Chapter 14

Ash

It takes me a good minute to figure out what has woken me up. The sun is streaming in through the tiny window of the shed, and that’s enough to warm it to really freaking uncomfortable levels, even though it must be ass-o-clock in the morning. I’m sweating my butt off. The sheets are sticking to my skin, even though I’m stripped down to almost nothing. I drop my head back against my pillow with a grunt, and from the ground beside me, Bruiser lets out a little rumble and turns his head to look at me.

“I don’t know, buddy,” I say. “Just try to go back to sleep.” If Star hasn’t banged on the door yet, then it’s not time to get up. Best boss ever. I turn over and try to will myself back to sleep. That’s when I hear it.

Goddamn “Footloose.”

I pull myself back up into a sitting position, and crane my head to listen. It’s definitely “Footloose.” Mom had an obsession with that goddamn movie when I was growing up. I can probably quote the whole thing front to back because of her, and that is definitely the theme song that is being played at eardrum-rupturing levels.

What. The. Fuck?

I haul myself out of bed and step into my shorts, yanking them up and fastening them around my hips. I leave the shirt off. Whoever is playing the music will just have to fucking deal, I decide, and yank open the shed door and step outside into the sunlight. That’s when I realize that the music is coming from the house.

What the hell?

I wander over to the porch, scrubbing my hands over my face. It’s too early for this shit. Way, way too early. The music just gets louder the closer I get, and when I pull open the back door, it’s blasting. I stop in the doorway and stare, but it isn’t the music that stops me in my tracks. It’s Star.

She’s dancing. She’s cleaning the kitchen, piling empty soda bottles into a big plastic bag, but the movements of her tight little body while she’s doing it are nothing short of fucking sinful. She hasn’t seen me yet, and I take a second to admire her as she moves. Hips shaking, hair tumbling. This girl just keeps getting hotter.

It’s killing me.

Finally, she turns and catches sight of me. Her movements slow, but she’s grinning at me like it’s Christmas as she shoves another empty water bottle into the bag. That’s when I realize that the music is coming out of the boom box on the kitchen counter, the one that is plugged in next to the toaster.

Holy shit. The power’s back on.

I have no idea that I’m speaking out loud until Star laughs. The back of my neck starts to burn. I’m nowhere near awake enough for this.

“It is,” she says. “I made a few calls and the power company finally relented. Do you know what that means?”

“I’m still stuck on the fact that I caught you shaking your ass to fucking Kenny Loggins,” I tell her. “And the fact that I was woken up by fucking ‘Footloose’ of all things. I’m not exactly at my best right now.”

“Ah,” she says. “That’s where the good news comes into play. Wait here.” And with that, she drops the plastic bag and turns on her heel, hightailing it out of the room.

What the fuck is happening right now? I look down at Bruiser, who’d followed me inside to see what was going on for himself. He looks about as confused as I feel. “I hear you, buddy,” I tell him, and he kind of huffs at me, and then settles himself down on the floor, where he’s probably a hell of a lot cooler than I am right now.

God, I probably reek. I want to lift my arm back up and check, but before I have a chance, Star’s back. And she’s carrying a steaming mug in her cupped hands. Her smile is like fucking sunshine when she hands it over, and I moan as I get a whiff of it.

“Is that coffee?” I ask, even though it’s goddamn obvious that it is. She nods and presses the cup into my hands. It’s so hot that the mug itself is nearly burning me, but I don’t care.

“Oh god,” I say, and take a whiff of it. Considering all we’ve had lately is the shitty diner coffee, this smells like heaven. “We have a coffee maker? Here?”

She nods as I lean down and take a cautious sip. It burns like a bitch, but it’s so good. “You’re a fucking goddess,” I tell her. Then, realizing what a sap I sound like, I hastily add, “Even if you do have fucking terrible taste in music.”

“Hey!” Star cries, but she’s laughing.

“Shhh,” I tell her, taking another careful sip. “The coffee and I are having a moment.”

“Well, then I guess I should leave you two alone. Since you’re not interested in the other thing?”

“Hmmm?” I say, looking over the rim of the mug at her. She’s looking at me, all playful and shit, leaning against the counter and hemming and hawing, like she’s considering not actually telling me what she’s obviously dying to. It’s cute as shit. And I kind of want to set my mug down on the counter next to her, and block her in with my arms on either side of those cute little hips, just to see if she’d press herself back. But that would lead down a road I can’t come back from, so I stay put and just take another sip of my coffee. It’s either cooling down enough, or I’ve burned off all the pain receptors in my mouth. Either way, it’s going down easier.

But Star just shakes her head at me and hops forward, reaching out and grabbing my arm. She slides her hand down, until she’s got my hand in hers, and tugs me forward, hard enough that I almost go sprawling. “Come on,” she says. “You’ve got to see this.”

I’m a little stunned to say the least. We don’t touch each other. Not really. It’s the only way I’ve been able to keep a lid on my control around her. Control that’s about to go straight to hell if she keeps laying those hands of hers on my skin. But it isn’t like I can just brush her off. There doesn’t exist a universe where I’d even want to, so I let her lead me out of the kitchen and through the pathways we’ve made in her mother’s stuff, out into the living room.

She drops my hand and looks at me, all expectantly, and that’s when I see it. There’s a goddamn air conditioner in the window. And it’s churning out icy-cold air like a freaking freight train. I can feel it from here, and it’s fucking fantastic.

I turn to her, one hand still gripping my mug of coffee for dear life, and blurt out, “Marry me.”

Her eyes kind of widen at my words, so I plaster a smile on my face and add, “We’ll sort out your shitty taste in music after the ceremony,” and hide my smirk behind my mug.

Star doesn’t say anything, she just tosses her head back and laughs. But as I watch, I see the glint in her eye, the long line of her throat, the way her inky black hair tumbles down her back, and well . . .

I’m starting to wonder if I actually mean it.

Star

After Ash finishes his coffee and has woken up a little bit, heading back outside holds absolutely zero interest to either of us. Especially now that the air conditioner is chugging along in the window like its life depends on it. Which, as far as I am concerned, it does. That stupid machine and I shared some pretty passionate words when I nearly put my back out installing it this morning. I made it very clear that it either works like a charm, or it will be taken to the junk heap and be salvaged for parts. If it knows what is good for it, it will keep Ash and I suitably chilled for the rest of the summer. Minimum.