laughter already on his lips.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Ledger

“The deal is on the table, Hiro. Three hundred mil,” I say, moving about
my office. My inability to stand still while being on the phone drives my
brothers crazy.
“I understand, Ledger, but Takashi isn’t going to budge.”
Fucking Takashi trying to play hardball when he doesn’t know that’s my
favorite way to play.
“He’s not going to budge? That’s a mistake and you know it.” My
chuckle is low and taunting as I run a hand through my hair and stare out
the darkened window. “Three hundred is a more than fair evaluation. Your
property is aging, your traffic is down, and Takashi has undermined it by
using its equity to leverage his Tokyo project.”
“How did—”
“Yes. I know about that. I assure you I’m more than thorough in my
research before jumping into negotiations.” I pause for effect. “No stone is
left unturned. It’s important to know what I’m jumping into before I make
the first phone call to express interest.”
Yes, Hiro, I know everything about everything. Like his affair with his
assistant. Like how he’s using some of the equity in the property we want to
pay off his gambling debts.
Yes, I know he has no other choice than to sell.
His silence tells me my message was heard.
“I’m not in the business of lowballing people. This is a more than fair
evaluation that he won’t get from anyone else.”
“Understood.” His voice is a little less steady now. It’s also more than
bullshit that Takashi isn’t speaking to me himself. No doubt he’s standing
beside him, listening to this whole conversation, too chickenshit to deal
with me himself. Hiro clears his throat. “He’ll have a decision for you by
the end of the week.”
 “No. He’ll have a decision for me by the end of the hour or the deal is
off the table. Talk soon.” I hang up without letting him respond.
Always negotiate from a place of power.
My father’s words come back to me. My smile is bittersweet, the pang
in my chest still raw.
He was a hard man. Demanding. Unmalleable. He loved his sons with
all his heart, but he definitely expected perfection. And for reasons I had no
control over, he expected it the most from me. I was his firstborn. I was the
most like him.
I don’t know the reason, but some days I loathed it, others I understood
it. Regardless, it made me the man I am today, so I have to respect it.
And I’m not going to lie, the high I get from negotiating a purchase like
this new project in Tokyo is pretty damn spectacular.
Even if it means my plans for the night to go to Connor’s and see if
Asher is there were thwarted.
It’s not like you don’t know where she lives, Ledge.
I have an hour to kill waiting for Takashi to respond—and he’ll respond
with a minute or two to go simply to let me know he’s in charge—and a
bottle of whiskey in my desk drawer that was a welcome gift from the
owner of Cedar Falls Outdoor Adventures to drink while I wait.
At least someone in this town is glad we’re here.
I stare at the bottle and then out the window toward the direction of
Connor’s where I’d prefer to be, and then back to the bottle.
I’m two glasses in when my cell rings. Like I thought, Takashi pushed it
till the last minute. I have half a mind to let it go to voicemail and make him
sweat it out, but I want this deal done so S.I.N. can move forward.
And so I can cross another item off my list of things I wanted to
accomplish: expand the S.I.N. brand into Asia.
“Takashi.”
“Sharpe.” He doesn’t sound happy. Not my problem. When you’re the
golden boy of one of Japan’s biggest tycoons and are about to find yourself
in a fire sale to cover your ass, you wouldn’t be either.
“I’m assuming you have an answer for me.”
His sigh is heavy, his distaste for me palpable. “Yes.”
“Yes?” Say it, fucker. Say, we have a deal.
Another sigh of reluctance. Or distaste. Either one is fine with me. “I
accept your offer.”
 I fist-pump into the empty room, but when I speak, my voice is
controlled. “Congratulations, Takashi. I’ll have my counsel reach out to
yours and get the details situated.”
“You gave me no choice,” he says.
“No. You gave yourself no choice. I’m just being a smart businessman.
I’ll be in touch.”
I end the call, sit my ass on the edge of my desk, and just take a minute
for the acquisition of Miyako-Jima Resort to sink in. Six months of
negotiations. Three visits to Japan. It will all be worth it though. I fire off a
text to Callahan and Ford to let them know the deal is done, but it’s late in
New York, and I don’t expect an answer.
High from the adrenaline rush of clinching a deal that will potentially
open the Asian market for S.I.N. investments, I swallow the rest of what’s
left in my glass. Antsy and with too much energy, I grab my keys and head
out the door of the resort.
Fresh air.
That’s what I need. Fresh air and yet, my feet don’t stop once I’m
outside and have found it.
“Done for the night?” Bernie, our site security guard, asks.
“I am.”
“It was a late one for you.”
“Always is.”
“Any plans? The night’s still young, you know.”
“I do. Thanks.” I stop to look at him as if he just made me realize where
I already knew I was going. “Have a good night.”
It takes me a good fifteen minutes to walk to Connor’s. By then, the
whiskey’s worked its way through my system, keeping me warm and
simultaneously spurring me on.
The parking lot is crowded with cars, and the patrons have spilled
outside onto the outdoor patio at its rear. It’s a large place, and the live
music and loud chatter floats out the open windows and hits me from the far
side of the parking lot.
The front door has a crowd around it, so I veer around toward the back
to avoid it. I’m just about to walk through the small gate that encloses a
mixture of low and high tables when I hear a voice.
Asher’s voice.
 “Knock it off, Carson.” I turn to see Asher pushing against the chest of
a guy who has a good hundred pounds on her. “Stop.”
“C’mon. You’ve been cock-teasing me all night—hell, for years,” he
slurs. “Just admit you want me—” The fucker smashes his lips to hers as
she tries to struggle out of his grip.
Four strides. That’s all it takes for me to cross the distance and get to
them.
“Get off her,” I shout as I push him away. He shoves me back, but I
have my fist cocked and let it fly into the fucker’s face before he can say a
word.
“Ledger. No.” Asher’s shout of my name mixes with the ooof made by
the prick as he stumbles backward and hits the railing behind him.
“Are you okay?” I turn to look at Asher, my one hand out to keep her
away and my other toward the guy.
“What are you doing?” she shouts at me as she runs to the man’s side.
Confusion blankets me. “Carson? Car?” Her hands are on his face, her
voice full of concern. “Are you okay?”
She wanted him?
Wanted the kiss?
Carson mumbles something, his words garbled as he’s clearly shit-
faced, before chuckling and bringing a hand to rub over his cheek where my
punch landed.
“What were you thinking?” Asher screams as she takes two steps
toward me.
“He was all over you. He wouldn’t—”
“He’s harmless. Fucking harmless.” She looks from me and then back
to Carson, who’s clearly unaffected much to my dismay, and then back to
me. “He’s just . . . Carson,” she says in exasperation as if I’m supposed to
know what that means.
And as if on cue, Carson’s laughter rings out as he looks my way. “S’all
good, man. S’all good. I’d fight for her too.” He stands and wobbles a bit
before stumbling a few feet toward the back entrance of the bar. His words
repeat in my head. I’d fight for her too. “I need another drink after that.” He
turns to look at Asher again, smiles sheepishly, and then almost falls off the
barstool he’s trying to sit down on.
“You,” Asher says, pointing at me as she stalks toward me, closing the
distance between us. Her face is a mask of fury, and it’s the most beautiful
thing I’ve ever seen. “How dare you punch him. He’s just Carson.
Harmless. Friendly.” She pushes hard against my chest, and I take a few
steps back, more than surprised by her reaction. “Just him.”
“I was helping you. Saving you.”
“Saving me?” she screeches.
Her lips.
“Yes.”
Are right there.
“You lost the right to save me, to have anything to do with me, after the
night you humiliated me. The night you let me be humil—”
“The night I what?”
“Nothing.” She grits the word out. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
I throw my hands out to my sides as she stands before me, a foot shorter
and a ball of ire. The people on the patio are unabashedly paying attention
to our fight, but I don’t give a fuck. I’ve thought about this woman all
goddamn week, and I’m not walking away this time.
But humiliated her? What in the hell is she talking about?
There is a look in her eyes—a look years ago I would have been able to
decipher but that I can’t right now. We’re strangers. Strangers. The thought
is fucking killing me when all I want to do is . . .
“Why did you come here tonight, Ledger?” she mutters.
I have a million smart-ass comebacks on my tongue. Every single one
will fuel that temper of hers, but for some reason, as I stare at her standing
with the moonlight in her hair, I’m reminded of another time, another place,
when she looked similar.
My lavender girl.
And I opt for honesty.
“Because when it comes to you, Asher, I can’t seem to stay away. I want
you. Christ, I want you so fucking bad, and seeing that jerk kissing you just
about did me—”
Suddenly her fists are in my shirt and her mouth is slanted over mine.
Thank. Fuck.
My hands are on her face, my lips are against hers, my tongue seeks
hers, without any thought other than finally.
Her anger is bitter.
Her desire is sweet.
 Both riot against my tongue as my head swims with the taste of Asher
Wells.
She kisses me with a hunger and fire that match mine. There’s urgency
and hesitancy. Desperation and confusion.
There’s just her.
Only. Her.
Fucking hell.
She pushes me away with as much determination as I want to keep
kissing her. Her chest heaving. Her cheeks flushed. Her eyes wide. “How
dare you?” she grits out from lips swollen from mine.
“Dare me?” What the hell? She initiated the kiss. “What are you talking
about?” I need more. “I didn’t do a goddamn thing wrong.” My chuckle
holds no amusement, just utter disbelief.
And the second the words are said, the moment my laugh falls flat,
Asher grips my shirt tighter and yanks me down so that her mouth is on
mine again.
There are no thoughts but her.
No questions except for how quickly can we be alone?
And time is of the fucking essence.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ledger

I can’t say that I saw much of the inside of Connor’s as we pushed our way
toward the first open door and empty space we came to, but I’ll thank who
the fuck ever Connor is for having clean bathrooms and plenty of sturdy
counter spaces.
Because the place doesn’t matter right now.
Only the moment does.
We’re on each other the minute the door slams at our backs, and I reach
with one hand to lock it.
Our lips and our hands are in a battle to prove which one of us can
claim more.
I’ve never felt like this before. The need. The want. The goddamn all-
consuming desire. It owns me. It fuels me. It drowns me in everything that
is Asher Wells.
The faint trace of salt on her neck as I lick my tongue up its line. The
sound of her mewls as I grab her ass and grind against her. The taste of her
kiss—it’s wine and hunger and . . . everything I craved but never knew I
needed.
I pull her tank top up and one cup of her bra down, eager to feel her
skin. Impatient to suck on the pink of her nipple and make her moan.
And fuck does she taste good when I dip my head and do just that.
“Ledger,” she begs between kisses.
My cock aches in that painfully pleasureful way where the anticipation
owns my every action and reaction.
Her.
I just need her.
To be in her.
To have her.
To fucking claim her.
 And when I shove my pants down my hips and she wraps her hands
around my cock, my eyes roll back in my head and a groan falls from my
lips.
Jesus.
If her hand on my cock renders me momentarily incapacitated, what is
the feel of her pussy wrapped around me going to do?
“Asher.” A nip on her lips. Another step backward to the counter. “God,
yes.” She strokes her hand up and over the crest of my dick, smearing the
drop on the tip.
I’ve never wanted somebody so goddamn bad in my life and, as much
as my mind tells me to slow down—to revel in the softness of her body, the
curve of her hips, the high everything about her gives me—my libido says
fuck that.
It focuses on the heat of her pussy as I slide my fingers under her skirt
and between her thighs. Christ, she’s soaking.
It fixates on her heavy-lidded eyes locked on mine as she takes a step
back with her skirt hiked up around her hips and one breast still exposed
and shoves those panties down and off one ankle.
It obsesses over the scent of her—her flowery perfume mixed with her
undeniable arousal—and I know from here on out, every time I smell roses,
I’ll also smell her.
It concentrates on the way she scoots her ass back on the ledge of the
counter, braces her hands behind her, spreads her thighs, and gives me the
most beautiful goddamn sight I’ve ever seen. Asher Wells, open, wet, and
waiting for me.
I slip the condom on without breaking stride, my gaze never leaving her
—from her eyes firing with desire, to her lips bruised from my kisses, to the
glistening pink of her pussy.
She’s fucking perfection.
And when she reaches out to grab my cock and guide it into her, I know
I’m a lost goddamn cause.
Because one push in, the first sensation of her squeezing around me,
and I won’t be able to stop until I’m panting and emptied.
“Now. Right now.” She writhes her hips against me so that my tip just
enters her. “Please.”
Done.
 With one hand on my cock and the other on the back of her neck, I hold
her in place as I push my way into every glorious inch of her.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
“Ash.” It’s all I can manage before I brand my lips to hers in a piss-poor
attempt to distract me momentarily.
It doesn’t work.
The taste of her.
The feel of her.
Simply put, her.
I begin to move.
Slowly at first.
The sweet push in. God, yes. The pleasurable pull out. Don’t ever stop.
A thrust back in. Harder. A grind against her. Ledger.
Her mouth meets mine again. The frenzy of our kiss before has nothing
on the violent desire this time. Her teeth nip and her nails scrape.
And I’m lost.
To the moment.
To her.
I dig my fingers into her hips to hold her still while I lose all control.
The pace I set is punishing and yet her murmurs, her moans, her
tightening of her muscles around me, egg me on in a way I’ve never known.
My mind goes blank. My balls draw tight. My cock swells and hardens.
And for a few seconds, I’m in that tumbling freefall of pleasure that
hurts so good it edges on painful as I thrust into her over and over and
empty every last ounce of myself into her.
I’m exhausted. I’m exhilarated. I already want to do it all over again.
She’s like that first hit of cocaine. One taste, and you’re addicted.
That’s the only thing I can compare it to. Her to.
My forehead is on her shoulder. Her legs are wrapped around my waist.
Our hearts beat a violent staccato against one another’s.
The rasp of our labored breathing fills the space, only second to the
sounds of the bar filtering in through the locked door.
Fucking Christ. I try and shake the fog of climax—the haze of Asher—
from my head, but I have a feeling she’s always been there somehow, in
some way.
This wasn’t exactly how I wanted this to happen, a quick fuck in a bar
bathroom. But I saw that asshole with his hands on her and then her anger
toward me and . . . and then she kissed me.
I lean back, brace my hands on the counter on either side of her thighs,
and look up to find her staring at me, expression hidden by the dimness of
the room. It’s as if the sexual tension has been temporarily sated, and now
we’re left in that awkward space where the past may be the past, but it sure
as hell can’t continue to be ignored.
“Asher . . .” I don’t even know where to start. How to start.
Her smile is soft, but her body language reads differently. Almost as if
she’s uncertain. Almost as if she regrets what just happened.
How do I move us forward?
“I promise I’ll be better at it next time.”
The flash of recognition in her eyes tells me she remembers. That line.
That night. Standing by my truck under the moonlight.
Her lips curl up in a bittersweet smile. There is a depth to the emotion in
her eyes and, sure as hell, as I stare at her, I can see her guard go back up
and lock into place.
It’s in the quick avoidance of her eyes and the lowering of her legs so
she can hop off the counter and put some physical distance between us. I
study her as she moves about the small space, confused.
She kissed me first.
She initiated the events that led to this.
“You take all the girls to bathrooms on the first date?” She tries to the
sell the joke with a forced laugh as she shoves her panties in her purse and
smooths down her skirt with her hands.
“I apologize. This”—I point to the space around us—“isn’t exactly how
I imagined this happening.”
“Don’t apologize. We got it out of the way, right? Now we can move
on.” Asher pulls her purse strap over her shoulder and heads toward the
door.
The high I’m on crashes.
“What? Asher. Wait.” I have my hand on her arm and spin her so she’s
forced to look at me. “What are you doing?”
“Leaving without saying goodbye.” She lifts a brow and tries to shrug
out of my grasp. “Isn’t that what we do best when it comes to each other?”
I do a double take, her words cutting deep.
“We need to talk about what happened. That night.”
“I told you I don’t want to.”
 “And I don’t give a flying fuck,” I shout at her, done with the cat and
mouse game between us. “We need to talk.”
“Why?” she asks, her voice low and even, her emotions so much more
controlled than mine. “Do you really want to hear about it? Do you really
want to know I cried for weeks and weeks after you left without saying a
word? Do you want to know what it was like giving a person what I gave
you and then to be treated like I never existed?”
“Asher.” Her name is a plea. An apology. An . . . I don’t know, but
every ounce of hurt woven in the thread of her voice is because of me. It’s
my fault.
I’d fight for her too.
But I didn’t. Isn’t that the crux of this whole thing? I was scared and
worried about myself. I was fearful of my father and the consequences of
Pop’s threats. Sure, I worried about her and the pain I felt over losing her—
our friendship, our plans—but my hands were tied.
But she had to have known that.
Had to have understood why I didn’t respond to her direct messages on
social media.
“What? Is that too hard to hear for you? To know how much leaving me
devastated seventeen-year-old me?” Her shoulders shudder as she draws in
a breath. “How about how your father crushed my self-esteem, shredded it
to pieces along with everything I wanted to be in order to keep me away
from you? Or what about how I was deemed the town’s slutty gold digger
who was trying to get pregnant by you simply for a payday?” I stand before
her staggered. Dumbfounded. And she must read my expression as
something else because she gives a quick shake of her head as if she’s done
with me. “You know what? Never mind. It’s not fucking worth it.” She tries
to jerk her arm from my grip, but I only squeeze it tighter.
The night you let me be humiliated.
“My father?” I ask. I fear the answer will rock my world for the second
time in a matter of seconds but in a completely different way than Asher
just did.
“He came to the farm that night out of the blue. Confronted Pop. They
argued. I heard, and when I went out there to see what was going on, he told
me . . .”
“He told you what?” I demand, wanting to pull the words out of her. But
I don’t because I fear what she’s going to say.
 “He said you got what you wanted from me and were already out with
the next girl.” Her voice is barely a whisper as fury simmers inside of me in
a way I’ve never felt before.
“What else? What else did he say?” I yell, hating her flinch when my
voice raises.
“He must have seen our texts. He knew everything that had happened
that night. About us. Knew what we had planned after . . .”
Our blanket under the stars. How terrified I was, fearing I’d hurt her
with it being her first time. The tears swimming in her eyes afterward as she
told me she loved me. How we swore we’d find a way to be together soon.
That moment with her is crystal clear, but everything that happened
later that night, which has been a blur for so long, slowly comes into focus.
“Wait a minute.” My head spins, and I walk away from her as I try to
rationalize the exact opposite of everything I’ve been told. Of the things I
thought to be true. Of the truths I’ve believed for years. My stomach turns
and my heart races. “He told you I cheated on you and you believed it?”
“I was seventeen and my world had just crashed down around me. I
didn’t know what to believe,” she screeches, voice escalating and hands
clenching. “What was I to do when an imposing figure like your father
shows up and tells my Pop I better stay away from you. That I wasn’t good
enough for you, nor would I ever be. That he wouldn’t stand for a girl like
me to ruin the bright future he had planned for his perfectly pedigreed son.
And then when I stood up to him, when I told him he was crazy, he dropped
the second bomb. That you got what you wanted from me and had already
moved on with someone else. That’s where you were at that moment.”
“That’s not true, Ash. You have to believe—”
“It doesn’t matter now. It might have back then . . . but it still wouldn’t
have lessened the sting of me being a motherless, penniless girl who better
stay away from you, or else.” A single tear slides down her cheek and
effectively cuts through me too.
Pedigree.
That’s what she was referring to that night at Hank’s.
That’s what has haunted her and what she’s harbored for years—and for
good reason.
I hate myself for the tears that spring in her eyes. For the hurt that fills
them. For things I don’t even think I can begin to understand yet.
There’s nothing I can do.
 There’s nothing I can say.
The man I loved and respected more than anything in the world lied to
me. Lied to her.
I stare at Asher and see pieces of the girl I used to love. I also see the
hurt my father caused reflected in the eyes of the woman she is now.
Needing to touch her, to soothe her, simply for my own selfish reasons,
I step into her, frame her face, and use my thumb to brush the tear away.
Her eyelashes flutter at my touch, her breath hitches in response.
“They were lies, Asher. All lies.” My chest hurts and emotion burns in
my throat as I pull her against me and wrap my arms around her. “I don’t
even know what to say.”
A Sharpe man’s words hurt her before. Humiliated her. I only hope
she’ll let another’s words comfort her now.
She doesn’t move at first. She stands frozen as if she’s afraid to touch,
afraid to believe me.
Asher was always like that. Physical connection was easy for her. It was
the emotional side of her that she held on to. The side she locked away from
the world, too afraid to be hurt again, given her mother’s abandonment.
Even I understood that at age eighteen, and I understand it even more
now.
At the same time, I hurt for her. I hurt for me. Have I believed a lie from
the same man who manipulated her?
I don’t want to believe it to be true.
I don’t want to think my father purposely hurt me like that.
Sometimes people do crazy things to protect the ones they love, son.
Weren’t those his words that night? His explanation for what Pop
threatened? Or was it his sick justification for what he was doing?
Nothing makes sense right now.
Fucking nothing.
And just as I acknowledge that thought, Asher finally wraps her arms
around me and simply holds on. She fits there perfectly, just like she used
to. Just like I remember.
I breathe in everything about her. The warmth of her breath against my
chest. The subtle shudder of her shoulders. The coconut scent of her
shampoo.
We’re standing here together, yet I feel a world apart from her.
Helpless.
 That’s how I feel in regards to the lies my father told Asher.
Furious and confused.
How I feel concerning the ones I’m pretty certain he told me too.
Because after what Asher just said, I know there’s no way Pop threatened to
press charges.
None.
She would have mentioned it. She would have said that Pop pushed
back with that accusation.
The part of me that needs an answer on this, pushes it down. She needs
to feel validated, not overshadowed. She needs to be heard, not drowned
out.
Christ.
What kind of man am I that I just went along with it? That I never
questioned what my dad told me? That I walked away from Asher out of
fear because of the blind trust I had in my father?
The party goes on beyond the door. People shouting and laughing.
But I feel lost.
Like my footing, the foundation that I’ve built everything on—my
father and our relationship—just shifted. And I haven’t even begun to
process what her peers said about her after we rushed out of Cedar Falls.
Asher’s spine slowly stiffens, her muscles tense, and she pushes back
from me. Her jaw is set, her eyes guarded. “They may have been lies,
Ledger, but you never got in touch with me. No texts. No emails. No letters.
You knew exactly where I was, where I lived, and not once did you ever
reach out. You can blame your father for the first part, but the second part is
on you . . . and that’s almost worse.”
“There’s more to it. There’s my side. There’s—”
Bang.
We both jump as a fist pounds on the door. “Come on, man. I’ve got to
take a piss.”
“Asher. Let’s get out of here. I need to explain why. Somewhere that’s
. . . not a bathroom.”
She shakes her head and wipes more tears from her cheeks with the
back of her hand, hurt and sorrow etched in the lines of her face.
Another pound. “Open the fucking door.”
I take a step toward her and she holds her hand up to stop me. “Don’t.
Please.” Her voice breaks, and I swear the sound echoes through me.
 She’s shutting down.
She’s putting walls up.
“It was a long time ago. It doesn’t have to define this, us, seeing each
other again. Right now—”
“It defined me though.” She takes another step back and puts her hands
up for me to stop. “Just . . . I need time, Ledger.”
“Time for what?”
“Seeing you again. Like this . . . I need to figure out how I feel about it
all.”
I nod. “So, is this about the past? About the present? About the future?
I’m confused.”
“Jesus, dude,” the voice on the other side of the door says. “I want
whatever you took if you’re lasting this long.”
“Give me a goddamn second, will you?” I turn back to Asher. There’s a
sadness in her eyes that nearly undoes me.
“This is about me sticking to a promise I made myself, Ledger. To never
put myself in a situation to be hurt again. I’ve had a shitty couple of
months. They’ve almost broken me. I need to figure out how this—you
being here, this happening tonight—all fits in. How you fit into it. I won’t
let you be the straw that breaks me again.”
“Let me help you then. Let me be there for you. Let me . . . I don’t
fucking know, but let me do something.” Exasperated and feeling desperate
to what I feel is slowly slipping through my fingers, I run a hand through
my hair and pace the small space, as uncertain about what to do as I am
about how I feel.
What is it that you do want here, Ledger? More sex? To resolve the
past? To get to know her again? Because you sure as shit don’t know a
thing about relationships.
But this isn’t a relationship. It was sex in a bathroom. It’s old feelings
and a walk down memory lane. It’s a connection between us that feels like
it was never broken despite the lies told.
But when I meet her gaze, I know the answer is all of the above and
something more that I can’t express.
Maybe I want to wipe the sorrow from her eyes.
Maybe I want to hear her laugh more.
Maybe I want to know the woman she’s become better.
That much I know is true.
 “I don’t need your help, Ledger. I can manage on my own. I have
managed on my own.”
“So that’s it, then? Some bathroom counter sex and a thanks for the
good time? There’s more to this than that. I know you see it. I know you feel
it.”
She nods, her voice a whisper when she speaks. “You’re right. I do. But
you’re here for now. You’ll be gone in two months. And I know for a fact
that you’re not an easy man to get over.”
This time when she takes a step back to open the door and walk away, I
let her go.
She’s heard enough lies from a Sharpe man. The last thing she needs to
hear is another one telling her she’s wrong.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Ledger
Fifteen Years Ago

A quiet Maxton Sharpe is never a good thing.

Never.
Anyone who works closely with him or lives with him knows this to be
fact.
So when I walk into the office in the estate we rented for the summer,
perched above the town of Cedar Falls, and see him sitting behind his desk
with his hands steepled in front of him, I know I’m fucked.
I run the day through my head. The joyride to Billings with my
brothers. Raising hell at the Farmers Market with some of the locals we’ve
made friends with. Hanging down by the creek with Asher.
Having sex with Asher.
Asher.
Does he know I was going to sneak out later and meet up with her? But
how?
Earlier.
I got out of the shower and he handed me my phone. Said I’d left it
downstairs on the kitchen counter. I didn’t remember doing that but didn’t
have a reason to question it or him.
Is that how he knows? Did he read our texts? Did he fucking snoop on
us?
Oh, Jesus. I know what this is about.
He’s going to have the sex talk with me, isn’t he?
Whew. Just a little overdue birds and the bees, man-to-man chat that
he’s clearly uncomfortable with.
A little fucking late if you ask me, but it’s better than whatever else I
thought was going to be handed to me tonight.
Sex.
 Asher.
Jesus.
Just the thought of her gets me hard. Her soft sighs. How tight she was.
How incredible it felt.
And right or wrong, I’m having these thoughts standing in front of my
father.
“Son.” He motions to the chair for me to take a seat. I’d rather have this
uncomfortable discussion standing, but no one disagrees with Maxton. No
one but Callahan, but that’s a different story.
“It’s late. I thought you were going out with Bunny—”
“Barbara,” my dad corrects regarding a “friend” he has made during our
stay here. Everyone wants to be your “friend” when you’re a multi-
millionaire. Most will take whatever scraps you throw their way in the
hopes of elevating their status as a result. “And my plans have changed.”
“Okay . . .”
“We need to have a little talk.”
“I assumed,” I say sarcastically, but the sharp look he gives me tells me
my snark probably isn’t a good idea.
“That girl you’ve been seeing—”
“Asher.”
He nods. “It’s over between you two.”
“What?” I laugh. Not the “you’re a grown man now and you can make
your own decisions, but you need to make sure to use protection” spiel like
I expected. “Good one.”
“I said it’s over. You’re not to see her again.”
What in the hell is he talking about?
I look over my shoulder as if this is a joke and Ford and Callahan are
hiding somewhere, ready to laugh. They’re not. “Dad . . . what are you
talking about?”
“I don’t like repeating myself. You heard me.”
“I love her,” I blurt out. Clearly, by his reaction, that was the wrong
thing to say.
He rises from his chair and rounds his desk so that he’s standing in front
of me. “You’re thinking with your dick, Ledger. Every good man does at
some point, but this is the wrong time and the wrong person to do it with.”
I shove up out of my chair. “You can’t tell me what to do,” I shout.
 His hands are fisted in my shirt in an instant, his face inches from mine.
His voice is a cool, even tone when he speaks next. “You’ll do as I say. I
will not have you disobey me on this.”
“Fuck that.”
“Fuck that?” he says, releasing my shirt and taking a step back, head
shaking and a soft chuckle I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sound of
rumbling in the silence. “That’s exactly what you did. You fucked that. And
now because you chose to do so with someone . . . not of our status, her
grandfather wants to press charges against you.”
“Charges?” I spit the word. He’s so full of shit. “For what?”
“Statutory rape.”
All the air is sucked out of the room.
“What?” I fumble over the single syllable. Blood drains from my face as
I stand in utter confusion and horror. “What do you mean statutory rape?”
“You’re eighteen, Ledge. She’s not. Pretty cut-and-dried.”
My mind is too overwhelmed to think straight, to process that while he
might have known Asher and I had sex tonight from my texts, how would
Pop know? All I can hear is the word rape. All I can think about is how
everything earlier with Asher that I thought was fucking perfect, is now a
goddamn nightmare. “I don’t . . . I don’t understand.”
“You’re a smart boy. Surely you do.”
“But it wasn’t rape. She wanted it. She—”
“Do you hear yourself? Do you know how horrible that single phrase—
she wanted it—would sound to a judge? To a jury? Would look splashed
across the front page of a newspaper?”
“That’s not what I meant.” I pull my hands down on the back of my
neck and try to think straight, but it’s not exactly easy. Rape? What
happened tonight was not rape. It was far fucking from it, but truth be told,
I’m scared out of my mind right now.
Fucking terrified.
“Dad. I swear. You have to believe me. That’s not what happened.”
“It doesn’t matter if it is or if it isn’t. What matters is that Mr. Wells is
threatening it.”
My shuddered breath is the only sound in the room save for the whoosh
of my pulse in my ears. “I’ll go talk to them. I’ll—”
“What? You’ll make it right? That’s not how the world works, Ledger.
Far fucking from it.”
 “This doesn’t make any sense.” My voice rises in pitch with each and
every word. “Talk to Asher. She’ll tell you we made this decision together.
That I didn’t force her into anything.”
There’s no way she’d go along with this. Not a chance in hell she’d let
this happen if she knew.
“Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter what Asher says or feels or if it was
mutual. All that matters is what her grandfather says. What he wants. What
he threatened. The law is the law, son, and even a Sharpe and our money
can’t get around it. Especially when we’re outsiders like we are here.”
“But Pop knows me. He knows I’d never hurt Ash.”
My dad walks in front of me and meets my eyes. “Sometimes people do
crazy things to protect the ones they love, son.”
I stare at him, my whole body vibrating with disbelief and fear. “Fuck it.
I’m going over there right now.” I head for the door, but my father grabs my
shoulder and yanks me back.
“Don’t be a fucking idiot. That’s the last thing you should do.”
“It’s the only thing I can do,” I shout at him.
“Do you think I’m thrilled with this fucking situation?” he thunders in
an unusual show of temper. One that only serves to reinforce how fucked I
am. How fucked this situation is. “Do you think I want my son’s name
thrown around in the same sentence as the words sex offender? Because
that’s what you’d be. A sex offender. You’d have to register in every
neighborhood you move to for the rest of your life. You have a kid someday
who goes to school? Guess what? You won’t be allowed near the school to
pick him up because, you guessed it, you’re a registered sex offender. This
isn’t a fucking joke.”
I shake my head back and forth to reject his words, but I can’t speak. I
can’t do anything other than hear what he’s saying and be scared shitless. “I
don’t understand,” I finally manage.
“Exactly. You don’t understand. Not at all, because clearly you were
thinking with your dick.”
“Dad . . .”
“We’re not nobodies, Ledger.” He throws his hands up, his strides
eating up the room as he paces. “We’re a family with a flashy name and a
pristine reputation, and I guarantee this would be picked up by the media in
a heartbeat. Rich prep school kid. Penniless, vulnerable small-town girl.
Throw the word ‘rape’ in there and the Internet will light itself on fire.
Scandal sells papers, and you bet your ass this would be a scandal.”
I sink into a chair, my face in my hands and my chest constricting more
and more with each breath.
Asher. What does she think about this? What is she saying right now?
Oh. My. God.
“This can’t be happening.”
“Oh, it’s happening all right. This is what happens when you mix with
people who aren’t like us. Who don’t live our life or understand—”
“I have to talk to her. I have to—”
“Like hell you will.” He picks up a paperweight off the desk, and I
swear for a second, I think he’s going to throw it. But he just stands there,
gripping it in his hand. “Do you have any clue where I’ve been for the last
hour? I’ve been at their farm. Negotiating. Begging. Trying to prevent that
grandfather of hers from pressing charges against you. Trying to fix what
you fucked up.”
I’m too overwhelmed to ask the questions I should ask. Why was he at
the farm in the first place? Why was he even talking to Pop?
Nothing makes sense other than the fear and confusion rioting inside of
me.
Pop knows me. Asher and I have been friends . . . more than friends, for
three years. He knows I’d never do anything to hurt or disrespect her. I love
her. He has to know that.
And Asher. There’s no way Ash said that I rap—
“We are leaving Cedar Falls tonight.”
“No—I—”
“You don’t get to have a say in this. Is that understood?” His voice is
calmer now, but it’s cold as ice as I stare at him like a deer caught in the
headlights. “We are leaving Cedar Falls tonight. You must never contact her
again—in any way, shape, or form. Not a goodbye. Not an explanation. Not
a fucking peep to her or anyone else about this—including your brothers.”
My eyes flash up to his. The man who always preaches my brothers need to
be my everything is now telling me to hide this from them? To lie to them?
“If we do all of those things, Mr. Wells has agreed not to press charges.”
I choke over a sob I don’t want to let out. My hands tremble, but I nod
in agreement. What else can I do?
 “If at any point you break this agreement—your silence—in any way,
he will move forward and contact the police.” He takes a long pull on the
glass of Scotch in his hand before looking back at me. “And I mean ever.
There is a ten-year statute of limitations so remember that. Pretend she
never existed. Pretend this summer never happened.”
My entire body trembles. All I can think about are the what-ifs. The
how did this happen. The I can’t go to jail.
Tears spring in my eyes as my whole body rejects everything he’s
telling me.
This can’t be happening.
This. Can’t. Be. Happening.
“Ledger. Son.” His voice gentles as he puts a hand on my shoulder and
squeezes. I’m not sure if it’s the sudden affection when I’m so goddamn
scared, or just all the emotion in the moment, but the first tear slides down
my cheek.
Sharpe men don’t cry.
“Dad. I’m sorry.” The tear turns into a sob. I’m terrified. I’m
overwhelmed. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t . . .”
He squeezes my shoulder again, his face somber, his eyes laden with a
disappointment I’ve never seen or felt before from him. “I fixed this,
Ledger. I fixed this and, so long as you do everything I just told you to do,
it’s over.”
But it’s not.
Asher.
I love her.
He picks up my cell phone I threw on the couch when I walked in and
starts messing with something. I’m so distracted in my own thoughts, in my
own disbelief, that I don’t think anything of it until he hands it back to me.
“There. She’s been erased. Her texts. Her phone number has been blocked.
Her emails erased.”
“Dad?” I ask it like a question because there are so many things I want
to ask—do you still love me? Is this really going to go away? But I didn’t
do anything wrong.
He puts a hand up to stop me from saying anything else before moving
toward the door.
“Get yourself together before you walk out of this room. You’re a man.
A Sharpe. Stop crying and act like one. Get packed. The jet is fueled and
ready on the tarmac. A car will be here for us in thirty minutes. I’ve had an
emergency call regarding some business dealings and have to get back to
the city.” He looks at me and nods to make sure I understand the story. The
lie. The cover. “The matter is closed. The girl is dead to you and never to be
brought up again.”
When he walks out, I just stare after him in a daze.
How is this happening?
How will I ever make it right?

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Asher

I know Ledger’s here.

In fact, he’s been wandering through the lavender fields, the moonlight
as his guide, with a bottle of whatever in his hand as his solace.
If it weren’t for the headlights of his SUV cutting through the
farmhouse windows over an hour ago, I never would have known he was
out there.
But I stay where I am in the house, watching his shadow move through
the night as I try to process the last few hours.
Try to forget the way his kiss tasted and how incredible his body made
mine feel.
Try to figure out why I freaked out and walked away afterward.
Was Nita right about the hate fuck being a good way to get someone out
of your system?
I thought it would be. The intensity and hunger in the act were
welcome. What wasn’t was the onslaught of emotions that came after.
I was overwhelmed by them. I thought the carnality of sex wouldn’t
open old wounds. I was wrong. But what scared me the most about being
with him was how it made me . . . feel, when I haven’t felt in forever. It
made me want when typically I’m fine with shutting down. It made me
acknowledge that Ledger is like my own personal double-edged sword. He
has the ability to devastate me and put me back together without even
knowing it.
Asking for space was my knee-jerk reaction to the fear. It was my way
of questioning if I could do this. If I could invite him back into my life at a
time when my emotions have been stripped bare.
Vulnerability is something I hate to feel, hate to be, and yet, that’s all
I’ve been left with lately with Gran’s move and Pop’s passing. I’ve been
holding on by a thread, trying to find my place in this new life, with these
new responsibilities.
So why would I willingly open myself up to more hurt? Why would I
put myself in a position to become attached to someone who’s going to be
gone in a few months?
Time. Space. Solitude. I thought those were things I wanted, what I
needed, to make sense of all of this, but now that he’s outside wandering
about, I realize how incredibly lonely I am.
This house, one that used to be filled with love, laughter, and warmth, is
so silent . . . and empty. Every day without Pop gets harder. I yearn for the
day when the pain will go away. I look forward to a time when the
overwhelming feeling that I’ve yet to get a handle on The Fields dissipates.
I pray for the day that the numbness will be gone.
Let me help you then. Let me be there for you. Let me . . . I don’t fucking
know, but let me do something.
I’m too stubborn, too proud to take him up on that offer, but maybe it’s
time to look at this situation from a different perspective.
I only have Ledger for two months. Maybe that’s exactly what I need.
An end date before we have a beginning one. Parameters and controls that I
can’t control but that I know going into this.
The question is, can I enjoy the time with him and shut off my emotions
at the same time? Separate the two? Is it possible to revel in the pleasure
instead of remembering or bracing for the pain?
I’m pretty sure that’s my only option.
Just as I’m topping off my glass of wine, the steps leading up to the
veranda creak.
I’m at the door and opening it before he gets a chance to knock. We take
each other in, the screen door the only thing between us.
He looks tired. Emotionally exhausted. And the bottle I thought he was
drowning his sorrows in is almost completely full.
He holds said bottle up. “I thought I needed liquid courage to face you,
but I realized I needed a clear head more. I hate not being in control. The
feeling of it. The chaos of it. The inability to fix and guide as needed. And
that’s how I feel right now.” He looks down and nods for a beat before
looking back at me. “It would be so much easier to process my father’s lies
if I had drunk myself into oblivion, but the things I need to say to you are
far too important for me to fuck up.”
 “Ledger.” I smile softly, hating the conflicting emotions owning his
face. “I was wrong about what I said tonight. Earlier. I shouldn’t have
dredged it all up—I was caught up in the emotion of the moment.” I
realized things I had missed out on. You. “I don’t blame you. I just . . . I just
think we should leave the events of that night be and focus our efforts on
getting to know one another again, much like you suggested at Hank’s.”
He angles his head and holds my gaze. Can he see I’m trying to meet
him in the middle? That I’m still confused, but like him, understand there is
some invisible string binding us together still? That I’m willing to risk the
pain of losing him again just so I can be with him now?
“Okay.” He nods, but his voice doesn’t sound very convincing. “But to
do that, I need you to hear what happened that night on my end. I need you
to understand how I was manipulated.”
I know what his father did to me. I sure hope he was gentler on his flesh
and blood. “Please. Come in.”
He nods, follows me into the house, and before he even takes a seat, he
starts talking. “I was wasting time before it was time to meet up with you.
Made my presence known so that when he left for his date, he would think
everything was normal. Later, I was summoned to his office, certain he’d
found out about what we’d done. That we’d had sex. I was waiting for a
gruff request to use protection and be sent on my way.” He looks down at
his hands folded in his lap before meeting my eyes with a clarity that
disarms me. “Instead, I was told Pop was threatening to press charges
against me for statutory rape.”
My gasp is audible. “What?”
He looks like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders as he
nods solemnly. “My father told me that Pop would press charges unless I
left town and never saw or spoke to you again. If I broke any of the
conditions he laid out, he’d act.”
“That never happened. Pop never said an ill word about you. I . . . oh
my God.” My thoughts spiral as I picture an eighteen-year-old Ledger and
the fear those words must have evoked. The panic. The shock. My voice is
soft when I speak, when I realize the betrayal he must be feeling right now.
“He lied to you.”
“Apparently he was so good at it that he lied to both of us.” He chuckles
but all I hear is the heartache woven in its chords.
 “So you lived in fear,” I finally say after I take a minute to let
everything sink in.
He nods, and his voice is hushed. “Every time you’d message me or text
me . . . it fucking killed me to not respond. I knew the heartache you were
going through because I was experiencing it too, but the fear outweighed
everything. For the first couple of years, each time my phone would ring
with a weird area code or I’d hear an unexpected knock on the door—I
worried that Pop had gotten angry and filed charges anyway.”
“I’m so sorry, Ledger.”
“You see these trust-fund kids all over the news when they screw up.
Kids like I was with privilege and wealth. They’re either made an example
of or are an exception to the rule and then vilified on social media. I was too
terrified to take that risk. It was a constant battle between self-preservation
and the hurt I caused you in simply falling off the face of the earth.”
“I would have done the same thing if I were in your shoes. Reacted the
same way.” I move to sit beside him. To lace my fingers through his and
squeeze them in reassurance. “We did nothing wrong that night, Ledger.
You did nothing wrong.”
“I know that now . . . but back then the world was smaller and my
freedom no longer felt like it was a given.” He shrugs.
“We were young and were supposed to trust the adults.”

“That’s just it though. I did trust the adult. I trusted the one person that
I’ve lived my whole life looking up to and idolizing, my father. And after
what you told me at Connor’s, after realizing everything he said to me was
a lie too . . . I’m struggling with who I am as a man. With how I never
questioned him. With how I followed so blindly.”
“Anyone would have in that situation. Look at me. I basically did the
same thing.”
He hangs his head and nods, but I can tell my pacification doesn’t make
him feel any better. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and
twists his hands together. There’s more on his mind. I can sense it in the soft
sigh he emits and the tension straining his shoulders.
“I owe you an apology,” he says so quietly, I can barely hear him. “I’ve
avoided the subject of Pop in general with you because of . . . all this, and
how it made me feel. I was wrong to do that. He was your world. Your rock.
I know what it feels like to lose that one person in your life who is that to
you.” He looks over at me and offers a slight smile. “I, at least, had brothers
to help with the grief. You don’t have that. I should have asked how you
were doing with it earlier. I should have been a bigger man and offered
condolences. I wasn’t.”
“Thank you.” I press a kiss to his shoulder and squeeze my eyes shut to
fight the tears that threaten. I had no idea how badly I needed to hear that.
To have someone else who understands. To know someone has walked in
similar shoes and can commiserate. To feel someone’s compassion.
As heavy as the moment is, somehow Ledger’s comments make me feel
lighter.
“I’m not going to lie to you, Ash. I’ve spent the better part of the last
few hours nostalgic and wondering what could have been. We were kids.
We could have fizzled out when we went to college. We could have made it
work and made memories together. I don’t know, and it pisses me off that
he stole those opportunities from us. What I do know is that I’m a different
person than I was then. Just as you are. But it should have been our choice.
Our decision. Not someone else’s.”
“I know,” I murmur and rest my hand on his arm. This is the man I
thought he’d become. Not the flashy elitist he was when he first entered
town. But this man sitting beside me with a heart of gold. “You were the
first boy, the first person, really, who looked at me without the shadow of
my mother’s reputation staining me. You showed me that it didn’t matter
who she was, it only mattered who I was. I think that’s why it hurt so bad.
You knew me for me. He judged me for her.”
“This is where I ask that you do the same for me. I’m not my father,
Asher.” His voice breaks on the word father, and I can only imagine how
deceived he feels right now.
“I know you’re not.” I press a kiss to his shoulder and murmur, “I’m
sorry about what your dad did. If I weren’t involved in the situation, maybe
I could justify his actions by saying that someday when either of us has
kids, maybe we’ll understand why he did what he did. But I’d be lying if I
told you I didn’t hate him for taking those what-ifs from us.”
“I know.”
We sit in the comfortable silence, in a house that feels a little less lonely
right now, both coming to terms with these new truths, each in our own
way.
 “Well, hell. That was a lot more than either of us bargained for on a
Friday night, don’t you think?” I say, desperate to lighten the mood and the
profound sense of loss that this heart-to-heart has left me with.
I don’t know for sure, but from what I see, all of the wealth and power
hasn’t changed the Ledger Sharpe I once knew.
“You can say that again.” Ledger presses a kiss to the top of my head
that kind of melts me a little. “But at least it’s all on the table.”
“It is,” I murmur and, when I turn to face him, a startled breath falls
from my lips at the proximity of his. “Would you like some wine? Some of
whatever you have there in your bottle? I can go get some glasses.”
I scoot off the couch in a flurry of motion. The urge to kiss him is real,
but so is my sudden bout of nerves, which is absolutely ridiculous
considering hours ago we screwed in a bar bathroom.
“Yes. Sure.” His footsteps sound behind me and then stop, the weight of
his stare heavy. “A glass would be great.”
I open and close my cupboards like a madwoman who doesn’t know
where her own glasses are in her kitchen.
I open the wrong drawer for a corkscrew. Slam it shut only to have the
wooden spoon flip up and prevent it from closing.
This is ridiculous.
I shouldn’t be nervous.
I shouldn’t look like a fumbling idiot.
I shouldn’t—
“Asher. Stop,” Ledger says as he takes my hands in his. My heart is
racing, my pulse pounding in my ears. He stoops down so that we’re at the
same eye level. “I don’t know the answer to what this is here. I don’t know
what happens in two months or even tomorrow, but I know seeing you
again brought me right back to those summer nights I spent with you. Right
back to wanting to see you again the minute I walk away from you.”
“It’s scary, isn’t it?” I whisper.
His lips meet mine. Where earlier it was fire and heat, this time our first
kiss starts with a slow build. Soft kisses. Quiet sighs. Murmured words.
His hand on my chin. My fingers threaded through the hair at the nape
of his neck. The length of his body pressed against mine. His thigh
positioned between the V of my legs.
Kissing him is a mixture of familiarity and newness, comfort and
excitement, and longing and satisfaction.
 Chills chase the featherlight touch of his fingertips down my arms. His
stubble is coarse beneath my palm.
“Ledger.” His name is a breathless whisper he kisses over.
“Hmm?”
A soft tug on my bottom lip from him.
“What are we doing?”
“Kissing.” His tongue delves between my lips.
“But what are we—” I shudder as his hands find their way beneath my
tank top and slide up the bare skin of my back.
Our mouths part and he stares at me with a cocky grin, desire darkening
his eyes. “I’m proving to you I’ll be better at it next time.”
I laugh. It feels so good to hear it. “In that case,” I say before stepping
in and tasting him again.
Our pace this go-round is slow. Leisurely. It’s a masterclass in taking
one’s time. In enjoying each second for what it’s worth rather than rushing
to the next one.
He laces open-mouthed kisses down the line of my neck, only lifting
from my skin when he pulls my tank top over my head.
His shirt ends up on the floor by the kitchen table. My skirt is shimmied
out of somewhere near the foyer. His shoes get kicked off in the hallway, a
few feet apart. Our strip show continues until we’re standing in my
darkened bedroom with only a stream of moonlight coming in through the
window.
I take a step back, wanting to see him, needing to take in the whole of
him, and knowing he needs the same thing from me.
To know this is real.
To grasp how far we’ve come in a few short hours.
We pull off our last layers of clothing with our eyes locked on each
other’s. It’s an oddly intimate feeling to be stripped down physically and
feel exposed emotionally too.
But hasn’t that been par for the course tonight?
I am the first to break our stare. My eyes roam over every sculpted edge
of his physique. Shoulders and biceps and abs right down to that sexy V of
his hips. And then there’s his hard and engorged dick set atop a pair of
muscular thighs. Good thing I already know how it feels or I’d be afraid it
looks too good to be true.
 When I crawl my gaze back up him again, I’m met with an arrogant
smirk asking me if I like what I see.
Oh, I definitely do.
“You’re stunning,” he murmurs after he makes his own languorous
appraisal of me. And then he steps into me, his palms running down my
flank and then cupping my ass as our lips meet once again. “Simply fucking
stunning.”
I ache. From the command in his touch. From the soft scrape of his
stubble. From the heat of his body as he lays me on my bed. From the way
he whispers my name in the dark.
Need builds. It’s just as poignant and ravenous as earlier but now is
more reverent in nature.
His fingers find their way between my thighs. His groan as he tucks two
fingers into me is a seduction in and of itself and only serves to make me
wetter.
His fingers start to move. Slow at first. In tandem with his other
movements. His lips close over the peak of my breast as his fingers push in
and pull out. It’s a luxurious pace, much like our kissing, that elevates me to
a heightened state of arousal where my orgasm is floating on the fringes,
almost within reach, but not quite close enough.
“Spread your legs for me, Ash,” he whispers in my ear before tugging
on my earlobe. “Let me admire what I fucked into oblivion earlier. What I
made sore.” The slide of his tongue along the curve of my shoulder. “Let
me kiss it and make it all better.”
His words are unexpected and yet so very expected. He’s a man always
in control. A man used to his orders being obeyed. A man who always has
his eyes on the prize.
And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t turn me on.
So I do as he asks when he leans upon his haunches between my thighs.
He sucks in a sharp breath when he sees me, his hands running ever so
slowly and softly up and down my inner thighs.
That smoldering ache I had? Now it’s a raging wildfire of need.
His mouth follows the path of his hands, lacing kisses from the curve of
my knee to the top of my pussy. And when he kisses me there, when he
slides his tongue up and down and the warmth of it hits me, my entire body
convulses with desire.
 He breathes in through his nose. “God, I love the fucking smell of you,”
he murmurs before he closes his lips around my clit. I gasp as my hands fly
out to grip his hair. “The taste of you.” He hums against me so that the
vibrations can be felt before leaning back upon his haunches. “The fucking
feel of you.” With his bottom lip between his teeth, he lines his cock up to
my entrance and then thrusts his way into me.
More.
It’s my first thought.
It’s greedy and crass, but it’s true. I had this feeling only hours ago, I’m
having this feeling now, and I know I’ll want him all over again soon
enough.
But when he begins to move, thoughts aren’t possible other than
focusing on how good it feels when the crest of his cock adds its friction
against each and every nerve I have.
“Ledger,” I moan through the mounting pleasure swamping me.
His mouth meets mine again, the motion causing him to go even deeper
inside of me. His tongue and lips own my mouth much like his cock does
my pussy.
“Show me what you do,” he murmurs against my lips. “Teach me how
to pleasure you, Ash. I want to know.” He takes my hand and moves it
between my thighs. “Show me.”
I wait for the awkwardness to hit when he sits back up to watch how I
work my fingers over my clit. I’m slow at first. A little clumsy from being
watched. But his groan spurs me on. The way his tongue licks over his
bottom lip adds to it.
And when he starts moving, when his sizeable cock begins to work in
and out of me, I forget about how he’s watching me and get lost in the
rhythm. I get lost in the feel of it. Of him inside and my fingers outside.
My body soars with sensations. Bit by bit. Inch by inch. Thrust by
thrust.
My breath quickens. My muscles tense. My back arches. My toes curl.
“Ash.” My name is a panted breath.
The coil in my core twists tighter. And right before it snaps, just as I
tighten around his cock about to fall over the edge and into blissful
oblivion, Ledger grabs the back of my neck and forces me to do what he
commands, “Look at me.”
And I do.
 Amber eyes meet mine. They’re clouded with lust and determination
and everything that’s Ledger.
Only Ledger.
The orgasm hits me like a tsunami. Hard, fast, and relentless. It surges
through me, touching every part of me as it goes. It ebbs for a beat before
coming back to wrack my senses again—a little gentler than the wave
before it.
I’m lost in its warmth, in its swell, when Ledger’s fingers tighten on my
hips and his gritted groan fills the room. I have enough of my faculties to
open my eyes and appreciate something I wasn’t afforded earlier at
Connor’s—the glorious sight of Ledger Sharpe coming undone. Of
witnessing what I do to him. Of feeling the power of the moment.
His lips find mine again. Softer, gentler, desire sated for the time being,
before he collapses on top of me.
Ledger’s weight, half on me, half off me, is a welcome feeling. My
hand runs lazily up and down the line of his spine, our hearts pounding
against one another’s.
I don’t know what happens in two months or even tomorrow, but I know
seeing you again brought me right back to those summer nights I spent with
you.
A soft smile plays on my lips because those will be my words to live by.
That will be the mantra I repeat.
“I guess you’re right.”
I can feel his mouth curve into a smile against my shoulder. “About?”
“It was definitely better the next time.”
When he leans back to look at me, his grin is blinding.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Asher

Ledger’s broad shoulders fill the window frame and block the early
morning light coming into the kitchen. The steam from his coffee curls up
above his shoulders.
I study him as he takes in my farm and its fields, the early morning mist
weaving itself through the rows.
How did this happen?
I keep thinking I’m going to shake my head, and last night, this past
week, will all be a dream. How does fifteen years pass and you still have a
connection with someone as strong as ours feels?
It’s the weirdest thing to feel like you know someone when you truly
don’t know much about them anymore at all. Their likes. Their dislikes.
How they take their coffee. What their late-night fridge raid choice is. Their
taste in music. The hobbies they like or the company they keep. What
they’re like after a bad day.
All things I used to know about the man standing in front of me, yet
now feel like a complete mystery.
And yet none of those things mattered last night. Nor do they in this
moment that I need to enjoy instead of overanalyzing.
I don’t know what I expected to happen after that incredible sex, but
waking up beside him, seeing him standing in my kitchen, definitely wasn’t
one of them.
“You’ve expanded quite a lot,” he says and then hisses when the coffee
he takes a sip of scalds his tongue. “I don’t remember there being lavender
on the slopes over there.”
“We had a fire burn through here about six years ago,” I say as he turns
to look at me. He has a way of doing that right at the perfect time to show
me I’m being heard. “The house was saved, but almost everything else was
lost. The Lavender. Machinery. Tools. Cars.”
 “I had no idea. I’m sorry.”
I shrug and take a sip of my own coffee, recalling the devastation and
the weight it put on Pop’s shoulders. How it felt like he aged so quickly
during that time. “It was a disaster. The lavender was burned through and
the heat of the fire somehow triggered the seeds of an invasive species
called mallow to crack and sprout.”
“Seeds? Where did those come from?” He takes a few steps toward me.
“We learned that lesson the hard way. Apparently, they can lay dormant
under the soil for years, and then extreme heat like a fire, can trigger them
to imbibe, crack, and then grow.” I shake my head, remembering Pop’s
despair. “The mallow took over the fields. Stole water nutrients from the
new lavender seeds we were trying to propagate. They’d start to grow and
then die. We tried everything but ended up having to use a ground clear.”
“Which means the soil was poisoned and couldn’t grow anything for a
certain amount of time, right?” he asks.
“I’m impressed,” I tease. “How does a man who lives in a concrete
jungle know about ground clear?”
“We have a family home in Sag Harbor. We’ve had to use it there.”
Of course, he has a house in Sag Harbor. Just a small reminder of what
different worlds we live in.
“So you understand why we couldn’t grow in our existing fields. It
forced us to buy more land.” I point to the slopes he was referring to. “Gran
and Pop were so stressed taking out a second mortgage on this house to pay
for it when they didn’t have any viable lavender to harvest and profit from.
Their anxiety was a constant around here, regardless of how hard they tried
to hide it.”
“Understandably.”
“It took us a full two years to get up and running and back to our prior
capacity, but the repercussions of that year are still being felt to this day.”
“Two years.” He whistles. “That’s a lot of time to be without your
commodity.”
I nod. “It was. And of course, Pop couldn’t stomach the thought of
letting Danny or George go since they’re like family, so he made the
sacrifices instead . . .”
“Sounds like the man I knew.” He smiles softly. “Did insurance help?”
“It did some, but not enough to cover the cost of buying new land and
waiting out a year to be able to reseed again.”
 “I can imagine. I’m sorry that happened.” He looks out the window and
then back to me. “And now it’s all yours.”
“It is.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
I hold his gaze and ask myself about how to answer his question. A
question I’ve asked myself numerous times over the past few months.
“Is it what I envisioned I’d be doing with my life? No,” I say with a
reticent smile, “but you already knew that. At the same time . . . it’s where
fate has led me to be. Is it a daily grind? Definitely. Especially when I’m
learning on the fly and don’t have enough confidence in myself to be
certain I know what I’m doing or how to do it. The Fields was Pop’s area of
expertise, and while I helped out in between taking care of Gran and doing
its social media, I was never knee-deep into the details.”
“And now it all rests on your shoulders,” he murmurs.
I nod but rise abruptly from my chair and move toward the coffee pot,
uncomfortable with the questions that logically should come next. Why are
you not sketching anymore? What happened to going to college and
conquering the world? Why are you still in Cedar Falls?
They’re all valid in their own right, but ones with answers that will give
away too much. That Asher Wells—the Wells family, in general—is even
more penniless now than we were back when his father accused us of being
just that. The last thing I want him to know is that I’m struggling and that
losing the farm and this house is a real possibility if we don’t have a strong
harvest this year. That I’m doing everything in my power to get up to speed
and figure out how to reinvent the wheel here so we can turn a profit and
stay afloat.
But he doesn’t ask, he doesn’t pry, and while I’m grateful that he
doesn’t, I wonder what he’s thinking right now. What it is he sees when he
looks at me, as he stands here in my kitchen in the early morning hours.
Does he regret coming here last night? Is he simply being polite by
having this chat when he really wants to go? Was last night as incredible for
him as it was for me? Because last night was incredible, but now there’s a
sense of reality setting in, and what the heck do we do now?
My unspoken questions mixed with the weight of his stare on my back
has nerves suddenly firing to life.
“Speaking of work falling on shoulders, I’m sure you have plenty
yourself that you need to get to. Don’t feel the need to stay on my account,”
I ramble as I fiddle with the coffee filter, grab the sponge to wipe down the
counter, and then straighten the dish towels on the counter. Anything to
keep my hands busy.
“Asher?” His voice is closer than I expected. I never heard him move.
“Hmm?” I ask as I move toward the refrigerator.
He hooks an arm around my waist to stop my progress. “You’re doing it
again,” he says.
“Doing what?”
“Being skittish.”
I look up to meet his eyes. He’s right. I’m acting like a stray dog who’s
afraid of everything. This is not me.
“I don’t do this morning-after thing very well, is all,” I finally say.
“No?”
“No.” I smile to cover my flushing cheeks. “In fact, I don’t do it at all so
. . .”
He angles his head and studies my face. “What do you mean you don’t
do it at all?”
I can see the moment he understands what I mean. That I’m not one to
have overnight company. I swear he stands a little taller and his chest puffs
out a bit more.
“Am I the first guy to ever sleep over here?”
“Until a few months ago, I didn’t exactly live alone.” Pop would have
died of embarrassment if he’d walked into the kitchen and found a random
man with bedhead drinking coffee. I think I would have too. After the
conversation we had with Gran the other day, I venture to say that she
wouldn’t have been at all embarrassed.
Ledger’s grin widens. “So, is this making you uncomfortable? Me
standing here, drinking your coffee, making small talk?”
“Not uncomfortable, no.” I try to take a step back, but Ledger holds me
in place, raising his eyebrows as if to tell me he’s not satisfied with my
response. “I just . . . I just don’t know what that means or how this ends, or
. . . whatever.”
He reaches out and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “Well, it—or
whatever—means we had a good night. The fact that I’m not rushing out is
a good sign. One that means I want to see you again.”
“There was a question?” I tease despite the ridiculous amount of relief I
feel from his words.
 “Not at all.” He presses a chaste kiss to my lips. “And how it ends is I
finish my cup of coffee and then head into work because I have to figure
out new and clever ways to kiss Mayor Grossman’s ass—”
“I warned you.”
“You did.” He nods. “And when I walk out that red door over there,
we’ll both spend our day thinking about the incredible night we had, all
while trying to wipe the goofy smiles off our faces—that people will
question what they are there for. Then, we’ll touch base later and see how
we feel about seeing each other again. It’s as simple as that.”
“What? You mean there’s no three-day rule about calling?”
“I think fifteen years covered that for us.”
I laugh. “Should I worry that this is something you have down to a
science because you do it a lot?”
“Not a lot. No.”
My eyes stay locked on his, and I hate that the thought of him standing
in someone else’s kitchen, having morning coffee irritates me. It’s
ridiculous. Of course, he’s done that before. He’s extraordinarily handsome,
wealthy, and educated. “The perfect catch,” I murmur out loud before I
realize I have.
“The perfect catch?”
“Yep. I bet you’re the perfect catch for all those high-society, Park
Avenue regulars in Manhattan.”
Like I once aspired to be.
“Hey. Don’t. That look on your face is saying too much.” That I’m not
good enough for him. That I don’t fit in his world. That his dad was right.
He brushes the most tender kiss to my lips and rests his forehead against
mine. “I don’t care about the high-society ladies in Manhattan, Asher.
Those women are perfect on the outside and boring on the inside. I prefer
things a bit more complicated. A bit more real. And with more history to
them.” He sighs and leans back, searching my face to make sure I’ve heard
him. When he’s satisfied, he rubs his thumb back and forth over my lower
lip. “I do have to get to work, though.”
“So is this the part where you kiss me goodbye?”
“It’s a hard job, but somebody has to do it,” he murmurs seconds before
his lips slant over mine. The kiss is the perfect amount of soft yet
demanding. He’s definitely in control—of the angle, the intensity, the length
—and he’s somehow perfect at all of them.
 When the kiss ends, he walks toward the door and then stops to look
back at me. There is a lopsided smile on his lips. “This is the part where
you start thinking about me all day.”

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 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Asher

“Meet me in Bear Valley? That’s it? After you leave the whole of Cedar
Falls talking after last night, that’s the text you’re going to send me?” Nita
says as she meets me on the sidewalk in Bear Valley, where I’ve been
waiting for her to meet me.
“It worked, right?” I give her a quick hug. “You’re here.”
“I am here. You’re just lucky my babysitter was available today or else
you’d be standing here with that smug grin on your face waiting forever.”
“Remind me to thank her.”
“Noted.”
“And screw the town for talking.” I shrug as we begin to walk slowly
down the sidewalk. And I mean that, sincerely. I refuse to let their stupid
gossip affect anything about what happened last night in a negative way.
“At least I’ve actually earned the gossip they’re dishing on me this time
around.”
“True,” she says and then nudges me. “So . . .”
“So . . .” I toy with her. “Dare I even ask what the gossip is about?”
Nita laughs. “Wayne’s curious how a man can last that long.”
Wayne? The man who knocked on the bathroom door at Connor’s.
“Poor Mrs. Wayne then.”
“I know, right? And Judy Jensen is grumbling over how it’s you who
pulled in the new, wealthy, eligible bachelor in town when she clearly has
more to offer him than you do.”
“Fuck her,” I say as I point to a cute shirt displayed in a storefront.
“My sentiments exactly,” Nita says as she angles her head to look at it.
We window-shop. This is our thing, the way we spend time together and
unwind. When you struggle financially, there’s not much else you can do,
so we’ve fallen into this routine where we head here or there and stroll
around while we talk.
 “Nah,” she finally says as we move to the next window. “That color
washes me out.”
“What about Carson?” I grimace. “I need to call him and apologize.”
“He’s fine.” She rolls her eyes and swats at my arm. “He came back into
the bar. One minute nursing his bruised ego. The next lying about how he
knocked the guy—er, Ledger—out cold.”
“Which didn’t happen, by the way, but if people believe that then they
should also believe I was bringing Ledger back to consciousness with a
little mouth-to-mouth,” I say coyly with a flutter of my lashes.
Nita bursts out laughing. “Personally? I think every woman in town is
jealous of you, so you just keep on doing what you’re doing because you
know what? Screw them.”
“I’m not going to argue on that one.”
“So, because there is in fact gossip and you did in fact disappear from
Connor’s, can I assume the two of you worked through your differences,
then?” She leans in and looks closely at a diamond pendant in the jewelry
store display.
“In so many words, yes.”
“And the answers you were looking for were satisfactory and that more
than kissing happened—according to Wayne, that is.”
I laugh and point to a yellow diamond ring that sparkles. “Wayne is
correct, yes, but you already knew that.”
“So what changed your mind? Or rather tipped the scales for you?”
“I decided that maybe this is what I need right now. Maybe he is. That
I’m walking into whatever this is with the knowledge that he has a life, that
I have a life, and in two months he’ll be gone.”
“So, enjoy the time you have, void of any expectations?”
“Yes.”
“How very mature of you.”
“Or stupid of me,” I mutter.
“It’s only stupid if you forget to keep your heart locked down.
Something that I might add that you’re pretty damn good at.”
At least I have her vote of confidence on this.
“Oh, look.” She tugs on my arm to go inside an apothecary store. There
are soaps and lotions and a million other things to sniff and sample and
fawn over. “Talk about pamper central.”
 I’m mesmerized by the scents running into one another and the décor
and the product packaging. I pick up a tin and smell the candle inside.
“Definitely pamper central.”
“I could buy one of everything in here.”
“I wouldn’t complain about that,” a woman says as she approaches us,
smile big, eyes kind. “I’m Sarah. Owner and jack-of-all-trades here. Just let
me know if you have any questions. Everything is locally sourced and made
in my own garage,” she says.
“Oh. Wow. That’s incredible.” Nita picks up another sample jar and
smells it.
“Thank you. I was laid off from my corporate job and was struggling
with how to make ends meet. I fell back on what I knew best to save the
day—making soaps and oils. It’s something my grandmother taught me
when I was little. It was our bonding time. Who knew it would save the
day?”
“It’s amazing how that happens sometimes,” I say. “Congratulations. By
the line at the cash register and the boxes stacked for UPS to pick up, it
looks like it was the right decision.”
“It definitely was.” Sarah smiles before being pulled away by a
customer’s question.
“I’m going to get a little something to take to Gran when I see her
later,” I say. In less than ten minutes, I’ve purchased the gift I picked out for
her, and we’re heading back out the door.
“I definitely need to come back here.”
“I know. It’s a treasure trove.”
“You should tell her you grow lavender,” Nita says. “Maybe do a trade.
Lavender for free products.”
“I wouldn’t complain about that,” I say, looking back over my shoulder
to note the store’s name. Just in case I need to know it in the future.
“What are we doing here, anyway?”
“Besides having some girl time?”
She narrows her eyes and stares at me. “What are you up to?”
I point to the little boutique at the end of the street. “I hear they’re
having a huge sale this week.”
Nita’s eyebrows shoot up. “Hell. I wasn’t going to ask for details about
last night—”
“Yes, you were.”
 “You’re right.” She laughs. “I was. But if we’re playing hooky to come
here to buy you lingerie, I don’t think I need to ask.”
“Not lingerie.” She narrows her eyes and tries to understand. “More like
needing to up my bra and panty game.”
“He was that good you’re going back for seconds, huh?”
“Or fourths or fifths.” I slide a look her way just in time to catch her
mouth shock open into an O. “So yes, I need something more than my
practical T-shirt bra and boring panties.”
“Otherwise called lingerie.” She laughs. “There’s more to lingerie than
garters with stockings and scraps of lace, Asher, although I’m pretty sure
Ledger wouldn’t mind you adding those to your repertoire either.”
I roll my eyes as we cross the street. “So you’re really not going to ask
about last night?”
“Oh honey, you bet your ass I’m going to ask. I want all the details. His
skill level. Your orgasm count. Size and shape are important details too.”
She hooks her arm through mine as we enter the shop. “And every damn
detail in between.”
I laugh. I can’t help it because Ledger was right. I have the goofiest
smile plastered on my face.

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 CHAPTER NINETEEN

Ledger
Nine Years Ago

“Don’t go anywhere, Ledger.” Callahan and Ford dart glances my way as

they make their way around the conference room table toward the door.
Both of them just as curious as I am as to why our dad has requested that I
stay behind when they get to leave.
I lower myself back down into my seat as Callahan mouths the word
“sucker” to me before flashing a grin and heading out the door.
Fucker.
My dad moves toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that frame the
conference room. His daily uniform is in place: starched, white dress shirt, a
solid, bold-colored tie, gold cufflinks that my mom gave him on his
birthday the year she passed, and dark gray slacks.
I look at him expectantly, my knee jogging as the collar of my own
dress shirt feels like it’s tightening around my neck. And I wait.
No one rushes my father. He speaks when he wants to, and when he
chooses to, you best be listening.
“It wasn’t good enough,” he says in a calm tone, his back still toward
me.
What in the hell is he talking about?
“Dad? Sir?”
He turns to face me, his head angled to the side—much like I do when I
study someone—and my palms grow damp with anticipation.
“Professor Blackman recorded your presentation for me.”
He had my mock proposal presentation recorded so he could critique it?
What the actual fuck? Is there any place his far-reaching arms can’t touch?
My professor at Wharton? Jesus fucking Christ.
“You know Blackman?”
 The muscle tics in his jaw as he takes his time answering. “It’s a small
world, Ledger. That’s something you best remember.”
Now that the shock has almost worn off, the anger starts to fire. “What
do you mean it wasn’t good enough? Blackman said it was excellent. The
content. The packaging. The presentation.” I’m top of my cohort. Top of my
fucking class. What in the hell does he mean it’s not good enough?
“I would have fired you.” He shrugs with indifference as if he didn’t
just rip me apart. “It was sloppy and meandering. Your figures need work.
Your presence needs to be more commanding.” He takes a few steps toward
me as I try to keep my face stoic, despite how his words devastate me.
“What have I always told you?”
“Set goals. Meet goals. Adjust the goalposts. Start over again,” I say,
repeating the mantra he has drilled into my head.
“Good.” He nods and crosses his arms over his chest where he stands a
few feet from me. “Tell me what yours are right now.”
I struggle momentarily to come up with them. “Graduate Wharton. Take
my place beside you here at Sharpe.”
“And after that?”
“After that?” I ask.
“Yes. After that? Where do you reset the goalposts to?” If someone
were to overhear us, they’d think my father was talking about the weather.
Only my brothers and I know this tone means anything but that. He’s
getting irritated.
Well, so am I.
Why aren’t Ford or Callahan in here getting the third goddamn degree?
Callahan is the one who dropped out of Wharton, for fuck’s sake, and is
already working here. Why doesn’t he have to reset his goalposts? Ford is
busy being Ford, gladly flying under the radar without the pressure of being
the oldest or the ease of being the youngest.
“After that, son, what is next? Take the company from me? Work on
taking us internationally? Make Forbes magazine before you’re forty?
Carry on the family name? What. Is. Next?”
“Dad. Yes. To all of that,” I stammer out.
“Not good enough, Ledge.” His voice rises in pitch. “Not for you,
anyway. Do you want to shame the Sharpe name with your laissez-faire
attitude? My firstborn. My protégé—”
 “Callahan is already working here. Ford will be soon too.” I shove up
out of my chair, needing to move. To pace. To not be sitting down while he
stands tall over me. “Did you have this talk with them too? Did you demand
to know their goals?”
“No.” The chill is back in his voice, and it infuriates me.
“No? Why the hell not?”
“Check your tone.”
I squeeze the bridge of my nose and bite back the retort on my tongue.
When I turn back around, I hope he sees the love and frustration in my eyes.
The want to please, but also the need to be my own man. My respect for
him but not how he goes about things sometimes.
“I ask this of you, son, because I know you’re capable of it. I demand
this because nothing less than perfection is good enough.” His tone softens
for the first time in this conversation. “The three of you are my legacy, but
you, son . . . you have something special that money or education can’t buy.
I’m looking to you to uphold the Sharpe name in more ways than I ever
could.”
I hate that my throat burns with emotion as I nod in response.
“I want a status report every Monday morning from you. What your
goals are for the week. Which ones you completed last week. Structure and
planning equal success.”
“Yes, sir.”
He walks over to where I stand, puts a hand on my shoulder, and
squeezes. “We didn’t do all this work, all of this posturing, for you to be
second best, son.” When his eyes meet mine there is so much pride in them
that it makes my chest ache.
Is he a hard son of a bitch to work for? Definitely.
Is he a perfectionist to the nth degree? Indisputably.
Does he love the three of us unconditionally? Yes, each in our own way.
So why does a lump form in my throat at his praise?
Because he’s my idol. Because when your idol criticizes you, it’s hard
not to be overwhelmed.
“I won’t let you down, Dad.”
He nods and pats my back. “Expectations are a funny thing. They can
weigh you down or they can make you shine. What will your response be?”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TWENTY

Asher

“Gran? You awake?” I knock on the door to her room and push it open to
check for myself.
She’s propped up in her bed, her eyes closed like she’s sleeping. Her
hair is like a halo of silver around her head and her complexion is flawless,
including the wrinkles that illustrate a life well-lived. My beautiful gran.
She’s had a rough couple of days, so I’m glad she’s resting now.
Resolved not to disturb her, I tiptoe into the room with a fresh bouquet of
lavender to replace the one dying on her windowsill, as I do every few days.
“Asher. You’re here.”
Her lopsided smile is wide when I turn to face her. “Did you think I’d
miss a chance to hang with my favorite person?”
“Pop was your favorite person,” she says and doesn’t even try to hide
the tears that well in her eyes. “He snuck you candy, let you eat ice cream
for lunch, and called you in sick to school to go fishing with him. I could
never compete with that.”
“You didn’t have to.” I take a seat beside her and press a kiss to the top
of her hand. “You gave me spa days in your bathroom, let me sit on the
counter while you made pies, and snuggled with me whenever it
thundered.”
“I don’t want to be sad, Ash. Tell me something happy.”
“Well . . . I may be seeing someone.”
“Mr. Handsome.” My eyes meet hers, and I nod. “I knew something
was going on when you came here the other day. You never could keep a
secret from me, you know.”
“Guess not.”
“It was in the way he looked at you. Words can fool, but eyes can’t lie.”
Gran’s wisdom at its finest. “He looked familiar. Was he a high school
friend?”
 I nod and hope she doesn’t catch the lie. Maxton’s words not only hurt
me that night, but they devastated Gran and Pop too. She said as much the
other day when I asked her what she remembered. It agitated her just
talking about it. The last thing I need to do is upset her when she’s had
enough pain over the past few months. “Something like that.”
“And he treats you well?”
“Yes, but we’re just in the seeing each other phase. That’s it.”
“Uh-huh,” she says in that way that says she doesn’t believe me.
“Do you want to get outside for a bit? We can take a stroll in the
gardens? Get some fresh air?”
“No.” She pats her hand over mine. “I’m too tired today. Everything
hurts.” She yawns. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I press a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll leave you be so you can
rest.”
“Hmm.” She smiles softly as her eyelids start to droop. “I remembered
something about that night. The one you were asking me about the other
day.”
“Oh?” There’s not much more she can tell me considering her
reiteration of events was basically word for word how I remembered it
happening.
“When Pop came inside after talking with that . . . horrid man, he had
something in his hand. A tan envelope.”
“What was in it?”
“That’s the thing. Pop told me it didn’t matter. All that mattered was
you. I never saw it again.”
I stand there beside her as her breathing starts to even out and her eyes
flutter closed. “Will you take him some lavender for me too?” she whispers,
her voice already drugged with sleep.
Pop’s headstone. She wants me to take him lavender too.
My heart squeezes in my chest.
“Of course, I will. I promise to bring both of you lavender always.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Ledger

“That won’t work.”

“Why not?” Hillary asks, hands on her hips, a crease in her brow.
“Because if we put local craftsmen in the hotel who already have a store
in town, they’d be getting less profit after we take our cut. Grossman will
accuse us of stealing from them or taking advantage of them or some shit
like that,” I say and sigh in frustration.
“Then let’s find people who don’t have brick-and-mortar stores. There
have to be locals we can showcase. Ones that are just starting out or who
can’t get representation in local shops.”
“That’s an angle.” A shitty one, but one nonetheless.
“Don’t sound so enthused.” She chuckles. “I think it’s worth a shot.
Maybe use one of the shops as a locals-only fare. Give it a catchy name.
Place it off the main lobby next to the gift shop.”
“Get someone to work on that and see what we come up with. Quality is
key.”
“As is everything.”
“Where are we on the school library thing?” I ask, frustrated that we
even have to deal with bullshit like this. The look on Hillary’s face says she
feels the same way since she should be elbow deep in the details of the
resort’s construction—contractor problems, supply chain issues, decisions
that have to be made on the fly.
Hillary updates me over the next hour. On her meeting with the school
district superintendent over a donation that S.I.N. can make to give the
library a facelift. Then we moved to her follow-up meeting with the director
of the assisted living facility. They’re willing to accept our generosity of a
new HVAC system, but have to cut through some red tape first.
It’s amazing how much money talks.
Then again, I’ve never known anything otherwise.
 One meeting rolls into another. Union issues with the staff in our Aspen
resort. A possible property acquisition in California Wine Country—a
market we’ve wanted to move into for years. It’s still a long way off, but it’s
a rarity something comes up for sale there, so I welcome the first step.
Conflicts with supply chain at our resort in the Virgin Islands.
And it doesn’t matter how much shit like this, the details, the
complications, and the nitty-gritty of our business generally turn me on, my
mind has a hell of a time concentrating this week.
Asher.
Jesus.
The woman.
Last night.
This morning.
How can each time get better with her?
That’s a stupid fucking thought considering I was a fumbling teenager
the first time we were together . . . and yet, usually the memory of
something is better. Call it selective amnesia or wishful thinking, but my
memory of her doesn’t hold a fucking candle to the Asher I left behind in
the farmhouse this morning.
Focus, Ledge.
Ha. That’s funny.
“You’re knocking down fires all over the place today,” Callahan says in
greeting when he answers the phone. “We should have you vacate the office
more often. Your productivity level seems to go up.”
“Fuck off.”
His chuckle rumbles through the line. “Nah. It’s too much fun giving
you shit.”
“Tell Sutton she needs to keep you on a tighter leash,” I say, referencing
his wife.
“Oh, I don’t know. I like how tight she grips me.”
“Yeah. Yeah. When are you two leaving to take on Japan?” I ask in
reference to the property we’re buying from Takashi. Callahan and his wife
will head there and manage the transition of the resort.
“After we close escrow.”
“Yes. Sorry. Every day here feels like ten.”
“That bad, huh?” He chuckles. “At least you’ll get to escape back to the
city next month for the gala.”
 “Shit. Yes. That,” I say, my mind completely blanking on the charity
gala we’re sponsoring for the Alzheimer’s Association, something we’ve
done every year since Dad’s diagnosis. “I’ve been preoccupied with this
bullshit.”
“You forgot something? How unlike you. And here I thought you were
counting down the days until your return to civilization.”
“Like I said, I’ve been busy.” I pull on the back of my neck, confused
over my sudden desire to make up an excuse as to why I can’t go back.
Seriously, Ledge?
“Or preoccupied. Everything okay?”
“Yes. Yeah. Sure.”
He laughs again. “What’s up with the three-word answers? That’s your
tell.”
“My tell?”
“Yeah, when you’re lying about something.” He pauses. “So, what
exactly are you keeping from me?”
I shake my head and practically flip the phone off. This is the problem
with having brothers who are as close as we are. They know too much
about you even when you don’t say a word.
“I’m not keeping shit from you. I’m just trying to get this whole
shitshow here sorted out and fixed. You know how much menial crap like
this drives me crazy,” I deflect.
“It’s a necessary evil though.”
“I mean, we’ve always had to grease palms in one way or another for a
new project, whether it be in discounted room rates for an inspector or
whatever, but this ask is flat-out ridiculous.”
“Bribery. Extortion. Blackmail.” He makes a noncommittal sound.
“Sounds about right. The question we should be asking though is do you
think it will work?”
“Only time will fucking tell, but I swear to God, if we do all this shit
and Grossman moves the bar again for us to jump over, I’ll be fucking
pissed.”
Set the goal. Meet the goal. Adjust the goalposts.
If it were Dad in Grossman’s shoes, he’d definitely move the bar.
“Agreed. That’s why you need to move as fast as possible and get shit
finished before new ideas can materialize. We need Harrison to double-
check the contract to ensure there is nothing else they can legally pull on
us.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Now you know how it feels.”
Both he and Ford swear I’m just like our father. They tease me about it
relentlessly.
But after the revelations of the past week, the thought sits differently
with me now.
“Hey, Callahan?”
“Hmm?”
“Remember that last night we were here? In Cedar Falls?” I ask.
“You mean when Dad had a deal go sour, and we had to get home right
away so he could salvage it? That night?”
“Yeah.” My chest constricts.
“What about it?”
My mouth opens, my need to tell him everything—finally, after keeping
it quiet for so many years—eating at me. But I don’t say a word. I find
myself shoving up out of my seat and walking to the window to look
outside, one hand fisted, my jaw clenched.
“Ledge? You there?”
“Yeah. Never mind.” I can’t do it. As much as I want to tell him, I can’t
ruin his vision of who our father was. I can’t tarnish a memory simply to
make myself feel better.
Like that night and its aftermath, I’ll have to stomach this one alone.
“You sure? Because it sounded important.”
I smile simply because I’m hoping it will carry over to my voice. “Not
important at all. I just happened to drive by that old field we used to go
hang out and drink at.”
“It’s still there?”
“It’s about a quarter of the size because it has houses on three sides now,
but . . .” I continue rattling on about a field neither of us cares about.
Because I’m afraid if I stop, my brother, my triplet, will pick up on
something in my voice that tells him otherwise.
“I swear I thought you were going to tell me you ran into Asher and
either hit it off or found out she has six kids or something like that.”
“Uh . . .” I’m caught flatfooted by his comment, rattled by a moment of
uncertainty.
 “You’re fucking kidding me,” he says. “You have seen her, haven’t
you?”
I scrunch my nose up, wanting and not wanting to tell him
simultaneously. “Yeah. It slipped my mind. I just so happened to run into
her at a bar.”
“You didn’t forget to tell me shit.” He snorts. “You’ve always been so
damn secretive when it comes to her. Back then, it was like she was
everything and then suddenly, poof, she was nothing. It was like she’d
dropped off the face of the earth, and now you tell me you ran into her, and
that’s all you’re going to give me?” he asks. “Because that screams to me
she’s either dog ugly now and you ran the other way, or you guys fucked
like rabbits.” I don’t respond. “So, which one was it?”
Fucking Callahan. I hate that a smile breaks onto my lips. I hate that I
want to confide in him so badly. I hate that I still want to keep whatever this
is with Ash close to the vest.
“Neither,” I lie.
“Uh-huh.” Spoken like only an annoying little brother can.
“She’s fucking gorgeous is what she is.”
“Ohh.” More sounds from the asshole. “Why so sensitive?” His laughter
fills the line.
“Are you trying to be a prick?”
“Only if you’re trying to evade the question.”
“We talked for a bit. Agreed to meet up at a later time to catch up.
That’s all.”
“Liar.”
“Go away.”
“And she’s fucking gorgeous,” he says, mimicking my tone.
“She is. Full stop.”
“When Ledger pulls out the full stop, you know he means business.”
“I’m going now, Callahan.”
“Oh, I figured you were coming.” His chuckle fills the line. “And hey,
Ledge?”
“What?” I snap.
“This is when you act like the old me since I’m now an old married
fucker.”
“Act like you?” But the minute I say it, I start laughing, because I know
what he’s going to say. Him and his penchant for telling me I have a stick
up my ass.
“Yeah. Sleep with the woman. Skip some work to fuck off with her.
Your lists can wait. Live a little outside of the office.”
“I’m going now, Callahan.”
“I bet you are.”
I glance at the clock. Let’s see how long it takes for Callahan to tell
Ford and for Ford to call me.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Asher

“So is this the touch base later and see how we feel about seeing each
other again portion of the day?” I ask.
“It is.” God, I love his voice and how it wraps around me. “Did you
have a good day?”
“I did. I worked on sorting some of Pop’s stacks. I took Gran some fresh
lavender for her room. Then I came back here and surveyed the lavender
with George to see how close or far we are on harvesting the different
species.”
“And what was the consensus?” he asks.
“One is getting close. A few others have at least four more weeks.” I
look out the window at a car that drives by the farm. Traffic on our road is
few and far between, but the car keeps driving past. “What about your day?
Were you busy conquering the world?”
“Not all of it.”
“Just a hemisphere then?”
“Something like that.” He chuckles. “Any regrets?”
His question catches me off guard. We’ve seen each other a couple
times since that first night, so the fact that it comes out of the blue has me
sitting up a little straighter.
“Should I be worried why you’re asking me that question?”
“No. It’s nothing. Callahan was giving me shit the other day about
something and it led me to think, which led me to wonder if . . . I don’t
know. If you had any regrets about . . . this.”
“No.” It’s a question I can answer without hesitation.
“No?”
“You?” I ask.
“Definitely not.”
 “Whew, glad to know we’re on the same page,” I say dramatically,
followed by an awkward silence where I want to ask when I can see him
again but fear coming off . . . needy? Too clingy?
“I had every intention of asking you if you’d let me take you to dinner
tonight, but I completely forgot that Hillary—my project manager—set up a
working dinner with Espies.”
“The owner of the Cedar Mountain Resort?” I ask, referring to the
swankiest ski resort between here and Billings.
“That’s the one. We’re trying to create exclusive packages for the
guests. Luxury deals they can’t get anywhere else.”
“Luxury,” I murmur absently.
“Yes. Luxury. Decadence. A destination to lose yourself in. That’s our
brand. That’s what S.I.N. is known for.”
“It’s attractive marketing. Have you met Espies yet?”
“No. What is it that I should know?” Ledger asks cautiously.
“He’s a decent guy.” I almost say indulged trust-fund kid, but figure
that’s an insult to Ledger as well, so I refrain. “Just steer clear of talk about
hunting. Or trapping. Or anything to do with dead animals. It will unleash a
conversation domination topic where he’ll show you a picture of every
animal he has killed in the past twenty years, along with a very detailed
story to go with each one. From spotting to shooting to skinning.”
“Um . . .”
“It’s okay, city boy. You don’t have to respond. The topic of hunting is
commonplace here, but Espies takes it to a whole other level.”
“Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll definitely keep clear of that.”
“And if you’re trying to win his favor, take a bottle of Don Julio. That
will make him happy.”
“Noted.” His soft sigh fills the line. “I’m sorry about . . . tonight.”
“Don’t be.” I look around the office. “I have plenty of work to keep me
busy.”
We say our goodbyes, and I’m left staring at a blank computer screen
with nothing but my own thoughts.
It’s for the best. His meeting. Us being apart for the night. Some
distance so that things are left with a little perspective.
I laugh. Who am I kidding? I miss him.
As ridiculous as that sounds, I do.
 “No time like the present to tackle more of Pop’s stacks,” I mutter to
myself.
But there is a thought that keeps coming back to me. A thought I
haven’t been able to kick since meeting Sarah in Bear Valley the other day.
I fell back on what I knew best, to save the day . . .
I twist my lips and stare into the night beyond the windows. Those
words repeating in my head. I study the lavenders’ silhouettes. The dark
shadow of Pop’s unfinished barn. The craggy oak tree towering over the
south quadrant.
Ideas start to form. Begin to tumble. Take shape.
Luxury.
Decadence.
A destination to lose yourself in.
That’s when I see a light in the darkness. A way to make this work. A
way to fall back on what I know best to save the day.
Screw Pop’s stacks.
I open my laptop and begin to plan.

***

My dreams are wild. Lights strung from tree to tree. Lavender tied and
drying in rows from the barn ceiling. Tables end to end between the
lavender rows, adorned with flameless candles and woven fresh flowers.
Laughter—so much laughter—floating on the night air.
And love.
Definitely an abundance of love.
I awake with a start. My heart is pounding, but the smile my dream
caused is still on my lips.
My cell rings again.
I scramble through the darkness, fearful something has happened to
Gran, only to see Ledger’s name on the screen.
“Hello?”
“You’re sleeping. I’m sorry,” Ledger says. “I forgot you’re a farmer.”
“Whatever,” I say and roll my eyes as I sink back into my bed, pulling
my comforter around me that still smells of his cologne. “It’s okay. Hi. How
was your meeting?”
 “It went well. Hunting was in fact brought up, but with Hillary’s help, I
was able to steer the conversation as far away from it as possible.”
“Thank God for Hillary.”
“You can say that again. She’s a lifesaver.” He sounds tired, and the rasp
to his voice tugs on parts of me. The lonely parts of me that love having
him around.
“Definitely,” I agree with a laugh.
“So what did you do tonight? Flirt with random guys to make me
jealous? Streak down Main Street to start more gossip? Think of me?”
My smile widens—it seems to be a permanent fixture when I talk to
him. “All of the above.”
“That’s what I’d expect.” He chuckles. “So glad you haven’t changed.”
“Never.”
But I have. So much has changed over the years.
Pieces of life that don’t matter. Events that changed me. A loneliness I
could never put words to.
Silence settles between us.
“Talk to me, Ash,” he murmurs. “Tell me why you gave up your dream
to move to the big city. Tell me about the boys who broke your heart. Tell
me . . . everything.”
“That’s a tall order.”
“Perhaps. But I want to know.”
So I tell him about college, Gran’s stroke, helping take care of her, and
how the money ran out for me to return.
“That was a big ask. To give up your dreams to care for her,” he says
without judgment.
“It was, but when you’ve lived your whole life and only two people
have ever loved you, you don’t hesitate to sacrifice for them since they’ve
sacrificed so much for you.”
There is a brief silence, then he clears his throat. “Three people. I loved
you too, Asher.”
His admission has tears springing to my eyes. Maybe I’m just feeling
vulnerable talking about all of this when it’s so much easier to shut down.
When your own damn mother doesn’t want you, it’s hard to open yourself
up to more hurt.
“Don’t get quiet on me now. Don’t run away.”
 “I’m here.” I loved you too. Past tense. I’m not sure why that hits me so
hard, but it does. “What else was on your list of questions? Oh. Yes. My
love life.” His sigh is heavy in response. “You asked,” I warn.
“I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t have.” He chuckles.
“Don’t worry. There hasn’t been a lot or anyone meaningful, if that’s
what you’re asking. A couple of seasonal visitors, a few local guys—but
none of them lasted longer than a couple of months.”
“Is it bad if I say that makes me happy?”
“Are you saying you thought I slept around?” I tease.
“No. That’s not—I didn’t—”
“Relax, Ledger. I was just teasing you.”
“Talk about sticking my foot in my mouth. Jesus.” He snorts. “Why
only a couple of months though? Is it because you’re picky or because you
like the chase but not the after?”
It’s because none of them made me feel how you did.
“Maybe a little bit of both,” I lie. “First, it’s not exactly easy to date
someone when you remember that he picked his boogers and wiped them
on your desk in third grade.”
“Jesus,” he coughs out.
“Small-town life at its finest. And truth be told, I’m not exactly the
easiest person to take home to Mom and Dad. I have no parents, and up
until recently, I lived with my grandparents, and a lot of men can’t handle
the fact that I have a mind of my own and freely speak it. They think it’s
cute at first and then, after a month or two, try to tell me how things should
be.”
“I think that’s one of your best qualities.”
I blush under his praise. “Enough about me.”
“No. You haven’t told me nearly enough.”
“You just don’t want to answer the same questions.”
“You’re happy though, right, Ash? I mean you could always go back to
school if you wanted. You could get out of Cedar Falls somehow. Dreams
don’t have time limits.”
“Do I always wonder, what if? Of course, I do. Anyone else would do
the same. It’s like half of me would love to pursue what I once wanted,
while the other half is completely content being right here where I don’t
have to pretend to be someone I’m not.”
 “I think you’re a lot of people, Asher Wells,” he says softly. “I’m pretty
sure I like all of them.”
I smile and snuggle deeper into my bed, allowing his words to wrap
themselves around me. “Your turn.”
He groans. “I guess I opened that door, huh?”
“You did.”
“Lay it on me.”
“How did you lose your father?”
He blows out a breath. “Hitting with the hard stuff first, huh?”
“It’s easier to get it out of the way. You don’t have to talk about it if you
don’t want to.”
“No. It’s fine.” He pauses. “In a sense, I lost him the same way you lost
your pop—in his sleep. But the root cause was Alzheimer’s.”
“I know for a fact that saying I’m sorry doesn’t ease any of the pain, but
I am sorry you lost him, Ledger.”
“True, but thank you. Especially after everything he did to you . . . I
don’t expect you to be sorry.”
“My feelings for him are irrelevant. I can still have compassion for you,
your loss, and understand your grief.” I soften my tone. “Was it a long
ordeal?”
“No. Fortunately, I guess. If there is such a thing.” He exhales a
weighted breath. “But his demise was jarringly quick. It started with him
forgetting a few things at first. Then blanking on major life events. Then . . .
everything.”
“That had to be rough.”
“It was. My brothers and I struggled with it. Still do.”
“And how are you managing . . . with everything . . . with the lie he told
you?” I don’t know how to phrase it.
“Honestly? I wish I could block it out, pretend it never happened so I
could keep that idyllic image I’ve always had of him in my mind, but it did.
We’re proof of it.” He starts to say something and stops. I give him a
minute to gather his thoughts because I can’t imagine how I’d feel if it were
Pop who was the one who had done this. If his lies were the ones who tore
us apart.
“We would have broken up at some point anyway. Those are the years
where you find out who you really are. Besides, you were heading to
college that next month with a whole new array of cute co-eds to make your
way through.”
“You think so?” he asks.
“We were from two completely different worlds, Ledger. Your dad was
right in that respect. It’s a long shot to think we would have lasted.”
“Hmm.” It’s all he says but I’m wondering if he’s thinking the same
thing I am. Would it be able to work now?
“And what of the women who’ve broken your heart? Or rather the
women whose hearts you have broken?” I chuckle. “I’m surprised you don’t
have a penthouse in the city, a gorgeous and cultured wife with two-point-
five kids to fill it up with laughter and love.”
His sleepy chuckle vibrates through the line. “I have the penthouse, but
no wife. No kids. Not yet. Not till I’m at least thirty-eight-ish.”
“You say that like you have marriage on a schedule,” I joke.
“Not a schedule per se, but a ten-year plan, yes.”
“So, you think you can schedule when you plan on falling in love?” You
didn’t schedule ours when we were teenagers. “Like it’s some task to
conquer after a board meeting?” My tone is a mixture of disbelief and
confusion.
Not because I’m hoping to be that person he falls in love with (well,
maybe), but because it sounds so clinical coming from a man that is more
than passionate in other ways.
“Look, it’s not like that. You make it sound so cold and calculating. I’m
a planner. That’s what I do. I set goals and have to meet them before I can
move on to the next ones. That’s all, and I have a lot of goals to check off
before I want to settle down.”
“You can’t plan for love, Ledger. It’s either there, or it isn’t. And
sometimes it isn’t there and then it grows into love.” My comment is a stark
reminder that there is so much about him I don’t know. The boy I once
knew is still there, but like me, has been changed by his life experiences.
“I don’t do well with unknowns and things I can’t control,” he says, and
I can tell he’s frustrated that I’m not understanding him. “I was always
somewhat like that, but after the events of that night—the threat I thought
was real—I changed. For a while, I lived in a constant state of unknown
where so many things were out of my control, and the only way to take that
control back was by planning.”
 I try to put myself in his shoes, to understand the fear of the accusation
and the constant threat of being prosecuted looming over a teenager’s head.
Just like his father’s words scarred me, I know they scarred Ledger even
deeper.
So I’ll give him this. I might not understand it. I don’t have to agree
with it. But I have to respect it because I wasn’t there during those years. I
wasn’t witness to the aftermath of his father’s cruel deception.
“So, no, love hasn’t been on my radar, Asher. I date. I see women for a
bit like you do men. But I don’t tie myself down to someone with a label, if
that’s what you want to know.”
“Never? You’ve never let someone get close to you?” I ask, finding it
impossible to believe that a man like Ledger hasn’t been in love time and
again.
“My heart was broken one time,” he says, and a small, selfish part of
me hopes that he’s talking about me, while the other part is jealous of
whoever it was if it isn’t. “I don’t even think she knew how bad she broke
it, but truth be told, it was pretty well shattered. Maybe that influenced my
dating decisions after? I don’t know. But I’d really love if we could move
right along and off this topic.”
I laugh. “You started this line of conversation. Not me.”
“Hey, Ash?”
“Yeah?”
“Remember we used to do this all the time? Talk for endless hours on
the phone about anything and everything? Talk until one of us fell asleep?
Talk just so we knew the other one was there?”
His words are like a warm blanket cocooning me. “We did, didn’t we?”
“Mm-hmm. And you always fell asleep first.”
“I did not.”
“Yes, you did.” He laughs.
“Tell me more about your meeting,” I say.
And so we talk like the years have evaporated.
There is an ease to our conversation.
A comfort that is hard to find.
And yes, I fell asleep first.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Asher
Sixteen Years Ago

“Ledger?” His shoes crush the dead leaves on the ground as he makes his
way into the clearing. I’m on my feet the second I see the angry red mark
on his cheek. “Oh my God. What happened?”
He shrugs his arm out of my grasp and walks to the creek’s edge. Hands
on his hips, shoulders moving up and down with his anger-fueled breaths.
I wince at his rebuff, uncertain what to do or what to say. Clearly, he’s
pissed off. Obviously, he got in some kind of fight—or at least was
punched.
I’m not exactly good at dealing with bruised egos.
“Did you get in a fight with one of your brothers?” I finally ask.
“No.” He bites the word out, and I retreat a step.
“Are you okay?”
Another sharp, “No.”
I shift on my feet. I twist my lips. I figure it’s best to just leave him
alone. Obviously, something happened and, as much as I want to know
what, I don’t deserve to be snapped at for asking.
What wisdom would Gran give me right now? Give him space? Leave
him alone? Feelings take time to verbalize?
I decide to wait him out, so I take a seat at the base of the old willow
tree and lean against the trunk.
It’s our spot.
He can’t be mad at me when I’m sitting in our spot, right?
“Is this what you deal with here? In your own town?” he asks and then
turns to face me, his eyes alive with anger.
“What did you do?” I ask, dread filling my stomach.
“I broke some fucking guy’s nose is what I did.”
 “You what? Ledger.” I struggle to find words. “What do you mean you
broke someone’s nose? Who was it?”
“Some prick talking absolute shit about you.”
“What did he say?” I whisper and take a deep breath as I brace for an
answer that I guarantee I’ve heard different variations of during the sixteen
years I’ve been on this earth.
His stare is unrelenting, and his clenched jaw only serves to highlight
the red on his cheek.
I can’t look at him. I don’t want to meet his eyes and see that he looks at
me differently now that he’s heard the shit said about me.
She’s a whore, just like her lowlife of a mother was.
She’s a bastard who even her own mother never wanted.
She kind of looks like so and so. Do you think he could be her dad?
Could you imagine wanting to kiss her? She might be your half-sister.
Disgusting.
I’ve heard them all. I’ve cried over them.
I focus on the wind rustling through the willow tree above. The white
petals of the wild daisy in my hand as I pluck one off at a time. The chirp of
the birds flitting about overhead.
Anything other than letting him see the shame that is eating me whole.
Anything other than finding out he believes any of it.
I was able to keep him away from it all last summer. I was an idiot to
think I could do the same this year.
It’s too hard to speak, so I keep staring at what’s left of the daisy
blurring from my welling tears and brace myself for what comes next.
Ledger’s ridiculously expensive tennis shoes come into my view as he
steps up to me and squats down. I still can’t look at him.
“You don’t deserve this, Ash. None of it. You couldn’t pick the mom
you got any more than how fortunate I am to be born into my family. It’s all
a crapshoot. It’s all . . .” He growls in frustration and hucks a rock as far as
he can throw it. It hits the water with a loud plunk. “It makes me so mad
that you have to deal with that. That you have to hear that utter crap.”
I shrug. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Yes, it is,” he practically shouts at me. “It’s horrible and wrong and—”
“And I’ve lived here my whole life, so for the most part, after sixteen
years, they pretty much don’t say it to my face. At least there’s that.”
He shakes his head. His hands are fisted. His teeth are gritted.
 “What did they say?” I ask again.
“Nothing.” He plops down beside me, his arm going around my
shoulder and pulling me against him. “It’s nothing.”
“Which one was it? Bastard-child Asher? She’s a slut just like her
mom? She’s a homewrecker and needs to go?” I shift so I can face him, our
knees bumping against each other’s. “You’d think after all this time they
could think up new ones.” I emit a self-deprecating laugh to hide how I’m
crumbling inside.
“It wasn’t anything.” And the way he says those three words and the
glance he gives me says it all—the slight was too harsh even for him.
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Ledger. I need to know so I can protect myself.” He looks out toward
the creek, and I grab his hand. “Please.”
“It was just something about how easy you must be, because you’re just
like your mom, and questioning if I’m afraid I’ll catch something.”
I blink the tears away, hating that he won’t look at me.
I will not let their words get to me.
I will not let him pity me.
I will not . . .
“Forget about it.” I grab his face and press a kiss to his lips. At first,
they remain rigid and angry before slowly softening and kissing me back.
It’s like little explosions of warmth happen all over my body when
Ledger kisses me. Little acknowledgments that he sees the real me. Likes
me for me. It’s the only time I know I’m looked at and not judged. It’s the
only time I can let my guard down.
When the kiss is over, I rest my head on his shoulder and we sit like this
for some time, lost in our thoughts.
I don’t ask who made the comment.
Needing to know isn’t a necessity.
Because whoever it is today, it will be a different one tomorrow. And
even a different one the time after that.
Gran and Pop have taught me that no one else defines my worth but me.
But it still hurts like a bitch, regardless.
“Thank you for defending me. You didn’t have to. I’m sorry you got
hurt,” I whisper and press a kiss to his cheek. “Do you really have to leave
next week?”
 He links his fingers with mine and sighs. The topic we’ve been avoiding
the last few days is his inevitable departure back to Manhattan and his fancy
prep school. We did this last summer—said goodbye before school started
—and somehow stayed in touch. His coming back gave me something to
look forward to. His calls, while he was gone, helped the time pass. I just
hope we can make it work this time too.
“I’ll be back next summer. We can talk all the time on the phone and
text and Skype, just like we did this year. We’ll make it work, Ash.”
“I don’t want to let you go.”
He chuckles as we fall into our routine. “You have to, though.”
“On one condition.” I quirk an eyebrow at him, going for humor to
mask my sadness.
“What condition is that?”
“That you promise me you’ll come back next year. That you promise
me you won’t forget me.” My voice breaks on those last words. All I can
think about is the rich, sophisticated, beautiful girls at his prep school back
home. Ones who have moms and aren’t called sluts. Ones who would
gladly enjoy Ledger’s kisses and attention just as much as I do.
How can I compete with that? How will phone calls and texts beat
sitting beside them in class every day?
He reaches out and runs a thumb over my cheek, his smile soft, his eyes
warm. “You’re my lavender girl. How could I ever forget you?” He presses
a kiss on my lips. “Stop worrying. They’re all pretentious and ridiculously
shallow,” he says, reading my mind. “And I’ll make sure I talk about you so
much that they’re all jealous of you.” Another tender kiss. “I won’t forget
you. I wouldn’t be able to even if I wanted to.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Asher

I’m daydreaming again.

Then again, is it daydreaming if it really happened and you’re simply
replaying it in your head over and over because it was that good?
Dinner at Bessie’s Diner. Making out on the porch swing on the veranda
in the moonlight. Talking on the phone into the early morning hours. My
time spent with Ledger has made me feel like a teenager again in some
senses and a cared-for woman in others.
“Asher?” I look up to see George standing in the doorway. “Wow.” He
scans the office. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it this . . . uncluttered before.”
“I’ve made progress, right?” My smile beams because I have, and I’m
not ashamed to welcome the praise. It’s been taxing and confusing and a
huge learning experience as I’ve gone through each piece of paper or
receipt or napkin with scribbles on them, and tried to figure out its
importance. Is it a recurring bill? Is it a monthly supply invoice I need to
budget for? Is it, is it, is it . . .
“I’m impressed. Can I show you something?”
“Not if you’re going to ruin my good mood.”
A smile breaks over his face. “It won’t. I promise.”
“Whew,” I say, rising from my seat and closing the lid of my laptop. I’m
nowhere near ready to have anyone see what I’m working on yet. Not until
I know I can actually make it happen.
I follow George down the steps and toward the fields. “How’s Angel
doing?” I ask him about his wife.
“Good. Stressed over the new resort. I don’t know.” He runs a hand
through his hair and tries to pull off a smile that looks as if it’s nothing, but
...
“About the resort?”
 He nods. “She’s in charge of catering over at Lakefront,” he says,
referring to another smaller resort on the lake. “She thinks The Retreat is
going to wipe out their business, and she’s afraid she’ll get laid off.”
I don’t even know what to say. It’s definitely a concern of many
businesses around town. “Maybe it’ll do the opposite. Maybe it’ll be the
only affordable place in town to hold events if The Retreat is too
expensive.”
“Maybe.” He doesn’t sound too sure.
I pat him on the shoulder. “Let’s hope so.”
He nods as we round the corner, and when I look up, my feet falter.
“George.” His name is a gasp as I take in the barn.
“She looks good, doesn’t she?”
I look from the barn, to him, then back. The weathered wood of its
exterior looks brand new. He’s kept its patina charm but has not stained it to
look like it was just built yesterday. “You guys did all this?”
“Yep. We power-washed it down then sprayed on a treatment to protect
it from bugs trying to find a new home.” Pride shines in his eyes.
“In two days. You did this?”
He nods, his grin widening. “The fields are behaving themselves, so
we’ve had some time. It looks good, huh?”
“Wow.” I take a few steps closer, shocked how such a simple thing has
virtually given the ranch a facelift.
“You’re happy with it?”
“Happy doesn’t begin to describe it.”
“Okay. I wanted to make sure you were good with it before we started
on the inside.”
“By all means, George.” I shake my head, unable to take my eyes off it.
“That’s it, then. See? I told you it was good news.”
“Very good news. I mean . . . thank you.” I’m honestly in awe.
“What are you planning on doing with this, anyway?”
“Making this a destination, George.”
“A destination?”
I nod. “I’m still figuring that out, but I want other people to enjoy this
place. To find happiness here. To make memories here.”
But when I turn back toward the house again, my smile is so wide my
cheeks hurt.
For the first time, I really think I might be able to pull this off.
 What do you think, Pop?
I hope it makes him proud too.

***

A sample business proposal I found on the Internet is beside my laptop. It

feels confusing and impossible with its mission statement and graphics and
pricing structures. Now it’s up to me to translate all of that where my cursor
blinks on the blank screen in front of me.
I have to start somewhere, right?
A knock on the door startles me.
“One sec, Geor . . .” But my words fall off when I look up and find
Ledger standing in the doorway.
Seeing him is like a sucker punch to the gut and a jump-start to my
libido.
Every freaking time.
He’s wearing casual clothes—blue jeans, a pale green V-neck that fits
just right—and flip-flops adorn his feet. There’s something about seeing his
choice of shoes that makes me smile.
This is as casual as Ledger Sharpe gets, and he wears it well.
Then again, he wears everything well.
“Hi.” His grin could light up the room. “George? Should I presume
that’s the man who just drove out of the gate in his truck?”
It’s the first time I notice the fading sun and the color streaking across
the sky indicating that it’s well past seven in the evening. “I completely lost
track of time.”
“Working on something important?” he asks. The sun is at his back,
creating a halo around his silhouette.
“Yes. No. Maybe.”
“You can’t go wrong with that answer.” He laughs as I rise from my seat
and move to him. “Want to talk about it?”
“Just a pipe dream that I’m trying to figure out if I can make a reality.”
“Tell me more,” he murmurs as I step into him and press my lips to his.
Partially as a distraction and mostly because he and that glorious mouth of
his are all I can think about.
 And just like that, the budget numbers and figures and graphics I’ve
been trying to piece together all afternoon slip from my mind.
There is only him. Only Ledger.
“We need to stop this before I forget my surprise for you,” he murmurs
against my lips before kissing me again.
“Only if you promise we can start where we left off later.”
“It’s a deal.”
“Wait. Did you say surprise?”
“Go for a walk with me?” he asks cryptically and holds out his hand.
I look at him and then look at his hand. “Here? On the farm?”
“Yep.”
We take off in a slow stroll toward the back part of the property,
walking near the end of the Folgate. There’s a breeze, which makes the
lavender look like it’s at the bottom of the ocean, its leaves floating back
and forth like water. A tide of purple.
There is a lot to be said about The Fields, but one thing that’s always
held true is its sight, scent, and the tranquility that comes with each of them,
leaving an indelible mark on you.
It was my short-lived time at the Pratt Institute that made me realize it.
It was returning home to take care of Gran and nurse the pain of losing
my dream that reinforced it.
“It’s beautiful here,” Ledger says.
“It is. And so very far from your normal, everyday life.”
“True,” he says with a nod, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t recognize
beauty when I see it.” He looks at me in a way that says he’s talking about
me.
I blush like an idiot and look around, curious what this whole walk
thing is about. What is he up to? But rather than give me any clues, he just
swings our hands back and forth.
“When did that happen to the barn?” he asks. “I’m usually an observant
person. Did I miss that it’s always looked like that or has something
changed?”
“I figured this place needed some curb appeal.” I’m not ready to tell
him about my idea yet. I need more time to figure it all out. The last thing I
want to do is make an ass out of myself for aiming too high. Especially with
someone like Ledger who brings and transforms resorts to life for a living.
“It looks great. What else have you got in mind?”
 “I’m figuring that out,” I say, more than grateful when he doesn’t push
for more. “What about you? Any headway with the mayor and his
ridiculous demands?”
“Some. We’ve hired local contractors who want to work with us. It’s a
costly move given the cancelations with outside companies already
contracted. But we’re making it work and trying to make it right since we
did overpromise and under-deliver.”
“That’s admirable.”
He shrugs. “It’s the right thing to do. Did it give Grossman the right to
blackmail us over it? Force me to be here for two damn months? No way in
hell, but we pride ourselves on standing by our word—so we will.”
Two damn months.
In that whole comment, that is what I heard the most. What my mind
fixated on. I knew this was the scenario. Ledger told me the time frame that
first night at Hank’s almost three weeks ago, but hearing it now after . . .
everything, makes it hit a lot harder.
He’s going to leave again, Asher.
It’s no surprise. You knew that. Enjoy him while you can . . . but guard
your heart.
Easier said than done because, despite my resolve and the short few
weeks we have been involved, I already know my head and heart aren’t on
the same page.
It’s ridiculous. How could what some would consider puppy love as a
teenager suddenly come back with a vengeance upon seeing that same
person as an adult?
Get a grip.
This isn’t love.
This is lust with a side of history thrown in.
And as if Ledger timed the reveal of his secret to stop my over-analytic
mind, I look over to see why Ledger has stopped walking. In the middle of
the clearing, he has a blanket laid out. On one of its corners is a basket with
a few bottles of wine beside it.
I look over at him and simply shake my head. Words escape me.
“This is the place, right? Where we used to go and get lost in nothing
but each other?” he asks as if my silence is a bad thing.
“Yes.” The single syllable is laced with surprise, affection, and . . . love.
“How—I mean—what—”
 “You deserved a date. Especially one without the town watching your
every move. This—our old stomping ground—fit the bill. At least we won’t
have to worry about Pop catching us fooling around.”
“Oh my God,” I say as I step forward, stretching our hands across the
distance between us. “Do you remember that time—”
“When my hand was up your shirt and your hand was down my pants
and Pop came out—”
“With a flashlight?” I laugh. “There’s no way he didn’t know what was
going on.”
“None. At all.” Ledger’s smile is wistful, and it strikes me that it’s a rare
look from him. He’s always steadfast. Always intense. Something else
looks good on him. “I don’t think I’ve ever moved so fast in my life.”
“My favorite was the sweatshirt you balled in your lap to hide your
hard-on.”
“I totally forgot about that.” He laughs.
“How could you? You stammered out excuse after excuse about why
you couldn’t stand and take a walk with Pop when he asked you to go check
out the new tire swing—”
“No. It was the new tractor because he said city boys needed to learn
how easily accidents can happen on a farm. I’m pretty sure he wanted to
add me to that statistic by pushing me under the tire simply to prevent me
from touching you again.”
“As any father would.”
We both laugh, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve thought about Pop
and truly laughed at his memory rather than feeling sorrow.
I’m healing.
Minute by minute. Day by day. Memory by memory.
And I think a huge part of it is having Ledger here to talk about him
with.
As we approach the blanket, he stops when I squeeze his hand. “This
was very thoughtful of you and just what I needed. Thank you.” I step up on
my toes and press a kiss to his lips. His hands slide up the length of my
spine before fisting in the hair at my neck as he deepens the kiss.
My body reacts to his touch, to his lips, to everything about him in a
way I don’t remember doing for anybody else before. Nothing is ever
enough. His touch. The groans of pleasure in the back of his throat. The feel
of his muscles tensing beneath my palms as I run my hands up and down
the plane of his chest.
“If that’s what I get for a picnic in a field, you can bet your ass I’ll be
planning something more elaborate next time.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Ledger
Fifteen Years Ago

“A shooting star. Look.” I point to the last remnants of it as it dies out with
its fall.
“Make a wish,” Asher says, squeezing my fingers currently laced with
hers.
“That’s ridiculous. No one believes that shit.”
“Fine. Then I’ll make one for you.”
“Go ahead.”
I turn my head so I can look at her. We’re lying on a blanket in the
middle of the lavender fields staring at the stars. Or at least she is while I’m
trying to figure out when to make a move. A guy only has so much restraint
when the girl he’s with is like Asher—gorgeous, funny, unique.
A girl who looks at me like I’m a normal boy instead of the prep-school
trust-fund kid whose father is part of New York City’s elite.
Hell, she’s never asked for a damn thing. Not once. I have girls back
home asking for fancy shit when they can afford it themselves. And then
there’s Asher who has nothing and asks for nothing. If she did, I’d give it to
her in a heartbeat. Without question. It’s not like Dad ever checks what we
spend money on anyway.
If he did, we’d be majorly screwed for all the money we shelled out for
beer on this trip.
Asher closes her eyes and scrunches up her nose. It’s freaking adorable.
“What’d you wish for?” I ask when her nose un-scrunches. Apparently,
that’s her wish-making face.
“I’m not telling you.” She swats playfully at me, but her eyes remain
fixed on the sky above. “If I do, it won’t come true.”
“C’mon. I wanna know.” What does a girl like Asher wish for?
“No.”
 “Pretty please?” I lean up on my elbow so I can stare at her and so she
can’t ignore me.
“No.”
“Ah, there’s a smile,” I say, putting my hand on her hip and rocking her
back and forth. “You know you want to tell me.”
“I need the wish more than you want me to tell you,” she says drolly.
“You need it?” I draw the word out. “Then that means it’s me, right?
Since you need me.”
“Oh, geez.” She rolls her eyes. “Did you seriously just say that?”
“Yes. And I’m pretty sure I’m right.”
She pats the top of my hand still on her hip. “For your ego’s sake, I’ll
keep letting you think that.”
“Don’t you worry about my ego. It’s doing just fine.” I flop back onto
the ground, look up at the stars like she is, and huff. “You’re no fun.”
Crickets chirp all around us and beetles make their distinct clicking
sound, but the only thing I really hear is Asher’s even breathing beside me.
Feeling slightly and ridiculously dejected because she won’t tell me, I
fall quiet.
“I wished that I’d get a chance to make my mark somehow.” I’m just
about to ask what she means when she continues, her voice barely audible.
“That people will look at me and admire me, what I’ve done, what I’ve
made of myself instead of looking at me and feeling sorry for me because
I’m Lydia Wells’s, the town floozy’s, daughter.”
Her voice breaks, and it fucking kills me. I’ll never understand how she
feels because we’re polar opposites. Whereas she has pressure weighing on
her because people expect nothing from her, I have it because they expect
too damn much from me.
We’re from completely different worlds, and yet somehow . . . we work.
“Ash.” I lean back up on my elbow and run a hand up and down her
arm. I don’t even know what to say. How to respond.
She shakes her head and musters a smile I don’t believe. “It was stupid.
Forget I said anything.”
“No. It’s important,” I murmur and press a kiss to her lips. “And I want
you to know I already do look at you like that.” Another kiss. “You are
Asher Wells, my lavender girl, and maker of her own destiny.”
Then another one.
 And later when we see another shooting star, I make my own wish: for
Asher’s wish to come true.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Asher

“Did you see it?” Ledger asks, his free hand pointing to the sky as a star
streaks across it before burning itself out.
We’re lying on the blanket. His arm is wrapped around me with my
head resting on his arm. Two bottles of wine have been consumed, a
charcuterie has been devoured, and we’re both just soaking in the
tranquility of the evening. Of the perfection he created in bringing me here
tonight.
“I did,” I murmur.
“Are you going to make a wish? I seem to remember you were quite big
on that back in the day.”
My smile is bittersweet. What’s is like to be young and naïve and think
the world will treat you like you deserve?
“I think I’m too old to make wishes, Ledge.”
“What? No. You’re never too old for wishes”—he squeezes his arm
around me—“or dreams. You need to make one.”
I feel silly but close my eyes and scrunch up my nose anyway.
But I remember that last wish I made. And how not long after Ledger
up and left Cedar Falls abruptly—once I’d given myself to him—and the
gossip that burned through town in the days and weeks to come. That
Ledger had gotten what he’d wanted from this small-town girl before going
back to his hot, socialite girlfriend. That I’d ruined the summer for every
other girl there who’d had their sights set on Callahan and Ford because
they’d left too. That I was trash just like my mom, trying to screw my way
up because I’d never amount to anything otherwise, so I deserved the cruel
words and harsh judgment. I’d earned it like a badge. And I’d proved them
right—I’d never amount to anything.
And yet, with my eyes clenched shut, I wish.
 I wish that this were real. I wish this never had to end. I wish the same
wish as I did before, fifteen years ago.
When I open my eyes, he’s still there, still looking at me like he did
back then. But this time, there’s something more in his eyes. Adoration.
Lust. Respect. Desire. Hope.
Important things for any woman to see. To know that someone feels that
way when they look at her.
I reach out and cup the side of his face, needing to touch him. Needing
to know he really is real.
He turns his face into my hand and presses a kiss on my palm. Be still
my heart.
I rise onto my knees, his eyes narrowing and full of curiosity as he
watches me lean forward and press a kiss to his lips.
He tastes of the wine we just drank and the certainty that I need as I
slowly move to straddle him while I deepen the kiss.
His body is warm beneath me, and the summer night air has the
slightest hint of a welcome chill to it.
He kisses me back with the same gentle demand that I do him. His
hands are in my hair, on my cheeks, cupping my face. Our tongues dance
against one another’s, and our bodies heat up as we make out in the
moonlight between the lavender rows.
“Asher,” he murmurs against my lips, a reverent sigh between kisses.
Leaning back, I strip my shirt over my head, wanting to feel the
intimacy that comes when his hand runs over my skin. Needing to feel it.
I look down at him, my moonlight boy, and know this is my favorite
look on him. Eyes heavy with desire and his smile soft and a little crooked.
“What?” he asks.
“I just want to look at you.” I lean down and press a kiss to his lips. To
his chin. To his neck. “I need to touch you, Ledger,” I murmur against his
skin. My hand runs down the front of his chest. “To taste you.” My lips
follow their descent as I crawl back to where his cock is hard and pressed
against the seam of his jeans. His stomach muscles tighten beneath my lips
when I make quick work of his zipper, free his cock, and stroke it with my
hand. “To devour you.”
The hiss of his breath fills the night air as I slide his cock between my
lips and take him all the way to the back of my throat. His thighs tense. His
guttural groan is the only thing I hear as he reaches down and cups my chin.
 I look up at him through the moonlight night as his eyes turn dark and
his eyelids grow heavy with desire. And with my gaze locked on his, I give
him the pleasure he deserves. With my tongue licking over his crest and my
lips suctioning around his shaft and my hands stroking every thick, hard
inch of him.
It’s a heady feeling sucking Ledger off. To know that drop of precum
that hits my tongue is because of me. To watch a man usually so measured
in his actions, lose himself in the sensations I create.
“Ash.” My name is a strained rasp in the night as he fights to hang on to
his control, and I provoke him to let go.
By letting his cock hit the back of my throat. By using my fingers to
work their magic around the base of his shaft. By humming to add a
vibration to the onslaught of sensations I’m already creating for him.
He hardens and swells as his hand moves to my hair and fists there.
I suck harder and stroke faster, my own body aching for his release so
he can shift his focus on me. So I can enjoy this body of his.
Because when it comes to Ledger, I can’t seem to ever get enough. Not
his touch. Not the sounds he makes when he’s about to come. Not the way
he makes me feel, physically and emotionally.
“Ash.” He struggles in indecision. “Fuck.” One hand still in my hair.
“Yes.” The other hand pulling on my arm for me to come ride him. “Now.”
A yelp escapes my mouth as he hauls me up and makes quick work of
my jeans in an awkward dance of desperation and laughter, all while trying
to kiss the breath out of me.
It’s my turn now to moan in ecstasy. At the way he stretches me when I
sink down ever so slowly onto him. At the feeling of fullness he creates. At
the ever-burning ache that I fear will never be sated.
“Ledge . . . so good,” I murmur against his lips as his fingers dig into
the flesh at my hips while I adjust to him.
“Good God, you’re going to be the death of me,” he groans out.
I begin to rock my hips.
At least I can ensure he dies a happy man, then.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Ledger

“The protestors are back again,” Hillary says when she pokes her head in
my office.
“Seriously?” I barely even glance up from my laptop. That’s how much
I don’t fucking care about who’s protesting now. “What do their signs say
this time?”
“Let me see.” Hillary moves to my window and peeks down below.
“Preserve our lakefront is one. No unions here, which is rather comical
considering there isn’t a union happening. Big city greed means small-town
ruin. Wow,” she says as she turns to look at me with raised eyebrows.
“That’s a new one.”
“Rather catchy, don’t you think?” I lean back in my chair and try to
switch gears from Takashi getting squirrely on details to the debacle front
and center. “Is there a website they go to find these slogans?”
“Who knows. Catchphrase.R.Us perhaps?”
“How about GoFuckYourself.com.”
“I vote for that one.” She chuckles and looks back out the window
again. “They need to make up their mind though, because they change their
message daily.”
“Which is why I think the mayor is behind this.”
“He really does have a hard-on for you, doesn’t he?” she says as she
moves away from the window and takes a seat in the chair in front of my
desk.
“The question is why? My guess is that visibility is key when you’re
running for reelection.”
“My guess is he needs to lose simply on principle.”
I laugh. I love Hillary and her dry sense of humor. She’s been with
S.I.N. going on ten years now and has been an incredible asset.
 “While I have you, where are we in ‘project town involvement’?” I roll
my eyes to emphasize how thrilled I am about this.
“We’ve passed out flyers to all local businesses, placed an ad in Cedar
Falls and Bear Valley newspapers, and notified the City of Commerce.
Maybe we’ll get some submissions from local artists and craftsmen so we
can feature their work at the resort. Maybe we won’t.”
“It’s a crapshoot. The big question is, what do we do if we only get ugly
shit for submissions?”
Hillary laughs. “Then we don’t take it? Or we put it on the back walls
and not front and center. We paid a fortune for our interior designer. The
last thing I want to do is have to ugly up their esthetic to accommodate this
new glitch from Grossman.”
“Agreed.” I take a sip of my water as she rises from the chair. “And
thank you.” She stops and looks at me. “I know you have a crap ton on your
plate, trying to get this done on time and under budget, and then I added this
to it. You’re doing a great job.”
Hillary has the oddest expression on her face as she looks at me.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Do you know I worked for your father for over eight years and while
he was a kind man, he was also more than demanding. He paid me well and
understood when I needed time for my kids or whatever, but not once did he
ever say something like what you just did. Thank you, Ledger.” Her voice is
soft, her eyes sincere. “I truly appreciate it.”
And when she walks across the hall to her office, her words echo in my
head, and I smile.
About the time I turn back to my laptop and type answers Takashi isn’t
going to like, a little pair of legs—whose torso is hidden behind a picket
sign—comes walking into my office.
“I think you took a wrong turn,” I say.
“It’s me, though. Tootie.” She sticks her head out from behind the
cardboard and offers me her toothless grin.
“Did you think I’d want you walking in here with that sign?”
“It’s my cover,” she says, leaning it against the wall and crossing her
arms over her chest.
“Your cover?” I ask.
“Yep.” She takes a stroll around my office space, touching almost
everything in the process. The walls, the windowsill, the corner of my desk.
It’s almost as if she’s assessing it, which is ridiculous. “I needed a way to
sneak in here. I figured this was the best way.”
Hillary walks back toward my office with a perplexed expression,
perhaps wondering how Tootie got past her, but I just hold up my hand to
stop her. I nod to let her know it’s okay.
“Does your mom know you’re here?” I ask as Tootie finishes her survey
and helps herself to the seat Hillary vacated minutes ago. She takes a
moment, making a show of wiggling her butt in the chair to feel out if it’s
comfortable.
The purse of her lips tells me she finds it suitable.
“Yep. I told her I was going to come sweet-talk you into coming over
for dinner, but don’t come. Ever. My mom burns toast like it’s an Olympic
sport. I wouldn’t subject you to her cooking. Not even my enemy.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“Anytime.” She folds her hands in her lap as she tries to scoot her tiny
body to the back of the chair. “Besides, people are talking.”
“About?”
“You.”
“They are, are they?”
She sighs heavily. “I mean, I try not to listen, or at least I say that I try
not to, but you know I do.”
“Of course, you do. Should I ask what they are saying or are you going
to tell me in your own sweet time?”
The little giggle she emits has me shaking my head. “They say you have
a woman.”
“First lesson in life, Tootie. If you ever date a man who says he ‘has a
woman’, dump him on the spot.”
“Why?”
“A man does not have you. You are your own person with your own
thoughts. He can enjoy you and your company. He can want to spend time
with you and laugh with you. At no point does he ever have you. Got it?”
“I think you’re going a little deeper than is needed. Should I rephrase?
I’ll rephrase.” She clears her throat and sits a little taller. “They, the people
in town, say that you are enjoying the company of a woman.”
Smart-ass.
“It’s none of their business what I’m enjoying,” I assert. To an eight-
year-old.
 “You’re right. It’s not. But it’s a small town, so technically everyone
thinks it is their business.” She looks down to where she’s started picking at
her yellow fingernail polish. “Are you going to explain to me why Mayor
Grossman wants to screw you over?”
I choke on my next breath. “Tootie.”
“What?” she asks innocently enough. “Would you rather me say fu—”
“Nope. Screw works. Screw is just fine.” Jesus. This kid. “Why do you
say he wants to screw me over?”
“He was at the coffee shop when Momma was talking to Ellie May
about the man she wants to . . . er . . . enjoy.” She winks and grins, but her
cheeks turn pink. “And the mayor was sitting behind me talking and talking
and talking about how he needs to keep the pressure on you because it looks
better for him.”
And there is the answer Hillary and I were just asking the question to. I
look up to see Hillary across the hall nodding, clearly hearing Tootie’s
whirlwind conversation.
“He’s not exactly in my fan club.”
“You have a fan club? How did I not know this?” She sits up a little
straighter. “Do you charge a membership fee? Have a paying Patreon club
where you reveal extra tidbits? How. Did. I. Not. Know. This?”
“It’s an expression, Tootie. A turn of phrase. It’s not a real thing.”
She waves a hand at me. “And to think you got me all excited about
nothing.”
“Was there more you wanted to say about the mayor?” I ask.
“You need to kill him with kindness. That’s what Momma says to do
when Alex teases me.” She rolls her eyes dramatically. “A fist to his nose
sounds better in my opinion, but apparently killing him with kindness
works even better.”
“Sure. Yes. Okay.” There’s no way I’m going to tell her I vote for
bopping Alex in the nose. But I do.
“What did you ever do to him, anyway?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” I shrug. “He’s just an opportunistic
. . .”
“Asshole? Is that the word you were going for?”
It’s Hillary’s turn to cough out a laugh.
“Something like that.” I fight my own smile. “Why are you trying to
help me, Tootie Tootie Bo Footie?”
 Her grin is ear to ear from the nickname. “Somebody has to because, in
case you didn’t know, it’s a dog-eat-dog world out there, Ledger.”
“Clearly.” I nod, trying to keep a straight face. And then it dawns on
me. “Hey, do you want to help me with something?”
“Like be a secret agent or something?” She sits up straighter.
“Nothing quite that intense.” I laugh. “In an effort to kill the mayor with
kindness, Hillary and I,” I say, pointing to Hillary, “are working on
upgrading your library at school.”
“You are?” Her eyes widen.
“We are. So I think you’re the perfect person to help us decide what
exactly it needs.”
“You mean like a reading couch and a moon pod and wobble chairs and
another set of Harry Potter because it’s always checked out? That kind of
stuff?”
“Exactly that kind of stuff.”
“A way to a woman’s heart is through her books. That’s for darn sure.”
I just stare at her, blinking. There’s nothing else I can do.
She crosses her arms over her chest and purses her lips, clearly in deep
thought. “Do I have a budget, or do I get carte blanche?”
Where does she come up with this shit?
“How about you just make a list—”
“It would be much easier if I created a Word doc and gave you links to
where to buy the items.”
I stare at her dumbfounded. “What?”
“Yeah. It’s what I do for Momma at Christmas. She says it’s much
easier for Santa if he has web links because he has so many kids to get toys
for. That way he gets me exactly what I want.”
Can’t fault Momma for that one.
“Okay. If you’re okay with doing that—”
“Kids are fluent in computer these days. Don’t doubt my skills.”
“I won’t. I’m not. I definitely do not doubt you.”
“Good.” She stands and gives us a resolute nod. “I need to get back to
Momma. She probably thinks I got lost somewhere and am in some kind of
peril. She listens to too many true crime podcasts.” She rolls her eyes. “But
I’ll get on that right away as I’m assuming you need progress to get the
mayor off your back?”
“Something like that. Thank you for the help.”
 “You know, if this thing with the woman you enjoy doesn’t pan out,”
she says as she stops to pick up her sign and then looks over her shoulder at
me, “I’m available to take her place in about twenty years. Later.”
And with that, Tootie skips out of my office and down the hall.
I meet Hillary’s eyes across the distance. “I want to be her when I grow
up,” she says.

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 CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Asher

The days pass quickly.

I hate to admit that I would do anything possible to slow them down, to
eke out more time with Ledger each day, but it’s true. The clock still turns.
The hours still fade. The days turn to night.
And as much as it hurts to admit, I know he has a life to get back to in
New York City. He is rarely on the phone when we are together. In fact, I’m
rather positive he makes a point to be unplugged. But on the off chance he
has to take a call he’s waiting for, I’m immediately reminded of his stature
and importance in a world so very foreign to me. Facts and figures roll off
his tongue in a no-nonsense tone that has to be intimidating to anyone on
the other end of the line, but to me is a turn-on.
There’s nothing sexier than a man who is sure of himself.
But it’s those times when he’s fixing a problem or negotiating with God
knows who, that I’m reminded he does have a life that’s real, a penthouse
that’s most likely posh, and a social life that’s probably active to get back
to.
My chest aches at the thought.
So I find comfort in the rhythm we’ve fallen into. Days spent working
on our own. Evenings spent getting to know each other again even though it
feels like we’ve never been apart. Late nights enjoying each other’s bodies
and learning each other’s pleasures.
But there seems to be an unspoken line we’re both toeing. One that has
us taking a step back for a break every day or two, almost as if both of us
are afraid to get too close.
I think it’s futile.
Yet I still play the game.
And I still attempt to convince myself this is simply infatuation.
 “Oh my God, Ash,” Nita says as she walks toward me, her hands out,
her face up to the sky. The look of amazement she gives me when she
finishes twirling under the softness of the lights causes goosebumps to
chase over my skin. “This. Is. Amazing.”
She keeps moving. Around the clearing where George and the guys
finished stringing lights back and forth from tree to tree to the barn in a
zigzag pattern. They are muted and cast a soft glow in the darkening night.
To the various antique and well-worn pots we’ve gathered from garage
sales from neighboring communities. With flowers spilling out of them,
they add a touch of color to the patinated barnwood they sit against.
She moves inside the barn. From the ceiling’s rafters hangs row after
row of lavender bundles drying amidst several shabby chic chandeliers that
lighten the all-wood interior.
She runs her hands over the newly stained railing that leads to the barn’s
loft. Over the piles of décor items I’ve yet to put out.
“Do you like it?” I ask, not caring whether she does or doesn’t, because
I do. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to take ownership of something
and see it to fruition that I forgot how good it felt to do so. With every
thought and placement, that familiar hum returned to my veins like when I
used to sketch.
There’s a creativity to this. A freedom to invent and inspire and bring a
vision to life. I never realized how much I was missing this feeling, how
happy it made my heart and the calming it did for my soul, until I started
this project.
Who knew falling back on what I knew best would mean both the
lavender and my sketching?
“I’m stunned. Literally stunned,” she says, her feet continually moving
as she takes everything in. “You are going to be booked for weddings and
events and . . . so many things.”
“That’s the plan.” Luxury. Decadence. A destination to lose yourself in.
Ledger’s words were the driving force behind the feel of it. Sarah from the
apothecary’s comments were the ones that flipped the switch on in my head.
“And then once we get our feet under us, I’m thinking we create another
outbuilding over there,” I say and point in the distance.
“For what?”
“So we can make our own soaps or oils to sell to places like Sarah’s
apothecary. So we can have people come out here to be hands-on and make
it themselves.” I shrug and smile shyly. “More pipe dreams.”
“This is not a pipe dream. This is you falling back on what you know
best. The one constant in your entire life. The lavender.” She grabs me in a
quick hug and makes a squealing sound as she turns around and takes it all
in again. “You could do weddings over there by the tree.”
“That’s what I was thinking too. Have the ceremony out there and the
reception in the barn.”
“It would be so beautiful with the lavender as a backdrop and the breeze
blowing through it. Gran and Pop would love this, wouldn’t they?”
My smile is bittersweet. “I already showed Gran some photos. It made
her cry happy tears. She couldn’t believe this was our farm. I already talked
to the staff about how we can get her here when it’s finished so she can see
it.”
“There won’t be a dry eye in the house on that day.”
I nod because I already have it planned in my head. Getting Gran here.
Letting her see her beloved lavender again. Sneaking her over to visit Pop
on the way back.
Pop. He already knows what it looks like, because he’s been here beside
me every step of the way, guiding me.
“Fingers crossed I get approved for my loan so I have the capital to buy
the rest of what I need. Tables and chairs. I want to add a bathroom for
guests and a kitchen onto the back of the barn so I can accommodate a
caterer. Pave the dirt road coming in here for easier access.” I scrub my
hands over my face, having already visualized it a hundred times. “If I’m
denied, this is all for naught.”
That’s my biggest fear. That if I leverage the farm for collateral for this
new loan, I’ll not only be risking my family’s blood, sweat, and tears, but
also my home.
And then, what if I don’t get the loan? I know from experience that it’s
almost crueler to have the dream and get it yanked away from you when
you’ve had just a taste of it than to simply dream it and never get a chance
to experience it.
“If you don’t get approved, you’ll figure it out somehow. It’s about time
you get to reap the good luck around here.” She stops and lifts an eyebrow.
“Then again, you did find Ledger so that seems like maybe you’ve cashed
some of that in.”
 “For the time being, anyway.” I try to joke about it, but Nita knows me
well enough to know what I’m doing when I change the topic—avoidance
as usual. “I’ve also been working on a proposal to offer special deals to
clients of The Retreat. Receptions. Parties. Whatever. The resort would get
a booking commission, and I’d get more traffic. Once I’m finished with it,
then I’ll present it to the person in charge there.”
“You mean Ledger?” she says sarcastically as she slides a look my way
as if I’m crazy.
“No. Not Ledger. I don’t want him to have anything to do with this.”
“You know that sounds crazy, right? He owns the damn resort, yet you
think he’s not going to know?”
“I don’t care if he knows after my proposal has been accepted, but not
before. No way. I want to get the partnership on my own merit. Not because
he gave me a handout.”
“A handout and a hand are two different things,” she asserts.
“Promise me you won’t say anything to him if you see him.”
“Fine. Whatever. But how are you going to keep all of this from him
when he comes here?”
“He’s seen the outside of the barn but not the inside. I’ll say I added the
lights because this part of the property is darker, and I wanted to brighten it
up.” I shrug. “He’s a man. He doesn’t notice details until you point them out
one by one.”
“True.” She laughs. “Where is the man of the hour anyway? Why’s he
not here screwing your brains out between the rows of lavender?”
“That was three nights ago,” I say nonchalantly as her grin widens.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” I nod and she sighs. “Jealous with a
capital J. So what exactly is going on with him?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’ve known you for a long damn time, Ash, and this is just
different.”
“Different how?” I ask but already know her answer. Because I can’t put
my finger on it and neither will she be able to.
“The amount of time you spend with him without feeling smothered.
Your want for more than just the damn good sex you’re having. The fact
that you’re taking a chance on this”—she points to the barn and the lights
around us—“when you’ve been so willing to just settle. It’s nothing I can
definitely pinpoint, but it’s there and I love it.”
 My smile is soft as I shake my head. “I hate when women say it was a
man that gave them confidence and all of that bullshit, so I’m not going to
say it, but I don’t know, Nita. Something in me has changed with Ledger
here. I don’t know if it’s self-assurance or if it’s that I don’t give a crap
about anyone in town or what they say about me . . . I’m just more like the
old me I was before I got called back here.”
She nods. “Hold on tight to it, okay?”
Let’s hope I can.
“It’s so weird to think he and I have lived two completely different lives
over the past fifteen years, and we meet up again and . . .”
“And it’s magic.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. It’s just . . . us.” It’s as though we picked up
things from where we left them. The friendship. The ease of
communication. The laughter. Everything is still there but just . . . so much
more than before. Perhaps that’s the sex, but I don’t think so. It’s as though
there aren’t the same restrictions as there used to be. No more father and
grandparents interfering. No more me caring what others thought. No more
me worrying about everything other than just us.
“Well, I’m happy for you. I truly am. No one deserves someone to treat
them like a queen more than you.”
“Does that mean you’ll be here to help me pick up the pieces when he
leaves?” I ask off-the-cuff but mean every word of it.
“You know I will be.” She reaches out and squeezes my hand. “But
something in me thinks instead of breaking you apart, he’ll have made you
whole again.”
I stare at the lights swaying on their thick black cable and take a deep
breath. Ledger’s always had such a profound effect on how I see myself.
Desirable. Lovable. Leave-able . . . even if that hadn’t been true from his
perspective in the end.
But therein lies the problem with Nita’s story.
I know how bad it hurts to lose Ledger.

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 CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Asher

Ledger: Are you free next Saturday night?

Me: No. I have an appointment to watch paint dry.
Ledger: Look at you with the jokes.
Me: Anything for you, dear.
Ledger: Cancel the paint appt. We have plans.
Me: Are you sure? I was really looking forward to it.
Ledger: Smart-ass.
Me: What do I wear?
Ledger: I’ll get back to you on that.
Me: Okay. I’ll be naked until told further.
Ledger: No complaints on that front.
Me: Smart man.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER THIRTY

Asher

I can’t sleep.
My mind is in overdrive, and my excitement building over my new
endeavor has created insomnia. The kind of restlessness that only a good
bout of sex with Ledger can seem to fix by tiring me out.
I contemplate texting him. He might still be working since I know he
had a conference call with someone overseas that he had to stay up for, but I
decide against it.
He might ask more questions about why I suddenly can’t sleep. And I
don’t want to have to lie.
Instead, I opt to wander through the house and selfishly admire the
changes I’ve been making to the décor to make it more mine.
I’ve been scouring garage sales, estate sales, and online markets for
others’ trash that I can make my treasure. It’s taken some time, but that’s
okay. I think it would be too hard to change it all at once. That would feel
like I’d tried to erase Gran and Pop completely.
Rather, I make a change, get used to it, and then move to the next. Little
by little I’ll make it mine while preserving elements of what was once
theirs.
The office. I realize I left the desk lamp on, and when I head in to turn it
off, I’m met with one more of Pop’s stacks.
I stare at it for a beat.
Just tackle it and get it over with. Clean the slate. Rip the Band-Aid off.
Keeping it isn’t going to miraculously bring Pop back to life.
I smile and know I’m right. With a deep breath, I take a seat and prepare
to face it.
Within an hour, I have broken the big stacks down into sub stacks. I’ve
gotten it down to a science now: receipts for taxes go in one place, invoices
get filed alphabetically, and payroll info by the employee is kept in binders
on the shelf. I have a file for miscellaneous items I’m afraid to throw out in
case it’s important but that I’m not quite sure of its relevance yet.
And then there is a stack of silly Pop things that I’m just not ready to
part with. A Post-It note that Gran had written “love you” to him on. A
ticket stub from the last movie we saw together. I never realized Pop was
such a sentimental guy until I started this project.
It makes me love him even more . . . if that’s even possible.
I’m singing out loud to the music pouring from the speakers and doing a
little shimmy with it as I add the items to my “Reasons Why I Love Pop”
file. I do one shimmy too many and accidentally drop one of the papers in
between the two hanging files. I reach in between them and scratch my
fingers around where I can’t see to try to feel for it.
I find it, touch it . . . but there’s also something stiffer than a receipt
there too. Figuring it’s another lost between the crack item, I pick it up to
put it in its proper place. But when I pull it out between the drab green
hanging files, I’m met with a tan envelope with worn edges.
My heart stops in my chest.
“When Pop came inside after talking with that . . . horrid man, he had
something in his hand. A tan envelope.”
I know it’s the envelope without any other proof than its color. It has to
be. For the briefest moment I contemplate letting sleeping dogs lie and not
open it. I already know that Maxton Sharpe was an unscrupulous asshole. Is
there going to be something beneath this seal that paints Pop in a different
light? In my heart of hearts, I know nothing could change my opinion of
him . . . and yet I still hesitate.
But curiosity gets the better of me as I move to the desk, take a seat, and
slide my finger under the seal. With a deep breath, I remove the lone object
from inside.
An uncashed check.
Made out to Pop.
Signed by Maxton Sharpe.
With a date of that fateful night.
Made out for forty thousand dollars.
I stare at the faded blue rectangle and am not exactly certain how I feel.
Surprise? Indifference? Disgust?
This is what saving his son from what he felt was a disgrace from dating
me was worth to him? This is all he believed I was worth?
 Tears blur my eyes, and those damn insecurities Maxton cemented into
my psyche that night rear their ugly head. But for all the right reasons. For
Pop reasons.
He didn’t cash it.
We’ve always struggled financially. This money would have gone a
long way for a family like ours whose ends didn’t always meet.
He sat on it, holding on to it for years, long after the check was invalid.
I think of the college experience I missed out on. The dreams that
slipped through my fingers.
He could have deposited it into a savings account. He could have used
those funds to help pay for my college.
And what if he had, Ash? How would that make you feel knowing the
price of your destroyed self-esteem was what put you through college?
I blow out a breath and lean back in the office chair, trying to process
the dueling emotions inside of me. Regret and relief. Time passes. Moments
tick by in the early morning hours as I play with the check’s edges. Study
the scrawled penmanship. Stare at the name in the memo section—Asher.
Would life have been easier if Pop had cashed this check? Used the
money for me? Used it to get better care for Gran? Used it to unburden the
finances after the fire?
Of course, it would have been.
But I look around at everything I have—consider the times we struggled
that brought us closer. The memories we made because we had to be more
creative. The Fields and everything I’m aspiring to make it . . . and I know I
wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
Did I miss out on a dream?
Yes, I did.
Dreams change. Isn’t that what I told Ledger that first night at Hank’s?
The irony is I said it to deflect the conversation. To give an excuse about
why I didn’t go to college.
And now I’m sitting here believing it.
Dreams do change.
And I’m damn sure going to make this one a reality come hell or high
water. It’s the least I can do to honor Pop for being the man he was. For
having integrity. For building me up when someone else tore me down.
For loving me how he did.
 After some more reflection, I tuck the check back into the envelope and
file it in my “Reasons Why I Love Pop” file. Where it belongs.
And as I trudge upstairs, finally tired and ready for sleep, there’s one
question left that’s plaguing me.
To tell or not to tell Ledger about the check.
He’s struggling enough with loving and idolizing a man who hurt him.
Do I want to add to that pain, or do I want to keep it to myself?
Both options are wrong.
Now I need to decide which one is the lesser of two evils.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Ledger

“Napa’s a crapshoot,” Ford mutters. “You think there’s red tape in Cedar
Falls? It’s got nothing on Napa.”
“Great. Then maybe we abort that project and just focus on the ones we
have for a while,” I say. The three of us are on one of our weekly
conference calls to make sure the right hand knows what the left hand is
doing.
“Did I just hear Ledger say he’s taking a break from his quest for world
domination?” Callahan teases. “Is the air too fresh there? Is it messing with
your brain cells? Abort the project?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard those words fall from his mouth before,”
Ford says.
“It must be all the sex,” Callahan says. “It’s rotting his brain.”
“Either that or he’s getting none, and it’s all the jacking off that’s
causing his lapse in judgment.”
“Are you two done?” I ask, glancing toward my office door, expecting
Asher any second. “I have shit to do. Clearly, you’re both in dereliction of
your duties while I’m gone if this is the shit you’re worried about.”
“Oh. Are you puffing your chest right now? Trying to show us you’re
the boss?” Callahan chides as if we were twelve. “One hundred bucks
Asher just walked in.”
“One thousand,” Ford says and, sure enough, when I glance back to the
door, Asher’s standing in its opening.
All thoughts leave my head. Instead of her usual jeans and tank top,
she’s standing there in a pale-yellow sundress. It hugs her chest and then
flows to above her knees, showcasing one shapely pair of legs. White
strappy sandals only add to the sexiness of the look.
“Earth to Ledger,” Ford says.
 “He’s too busy picturing how he’s going to fuck her on the desk after
everyone leaves.” Callahan laughs.
“Fuck off. I’m going now.”
I end the call to their dramatic protests and kissing sounds.
Such assholes.
Assholes, though, with a really good idea.
I glance at the desk, then up to Asher, and smile.
Definitely a good idea, but one that will have to wait.
Who knew when I asked her if she wanted to come see the resort’s work
in progress, I’d be preoccupied during the entire tour by the swing of her
ass? By her cleavage on display? And by the feedback she is giving?
Who knew that could be sexy? Intelligent suggestions, realistic
questions about how things will work, and thought-provoking inquiries I
don’t know the answers to just yet.
“So this really is going to be finished in a month? That feels like not
enough time with so much left to do.” Asher turns to look at me, and there
is something about her question that has my feet faltering.
Finished in a month.
“What?” she asks when I just stand there and stare at her.
“Nothing. I just lost my train of thought,” I say and shake the thought
away. “The last month is always chaotic. The big stuff is typically done by
then, but it’s the many tiny odds and ends that need to be tied up all at
once.”
She runs a hand over the quartz countertop in the spa as she walks
through it. “Do you ever miss your end date?”
“Sometimes. Not often. I’m not a fan of opening if it’s not perfect.” I
shrug, enjoying seeing her here in something so luxurious. It suits her.
“Sometimes we have to, though. The guests would never know . . . but I
would.”
“A perfectionist.”
“To a fault.” Just like my father.
A month ago, that would have filled me with a sense of pride. Now?
I’m still struggling with how it makes me feel.
But I have the best distraction I can think of. Asher.
We move through the resort. I show her the gift shops with empty racks
because the merchandise is en route. We go through each wing with me
spouting more information that I’m not sure she even cares about, but she
lets me without looking bored. She sighs when she sees each of the four
pools. She sinks down onto a couch in front of a soon-to-be working firepit,
which has been placed in a dome-shaped room made completely of glass.
“It’ll be incredible when it’s snowing outside and you can sit here by
the fire. You’ll be warm but feel like you’re outside.”
“That was the hope,” I murmur, my eyes never leaving her while she
looks at everything else.
Finished in a month.
When that month passes, what then, Sharpe? What happens to whatever
this is? How do you hold on to something that isn’t yours and who has a life
of her own here?
It’s not part of the ten-year plan.
She’s never even been on the plan and yet . . . I don’t know. I just don’t
know.
What if I don’t want to move that goalpost just yet?
Confusion swirls in my head. Things I want. Those I thought I wanted.
And then her—the unexpected.
I shake my head as I study her. She’s snuggled into the chair, her neck
resting on its back, her eyes closed.
Asher.
She makes me feel things.
Want things.
This was supposed to be a fun way to pass the time while I’m stuck
here. A relationship rooted in physicality.
Who the fuck was I kidding?
And how can a connection that began over seventeen years ago still feel
just as strong?
I run a hand through my hair, about to give in to the need to go over and
kiss her to quiet my head, but luckily find my senses because seconds later,
there are footsteps nearing.
“Excuse me, Mr. Sharpe?” I turn to find Nate, Hillary’s right-hand,
standing at the entrance to what we at S.I.N. have dubbed the Snow Globe
room.
“I told you, Nate, it’s Ledger.”
“Okay, Mr. Sharpe,” he says and smiles.
“What can I do for you?”
 “I know this is Hillary’s realm, but I wanted to keep you up-to-date on
where we stand with the list of items from our morning meeting.” He holds
up a clipboard with a list on it.
“I’d appreciate it.”
“The plants have been delivered, and our landscape architect will be
here tomorrow to start his process with his crew. All of the fixtures and
furniture for the spa will be delivered on Friday. I have a crew ready to start
the install on Saturday. I have the local electricians we hired from town
almost done with the finish electrical.” He looks up to meet my eyes. “The
only things we have left—well, left on today’s list at least—are getting the
fire marshal out here to test and sign off on the fire alarms. Oh, and also
scheduling the painter to come back for touch-ups in a few weeks.”
I run over my mental checklist to see if he’s missing anything. He’s not.
“Thank you, Nate. That’s all great.”
His smile is full of pride as it should be. This is his first project with us
and even though I clearly scare the shit out of him, he’s doing a great job.
“Cool. Thanks. Are you okay if I work on the rest of this tomorrow, or
—”
“Sure. On one condition . . .”

“Promise you’ll be there? At the tree?” Her gray eyes search mine.
“On one condition.”
“What’s that?” She angles her head to the side, her bottom lip between
her teeth as she waits for an answer.
I hold my hands out to my sides. “That you’ll love me forever,” I yell,
hoping this incredible high she gives me lasts forever.

The memory flashes through my head the minute the words are out of
my mouth. A scene I’ve replayed numerous times in my teenage years but
didn’t remember the words to until right now. On one condition . . .
I glance over to Asher, but her back is to me.
“Mr. Sharpe?” Nate asks, pulling me back to the here and now. “You
were saying? The condition?”
I smile. “All I was going to say is sure, go home, so long as you have a
good night.”
“That’s the condition?” Confusion blankets his face.
“Yes. That’s the condition.”
 A grin breaks out on his always-too-serious face. “Yes, sir. I will.”
I watch him as he walks down the foyer toward the lobby, other staff
and construction members milling about.
This time when I look over at Asher, her eyes meet mine, and there is a
wistful smile on her lips.
She remembers it too.
There’s nothing I can say at the moment. Even if I knew the right thing
to say, I don’t think it would help.
And just as soon as the moment is there, it’s gone when more voices are
heard down the hall. But our eyes hold for a brief second more. Another
moment where we acknowledge what once was while trying to figure out
what exactly this is.
“You want to see more, or am I boring you to tears and you want to be
done?” I ask in an attempt to get us back to whatever we were before those
three little words.
Her smile is genuine as she holds out her hand to me. “Show me
everything.”
And I do. I spend the next thirty minutes trying to impress her. It’s
ridiculous that I want to, and yet it’s true.
I want her to be impressed with this. More importantly, with me.
I’ve never cared what people think. I’m a Sharpe. That’s impressive
enough for most people in and of itself.
But she doesn’t care about that.
She never has.
So I’m hoping I can impress her by just being me.
Jesus. I sound like a sap. A whipped fucking sap when in reality we
never really defined whatever this is between us so does it even fucking
matter?
“That was impressive. You, Ledger Sharpe, are impressive,” Asher says
as she quickly glances around the outside of my office before grabbing my
shirt and pulling me into her. Her lips meet mine in the most tender of
kisses. She tastes like spearmint and smells like sunshine.
This woman.
Christ.
That yellow sundress.
Those sexy lips.
Her body rubbing up against mine.
 Her praise.
I glance at the clock, and then reach back and grab the phone off my
desk while Asher’s hands are still on my hips.
“Yes, Mr. Sharpe?”
“Hey, Bernie. Are there any protesters at the front gates?” I ask,
counting on the fact that he’ll give me the rundown like normal.
“Right now? None, sir. According to my log, you and a . . . Miss Wells,
are the only ones left on the premises.”
“Great. Thanks. I wasn’t aware. I guess we’ve been so wrapped up in
our discussion that I lost track of time.”
“It must be serious.”
“It is.” I glance at Asher. It’s about to be real serious. “Can you inform
me if anyone else arrives?”
“Are you expecting someone in particular?”
“Not at this time, but you never know.”
“Agreed. Not a problem, sir.”
And if Bernie has any inkling that I’m asking to be alone so I can fuck
Asher on my desk, he doesn’t let on. But he’s a smart man. I wouldn’t put it
past him.
I hang up the phone and when I turn to Asher, she has one eyebrow
raised and a mischievous smile on her lips.
“Can you inform me if anyone else arrives?” she asks coyly, running a
fingernail down the middle of my chest. “Why is that, Mr. Sharpe? Do you
have plans?”
My lips are on hers in a second, my hands sliding up the bare skin of
her thighs to grab her ass beneath her dress. “I have a lot of plans.”
“Is that so?” she asks between kisses.
“Fucking you on the desk.” I nip her lip. “You riding me in the chair.” I
delve my tongue between her lips. “So many fucking plans.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Sharpe.”

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 CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Asher

On one condition.
When he said those words today it was like being back on that moonlit
night when the world seemed right and life seemed fair.
He remembered it too.
What he said.
The moment we shared between us.
But there was something else that glanced through his eyes.
Uncertainty? Confusion? I’m just not sure.
The mature thing to do would be to say something about it. To put it out
in the open so maybe both of us can proceed with parameters in mind.
But I don’t want to be mature. I don’t want to ruin this time I have with
him because I’m more than aware this time is limited.
One more month.
Four more weeks.
And then what?
Do we cut each other out of our lives as we did back then? His work
responsibilities will be over just like his summer vacations once were. The
difference this time around is I’m not content to be a phone call and a text
message away for nine months of the year while I pine for his presence the
other three.
I deserve more than that.
I deserve better than that.
This whole thing has gotten complicated despite things between Ledger
and me being so easy. I’ve become the queen of lying by omission. To Gran
when she asks for more details about the man I’m seeing. To Ledger by not
telling him about the check.
And my own internal justification is the same thing that is conflicting
with me—that Ledger will be gone sooner than later.
 “Is there a reason you’ve been staring at me for the past minute?”
Ledger teases as his eyes narrow at me from over a container of Kung Pao
chicken.
Get a grip, Ash.
“I wasn’t staring.”
Quit mind-fucking this to death.
“You were zoned out. Should I worry that it’s because I have food on
my face or something in my teeth?”
Just enjoy his company and figure the rest out later.
“No. Sorry.” I smile and move the food around in my take-out container.
“I was lost in thought.”
“You’re probably thinking, Ledger is getting rather pudgy around the
middle since he’s been here for weeks and hasn’t worked out properly.”
“I think you’ve worked me out just fine, thank you very much.”
His grin is lightning quick as he sets his food down, crawls on all fours,
and presses a chaste kiss to my lips. His eyes darken with desire when they
meet mine. “I’d be more than happy to work you out again shortly.”
Just enjoy his company.
“Shortly? I think you’re losing your edge, Ledger Sharpe.” I take his
hand in mine and place it between the V of my thighs.
His groan is an aphrodisiac in itself.
“My edge?” He snorts. “I don’t think that’s what you were saying a few
hours ago.”
Snapshots flash through my mind.
My bare ass on his pristine desk. My legs spread wide. My fingers
tugging on his hair. His amber eyes looking up at me from between my
thighs as he slid his tongue up and down my slit before pushing it inside
me.
The decadent intensity.
The mind-blowing pleasure.
The utter bliss of the orgasm that slammed into me heightened by the
thrill and fear of being caught by someone walking into The Retreat and
catching us.
And then of course, there was the sex itself. How Ledger bent me over
his desk with my sundress bunched around my hips. How he pushed his
magnificent cock into me while my pussy was still fluttering from the
climax he’d given me moments before. How he held my shoulder with one
hand and gripped my hip with his other while he teased and toyed and
ground into me over and over until we were both left spent, breathless, and
momentarily satisfied.
My body aches from the memory. From the promise of more of him.
Because it’s always momentary satisfaction when it comes to Ledger.
There’s always a want for more. A need for more. A desire for one more
taste or touch or kiss of his.
He’s the best kind of addiction in the worst kind of way. One you want
to have but fear the withdrawal from.
“A few hours ago? Did something happen?” I ask coyly with a bat of
my lashes and a taunting smile. “Oh, yes. I completely forgot.”
“You forgot?” he says in mock shock as he grabs my leg with his free
hand and tugs me down to the floor where he is. My laugh is smothered by
his lips. “Then I guess I better help you remember.”
My gasp is sharp when he nips my shoulder. “The food though . . .”
He grinds his clothes-clad cock between my thighs. “Fuck the food. It’s
better reheated.”
“Definitely better reheated.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Asher

I run through the slideshow I’ve created. The new pictures I’ve taken of
The Fields are simply stunning. I’ve stared at them over and over and still
can’t believe it’s the same place I’ve trampled every inch as a child.
I swear it’s the magic of photography but every image feels soft and
romantic and like a place I’d personally want to hold an event. Granted, the
images purposefully neglect to show the items getting the loan would
provide, but they still highlight a complete and beautiful backdrop for an
event.
I glance around the waiting area. Funny how I was here the other day
and didn’t notice these chairs. I welcome the distraction of thought though,
because my knee keeps jogging up and down and my palms are so sweaty
that I have to rub them on the only pair of slacks I think I own. This is a big
deal in general, but it’s an even bigger deal to me. I want to be in and out of
The Retreat before Ledger comes back from his working lunch.
“Miss Wells?” I glance up and smile at the lady standing in the hallway.
She gives me a peculiar look, one that says why are you meeting with
Hillary when you were here the other day with Ledger? But I simply smile
back at her. “Hillary will see you now.”
“Thank you. Okay.” I rise on shaky legs with my laptop and a printed
copy of the presentation in my hands and follow her.
Hillary gives me a similarly curious look when I walk into her office,
but doesn’t say a word until I take a seat.
“I’m assuming there’s a good reason why you specifically asked to have
this meeting with me when Ledger is out of the office?”
Hillary is an imposing figure. She’s tall with hard features and
unrelenting eyes. It helps that I’ve seen her laughing with Ledger before, or
else my nerves would be more rattled than they already are.
 “Yes. For me, it’s a good reason. For you, it may put you in an awkward
position, and for that, I’ll apologize ahead of time.”
“Continue,” she says with a nod as she clasps and unclasps her hands in
front of her on the desk.
“Luxury. Decadence. A destination to lose yourself in. That’s your
brand. That’s what S.I.N. properties are known for,” I say, repeating
Ledger’s description that has stuck in my head ever since I decided to make
this work. “And at The Fields, we not only share that vision, but we want to
offer an opportunity for your guests to experience it with more of a small-
town feel to it. Whether it be a wine tasting event beneath the stars in a
fragrant field of lavender, or a family reunion with live music, or a wedding
ceremony and reception, we can accommodate your needs.”
With a deep breath, I continue my presentation for Hillary, struggling at
times when her stoic expression gives me nothing to feed off of. When I’m
finished explaining the premise, I move on to explain my future aspirations
of producing lavender products for purchase.
I force myself to slow down several times, but I hope my excitement for
this new venture is more evident than my nerves.
And when I finish, Hillary leans back in her chair, lips twisting and
stare implacable. “Why exactly would our clients prefer your farm instead
of this multi-million dollar resort they’re already paying for to hold their
event?”
“Some may. Some may not. The Fields simply gives you another option
for those guests who wish to get more of an authentic small-town
experience. As you’ll see when you read through the full proposal, I’ve
listed comparative studies of other high-end resorts and similar
partnerships, complete with a breakdown of the typical S.I.N. demographic
and how this partnership can meet their needs.”
Another nod. “And you didn’t bring this to Ledger for what reason?”
I stare at her, blinking for a beat, assuming the answer is quite obvious,
but I explain anyway. “If you should want to partner with The Fields on
this, I’d rather the partnership be based on merit than obligation. As you’re
aware, Ledger and I know each other personally. I want this opportunity
because it’s valid and good and beneficial. Not because he feels obligated to
make it.”
“And you think I’m able to separate my decision even though you are
my boss’s girlfriend?”
 “I’m not his—we’re not . . .” I clear my throat and shake my head. Shit.
I wasn’t expecting her to be so blunt. “Clearly, you’re a damn good
businesswoman, or else you wouldn’t be in charge of this resort. So yes, I
think you are more than capable of making an unbiased decision on what is
best for your resort when it comes to partnerships or outside opportunities. I
also know that Mayor Grossman is holding you guys to the fire when it
comes to incorporating the town somehow in The Retreat.”
“And you think this would help with that?”
“I think Sharpe International is undeniably receptive and astute and
already has things in the works to fix Grossman’s requests. People are
talking around town, and I think the tide might slowly be turning in your
favor. Adding The Fields to your . . . guest options isn’t going to affect him
one way or the other. But what does it hurt? The Retreat gets a booking fee
for simply offering the opportunity. Your guests get a unique experience.”
“And you get business.”
“Yes. That is the point, after all,” I say without apology. My nerves have
given way to confidence now. I’ll be doing this with or without the resort’s
partnership.
“How are we supposed to tie this into The Retreat?”
“You don’t. We’re a lavender farm. You’re a large upscale resort. It’s
simply another adventure they can take like the skiing or the outdoors
packages you are offering through your concierge services.”
“And the venue area is ready to go?”
“It will be in the next month.” I hope. If I can secure the loan. Let’s
hope the questions I was answering with the bank on the way over here are
another positive step in doing just that.
Silence falls in the office as Hillary flips through the paper version of
my presentation. My pulse races and my knee begins to jog again.
This is the first time I’ve ever had the opportunity to take a chance like
this in my adult life. The Fields was always Gran and Pop’s. It always had
to be run their way because you don’t fix what’s not broken. But now it’s
essentially mine, and until this moment, I didn’t realize how bad I wanted
this.
How much I needed something more to define myself with.
“It’s not a bad idea by any means,” Hillary muses, her eyes still looking
at my proposal. “Your numbers are fair and your ideas sound.”
“Thank you.”
 “I’m currently reviewing several other proposals to complement the
packages Ledger and I are securing. I’ll definitely take yours into strong
consideration when I make my decision.” She looks back up and gives me
an all-business smile. “I don’t mean to sound cliché when I say I’ll be in
touch, but I’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you.” I rise from my seat and reach across the desk to shake her
hand. “I appreciate your time.”
It’s not until I am clear of the building that I think I actually exhale.
Now it’s time to go spend some time with Gran to take my mind off
waiting for an answer.

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 CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Asher

“It looks nice.”

“What does?” I ask Nita as I plop down on the couch across from where
she’s seated.
“The house. You’re slowly making it yours.”
“You mean I’ve taken down all of the embarrassing photos that Gran
and Pop had hanging of me everywhere?”
“Well, there’s that.” She laughs. “But it feels more like you than like
them now.”
“I know. It’s been a gradual process and a hard decision to make to start
doing it, but I had to come to terms with the fact that Gran isn’t coming
home and Pop is gone. I figured if I’m updating the barn, I might as well
incorporate more of me in here as well.”
“And how does that make you feel?”
“Proud. Sad. Resolved. Pop and I never specifically talked about what
I’d do when they were gone, but he always told me he loved my ‘Ash
style.’ And so, now it’s both them and me. What they built with a little bit
of me thrown in.”
“Well, it looks great. Bright and clean with pops of color. I like it, and I
think he would have too.” She shimmies her shoulders to add some levity.
“It’s like I’m looking at an all-new Asher in so many different ways these
days.”
“Well, this all-new Asher is getting antsy waiting for Ledger to do
whatever it is he’s going to do.”

“Hey. I didn’t expect to hear from you until later. What’s up?”
“So . . . I know you’re going to be pissed, but just go with it,” Ledger
says.
“Just go with what?” Why am I going to be pissed?
 “With the surprise I have for you. It’s not meant to tell you I don’t like
you just how you are—but rather meant to spoil you.”
“Um . . . okay.” I walk to the window of the farmhouse and look out to
where George is messing with something, my curiosity more than piqued.
“Should I be worried?” I tease.
“No. Not in the least. I just wanted to do something special for you.”
Cue my heart skipping a beat. “Okay.” I draw the word out. “When
should I expect said surprise?”
“You’ll know soon.”

“What does he mean, you’ll know soon?” Nita asks.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“But it has to do with the secret date he’s taking you on tonight?”
“Yes. I asked him last night if he could give me some suggestions about
what I should wear. That phone call was his answer.”
“Sexy, rich, and mysterious. Are you sure I can’t make a play for one of
his brothers?” She laughs.
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes and then hold my hands out to my sides to
showcase a pair of old running shorts and a plain black tank top. “Well, if
whatever he has in store doesn’t show up soon, this is what he’s going to get
for my date attire.”
Nita laughs but then sinks back into my couch and looks at me
wistfully. “It’s exciting though, isn’t it? To have a secret date and a
handsome man planning it.”
I look at her and twist my lips. “I think this is the most romantic thing
someone has ever done for me. That’s not saying much considering a close
second is Brad Wheelan sneaking Valentine’s hearts in my lunch box every
day for a month in sixth grade.”
“Seriously? Brad? As in Brad, Brad?” she asks, her eyes widening.
“Yes. That Brad,” I say. The same Brad who is now married to his
husband and living happily with two adorable sons.
“Well, I think—”
A knock on the door interrupts her and makes me jump. The windows
are closed and the air conditioning is on, so the fact that someone drove
down the driveway and I didn’t notice, startles me.
“Are you expecting company?” Nita asks as I pull open the front door.
 “Hello?” I ask the woman standing on the front porch. Her hair is pulled
back into a sleek bun, her entire outfit is black, and her makeup is flawless.
She looks completely out of place on my doorstep.
“Asher Wells?”
“Can I help you?”
Her smile widens, and it’s only then I see a rolling clothes rack to the
right of the door, another two women standing beside it, and some very
large portable cases.
She holds her hand out, and I shake it. “I’m Millie Paulsen and these are
my assistants, Jayne and Fran. We are your glam squad.” She gives a sassy
wink. “Ledger has sent us to get you dressed and made up for your evening
out tonight.”
I glance back to Nita who is mouthing the words, Oh my God, in
response.
Personal stylists? Seriously? I’ve never experienced anything like this
in my entire life.
“I—I can’t aff—”
“Honey, do you actually think a man is going to send us to your
doorstep and expect you to pay for it? If that’s the case, it’s a requirement to
dump his ass. But that isn’t the case with this.” She gives a nod and a quick
smile. I have a feeling the woman is a force that no one disagrees with.
“Shall we get started?” She may ask the question but is already moving past
me and into the house before I respond.
Jayne and Fran are right behind her, doing the heavy lifting by pushing
the wardrobe cart and travel cases into the house. It’s only then that I see
the gowns hanging from the rack. In the quick glimpse I get, their style
covers the gamut and tells me whatever our destination is must be pretty
fancy.
I hold a hand to my stomach as nerves and excitement bloom.
Holy shit.
All this for me?
Definitely the most romantic thing someone has done for me.

***
The last few hours have felt like a blur. I’ve been primped and styled and
glamorized in a way I never have been before. After a small fashion show
where I tried on every dress, the blue beaded one with the sexy neckline and
mid-thigh slit was voted as the favorite.
And I was secretly happy about that as it was the one I felt the best in.
Nita just sat back and observed the entire time, shaking her head and
with a grin on her face.
She looked like how I felt. Stunned. In disbelief. Adored.
It’s a feeling every woman should feel at some point in their life . . . and
a feeling I can’t remember having since . . . since that last night with Ledger
fifteen years ago.
The thought has me smiling softly and closing my eyes to prevent the
tears that are welling from falling. The last thing I want to do is ruin my
makeup. But how crazy is it that it’s been the same man, both times?
When I’m certain the sentimental tears are gone, I open my eyes to find
the driver of the car Ledger sent for me turning into the gates of the airport.
I glance around, expecting him to stop me at the small terminal of the
local airport, but he keeps driving.
Through the gates.
Across the tarmac.
Up to a black jet with the words, Sharpe International Network,
emblazoned on its tail end.
“We’re here, miss,” my driver states as he pulls to a stop.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Ledger

She takes my breath away.

It sounds cliché, but when Asher steps out of the SUV, she renders me
breathless. The blue dress she opted for hugs her every curve. It’s sexy but
classy—just like her. Her hair is in some kind of loose but intricate
something or other that has me wondering how I’m going to keep my hands
out of it and not mess it up when I kiss her.
Because I will be kissing her.
In fact, I don’t know how I’m going to keep my fucking hands off her.
Her makeup only adds to the full effect. It’s definitely more than I’m
used to her wearing, but she’s still my Asher.
“Stunning.” It’s all I can say when she looks my way and her eyes hit
mine. The smile she gives me. The look in her eyes. How her body
intuitively turns to me. “Absolutely stunning. You. The dress. Everything.”
When I press a kiss on her cheek, I swear my stomach flips over.
Something about her, about this moment and bringing her to see my
brothers tonight, overwhelms me.
She’s incredible in every sense of the word. Asher in her everyday life
stuns me. But she . . . fits. And I’m not sure what to do about that. Yet.
How do I merge our two very different worlds together?
Because I’m starting to see that it may become an absolute necessity.
“Look at you,” she says, luckily breaking up my thoughts and tugging
gently on the lapel of my tux. “Handsome as ever.”
“Well,” I say, hands in my pockets as I rock back on my heels. “I know
what a picnic in the field got me”—I shrug—“so I figured why not aim a
little higher this time and see what happens?”
She snorts, and it’s so very Asher—dressed to the nines and yet still so
very much her. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”
I hold my elbow out for her to put her arm through. “Shall we?”
 “You’re not going to tell me where we’re going yet, are you?”
“Nope.” I want her to see the skyline of the city she loves and see her
reaction as she figures it out for herself.
When I step to the side to let her up the stairs first, she stops and simply
takes in the entirety of the jet in front of us. “Holy shit,” she murmurs.
“What?”
“This is normal for you, Ledger Sharpe, but this is insane to me. Utterly
insane.”
Her face is a mixture of awe and disbelief that has me rooted in place as
she starts up the stairs to board.
We’ve had a private jet at our disposal our whole lives. Many of the
kids I grew up with at prep schools either owned one like us or used one
when they traveled.
I thought this would be a cool treat for us. To get away. To go to where I
love. To just be together.
Never in a million years did I think I was going to enjoy her taking in
things, being spoiled by things I’d always taken for granted as much as I am
right now.
When I reach the top step and see her studying every single detail of the
plane’s interior, I can’t stop smiling.
She deserves so much more than this.
“Hey, Asher?” I ask as I come up behind her and wrap my arms around
her. “Promise me you’ll let me spoil you all night long?”
She turns, and her grin is mischievous as hell. “On one condition . . .”
The phrase stops me. Thoughts, ideas, and memories collide that have
me smiling.
“Oh yeah?” I ask, eyebrows raised, more than willing to meet whatever
condition she’s going to offer. “What’s that?”
“You let me join the mile-high club.”
“Deal. Check, please. Done. Where do I sign up?”
When she throws her head back and laughs, I know it’s a sound I could
listen to forever.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Asher

The city’s skyline is simply incredible. I can’t stop staring at it, just as I
couldn’t when I looked out the jet’s window and realized where Ledger was
taking me.
It didn’t hurt that I was still recovering from one of the most mind-
bending orgasms I’ve ever had either.
Who knew private jets had bedrooms or that having crew members just
on the other side of its door could enhance the adrenaline pumping through
your veins when you’re bent over and being fucked from behind?
And who knew how masterful Ledger could be at not ruining my hair or
dress while ruining other parts of me in all the best kinds of ways?

“It’s going to be hard for you to come and not make a sound, isn’t it
Ash?” Ledger murmurs as he runs the tip of his nose down the length of my
spine exposed by the open back of the dress.
I gasp as he pushes in deeper, my body already more than primed, and
my arousal already on high alert knowing Sally, our flight attendant, who
so generously served me a glass of wine just moments ago, is on the other
side of the door.
And there is no doubt she knows exactly what is going on in here right
now.
Ledger reaches around to my front, his fingers dancing over the slick
flesh there and adding the friction I need to push me to the brink.
I drop my head down as pleasure swamps me. “It’s going to be hard not
to mess that hair up.” He places an open mouth kiss onto my shoulder. “To
not flip you over and watch you.” Another kiss on the other shoulder. “To
not hold my hand over your mouth to quiet your scream.” Faster strokes
over my clit. “To watch you sink your teeth into your bottom lip when you
come.”
 He pulls out so that just the tip of his cock is in me, teasing me like that
for a few moments, before slamming into me again in one smooth stroke.
“Ledger.” His name is a moan. A plea for more. A rasp of appreciation.
“But I sure as fuck am not going to complain about this view.” Another
withdrawal out. “How your pussy stretches around me.” Another push back
in. “How it grips me so fucking tight.” A grind of his hips. “The sight of
how goddamn wet you are.”
His fingers work faster.
“Do you hear that? How wet I make you?”
His hips move harder.
“Yeah. Right there. There’s that spot that gets you.”
His hand grips tighter.
“I want you to come for me Ash. Don’t hold fucking back.”
Sensations build. Pleasure mounts.
I come in a torrent of sensation. All thoughts are abandoned as my body
rides each wave as it hits me. And before I can catch my breath, Ledger’s
sharp hiss fills the small bedroom as he empties himself in me.
For a few seconds, it feels like the world stands still. It’s just Ledger and
this moment and pleasure. Simple, shameless pleasure.
I jump when his lips meet my neck again, seconds before the warmth of
his breath hits my ear as he chuckles. “Welcome to the mile high club.”

The mile-high club was definitely all it’s been cracked up to be.
Then again, it simply might be that it has everything to do with Ledger
and nothing to do with the plane.
But here we are. In the city I left in a rush twelve years ago, thinking I’d
be back, to never end up returning.
Sounds of the gala carry on behind me. Small talk. Polite laughter. Loud
exclamations from people who haven’t seen each other in forever. Praise
how divine the canapes are. Thank-yous murmured when champagne
glasses are refilled. The lowering of voices before the catty comment.
I turn from the skyline and focus on the lavish party before me. I
definitely fit the part with this stunning dress and glam makeover, but while
I wait for Ledger to come back from the restroom, I feel a bit out of place.
“Ash Ash Bo Bash. Is that you?” I turn to find someone who looks just
like Ledger but most definitely isn’t, seeing as he has a stunning woman on
his arm.
 “Once a teenager, always a teenager,” the woman says before stepping
forward with a warm smile and her hand extended. “Asher, so nice to meet
you. I’m Sutton Sharpe. And this brother is Callahan.”
“Hi. Nice to meet you,” I say and then turn toward Callahan with
surprise on my face. “You’re the first one to get hitched? Never in a million
years would I have guessed that one.”
Callahan gives me a lightning-quick grin before kissing my cheek.
“Never in a million years did I think I’d ever see you again. With Ledger no
less. The years have been kind to you.” His smile turns genuine. “You look
beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Nostalgia hits me like I didn’t expect, seeing another
Sharpe brother again.
“And truth be told, I was surprised I was the first one too, but this one,”
he says, looking adoringly at his wife, “she’s a force to be reckoned with.
She got me hook, line, and sinker. I’m a lucky man.”
“You are,” Sutton says unapologetically but then winks at me.
“There she is,” another voice says as Ford joins us on the patio. “It
seriously is you, isn’t it?”
“Crazy, huh?” I say, feeling a little more comfortable now that I semi-
know some people.
“Completely.” He gives a quick shake of his head as if he’s trying to
reconcile the past with the present, much like I am. “Out of all of us, you
still chose Ledge?” he teases.
“Hey. I heard that,” Ledger says as he steps beside me, puts his hand on
my waist, and pulls me into him.
When I found out we were going to the annual Alzheimer’s fundraiser
that he and his brothers host, I was curious how he’d act around them.
Would I be a friend he brought along, or would I be treated as his date?
The kiss he presses to the side of my temple and the words “I’m glad
you chose me,” murmured in my ear, definitely say the latter.
We talk for a bit about nothing of importance. It feels like déjà vu most
of the time as memories come back fast and furious.
“The dinner is about to start,” Ford says. “Shall we head to the table?”
And the dinner is lavish. Filet mignon and truffle oil potatoes. A choice
of various desserts. Expensive wine flowing like water.
Just like the Sharpe brothers are hoping donations will be—flowing
heavily into the charity.
 When Ledger, Ford, and Callahan’s speeches are finished, and they’ve
been accosted by people wanting to be seen by them, I make my way back
out to the patio and the view of the skyline I love. I told Ledger to take his
time doing what he needs to do as I truly don’t mind the fresh air or the
time to simply sit and admire its beauty.
I’m just about to reach the doorway when I get stuck behind a group of
five or so women all talking furiously about some guy named Theodore and
how one of them saw him with someone who wasn’t his wife the other day.
“Excuse me. May I get by please?” I ask when there is a break in their
conversation.
“Oh. We’re sorry,” the one in the silver dress says before narrowing her
eyes at me. “I don’t believe we’ve seen you before.”
“What family do you belong to?” the one in the gaudy black dress asks,
who looks like she uses a Sharpie for eyeliner. Clearly money can’t count
for taste.
“Family?”
“Yes, dear,” green dress says. “Who are you? A Rothschild? A
Montgomery? A Vanderbilt? Who?”
“A Wells,” I say with a smug smile to match the ones they are giving
me. “We’re not from these parts.”
“Oh,” black dress says as she blinks her way through her tangled lash
extensions. “Then who are you here with?”
“Ledger Sharpe.”
“Sure, you are,” gold dress says with an eye roll to her friends. “I’m
sorry, but personal assistants are all hanging in the adjacent room. I’m sure
you’d be more comfortable chatting with like-kind and commiserating
about how miserable we all are to work for. Besides, I hear the food in there
is great too.”
For a brief moment, I’m brought back to the farmhouse. To Pop
standing toe-to-toe with Maxton Sharpe. To the harsh words that fueled my
inadequacies for way too long.
“I’m sure the food is good in there. Leave it to the Sharpes to treat
everyone with kindness.” My smile is smug. “And for the record, I’m
actually Ledger’s date, but I’ll make sure to tell his PA when I see her.” I
smile, having no clue if he even has a PA here in New York.
“Oh. I wasn’t aware,” green dress says. “So you’re with him for the
money then? Take it from us, it isn’t exactly the easiest life fawning all over
your husband most days to stroke his ego.”
“Not the money, no. I own my own business and can support myself just
fine.” I stand a little taller. “And in case you didn’t notice, the Sharpe men
don’t need anyone to fawn all over them. It just happens naturally to
everyone around them. Besides, fawning is beneath you.” I glance over my
shoulder to see that Ledger is still otherwise engaged. I’m glad you chose
me. “Enjoy the rest of your night. We truly appreciate your donations
tonight.”
With that, I walk away with my head held high and a smile on my lips.

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 CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Ledger

Tonight has brought on a mix of emotions for me.

It’s the first time I’ve been home since facing the reality of what my
father did—the lies and deception that kept Asher and me apart. It was
easier to push it to the back of my mind when I was away, but now being
here—at something we do in his honor—has made it harder to ignore.
There’s hurt. There’s betrayal. And there’s a burning need to share it
with my brothers, but an even greater desire not to taint their view of the
man he was since we, as humans, tend to canonize the ones we love after
their death.
And to have to go up there and speak about him tonight without
highlighting any of his flaws felt rather hypocritical.
Especially with Asher sitting there staring at me.
Is that why I asked her here tonight? Because I knew it was going to be
tough for me? But then again, what kind of an asshole does that make me?
Jesus Christ. Why didn’t I think of this before? I invited her to celebrate the
honor of the man who said horrible things to her.
Talk about throwing salt in the wound.
How could I have been so selfish? How could I have been so blind?
I need to find her.
I need to apologize.
She saw the New York City skyline and probably assumed I was taking
her out, just the two of us. Not to this.
What an asshole.
“You okay, man?” Callahan asks with a firm pat on my back as I scan
the room looking for Asher.
“Yeah. Fine. Good,” I say and shake the thoughts away.
“A three-word answer. That means you’re lying.”
“What’s he lying about?” Ford asks when he steps up.
 “Beats the shit out of me.” Callahan shrugs. “My money is on it being
about Asher.”
“Asher?” Ford asks with a raise of his eyebrows as if he’s surprised.
“What’s the deal there? You going to break that ten-year plan of yours? I
believe it’s item six point five under section two that states ‘I will not fall in
love or get married until age forty.’”
“Let it go. Don’t do this tonight.”
“Why? If the roles were reversed, big brother, you’d jump at every
chance you had to harass the hell out of us,” Ford says.
“So, what gives?” Callahan asks. “Is this a permanent thing or a
temporary thing?”
“Because if it’s permanent, then you know Callahan and I have to vet
the adult version of her.”
“Take her out for a night, grill her with questions to see if she’s worthy
of our big brother. Make sure she—”
“Leave it be,” I say quietly. I’m not in the mood for this, for them,
especially when I screwed up royally tonight and need to fulfill my duties
so I can get the hell out of here.
“Nope. Not gonna happen.” Ford’s grin is a taunt in and of itself. This
isn’t the time. This isn’t the place.
And it sure as hell isn’t any of their business considering they don’t
know the whole story.
“Look. Asher and I . . . it’s nothing major,” I say for them to let it go; all
the while, those three words feel like they’re burning a hole through my gut.
“It’s just a fling that will be over in three or four weeks when I’m done with
my penance in Cedar Falls and get to come back home. Simple. Easy.
Done.”

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 CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Asher

“Look. Asher and I . . . it’s nothing major,” Ledger says to his two
brothers. I’m listening intently, and my feet falter a few feet away from the
trio. “It’s just a fling that will be over in three or four weeks when I’m done
with my penance in Cedar Falls and get to come back home. Simple. Easy.
Done.”
And there it is.
The answer to the question I’ve been too damn afraid to ask.
Or more like too chicken to ask.
My heart drops to my feet. There’s no other way to describe it. Our
silence on what this is between us was for a reason.
To him, it’s just a fling.
To me, it’s . . . I swallow down the swell of emotion that surges inside
of me. Emotion I’d prefer to ignore at this point.
I take a few steps back behind the corner so I can gather my wits. So I
can take a deep breath and fight the tears burning in my eyes. So I can
convince myself that I was stupid to think this might be anything other than
a short-term, convenient affair with incredible sex.
Because good sex doesn’t mean love, regardless of what our past held.
“Asher. There you are,” Ledger says when he turns the corner to find
me standing there preparing to face him.
“Hi.” I hope my smile is convincing. “I was just stopping to give my
feet a break. They’re not exactly used to wearing heels all night.”
“That bad?” he asks, but when he steps closer, he brings his thumb and
forefinger to my chin and holds my face still. His eyes search mine. “I’ve
hurt you, haven’t I?”
How did he know I overheard him with his brothers?
I scramble for a response, but he beats me to it.
 “I apologize for bringing you here to celebrate a man I’m sure you’re
not too fond of. Truth be told, I’m not entirely sure how I feel about him
right now either. I was selfish to make you sit through that. To make you
come here. I wanted you here for me and didn’t think of how it would make
you feel.”
“It’s okay. I’m glad I could be here for you,” I murmur, partially
relieved he doesn’t know I overheard him, partially not.
“Thank you.” He brushes his lips gently over mine in that way that
makes me simply want to melt into him. Even after hearing his
proclamation. “But this wasn’t much of a date in the city you love. Let me
make it up to you.”
“Ledger—”
“Shh.” He kisses me tenderly again. “There’s nothing more I’d love to
do.”
He grabs my hand and starts heading for the elevator. “Ledger? We
can’t just leave. You’re the host.” He enters the empty elevator car and
holds his hand out to me. “You have to be here.”
He tugs me so I land against him, and the second the door closes, his
lips are on mine in a searing kiss filled with greed and lust and about ten
things in between. “My brothers can handle it,” he murmurs against my
lips. His hands go up to thread through my hair and then stop when he
realizes the epic number of bobby pins stopping him. “We have to be back
to Cedar Falls by six a.m.”
“But it’s almost eleven at night. Where—”
“We’re in the city that never sleeps, Asher. My city. We might as well
take advantage of every waking moment we have.”
His city. For the moment we have.
We gorge on ice cream sundaes at Serendipity 3 in our fancy clothes.
We stop by a drugstore after that, Ledger giving me a piggyback ride
through the aisles, to buy a pair of flip-flops because my feet are sore, and I
don’t want my heels to hold us back. Ledger holds my hand as we walk
through the city, guiding me through sidewalk traffic as I stare up at the
buildings towering above me. We take silly selfies in Times Square. He
patiently waits while I window-shop in the darkened storefronts on Park
Avenue. My stomach turns as he shows me the observation deck of the
Empire State Building. We stroll through what he deems is the safe part of
Central Park.
 It’s exhausting and rejuvenating and I allow myself to focus on the here
and now. Not the fling or the time limit Ledger imposed unknowingly
earlier.
And when our bodies are exhausted and the moon disappears from the
skyscraper-lit sky, we begrudgingly make our way to the airport and the
waiting jet. We’re greeted with welcome smiles from a crew whom I’m sure
expected to already have been to Montana and back by now, but you’d
never know it.
We’re in the air within minutes. And soon after, Ledger reclines our
joined seats and pulls me against him. He covers me with a blanket and
wraps his arms around me so that I rest my head on his chest.
We lie like this for some time, but it’s when he presses a kiss to the
crown of my head and murmurs my name that the truth collides.
I don’t respond to him, letting him believe I’m asleep.
Tears well in my eyes, and I’m not sure why. Is it that I just need a
moment or is it that I’m hiding from him?
I’m glad you chose me.
Now that there’s quiet and my mind can reflect, the events of the night
have caught up to me. And that’s comforting. I love spending time with
him. He makes me feel incredible.
That’s also scary because . . . because of how much I love him.
The acknowledgment jars me.
But I already knew this, didn’t I? That Ledger was easy to love?
Maybe I hadn’t realized that I was in love with him, but somehow it
happened. Little by little. Discussion by discussion. Kiss by kiss. Laugh
after laugh. I’d fallen back in love with Ledger Sharpe. I can’t chalk it up to
lust anymore. To simple attraction. The want to see him every waking
minute. Because yes, there’s all that, but there’s also a need deep in my soul
to be with him. There’s that tug on my heart every time I see him and the
emptiness that fills it when we’re not together.
I lie there in stunned silence for some time, sorting through my
thoughts, my options, and how each one will devastate me in one way or
another. And when Ledger’s breathing evens out and his soft snores fill the
plane, I dare to look up at the only man I’ve ever loved romantically.
A man who, for a small moment in time, I thought I had a future with.
The man who publicly claimed me tonight, suggesting he was glad I chose
him. And to think I believed it was all true.
 I’m going to let him go.
I’ll enjoy the time we have left. I’ll love him within the confines of my
heart alone.
This time, I’ll end it on my terms.
Because for once in my life, I won’t be taken by surprise when someone
I love leaves me.
This time, I’ll choose to be on my own again.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Ledger

“Tell me something, son.”

I look over to my dad who’s sitting on the bow of the sailboat. The sun is
bright in Sag Harbor today, but the ocean breeze has tempered the heat. He
looks old. That’s my first thought. My second is how long will I have him
with me this time?
His episodes are more often than not these days. Bouts of forgetfulness
followed by confusion over where he is typically rules our time together.
But the water has always made him happy, and so my brothers and I
have been trying to make a conscious effort to have him on it as much as
work permits.
“What is it, Dad?”
“Have you ever done something you thought was for good reasons, that
you meant well by it, but that never really sat well with you as time wore
on?”
I stare at my dad, his silver hair blowing in the breeze and his
unrelenting eyes staring at me. “Are you talking about work? Sure, we’ve
all done something we did and then second-guessed it. That’s how it goes
sometimes . . .”
“No, I’m talking about something I did to make sure you . . . I was
scared you were going to make poor choices.”
“Dad, I’m confused. What are you talking about?”
“It’s okay, Callahan.” He smiles, and I let his confusion over him
thinking I’m my brother stand. As we’ve learned in the past, correcting him
only serves to agitate him.
“What poor choices are you talking about?” I ask, knowing damn well
Callahan sure as hell made many.
“I should have trusted you, son. I should have known you had the best
head on your shoulders of the three of you and that you would’ve made the
right decisions.”
“Okay.” I’m lost but just smile and nod because that’s the only thing I
can do when he starts talking in the confused circles his damaged mind
spins.
“I’m sorry for interfering. I’m sorry for thinking I knew better than you
did. I’m sorry for lying in order to make sure you didn’t make a mistake.”
“It’s okay, Dad. Whatever you did, I’m sure it was with good
intentions.” What in the hell is he talking about?
“Thank you. I’m so sorry, Ledge. I just needed to say that to you.”

I jolt awake with a pocket of turbulence, my heart racing, and my brain

in overdrive. I’d completely forgotten that conversation with my dad in the
months leading up to his passing. I’d chalked it up to confusion and the
disease stealing his memory and him thinking I was Callahan.
But he wasn’t.
He was talking about me. About the lie he told. About what happened in
Cedar Falls.
I know this deep down in my soul. He was apologizing. Making
amends. Righting wrongs before he passed.
How does that make me feel? Relieved that he had a conscience? Upset
that he had to have one over what he did in the first place? Content that his
guilt ate at him over the years?
I just don’t fucking know.
Is it enough to forgive him? No. But maybe it’s enough for me to try
and put it in the past and not let it eat a hole in my gut every time Asher
smiles at me.
And then there’s the woman lying against me. The one I brought with
me tonight.
How her face lit up when she realized we were in Manhattan.
How I breathed easier knowing she still loves the city.
Because it will make it easier when . . . when I what? When I ask her to
move there with me?
Is that what this was tonight?
A test? A trial run?
For her or for me?
I look over to find her inches from my face. Those dark eyelashes
against her pale skin. Those lips that all but break me when they turn up in a
smile.
I lean down to kiss her. She responds. Even in her sleep, she responds to
me. But I know the minute awareness hits her. Where we are. That my hand
is running up her thigh. That I’m kissing her.
It’s in her sigh.
In the way her hand reaches out and runs down my cheek.
In the soft utterance of my name.
“I need you, Asher. God, I need you.”
And without another word, and with our lips still teasing one another’s,
Asher shifts, pulling her dress up over her hips so that she’s straddling me.
Her body fitting on top of mine, my cock pushing into her, as if we were
meant to be.
We kiss like that’s all there is left in the world. Her taste the only one
I’ve ever craved. Her lips the only ones I want to feel.
We make love in gentle movements charged with emotion as she grinds
her hips over mine in the engine-hummed cabin of the airplane.
We become one without words. Whatever needs to be said is done
through soft sighs and measured actions.
A kiss to her collarbone. A shudder of pleasure. A grind of my hips. Her
forehead against mine as she bites back her moan.
In the sky, on this plane, time doesn’t matter. It’s just her. It’s just me.
It’s just us.
It’s when we land that the clock will start ticking again. It’s when we hit
the runway that this dream will begin to dissipate.
I know this.
I despise this.
So I focus on her and fall under her spell. The scent of her skin. The
demand in her touch. How her breath catches every time I bottom out inside
of her. The way she grips her muscles around me as if she never wants us to
be apart.
A sentiment—a desperation—I feel too. One that also scares the shit
out of me.
And when she starts to climax, I thread my fingers through her hair so
she’s forced to lean back and look at me as she does.
So I can watch what I do to her. So I can see the emotion in the depths
of her eyes I think we both feel but haven’t spoken. So I can remember her
forever, just like this.
As mine.
There is no greater pleasure for me than her.
None.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER FORTY

Asher

“No news is good news, right?” the loan specialist at Cedar Falls First and
Trust says to me.
“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” I say drolly.
“I know, but just give it some time. You already have a large debt—”
“But those loans—those mortgages—are under my gran and pop’s
name. This one would be under my name, on my credit—”
“—with their farm as collateral. So, they go hand in hand.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. “I know. Thank you. I
appreciate it. I’m just antsy and want to get started.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” she says.
“Okay,” I say, sounding less than convinced. “I look forward to hearing
back from you.”
When the call ends, I place my head in my hands. I feel like I’m waiting
on everything these days: the loan approval. Hillary’s answer. Each day to
tick by so that we get closer and closer to the end of the month.
But the brochures I had made look incredible and have even got the
stamp of approval from a smiling-through-her-happy-tears Gran. The new
signage has been ordered and will be ready to put in place by next week.
I don’t know why I feel it is so critical for me to do this, for me to
succeed at this, right now in my life, but it is.
I’ve managed to sort Pop’s stacks, make sense of them, and organize
them by how they make sense to me. I have a clearer picture of The Fields’s
debt and have spreadsheets and a budget in place so I can start paying them
down. I’ve made the house more my home than Gran and Pop’s.
Now all that’s left is to officially make the next chapter of The Fields
my own. Past and present combined.
And maybe it’s more than just proving to Pop I can do it, proving to
myself that I’m capable. Maybe I’m trying to be in control. Maybe I know
I’ll need something to throw myself into when I’m faced with a heartache
like I’ve never known before.
. . . it’s nothing major . . . it’s just a fling that will be over in three or
four weeks . . .
Did I really think he was going to stay? Of course not. But maybe I
figured that we’d make it work somehow. That we’d find a middle ground.
But did I even think that would work? If I was about to throw myself
wholeheartedly into a relationship with someone who clearly couldn’t
divorce himself from New York City because of his business, would I have
jumped headfirst into turning The Fields into a destination location like I
am?
Maybe I knew all along.
Because realistically, this was never going to work before it even
started, no matter how much I told myself differently.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Ledger

“Did you ever think you’d go back to college?” I run a finger up and down
the length of Asher’s spine. She’s lying face down on my bed, her cheek on
the pillow, and turned toward me. The early morning sun coming in through
the blinds makes a halo around her hair. Her eyes are sleepy, her cheeks are
flushed, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her more beautiful. At peace.
She shrugs. “For a long time, I did. Of course, I’d love to, but I simply
don’t think it’s in the cards for me. I mean, what would I go back for? It’s
not like I still sketch, so I don’t have a portfolio to get admitted with and . . .
there’s The Fields.”
“Business? Marketing? I don’t know. There are a lot of degrees that
would be beneficial in running The Fields.”
“But in the end, does it really matter if I have a degree to run it? I mean,
unless I apply for a job in the future that is. If that’s the case, then that
means I’ve run The Fields into the ground.”
“I know. But it was always something you wanted so badly. Maybe just
simply doing it for yourself is more than enough of a reason to go back.”
“Pipe dreams are for kids without responsibilities, Ledger. That’s not
me anymore.”
We stare at each other for a beat before she suddenly shifts in bed so
that she’s seated and the sheet is pulled around her chest.
There she goes again. Changing the subject off of her. I can’t help but
feel like she’s trying to distance herself from me. I’ve felt like this for the
past week or so. She’s suddenly busy when before she made time.
But it’s more than that.
And I can’t quite put my finger on what it is.
“What about you?” she asks, breaking through my thoughts. “What’s on
that ten-year plan of yours?”
 Shit. I’d forgotten I’d mentioned that to her a while back. I shrug. “It’s
just goals, timelines, things I want to accomplish.”
She nods. “Like . . .”
“Like moving into the Asian market, which we’re currently in contract
on a new project. Like getting a write-up in Forbes.” I twist my lips and
then chuckle. “It’s stupid really, but it’s a goal . . .” my dad mentioned it,
and I have always felt like I needed to live up to it. “It’s just one I’ve had
since I was in grad school. To be noticed for my work and not just for being
Maxton Sharpe’s son.”
“I can understand that. What else is on there?” she asks, her fingers
plucking at the sheet, her lips twisting.
Why won’t you look at me?
“I don’t know. I haven’t looked at it in a long time to remember,” I lie
and don’t know why.
Because you don’t want to talk about the personal side of it. The
married at forty part.
And why is that, Ledger?
“Huh.”
“Asher?”
“What?” Her fingers don’t stop with the sheets.
“Look at me.”
“Hmm?” Her eyebrows are lifted and her smile is in place when she
faces me. She leans down and presses her lips to mine. “I’ve got to get
going. Work’s calling.”
“Don’t go.” I reach out and grab her hand. “Let’s play hooky today. We
can drive . . . I don’t know where, but we can drive somewhere and eat ice
cream cones while sitting on the hood of the car and just be together.”
Who am I right now? When have I ever cut out from work to play
hooky? When have I ever wanted to do something without a set purpose?
Her eyes darken. “I’m sorry.” Another press of her lips to mine. “I
can’t.”
“Tell me why not?” I ask, my hand on her neck, pulling her back toward
me.
“Because . . . I can’t.” She looks at me, and I’d give anything to know
what she’s thinking. There’s something she’s just not telling me.
“Asher?”
 And this time when she meets my lips, she doesn’t stop. She silences
my question as she straddles my hips and then slowly kisses her way down
my body until her lips wrap around my cock and suck me into forgetting.
Each lick of her tongue, every suck of her lips, each scratch of her
fingernails against my balls, all drug me with desire and push the worry to
the back of my mind.
But forgetting only lasts for so long.
I’m not about to complain about the incredible blow job she just gave
me, but as she walks along the path to her car in nothing but my T-shirt
down to her mid-thighs, my mind won’t stop.
Not because I have to go to work.
Not because I have meetings.
Not because I have to meet with Hillary or any other person on the face
of the earth, but rather, because I can’t.
Asher was always generous with affection. With kissing. With touching.
It’s everything else she guards like a fortress.
And right now, she’s building walls faster than I can knock them down.
She starts her car and gives me a little wave before driving off. I watch
till I can’t see her anymore and then jump when I see Tootie standing at the
edge of my driveway. Her arms are across her chest and a lone eyebrow is
raised in dismay.
“Jesus, kid. You scared the hell out of me.”
“I thought you weren’t the type to have a woman who comes over and
then sneaks out about the time that school starts.”
“I never said that.” I run a hand through my hair, not really ready for
Tootie. I haven’t had my coffee yet.
“Momma calls that the walk of shame.”
“It’s not a walk of shame when you plan on seeing the woman again.”
She makes a mock puking sound in her hand. “Oh, please.”
“Please what?”
“People only say that when they’re in love. Gag. Gross. I’m gonna
puke.” She coughs. “Are you in love with Asher?”
I stare at her for a beat, my heart pounding, my eyes darting, and then
begin laughing. “You should be in the theater. You’re a great actress.”
She straightens up and smiles. “I know. I’m a real Bette Davis. At least
according to my grandma, but I have no idea who that is so I just smile and
pretend I do.”
 Whew. Subject changed. Topic over.
Why does that bug you so much, Sharpe?
She shrugs. “So, you plan on seeing her again then? The lavender
lady?”
“Yes. Not that I have to give you an answer to that question.”
“Did you not get enough sleep?” she asks, cocking her head to the side.
“You seem a little grumpy.”
I scrub a hand over my stubble. “I’m fine. Just need coffee.” And more
Asher.
“Momma’s a dragon before her coffee too.”
“Most adults are,” I say to make conversation and lift a hand to wave to
her mother who’s watching the two of us from their kitchen window.
“But not Asher, right? Because she didn’t look grumpy.” She holds
something out to me. “Here.”
“What’s this?” I ask taking the thumb drive from her.
“This is a thumb drive,” Tootie says very slowly and loudly as if I’m
senile and can’t hear her.
Little brat. I give her a sarcastic glare. “What’s on the thumb drive,
silly? Remember, no coffee yet. I’m still in the dragon stage.”
She giggles. “It’s the links to all of the library items. I didn’t know your
email, so I couldn’t shoot it over to you that way.”
Shoot it over to me?
I smile and nod. “Thank you. You’re awesome. You did a great job.”
“How do you know that when you haven’t opened it yet? It could be
nothing, and I could be incompetent.”
“I highly doubt that, kiddo.”
“So, there. You have it. And I’m thinking naming it after me could be
my payment for all my hard work.”
This time I laugh. “Do you now?”
“Yep.” She puts her hands on her hips and offers me a huge grin as a
selling point.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good.” She takes a few steps away and then turns back to face me.
“Do you know who Jason is?”
“Jason?” I shrug. “No clue. That’s a pretty common name. Why?”
“No reason.”
“What are you not telling me, Tootie?”
 “He was bragging at the café the other day about finally getting you
back or something like that. I thought it was weird.” She looks back to her
house. “I gotta go before Momma gets mad. She’s burning toast for
breakfast again. Pray for me. Later, Sharpe.”
“Later, Tootie.”
Jason?
Who the hell is that?

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 CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Asher

“Wow.”
I look over and see Ledger pulling up to the curb on the street behind
me. His elbow is propped on the open window, and a smile is wide on his
face as he takes in the cherry picker that is currently hanging a new sign
over the entrance to The Fields.
“You like it?” Pride warms me. Especially because it’s praise coming
from him.
“It looks incredible.” He parks his car and walks over to where I’m
standing. “This is starting to look like a whole new place with all the
changes you’ve been making.”
I so desperately want to tell him the why behind it but still haven’t heard
from Hillary. It’s imperative for me to get this partnership on my own merit.
I’ve always been looked at through a different lens in this town, and the last
thing I want with this first venture of my own is for it to be assumed I slept
my way into it.
“I’m trying.” I shrug. “It definitely needed a makeover. That, and I
wanted it to feel like it was somewhat mine. I know that sounds silly, but
. . . it’s always been Gran and Pop’s. Updating it, bringing a little more life
to it, makes me feel like I’ve contributed to it somehow.”
“I can understand that. It’s admirable.” He pulls me against his side and
presses a kiss to my temple. “I’m proud of you. I truly am.”
“Thanks.” I glance back at his car and then to him. “What are you doing
here? I thought you had a busy day.”
“I did. I do.” He nods. “But I wanted to see you more.”
My heart lurches in my throat. I always want to see him, but as of late,
protecting my heart is of equal importance. Telling myself to enjoy the time
we have left and not stress about what comes next is one thing. Actually
listening and believing it, is a whole other thing. In fact, it’s brutal to want
someone so badly—to be with him and enjoy him and laugh with him—
while acknowledging that each second we spend together, I fall a little
harder for him. And hate that one day he’ll be gone.
“You know how to make a girl feel special. I’d never complain about a
visit from you.” I smile while admiring the sheer beauty of him.
How am I ever going to let him go?
“Do you have time to break away for lunch?” he asks.
“I can’t,” I say, as much for self-preservation as I do for truth. “These
guys will be here for the next hour hanging new signage. I have to be here.
Can we meet up later?”
“I have a dinner meeting.”
“I can leave the key under the mat for you for when it’s over?”

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 CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Ledger

The house is quiet when I open the front door to Asher’s house. The
kitchen light is on, its funky chandelier creating crazy shadows on the white
shiplapped walls as I make my way up the stairs.
I stop in the doorway.
She’s asleep, lying on her side, with her hair fanned out across the white
pillowcase. Her shoulder is bare, the pale pink of her lips parted, as her
even breathing fills the room.
I welcome the blissful silence. Normally I can’t stand the quiet, but
here, on the farm, there is something about it that makes it ring differently
for me. Or maybe it’s just Asher who does that.
Quieting my head is an impossible feat most days. My thoughts never
stop. To-do lists are constantly being added to. Facts are thought of, figures
are worked through. Details are being defined.
It’s how I work.
It’s who I am.
And yet this is the only place I’ve ever been where the silence soothes
rather than grates. It’s even more potent in the mornings when I wake
before Ash and simply enjoy watching her sleep. Holding her. Loving her—
fuck.
Is that why I was so angry with my brothers at the fundraiser? Did they
see it when I refused to?
I love her.
How did I never see it before? I’m in love with Asher Wells.
The same girl I was in love with fifteen years ago.
The question is, what am I going to do about it?
I undress, unable to take my eyes off her, slip into bed behind her, and
pull her against me.
“I love you,” I whisper against the back of her head.
I love you, yet I have no fucking clue what to do about it.

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 CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Asher

“Miss Wells?”
“Yes. Hi. This is Asher.”
“It’s Hillary from Sharpe International.”
My heart leaps in my throat. I take a step back from the entrance to City
Hall and away from other Cedar Falls citizens as they file into the meeting.
“Hi. How are you?”
“Good. Thank you. Over the past few weeks, I’ve taken serious
consideration of your proposal. I’ve gone over the details and market
comparisons. I’ve weighed whether its added value is beneficial for our
clientele . . .”
I sigh with anxious anticipation.
“And I wanted to let you know that we’ve decided to move forward
with your proposal.”
“You have?”
“Yes, we have.” She pauses. “Of course, it’s contingent on you
completing the improvements you outlined in your presentation. An asphalt
drive and parking lot. Chairs and tables for both a ceremony and reception.
A kitchen to house caterers.”
“Of course. Yes.” I’m stunned. I’m thrilled. I’m terrified. Holy. Shit. “I
don’t even know what to say right now.”
“I have a feeling it will be a hugely successful option we offer to our
guests. Nothing says wealthy clientele like ones who pay for luxury and
then want a little piece of grandiose country thrown in. The Fields will be
perfect for that.”
“I’m thinking that’s a compliment?”
She laughs. “Yes, that’s a compliment. It means it’s luxurious but at the
same time classic Cedar Falls.”
“So, what do I do now?”
 “Legal will be drawing up contracts in the coming weeks, and then
we’ll go from there.”
“Okay. Yes. Thank you for taking a chance on me. I—”
“I look forward to visiting it myself. I’m sure it will—Oh, shoot. My
apologies. I have to cut this short. I have to take this call. We’ll talk soon.”
And before I can ask the question—does Ledger know about it?—she
hangs up.
I want to do a mini-jig on the sidewalk but settle with an ear-to-ear grin.
Then, of course, reality hits. The loan. My loan. I still haven’t gotten an
approval yet.
I tap my cell phone against my chin as I accept the high but fear for the
low.
I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
I’m not going to let anything ruin my mood today.

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 CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Ledger

Mayor Grossman acts like an anointed king as he walks through City Hall
shaking hands and laughing like a pompous ass. It’s a sight, that’s for sure.
One I can’t help notice as I scan the auditorium. Where are you, Ash?
She said she’d be here. Why don’t I see her?
Tootie’s here though. I catch her eye from across the room, and she
waves at me. It’s when I look back to where Mayor Grossman is still on his
look at me parade that I get a closer look at the man whose back he’s patting
and shoulder he’s squeezing. There’s something about him that I can’t quite
place.
“Hey, who’s that?” I ask the city recorder who happens to be walking
next to me.
“That’s the mayor’s son,” she says as she walks past to take her place at
her desk. “Jason Grossman.”
Jason.
Tootie had said that name too.
While the name hits my ears and falls flat, there is something about the
man that I can’t quite place. Is he a contractor for the resort? One of the
protestors who heckled me last week? Did I see him at Hank’s that first
night?
Just as Mayor Grossman takes his seat on the dais and pounds his gavel
to get the meeting started, it hits me.
No fucking way.
I take another look at Jason. Sure, he’s aged some, but I never forgot
that smug, condescending mouth of his. Or the nose with a slight crook in
it.
Jason. He’s the kid whose nose I broke sixteen years ago. The prick
who talked shit about and disrespected Asher.
 How didn’t I see it sooner? The face structure, the same mouth shape,
the beady eyes. Jason, the kid I punched years ago for disrespecting Asher,
is Mayor Grossman’s son.
Motherfucker.
Is that what all of this has been about?
Some kind of long-overdue vendetta put into motion by a pissed-off
father? Is it his warped way of trying to get back at me for putting that
bump in his son’s nose?
Maybe he should have taught his son some manners. Some respect.
Then again, I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Jesus Christ.
Seriously? This is why we’re being put through these ridiculous paces?
Mayor Grossman calls the meeting to order, but I miss half of the
bullshit pomp and circumstance he says for posture because I’m too busy
trying to figure out what to do and how to play this. Anger has me wanting
to call the mayor on this publicly. It has me angling on how I can broadcast
that their elected official is a petty, simpleminded asshole.
Logic and professionalism have me taking a step back.
It’s as simple and as complicated as that.
As much as I’d personally like to let the whole town know who they are
dealing with, I have a feeling they already know. No doubt he’s shown his
true colors before, and yet, they still elected him.
I, on the other hand, have a business I need to run here. A business that
we’ve sunk a shit ton of money into and can’t risk losing our occupancy
permit because I stoop to his level. So as much as it pains me, I’m going to
have to take the high road on this.
But that doesn’t stop me from glaring at Jason until I swear he can feel
it. He looks up and meets my eyes. I simply stare at him. I don’t make an
expression at all other than to let him know that I see him, and understand
what all this bullshit is about—to position his dad well for reelection and to
exact petty revenge.
“And now to the matter at hand,” Mayor Grossman says, pulling my
attention to him and the council members on either side of him. “We met
last month to discuss the necessary changes that Sharpe International and
The Retreat needed to make to warrant getting a final inspection and in
turn, an occupancy permit. Mr. Sharpe, the floor is yours.”
 I walk over to the lectern, clear my throat, and begin. “I’ve enjoyed my
last six weeks here in Cedar Falls. While I’m a city boy at heart, there is a
reason my brothers and I wanted to buy a resort here and contribute not
only to the town’s future, but also to its overall success.” I take the next few
minutes to bullshit. About the charm I’ve found here in Cedar Falls and its
citizens who love their town. About the potential to make this partnership
beneficial for the town as a whole. About S.I.N.’s philosophy and goal with
The Retreat beyond a healthy profit margin.
“That’s all well and good,” the mayor says when I finish my spiel, “but
what about the specific requests this council made?”
Smile wide, Ledger, and prepare to kiss more ass.
“As per your request, Mayor Grossman, and in accordance with our
promise, S.I.N. has been contracting local contractors and employing Cedar
Falls’s citizens and will continue to do so upon opening to the public. In
addition, we’ve made significant strides in two areas we’d like to share with
you. We were excited to have the opportunity to contribute to this town we
are now a member of. With that in mind, we chose to focus on two aspects
that will shape and have shaped this town. We are currently in the throes of
overhauling and renovating the Cedar Falls Elementary School Library. It’ll
be a complete makeover—expanded in size, content, and capacity. Our
other focus is the Cedar Falls Assisted Living Facility. Their HVAC system
is in dire need of being replaced for temperature control and air filtration.
We’ve made a sizeable donation to get that overhauled in the coming weeks
with as little disruption to the tenants as possible.”
“And that’s been completed?”
“We’re not miracle workers, sir. We can’t complete projects with such
complexities as these two that fast due to scheduling with local
subcontractors who are already contracted elsewhere. But rest assured, as
you can see in the documentation we provided to you and your fellow
councilpersons, contracts have been signed, deposits have been made, and
the work is scheduled. Feel free to contact the contractors for verification,
but I do believe all the necessary backup has been provided and is already
in your hands.”
“I see,” he murmurs with a nod, eyes steadfast on me as if he doesn’t
believe me. But the audience is silent now. No more whispers or chuckles
like before, and so with the hopes that the tide is turning in our favor, I keep
going so I don’t lose them.
 “In addition to these contributions, we’re in the process of contracting
local vendors to provide goods and or services to our guests. The hope is
that our guests will experience or like something they see or sample in the
resort itself—whether it be in one of our many retail shops, art that is
displayed throughout the facility, or a package with local excursion
companies—and in turn, venture into Cedar Falls to spend more of their
money.”
“And what companies have you enlisted for this?”
Hillary’s assistant, who accompanied me to the meeting, flips through
the pages of the handout the council members received and points to the
one with said list. “We have provided you with the list in your packet, but
would love for the citizens to hear them as well,” I say. “Bessie’s baked
goods will be sold in our coffee shop. Jenner’s Juicery will also sell items
there as well. Our restaurant and café will be exclusively using ice cream
from The Creamery in town. A list of local artists is also provided who
we’ll showcase in various locations throughout the resort. We’ll have
inclusive packages for guests with Cedar Falls Ski Resort, Cedar Falls
Outdoor Adventures, and—” My mind stumbles when I see The Fields as
next on the list. Why is that there? I look up and glance around the room
and find Asher. She offers me a reassuring smile, but I stare at her confused.
“Mr. Sharpe? Is there a problem?”
“No. I’m sorry. Where was I? Yes. We’ll be offering venue packages
with The Fields as well as Mountain High Club.”
“That’s an impressive list,” the mayor says as I look back to Asher,
questioning her across the room about what’s going on.
It all makes sense now. The barn restoration. The strung lights. The new
signage. Her insomnia and late-night work.
Dare I say I’m kind of hurt? That this was all going on and I didn’t
know about it? That Hillary knew about it and didn’t tell me?
Asher did this and didn’t trust me knowing about it. She didn’t want to
share it with me.
It takes everything I have to focus back on the meeting at hand and not
walk over to her, pull her outside, and ask her what the fuck?
“Does anyone have anything to say for or against The Retreat or Sharpe
International that you want on the official record?”
Are we going to do this? Let the townspeople speak or rally together
with a mob mentality?
 I glance back over to Asher again. I can’t help it. And she meets my
gaze with equal confusion and hurt that I don’t understand.
A throat clears in the microphone, and with a shake of my head, I force
myself to pay attention to business instead of personal. “Mr. Mayor. While I
understand about profit and tourism, I still feel that Mr. Sharpe and his
company, are going to plant the seeds of ruin in our town,” the dowdy
woman at the microphone says with a definitive nod. “He says he’s going to
do all these things, but once he gets his permit, he’ll do whatever he wants.”
There are a few murmured agreements from the audience.
She has a point. We’re beholden to no one once we have our occupancy
permit, but I don’t exactly think that’s the best thing to say at this juncture.
I look around and am about to take a step to the microphone to defend
myself when Tootie walks to the lectern.
“For the record, I just want to say that Ledger will do what he says he’s
going to do. I cursed in front of him, and he said he wouldn’t tell my
momma and he hasn’t yet.” She puts her hands on her hips and clears her
throat. “Also, he hired me to tell him everything we wanted and needed in
our school library. He wouldn’t back out and let me down.” Tootie looks
over at me and smiles. “That’s all.”
As she walks back to her seat, the dowdy woman steps back up. “She’s
a child. She can be easily manipulated.”
“I believe him,” Asher says, rising from her seat and making her way to
the podium once all eyes are on hers. “He’s come here to adhere to your
ridiculous requests, Mayor Grossman. He’s done what you’ve asked for and
then some. He’s contributed to the community. He’s brought in local talent.
He’s tried to create residual income for others. What more is it that you
want from him?”
Grossman emits a condescending chortle that has me gritting my teeth.
“Of course, you’d say that since you’re sleeping with him.”
“Excuse me?” she says, holding her finger up at me when I rise to my
feet in her defense.
“Honey—”
“Asher,” she corrects him. “My name is Asher. Not Honey.”
He clears his throat. “While I’m sure your um . . . friend appreciates
your unwavering support, I think the city council shouldn’t take business
advice from someone who can’t even secure a bank loan to keep their farm
afloat.”
 There is a hushed silence that falls across the crowd. The kind that says
they’re digging in for the gossip that’s unfolding.
But all I hear from Grossman is can’t secure a bank loan to keep their
farm afloat.
My hands fist. A myriad of emotions flickers over Asher’s face as the
mayor just denigrated her in front of the town. Humiliated her, just as my
father once did.
I start to move toward her, to defend her, to . . . I don’t fucking know,
but Asher levels me with a look and mouths the word No. I never stood up
for her all those years ago. I sure as fuck am going to now.
“You want to come at me,” I say, my voice loud enough I don’t need a
microphone. Everyone’s heads swivel to look my way. “Then come at me.
That’s fine. But leave Asher out of it.”
“I can handle myself, Ledger,” Asher says, her voice steely, her
expression stoic. “Mayor Grossman here is simply trying to put me in my
place where he thinks all good little women should be. He’d rather I keep
quiet because he’s terribly afraid that I might be the result of an affair he
had with my mother some thirty-odd years ago.” That sends a ripple of
murmurs through the audience and causes the mayor’s face to turn red and
his sputters to become incoherent. “For the record, even if you were my
father, I’d refuse to claim you. I’ve been shamed enough in my life over
things I had no control over . . . but I could control that. And I sure as hell
would.”
And without another word, Asher strides out of the auditorium with the
entire town staring at the door she just left through.
It takes everything I have not to chase after her. To remain here in a
professional capacity and do the job I’m here to do . . . and not put my
personal matters first. Not put her first.
The gavel strikes several times as the mayor tries to gain back control of
the meeting despite his own ashen pallor. Serves the fucker right.
“Settle down, everyone. Settle down.” He clears his throat and tugs on
the tie tight over his throat. “We clearly have other things to do than to deal
with nonsense and fodder that is unneeded. Are we ready to vote on
whether or not The Retreat has met our demands and can now have its final
inspection to receive its occupancy permit?”

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 CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Asher

I can’t breathe.
My chest burns as I gulp in huge breaths. My tears sting as I fight them
back. I have to get as far away from City Hall and that prick of a man as I
can. The ends of the earth wouldn’t be far enough.
It doesn’t matter that he showed his true colors or that he humiliated me
or that I successfully stood up for myself. Those are all things I’ve learned
to deal with being Asher Wells.
It’s that I didn’t get the loan.
So, I drive.
Down every back mountain road.
Through every stretch of field.
I ignore the calls coming and the texts alerting me from where I threw
my cell on the back seat.
My loan was declined. I was declined.
The email came in halfway through the city council meeting. Thank you
for your application but we regret to inform you that you have been
declined for the applicable loan. I was stunned. Shocked. Hurt. And there
wasn’t a thing I could say or do about it in the middle of Grossman’s
grandiose show.
But he knew I didn’t get it. That’s the kicker. He knew before I did, or
else he never would have said what he said. Goddamn small-town life. I
should have thought it through. I should have figured Grossman would
know since his daughter-in-law is the bank’s branch manager.
So I lashed out. I fired back. I tried to put him in his place and
embarrass him just as much as he’d tried to humiliate me.
It’s all I could do.
I bang the heel of my hand on the steering wheel and give in to the need
to scream at the top of my lungs. The sound is smothered by the wind but
does nothing to abate the anger owning me.
It’s like I was handed the highest of highs with Hillary’s call about
being awarded the contract, followed by the lowest of lows, knowing I can
no longer afford all the things I still need to meet those contract
requirements.
I pull over to the side of the road and stare at some horses grazing in a
field until my eyes blur. Then I put the car in gear and drive some more,
making a point to be as far away from town as possible.
The last thing I want to see is people.
I wanted this for me.
I needed this for me.
And yeah, sure, it’s all set up and I can still hold events, but I practically
maxed out my credit card to get it to this point. And my contract is
contingent upon these improvements. And, and, and . . .
And so, I keep driving.

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 CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Ledger

“You want to tell me what this is?” I ask Hillary when I storm into the
office, holding up the list of vendors and pointing to The Fields.
I’m worried and furious and feel like I’m going out of my mind because
I can’t find Asher anywhere. Fucking anywhere, when I looked for what
feels like forever. This is a small town. I should be able to find her.
But I couldn’t.
And I’m insane with fucking worry over it.
Hillary meets my glare with a measured stare. She never glances down
at the list in my hand because she already knows what it is. “It’s the vendor
list. The title states that too.”
“No shit. I’m talking about The Fields being on this list.” I walk from
one side of the office to the other, unable to sit still.
“I do believe you tasked me with finding local vendors to create inviting
packages for our guests, and I did just that,” she says cautiously. But there
is a smugness in her tone, a defiance in the way she won’t back down that
has me gritting my teeth.
“And you didn’t think to tell me about this one?”
“Miss Wells explicitly asked me not to.”
“Excuse me?” I shout. “Did you forget who your boss is?”
“No.” She pauses and waits for my feet to stop moving and for me to
look at her. “As I said, Miss Wells specifically asked that you not know
about her proposal. She wanted this on her own merit and not because she’s
sleeping with the owner.”
Her words put fire on my temper in an instant. “Of course, she did,” I
mutter, needing somewhere to direct my anger because it’s still there and
it’s still raw, but not so much at Asher anymore. Now it’s at fucking
everyone else in this goddamn town. Here I am thinking—stewing—raging
over the fact that she’s hiding things from me—dejected that she didn’t
think she could share them with me—and of course, it’s just her being
stubborn as always and not needing anyone.
“It’s a solid business proposal. Well-thought-out. She did her research. I
was impressed with it, with her, but more importantly, it’ll be a great option
for our guests.”
“The proposal?” I ask, my hand out waiting for it. Hillary meets me
with the lift of her brows. “Please.”
She reaches into her file drawer and hands it over to me. I flip through
its pages, and Hillary is right. The proposal is professional, concise,
informative, and it doesn’t hurt that the pictures look like everything she
promises in the text. It’s the last page that cites the improvements still in the
works that makes everything click.
The loan.
She needs the loan to finish these items.
Without the loan, she doesn’t have this. Fucking Grossman blasted that
very clearly across the City Hall meeting.
The bastard.
Christ. I blow a sigh out and toss the proposal on the desk.
“Ledger.” Hillary’s smile is faint, and her eyes are soft when I look up
to meet them. “Just because you love her—”
“I don’t love her,” I growl. Saying it in my head is one thing. Admitting
it out loud is a whole other ballgame.
She chuckles. “Yes. You do. And that love doesn’t give you the right to
rush in here like a white knight and save the day for her. She’s independent
for a reason. Clearly, she’s been hurt by life in ways I don’t know—but I
can see it, because I used to be her. Asserting my independence, needing
something that was wholly my own, was a way to take a piece of myself
back. It was how I healed. It’s what led me to be sitting right here in this
office with you. Asher doesn’t need fixing, Ledger. She just needs someone
to hold her hand if she fails, to celebrate her when she succeeds, and to
listen when she speaks. There’s so much more said in silence than in a room
full of people talking.”
I feel helpless. it’s a miserable feeling for a man who’s always in
control.
“I don’t want to fix her, Hillary. I just want her to realize she’s not alone
anymore.”
“Have you told her that? That might be a good place to start.”
 I nod.
Telling Asher that she’s not alone anymore is a good start. Perhaps
showing her too. But fuck, how do I do that if I can’t fucking find her? How
can I reassure her that I’ve got her back? That she can trust in me?
“She’s independent for a reason. Asher doesn’t need fixing. She just
needs someone to hold her hand if she fails, to celebrate her when she
succeeds, and to listen when she speaks.”
Haven’t I been listening all this time? Isn’t that what I do best with her
when we talk on the phone, lie in each other’s arms, have picnics—
Fuck, could she be there? At our place?
It’s the only place I haven’t checked.
One place, and I hope to fucking God I’m right.
The wildflowers are bright and the sound of birds is loud as I make my
way through the underbrush to the old willow tree.
My chest constricts when I see her sitting there against its trunk, her
head back with her face to the sky, her eyes closed.
And if I ever had any doubt before, I sure as hell don’t now.
I love Asher Wells.
I’m in love with Asher Wells.
Plain.
Simple.
Completely.
I stand there and stare at her. I know she knows I’m here, so I struggle
with what to say or how to say it. Hillary’s advice circles in my head.
“Thank you for standing up for me today. You didn’t need to,” I say,
feeling like I’m tiptoeing around what we need to talk about but needing a
jumping-off place to start somewhere.
“Yes, I did.” She doesn’t move, doesn’t open her eyes, just murmurs the
three words.
“I’m proud of you for sticking up for yourself today, but God, how I
wish you would have let me defend you.”
“I don’t need anyone to defend me, Ledger. I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can. Fucking hell, I know you can, but would it hurt you to
need my help every once in a while? To need me?” My voice breaks, and
she finally opens her eyes and stares at me with a storm roiling in those
gray irises of hers.
 We hold each other’s gazes, and I have a feeling this is going to be one
of the most important conversations I’ve ever had in my life. I’ve
negotiated deals worth hundreds of millions of dollars. I’ve yanked
contracts off tables without so much as a flinch. But this is the first time
I’ve ever had to fight for something on a personal level. Truth be told, I’m
fucking terrified I’m going to mess this up.
I walk forward and lower myself to my knees so that I’m sitting in front
of her. “Why didn’t you tell me your plans for The Fields? About the
proposal? I mean, I understand wanting it to be awarded on your own merit,
but . . . you completely shut me out of something that is so much a part of
you. Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you lie to me?”

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 CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Asher

He stares at me, the muscle in his jaw ticking, his eyes imploring.
“I didn’t lie to you.”
“You chose not to tell me. Same difference.”
“It’s not.”
“To me it is. Hasn’t there been enough lies that have come between us,
Asher? No more lies. No more deception. No more lying by omission.
Please.”
“Ledger. I didn’t mean to—”
“You opted to say you were simply updating the farm rather than tell me
you were creating a whole new business for yourself. Why? Why couldn’t
you tell me, Asher? What is it about me that made you think you couldn’t
confide in me?”
My stomach twists in a knot at the hurt etched in the lines of his
handsome face. “I know you won’t understand, but I just . . . I needed to do
this for me.”
“Do you think I would have stopped you? That I would have tried to
control it? Your transformation of The Fields, your idea to make it a
destination, is incredible. There’s no way you could have thought I’d tell
you otherwise. So, what is it, Asher? What are you not telling me?”
You’re going to leave me, and I need something to soften the heartbreak.
My hands tremble as I open and close my mouth. I don’t have an
answer other than that.
“What are we doing here, Ledger? Fooling ourselves? Pretending that
your penance here isn’t up in a few weeks, and you’re not going to go back
to your life, and I’m not going to go back to mine?” His expression falls at
my words. “Is it too much to have one thing in my life that you haven’t
touched? One thing that’s completely mine so I’m not reminded of you
every time I’m around it or see it or think of it?”
 And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? That’s why this has been so important
to me. I know he’s leaving and when he does, everything in this town, in
my house, even the goddamn lavender fields, will remind me of him. And
now, even my inescapable failure to start a business will be tied to him too.
“So rather than talk about it, talk about us, you’d rather just bury your
head in the sand and act like this—like we—didn’t happen?”
“Bury my head in the sand? I think my actions are perfectly justifiable
considering your intentions—your plans—are pretty self-explanatory.” I
can feel my armor slipping on. Layer upon layer. Shielding me when I fear
nothing is going to be able to protect me from the hurt that’s to come.
“What the hell do you mean my plans are self-explanatory?” he
demands.
“It’s just a fling that will be over in a few weeks. Then your penance
will be done and you’ll get to go back home.” I blink away the tears that
those words cause. “I believe those were your words, weren’t they?”
“Asher. No. You don’t understand.” He puts his hands on my knees and
squeezes. I try not to flinch at his touch because everything inside of me is
telling me to run, right now. To pull away while I can, but even I’m not that
strong. He chuckles disbelievingly, but I feel like I’m being mocked, and it
rubs me the wrong way.
“So you didn’t say that?” I damn well know he did.
“No. I did. It’s just”—he scrubs a hand through his hair—“my brothers
were harassing me over what we, you and I, were. They wouldn’t let it go.
The easiest way to get them off my back was to say something like that. To
play it down so they’d back off . . .” He searches my eyes. “Why didn’t you
say anything to me? Why didn’t you just flat-out ask me?”
“Ask you? Why? So I could look like an idiot when you see how hurt I
was because I thought we were more than that? After what happened before
. . . do you think I wanted to open myself up more to you to be torn back
apart?”
He sighs, and I try to ignore the compassion in his eyes. The
understanding. “And so you started to close down instead . . . to make it
easier to walk away.”
“This’ll never work,” I whisper the fear that has been creeping into my
head for days.
“Why not? Why can’t we make this work?”
 “Just ask anyone. It’s clear you’re the more important one here. For it to
work, I’d have to be the one to pick up my life and walk away.”
“Why is that such a bad thing? You live in a town that doesn’t treat you
with the respect you deserve. That holds your mother’s past against you.
Today at City Hall was case in point.”
“But that’s not for you to decide,” I shout at him, rising to my feet.
Needing to move, needing to think, and needing to fight. “And the fact that
you assume it is without ever asking me should be enough in and of itself to
explain my hesitation. You come first. Your work comes first . . . and
frankly, I deserve better than being second to those things.”
“I would never put you second.”
My laugh is anything but humorous. “No? What about you and your
ten-year plan, huh? The one you never waver from with its bullet points and
set parameters. Unfortunately for me, a relationship with me”—loving me
—“isn’t valid because it comes before its scheduled time.”
“Don’t be like this, Ash. The plan . . .” He shakes his head in
frustration. “It’s just that, a plan. Not set in stone. If anything, you’ve made
me realize that life . . . it can’t be planned for. Hell, both times you’ve come
into my life have been completely out of the blue. Completely unexpected
. . . and I . . . fuck. I’m saying this all wrong.” Regret tinges his voice. So
does hope. So does fear. “All you need to know is I want this, I want you.”
“But on your terms,” I whisper.
“I just can’t up and walk away from my life, Asher.” He follows me as I
pace.
“I get it. I know what that’s like because I left my life, my dream, to
come back and care for my family. My gran is here, Ledger. So is The
Fields. It’s my family legacy, much like S.I.N. is yours. I can’t leave it
behind just as I’d never ask you to leave yours behind. This is how I make
my mark. For me. You’re wealthy and revered in business, and no doubt
believe you’re more important than I am because you basically own the
world but—”
“That’s not true—”
“But that’s what it feels like to me. What you don’t get is that for the
first time in so goddamn long, I feel relevant. Full of possibility and . . .” I
lift my head to the sky and close my eyes. Too much. This is all just too
much—emotion, fear, hope. I’m waiting for it to all come crashing down.
And if not now, then when? “I just need time, Ledger. To think. To—”
 “This should be the easiest decision in your life, Ash. Choosing me
should be the easiest decision.” His voice breaks, and it nearly kills me.
“But I shouldn’t have to give up my life just to have you in it.”
He hangs his head and sighs. “So just like that, you’re not going to try?
Not fight for us?”
“I didn’t say that.” Panic starts to claw at my throat.
“You didn’t have to.”
“Ledger. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know . . . I don’t know how to
feel.”
Why do things I want always seem just out of reach? Acceptance, my
career, my dreams for The Fields. Ledger.
The only thing I’ve been able to grasp and hold on to is my sense of
self. Who I am. And it’s taken me time to do that, to work through the grief
from Pop’s death, and find that woman again. I refuse to give her up just to
keep him.
I blink back tears and force myself to meet his eyes. It’s only then that
he speaks. “Maybe we need to take some time to think. A week. I don’t
know. Maybe we just need some time for you to clear your head and me to
. . . I don’t know.”
I lose the battle, and my tears fall over my lashes and slide down my
cheeks. I nod, even though I’m still not certain it’s what I truly want.
“Maybe.”
He takes a few steps toward me. “I once told you that only one girl has
ever broken my heart before. That was you, Asher. And I swear to fucking
God, I think you’re breaking it again.” He puts my face in his hands and
presses the gentlest of kisses on my lips. “I love you, Asher Wells. I think I
always have.”
Those words should fill my heart, instead, they fracture it a little more.
Because I’m not sure if love is enough to conquer the obstacles we face.
And without another word or meeting my eyes, Ledger Sharpe walks
out of the clearing and, I fear, out of my life.

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 CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Ledger

“You did it, Ledge. The Retreat can officially open next month,” Callahan
says. “I don’t know how you won that fucker Grossman over, but you did.”
“Congrats, man,” Ford says. “See? You were the right man for the job
after all.”
“If you come home in a pair of cowboy boots or Wranglers, though, be
prepared for me to never stop giving you shit.” Callahan’s laugh bellows
through the speaker.
“Me? In cowboy boots?” I snort and then sigh. Hearing my brothers’
voices should make me happy rather than have emotion lodge in my throat.
I clear my throat to try and get rid of it, but it remains.
“But why are you still there? Wasn’t your plan to get in, get it done, and
get the hell out of there?” Ford asks. “We were both surprised you weren’t
jonesing so bad to get back that you didn’t fly home to tell us the good
news, face-to-face.”
“Nah. I’ve got some loose ends to tie up here.” Asher’s face flashes in
my mind, followed by a pang in my chest. “Just a few things.”
“That’s code for one last hop in the sack with Asher,” Callahan says.
“Funny,” I mutter, the words affecting me more than they’ll ever know.
“Look, I have to meet with Hillary on something.”
“Sure you do.” Ford laughs.
“I said I have to go,” I snap.
“Whoa. Down, boy,” Callahan says. “You sure everything is good,
Ledge?”
“Fine. Fucking perfect.” And I end the call before they can say another
word.
I lean back in my chair at my desk, close my eyes, and blow out a slow
exhale.
She ran.
 Isn’t that what’s eating at me? I offered to give us time when I fucking
don’t need it. But I offered it because she looked like a scared fucking
rabbit . . . and she ran.
And the only reason I know is that I stopped by The Fields today to see
if we could talk. To see if I could fix whatever needs fixing.
Asher doesn’t need fixing, Ledger.
I replay the scene from earlier in my head.
The empty echo of the house as I knocked on the door.
The flutter of panic when it didn’t open. When no one answered.
“She’s not home.” George’s words behind me making me jump.
“Where is she?”
“She took off. Packed a bag, asked me to take care of the place, and
left.”
“Did she say for how long?”
“Nope.”
“Did she say anything else?”
“Just that if this place can ever get up and running”—he points toward
the barn area—“then she’d love to hire on my wife to help run some of the
events.” I must give him an odd look because he continues without my
prompting. “She’s afraid she’s going to lose her job because of The
Retreat.”
“The Retreat? Why?”
He shrugs as he sizes me up, clearly still uncertain what to think of me.
“It’s a big operation. The assumption is tourists will jump ship from her
hotel to yours.”
“At the height of the tourist months, there will be plenty of business for
both hotels.”
He gives a measured nod. “It’s the non-height months that put people
out of jobs.”
I’m used to facing people, to dealing with the repercussions of the
decisions I make. This one doesn’t sit well with me, and there is no quick
fix. “Let’s see what happens. Asher always has my number if need be.”
“That’s generous of you, but we don’t expect any handouts or hand-
ups.”
Our eyes meet, and pride wars against concern in his eyes. “Understood.
The offer is there.”
“Noted.”
 I look back to the house and the porch swing that looks so empty
without her curled up on it. “You helped Asher out with the changes here. It
looks incredible.”
“It does.”
He’s not going to give me a fucking inch, is he?
“I think it’s a smart business decision on her part. It’ll give an added
income stream. Give this place a new life to people who would have never
noticed it before.”
“Is there a reason you’re on her porch, talking about her business with
me . . . sir?”
Definitely not an inch.
I clear my throat and level with him. “Why did she leave, George? Run?
Why not stay and fight for this place?” For me?
“Who said she wasn’t fighting?”
“She’s not here, is she?” I ask.
“That girl has fought her whole life. The scorn and judgment she’s
faced in this town is enough to break most people. It never broke her.”
“I know, but—”
“No, you don’t. With all due respect, you don’t know shit about what it
was like for Asher year after year. And yes, she’s worked tirelessly to not
live under the shadow of her mother’s disgrace and abandonment.” He
looks out toward the fields as the lavender ripples like a wave. “She’s
building something here. With her grit and her tenacity and her courage.
Would it make Pop proud? Damn straight. But it also made her proud of
herself for the first time in a long time . . . and when something you’re
hoping for falls through, sometimes it takes time to accept that blow. To
figure out how to live without it.”
“So what are you saying? That she’s coming back?” I’m more desperate
for that answer than anything—so it takes me a second to hear him. It’s not
just the dream she’s created here she’s afraid of losing . . . it’s me too.
Jesus Christ.
She can’t be figuring out how to live without it.
Goddammit, Asher. I’m here. I’m waiting. Come back.
“Of course, she’s coming back.” He snorts in disdain at me. “Asher
Wells isn’t a quitter. My guess is she’s looking for another way to make this
happen. She’s taking time to accept the reality she was handed and move
forward.”
 Accept reality and move forward. Have I done that? Have I moved on
from what my dad did?
And long after George has explained the reasoning to me and took off
for home, I’m still sitting on the porch swing, listening to it creak. Trying to
work through the question.
My father fabricated a lie that has affected me in some way or another
for the past fifteen years. My fear of letting him down. My fear of not living
up to the potential he gave me by “saving me” that night with his lie. I’ve
moved goalpost after fucking goalpost to make him happy. To make him
proud of me. To live up to the Maxton Sharpe standard . . . and for what?
To put off my happiness in the hopes of achieving his approval? To almost
lose the woman I love for a second time?
Dad is gone, Ledger. Isn’t it time you abandon his goals and create ones
that make you happy? Isn’t it time to no longer be in and under his shadow?
“My gran is here, Ledger. So is The Fields. It’s my family legacy much
like S.I.N. is yours. I can’t leave it behind just as I’d never ask you to leave
yours behind. This is how I make my mark. For me. You’re wealthy and
revered in business, and no doubt believe you’re more important than I am
because you basically own the world . . .”
How could I ever ask her to give up her goals? How do we make this
work so we can both live out the dreams we have individually and the new
ones we want to create together?
Fuck.
Just . . . fuck.
She doesn’t think it’s possible. That I’m capable of it.
I told her I loved her.
And she left anyway.

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 CHAPTER FIFTY

Asher

“It’s been over a week. You’re taking this whole ‘drive to clear your head
and talk to no one’ thing to a whole new level this time, aren’t you?” Nita
asks.
I smile and sink back into my chair on the balcony of my hotel room.
Glacier National Park is in the distance and it’s mesmerizing. And believe
me, I’ve been staring at it a lot over the past week. “You know me,” I tease.
“What’s going on with you? He hurt you, didn’t he? Am I going to have
to go over and kick his ass?”
“No. It’s not him.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s me.”
“Girl, you need to give me more than that.”
“It’s hard to explain. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted, Nita. He’s kind
and loving and thoughtful. But maybe he’s always lived as a figment of my
imagination—my what-if—and now that he’s a reality, it’s messed me up.”
“You know I love you, right?”
“Yes.”
“So when I tell you that you’re batshit crazy and you need to get the
guy, you’ll still love me, right?”
I laugh and then fall silent.
“Asher?”
“I still love you. I promise.”
“Whew. So you’re driving to clear your head. Do you have answers
yet?”
“No. Yes. A few.”
“Well, at least it’s a start.”

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 CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Ledger

I toy with the corners of the paper. The Fields logo is emblazoned across
the top of the lavender-colored paper, but it’s the short note scrawled in
Asher’s penmanship and the second piece of paper in my other hand that I
can’t stop staring at.

Ledger,
You asked for no more deception. No more lying by omission. Enclosed
is what I found while cleaning out Pop’s things. I didn’t tell you originally
because I didn’t want to hurt you further, and the past can’t be undone . . .
but you deserve to know. I’m sorry.
-Asher

I drop the stationery and focus on the check. On my father’s

unmistakable penmanship. In his attempt to buy off her grandfather to keep
Asher away from me.
To be unscrupulous in business is one thing.
To be it when it comes to your own children is unforgivable.
Even knowing now that he apologized to me for this, for his actions,
does nothing to lessen the sting seeing this causes.
My idol.
My biggest example of who not to be.
I’m not certain how long I stare at the check, but when my phone rings
and Ford is on the other end of the line, everything—Asher leaving, my
dad’s actions, the wrongs that can never be righted—hits me harder than
ever.
I almost don’t answer. But I do. “Hey.”
“What’s wrong?” Two words are all Ford needs to say to have me
closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.
 “Nothing. Why?” I lie.
“You’re full of shit. Callahan’s here too.”
“Hey,” Callahan says. “Something’s wrong. We can both feel it.”
Goddamn triplet voodoo. “What are you not telling us, Ledge?”
I stare at the check and question myself and my previous decision not to
tell them about Dad. About his deception. About his lies.
And even now, I stand by it. We’re all finally healing. All coming out of
the darkness we each fell into when he died. I still can’t bring myself to ruin
the image they have of him in their eyes.
If there’s one thing my father taught me that I’ll still choose to hold on
to, it’s to bear the brunt of a burden for the good of everyone else.
I just hope Asher lets me do the same for her.
Asher.
God, I fucking miss her.
“Ledge?” Callahan asks.
“She left.” The dam of silence breaks and it feels so fucking good to tell
someone. “She left, and I don’t know what the fuck to do.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Ford asks. “It being a fling and all?” His tone
mocks me.
“Do you think we believed for a goddamn second the two of you were a
fling?” Callahan asks. “You made puppy-dog eyes at her all night. Not once
did you take your eyes off her to look at Cindy Dempsey’s cleavage—and
believe me, it was so noticeably displayed that Sutton couldn’t keep her
eyes off it.”
I smile. And it feels fucking good to for the first time all week. Callahan
and I may have had our differences in the past, but it’s weird for us to have
switched roles for the moment. For him to be the one trying to take care of
me.
“Shit. You’ve got it bad, don’t you?” Ford asks.
“I told her I loved her . . . and she left anyway,” I murmur.
“Then what the fuck are you doing sitting in your office?” Callahan
shouts. “Find her. Fight for her. Make her an offer she can’t refuse.”
I snort at the notion . . . and yet, isn’t that what I want? Her? Forever?
As mine?
“Fuck.” I sigh the word out and both brothers laugh.
“Ding. Ding. Ding,” Ford says. “I do believe the light bulb just went
off. You owe me one hundred, Cal.”
 “What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask.
“We bet on how long it would be before you asked her to marry you. He
said three months. I said one.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, but my smile only grows wider as hope begins to
swell in my chest from an idea that’s slowly forming. “You two . . .”
“Please know that it’s taking everything I have to bite my tongue right
now and not razz the fucking shit out of you over this,” Callahan says as I
chuckle. “I’m showing you mercy, brother, but it’s coming. There’s no way
Mr. I’m-Not-Falling-in-Love falls in love and gets away with it scot-free
from us.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“Hey, Ledge?”
“Yeah?”
“Go get your lavender girl. You’ve waited fifteen years. I don’t think
you should waste another minute,” Ford says. Or Callahan. I’m not sure
which one, but it doesn’t fucking matter.
I already have more important things on my mind.

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 CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Asher

“Asher?”
“Yes. Hi,” I say, even though I already know from Caller ID that it’s
Hillary.
“Hillary here.”
Dread drops into my stomach. Does she know I haven’t secured the loan
yet? That I can’t fulfill my promises? Certainly the town rumor mill has
already filled her in. “Hi. How are you?”
“Good. Great. Look, I have a prospective client coming into town in an
hour. They’re a huge client of S.I.N. resorts. He’s extremely interested in
seeing The Fields because he’s looking for a spot to hold quarterly meetings
and the like. Is it possible for you to show him around?”
“Um. Yeah. But I’m not in town—”
“When can you get into town? What time? I only have him here for the
day, and he really wants to meet with you and see if it’s a good fit.”
“But not everything’s done yet,” I say, my thoughts scrambled as I
glance at the clock. It’s four in the afternoon. Tonight? What the hell?
“That’s okay. I explained that to him and he’s fine with it. Where are
you? What time can you get here? Seven p.m.? Eight p.m.? Eight might be
best so the lights can be on and the whole mood can be set.”
“Eight.” I make a split-second decision. “Eight is fine. I’ll call George
and have him get everything we have set up so it looks perfect when he gets
there.”
“Good. Thank you for doing this. I know it’s last minute.”
“No, thank you.”
I’m on an adrenaline high when I hang up. Funny how I’d already
packed my bags given the decision I’d made earlier today.
It’s time.
It’s time to go home.
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 CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Asher

Traffic.
Who would have thought I’d encounter traffic on the way home? But
sure enough, I did. I’m going twice the speed limit down the road leading to
my house. Luckily no one is on it because it’s ten minutes till eight, and the
last thing I want to do is screw this up and be late.
When I turn the corner and The Fields comes into view, it takes me a
second to believe it’s mine. The lights illuminating the trees. The spotlights
on the barn. The dark silhouette of the hill behind it.
It’s mine.
Pride like I’ve never felt before fills me.
I’ll find a way to make this work. It’s the only option.
But when I go to turn down the driveway, there’s asphalt. And not just a
road patch onto the gravel driveway, but the entire driveway is paved.
How did George get this done?
I know we’d talked about it, but that was when I thought I was getting
the loan.
Shit. I can’t afford this. Not the driveway or the whole section to the left
that’s a mini-parking lot with a lone car parked in it. Oh my God.
Oh.
My.
God.
How am I going to pay for this?
I pull up to the house and screech to a stop. I have to find George. I
have to ask him why he did this, I have to . . . can they just un-pave it and
take it all back?
I hustle down the pathway toward the barn and pasture. There are
paving stones here too. Slabs of rock cemented down on the path.
 It’s exactly like I wanted on the quotes I showed George, but I never
told him to pull the trigger. Never.
Tears of sheer panic threaten as I move through the darkening night. I
need to shove this away. I need to calm down. I can’t come off like a crazy
lunatic when I meet this possible repeat client.
Just when I hit the clearing, I start to hear music. And not just music,
but what sounds like stringed instruments. It’s soothing, and I know the
tune but not the name.
It’s not until I turn the corner of the barn and come face-to-face with
Ledger does everything hit me.
He’s standing beneath the big oak tree, a soft smile on his lips, the lights
above highlighting his hair.
“Ledger?” I look around to see where Hillary is but only jump when I
see the barn completely furnished with tables and chairs and— “Where’s
Hillary?”
“There is no Hillary,” he says as he moves toward me.
“But I’m supposed to—”
“You’re supposed to meet me. Here. In the setting you created. In the
place we originally fell in love, then and now.”
“What did you do, Ledger?” I start to take a step back, my head
shaking. “I can’t accept all of this.”
“Yes, you can.” He reaches out and holds my hands in his. “You told me
you wanted this place because it was the only place I’d never touched. It
was the only place where you could forget about me. I don’t want you to
forget about me. I don’t want you to live another day without me. So I’ve
touched it now, Asher. I’ve made it so that we’re partners in this venture . . .
and hopefully in life. I touched it because I don’t want to spend another day
where either of us doesn’t feel one another’s presence.”
“Ledger.” His name is a whisper of disbelief.
“And I figured if I was going to cash my father’s check, it might as well
go toward something we make together. To a new beginning for us.”
I want to look everywhere and nowhere but him all at the same time.
Time hasn’t changed that. “I’m at a loss for words.”
“We’ll figure us out. Maybe you come with me to New York for part of
the year while George and Angel run The Fields. Then we come and spend
summers here like I used to. You always said George was family to your
pop and gran, so you’d still be keeping it in the family. If that doesn’t work,
we’ll split our time more evenly. You can go to school in New York if you
want. Fulfill your dream. Make your mark. Be whoever you want to be . . .
so long as you be with me while you do it.”
I look all around me and am stunned.
I have never felt more loved than in this moment. Than by him. “I don’t
know what to say.”
“Say yes, Asher. Say you’ll do this with me. That you’ll be with me.
That you’ll depend on me.” He kneels and when I look down, all I can see
is the love swimming in his eyes. It’s then that he opens a box with a ring in
it. It’s gorgeous and sparkly. I don’t even look at it long enough to know
what it is because he’s all I want to look at.
He’s all I want.
Ledger. My moonlight boy.
I love him. I think I always have. I press a kiss to his lips.
“On one condition,” I murmur.
He leans back, his eyes dancing with amusement. “What’s that?”
“That you’ll love me forever.”

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 EPILOGUE

Ledger
One Year Later

This is what she wanted.

I offered her a trip to anywhere in the world. The private jet. Adventure.
Relaxation. Anything she could ever want or think of to ring in her birthday,
and this is what she chose.
It’s not like I should expect any less.
It is Asher, isn’t it? And it’s one of the main reasons I fall more in love
with her each day. The number of zeros in our bank account doesn’t matter.
But this does.
Her family.
Her history.
Her connection to this place that no amount of time will ever break.
And there she is, standing beneath the strings of lights, with the
lavender at her back and her friends all around her.
Christ. She’s gorgeous. Easygoing yet complicated. And all fucking
mine. How in the hell did that happen? How did I get so lucky?
“You’re her one birthday wish. All she wanted was for you to be here,”
I murmur into Gran’s ear. She barely responds—a flicker of her fingers, a
barely-there lift of one corner of her lips—but with her steep decline, it’s
more than any of us could hope for. “Thank you for that.”
I give a gentle squeeze to her shoulders as I glance at the two private
caregivers I hired to get Gran here and give a nod in appreciation.
The music on the speaker changes, followed by a cheer of approval by
everyone on the dance floor. They arrange themselves in lines and start
doing matching moves as they dance in unison.
Nita can’t stop smiling as she tries to teach her son the moves, no doubt
embarrassing the hell out of him. Hank weaves in and out of the moving
rows, delivering drinks despite my insistence that he’s not to work or tend
the bar tonight. Carson Allen trips over his own feet but doesn’t care,
because he’s too busy flirting with the date he brought. And then there’s
Tootie in her neon pink dress with crooked pigtails, unabashedly mowing
down every sweet there is on the dessert table.
Asher’s laugh rings out, drawing my attention back to her. I move
toward the edge of the barn so I can see her better as she dances with our
friends.
Happiness has never looked so good on someone. I like to think that I
helped get her to this point, but then again, the woman is a force to be
reckoned with. Her happiness is her own.
She looks up and searches through the small crowd of people. She
pauses mid-dance move when she finds me. Our gazes lock. Her eyes dance
with fire she reserves just for me. And when she smiles, I know I’ve never
made a better decision in my life than fighting for her.
I note when both of my brothers step up on either side of me.
Callahan whistles. “Should we entertain the crowd for you?”
“What do you mean?” I take a sip of my beer.
“That look can only mean one thing when a woman gives it to you.”
Ford chuckles. “She wants you. Right now. Maybe even in the loft of the
barn for a quickie while we’re all obliviously occupied out here.”
“You’re so full of shit.” The teasing never stops.
“Full of shit?” Callahan snorts and points to where Sutton is cradling
my adorable baby niece dressed in a bright yellow romper. “It’s the same
look Sutton gave me that got me that.”
“And you wouldn’t have it any other way,” I say as I look at Callahan.
He’s still staring at Sutton and his daughter with an expression I never
thought I’d see on his face—absolute and complete love and adoration.
“You’re right. I wouldn’t,” he murmurs.
“What about you? When do you two plan to have kids . . . or is that not
on the Ledger-approved ten-year plan?” Ford asks, earning the arm I hook
around his neck and the tug I give it.
“There is a ten-year plan still, right?” Callahan asks as I stand there
silently and simply watch Asher.
“For some things, yes,” I murmur, still mesmerized by my wife. “For
other things, not so much.”
“Holy shit.” Ford staggers back playfully. “Did I just hear that right?”
I nod and smile.
 He sure did.
Chaos has overtaken my life—and I’ve welcomed it. It’s been in the
last-minute decisions to fly back to Cedar Falls to unwind. Or the impulsive
midnight run for an ice cream cone and a walk in The Battery. It’s been in
Asher’s greeting me at the door after a long day of work for me and
studying for her in nothing but heels and some lacy panties—and then
making love on the outdoor terrace of our penthouse.
Spontaneity is something I never knew until Asher. Never appreciated.
An intimate wedding she planned in a few weeks’ time. Study groups in our
family room. Playing hooky from work to steal a few more hours with her.
Forgetting to move the goalposts because I’m perfectly fine with where
they are.
All plans out the window.
Asher taught me that.
Is still teaching me that, and honestly, I couldn’t be any fucking happier.
She helped me find joy—genuine fucking joy—for the first time in my
adult life. It didn’t come from sealing a multi-million-dollar deal or getting
the write-up in Forbes that came out a few months back—it was in her.
Simply put . . . it is her.
“Uh-oh,” Ford mutters, drawing me back from my thoughts and to the
party.
“What?” I look up to see Asher moving toward me.
“Time to go keep the crowd busy so Ledge can get busy himself up in
the loft,” Callahan says.
“Whatever.” But by the time I look at either of them, they’re on the
move, their laughter loud.
And then she’s in front of me with that disarming smile of hers that
presses against my lips.
“Having fun?” she asks.
“I am. You?”
“I’m fine. This is perfect.” Another press of her lips to mine. “Thank
you for throwing me a birthday party. For getting Gran here. For . . . being
you.”
Is it possible to fall more in love with someone each day?
“I’m glad. It’s not lounging on the beach in Seychelles, but . . .” I tease.
“But it’s exactly what I needed to refuel after finals and a busy season
here at The Fields—”
 “And all that incredible sex we’ve been having.”
“Yes.” She laughs. “That too.”
I chuckle. “I guess this is when I tell you that my brothers just bailed
because they’re convinced you were coming over here so we could have a
quickie in the loft.”
She arches one eyebrow as a mischievous smile slides onto her lips. “Is
that so?”
“It is.” I nod. Her eyes challenge me, sending my hopes soaring.
“Hmm.” She purses her lips and looks around. “It’s only natural for the
host and hostess to disappear every now and again to check on supplies and
make sure we have everything our guests need.”
“Is that so?” I set down my beer, shove my hands in my pockets, and
take a few steps toward the open barn door.
“It most definitely is.” She leans into me. “Knowing how many napkins
we have is of vital importance.” And then whispers against my lips, “Meet
you up there in five.”
When she walks away from me with an extra swing to her hips, there is
only one thought in my head.
I’m glad she chose me.
So fucking glad.
Did you enjoy Asher and Ledger’s journey back toward each other and their
deserved happily ever after? Are you intrigued by both Callahan and Ford
and want to find out more about them? There are two other books in the
S.I.N. series. (The books can be read in any order). You can find them here:

Last Resort
Final Proposal
Are you looking for another wealthy book boyfriends to warm your
metaphorical bed? Why not get acquainted these other K. Bromberg’s
heroes:

Faking It (standalone, billionaire hero, fake dating, forced proximity):

After a little white lie spirals out of control, billionaire Zane Phillips hires
Harlow Nicks to play his girlfriend to promote his new dating website. The
problem? She doesn’t exactly like him. But a job is a job and she has bills
to pay. But as the miles unfurl, so does their passion . . . and if Harlow’s not
careful, she might end up believing that fairytales really do come true. Find
Faking It here.

Wicked Ways Duet: This two book series (Resist, Reveal) will hit all your
buttons. Taboo/Forbidden Romance. Enemies to Lovers. Strong Alpha. A
hint of suspense. Vaughn and Ryker are a battle of wills from the start but
will win each other’s hearts in the end. Find out more about the Wicked
Ways duet HERE.

Play Hard Series: Four sisters try to save their family’s sports management
agency, and in the process, they find their soulmates. Tropes used are sports
romance (each book deals with a different sport), military romance, enemies
to lovers, forced proximity, British hero, childhood crush . . . and on and on.
Each book focuses on a different set of tropes. Find out which ones by
clicking HERE.

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 ABOUT THE AUTHOR

New York Times Bestselling author K. Bromberg writes contemporary

romance novels that contain a mixture of sweet, emotional, a whole lot of
sexy, and a little bit of real. She likes to write strong heroines and damaged
heroes, who we love to hate but can’t help to love.

A mom of three, she plots her novels in between school runs, sports
practices, and figuring out how to navigate parenting teenagers (send more
wine!). More often than not, she does all of this with her laptop in tow, and
her mind daydreaming of the current hero she is writing.

Since publishing her first book on a whim in 2013, Kristy has sold over two
million copies of her books across twenty different countries and has landed
on the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestsellers
lists over thirty times. Her Driven trilogy (Driven, Fueled, and Crashed) has
been adapted for film and is available on the streaming platform
Passionflix, Amazon, and other streaming platforms.

You can find out more about Kristy, her books, or just chat with her on any
of her social media accounts. The easiest way to stay up to date on new
releases and upcoming novels is to sign up for her newsletter or follow her
on Bookbub.

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