Igniting Ash (5 page)

Elated, Emma wrapped her arms around Jack’s neck, kissing his cheek noisily.

“You’re the best, Jack. Thank you.”

“Pfft, three hours is nothing compared to the work you do here. I should be thanking you.”

Gabe shuffled uncomfortably at the door, coughing loudly. Emma shot him a quick smile, waving Jack away. “Come on then, let’s go and sort the delivery out so that Bolt can feed you.”

Chapter 5

Asher

“Thank you. I’ll review the application, along with the others I have, and will be in touch shortly.”

The overly made-up woman snapped her gum, flashed her lipstick marred teeth at Asher and left his store. He’d been searching for someone to help out in the bookshop part time for the last four weeks. No one seemed to fit right.

He chuckled, fairly sure he hadn’t fit when Ike had offered him the very same job. He’d been a battered and broken teenager with no possessions other than what little cash Emma had given him and the shabby clothing he wore. Ike had seen beyond that, maybe even glimpsing the man Asher could become with a little nurturing.

God, he missed the old man.

His heart ached in response. Asher doubted there would ever be a time when he didn’t pine for just a few more moments with him. Even though he’d been able to tell Ike exactly what he meant to him, Asher would always want to repeat it—to tell him one final time. Ike had meant everything to him.

The man had changed his life.

Ike had become his employer, his best friend and his surrogate father all rolled into one. No one would be able to fill the void he’d left when he’d died. At night Asher still found himself talking away to a ghost, as though Ike was still around. It was something he found difficult to stop and anyone watching him would be calling for the men in white coats to come and collect him. Maybe he needed that interaction, even if it was with the deceased. Maybe that was why he’d spent so much time with Emma and had been reluctant to part ways, even though she knew his past.

“Christ, Asher, you need to get a grip,” he murmured, readying himself for the next interviewee.

Checking his watch, he walked into the back of the bookstore, reached for a clean mug and poured himself a strong coffee. He had the distinct feeling it was going to take more than a couple of cups of coffee to get him through the next few interviews. He was being picky, focusing on the smallest detail as a reason to discount the person from employment. He needed the help but was reluctant to have anyone intrude on his personal space, and the store was his. The only possession he had that meant a damn thing. It had been Ike’s life, and now it was his.

He refused to let the old man down. He would succeed with the store.

Raising the hot brew to his lips, the bell over the door chimed, startling him. Coffee sloshed over the rim, splattering across the front of his white shirt. He cursed, reaching for a cloth to dab the liquid from the fabric. It seared through the cotton, burning his chest momentarily.

“Hello?”

“Um, just a minute,” Asher shouted out into the store, glaring down at the mess his shirt had become. There would be no rescuing it. The bin was all it was fit for now. Irritated, he stalked from the back room, scanning the store for the customer.

“Hello-oh!” came a shocked voice from behind a large row of autobiographies.

Familiar blue eyes met his wide brown ones as he focused on Emma. She was here, in his store, looking at him expectantly. Confused, he bit back to urge to ask what she was doing here. He hadn’t given her the name of his store, though he doubted it would be difficult for her to locate. There weren’t that many bookshops in this town. And there was always the possibility that her stumbling into the shop was a complete coincidence.

“Wow,” she whispered. “T-This is your shop?”

Nodding, he continued to dab at his shirt, eyes locked on hers. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. A flicker of lies? A knowing sparkle? He had no idea but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. His pulse kicked up a notch, thumping against his wrist like a deep drum beat. She’d had that effect on him at the party. He wasn’t sure he liked it. Control was important to him. After living his childhood without it, he now clung to it ferociously as an adult.

“Yeah, it is. Sorry,” he said, glancing down at his shirt, “small incident with a large mug of coffee. The coffee won, as you can see.”

Emma stepped forward, her hand reaching out before she caught herself and pulled back. “If you take it off and soak it now it probably won’t stain.”

Feeling oddly playful, Asher quirked a brow, asking, “You want me to take my clothes off, Emma? Last night you asked me shove it in. You’re giving me ideas. Ones that include us both without clothes, and me most definitely
shoving it in.
”

He was rewarded with an instant flush of her cheeks. Her fingers toyed with the edge of her lilac blouse, her anxiety evident. “I d-didn’t mean—”

“I know.” He walked around the counter. “I was teasing you.”

Her expression softened and the blush of her cheeks faded slowly. Asher looked away sharply, realizing he already missed the rose-tinted skin and was about to work out what he could do to get it back. This was their second interaction in years, and yet she was already messing with his control.

An awkward silence built between them, only dispersed by the chime of the bell above the door. A middle-aged man and young boy entered the shop, walking directly over to the children’s section as they chatted.

“I guess I’m holding you up,” Emma said. “I do have a real reason to be here. I had no idea the shop was yours.”

Threading his fingers through his hair, he pushed the strands from his forehead. He cleared his throat, contemplating what to say next as he waited for her to confess why she was really there.

“Jack, my boss of sorts, called you earlier. It’s about a book—obviously.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve been trying to find a particular one for my father’s sixtieth birthday. Jack says you have a copy. You reserved it for him—well, me actually.”

Asher froze, his fingers still threaded in his hair. “That book’s for you?”

Emma agreed though he noticed she wasn’t looking directly at him. Her gaze locked on the small patch of exposed skin on his stomach. Lifting his arms had raised his shirt, revealing his stomach to her and she certainly hadn’t missed the show he was offering. Nor had she missed the two pink puckered scars that marred the otherwise smooth skin.

Awareness had him dropping his arms, shoving his hands into the front of his jeans and staring at the floor while he gained control of his erratic heartbeat. The last thing he needed was her asking about his scars. He’d spoken about them once, and that had been to Ike.

“Um, I’ll go and get it for you,” he muttered, walking around the back of the counter and bending to collect the book. “This book has been in the store for longer than I have. It amazed me when someone called and asked for it.”

“Wow! Does age make the price higher? Like a good whiskey?” She took the dusty book from him.

Her joke lightened his anxiety. He shook his head, pointing to the small sticker on the back which told her the price. “I’m pleased it gets a new home. I bet Ike would be too.”

“Ike?”

“The guy that used to own this place.”

The bell above the door chimed again, interrupting their rather stilted conversation. A man Asher surmised was around fifty entered the store, dressed in a dark grey suit and bright red tie. He carried a worn, leather folder and large umbrella. He looked far too formal for Asher’s small, cluttered shop.

“Hello.” The man stepped forward. “I have a meeting with the proprietor in approximately five minutes. I like to be as prompt as possible.”

Asher held out his hand for the man to shake, introducing himself. “I’ll just finish serving Emma here, and then I’ll be right with you. Would you like to take a seat?”

The man seemed unimpressed with Asher. He cringed as he took in the coffee stains on his shirt. He was about to explain to the man what had happened but caught himself. It was irrelevant really, wasn’t it? And had nothing to do with the interview.

“I better leave you alone. You’re busy.” Emma handed him her credit card. “Charge it for however much and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Doing as she asked, he placed the book in a paper bag and passed it back to her.

“Thank you, Ash. It was
…interesting
seeing you. Again.”

“It’s always the case when we’re together, huh? Nothing is ever straight forward.”

“My father will be ecstatic when he sees what I have for him. You’ve made me the best daughter ever. Well, not that he has another but you get me.”

“Emma, you’re rambling,” Asher pointed out, moving around the counter and walking her to the door.

“Sorry. Thanks again.” She placed her palm flat against his cheek in a gesture he found too intimate. He had to shrug away, taking a large step back.

“Goodbye, Emma. Hope your dad has a great day.”

She opened her mouth as if to speak but nothing came out. Instead, she clutched the book and whispered her goodbye, leaving nothing but the chiming of the door as it closed and vanilla scent of her perfume.

Oddly, he missed her already.

***

Two hours later Asher was still no further in recruiting a part time assistant. The man in the tailored suit had ended up walking out. He’d thought the bookstore would be larger, tidier and much more
elite
. Asher had no idea what had given him that impression. The store was exactly as the name said:
Hidden Treasures.
There was nothing elite about that.

He groaned, flipped the closed sign on the store front and checked his watch. It was later than he thought, almost dinnertime and he was thankful the day was over.

On cue, his stomach grumbled. Having been interrupted by Emma, he realized he’d totally missed eating lunch. Damn, he needed food and quick, which left him with the only option of picking up something fast and fatty from further down the road.

A light tapping on the window had him pausing and looking up. He was about to tell whoever it was that the shop was closed but the words stuck in his throat.

“Emma?”

She smiled shyly at him as he opened the door. A large brown bag hung from her fingers tips, the enticing smell causing his stomach to rumble again.

“I thought you might be hungry. I hope burritos are okay?”

Asher’s guts twisted with nerves. They always did when he was in her presence. He never knew what to expect from her and wondered why she kept appearing.

Berating himself for his continued dubiousness, he smiled at her and stepped aside, allowing her to enter the store. “Burritos are more than fine. I’m starving, though you really didn’t need to, Emma. I’m pretty good at fixing my own meals.”

She stared at him, shrugging and waving the paper bag in front of his face. “I brought you something to eat, but I can sure as hell take it away and eat it all myself if you don’t want any.”

Laughter burst free from his mouth, the tightness in his chest releasing. “There is no way you could eat everything you have in that bag. Not a chance.”

“Don't let my modest frame deceive you, Ash. You have no idea how much food I can put away in one sitting. I can shove it all in. Especially when challenged.” She winked, walking toward the back of the store.

Asher coughed. “Again with the shoving?” A thrill of triumph coursed through him when she blushed. “I still don’t believe you,” he said, shaking his head as he closed and locked the door.

“Follow me,” she beckoned. “And you can watch me inhale it all, if you like.”

He followed her to the small reading nook at the back of the store. It was nothing more than two rather eclectic armchairs, a small table and a couple of children’s stools but customers liked the area. It seemed Emma did too. She placed her purse on one of the chairs, hunkering down onto the floor and placing the fast food down next to her.

It was impossible to drag his gaze away from her, and it amused him when she removed some napkins, laying them on top of a couple of books before covering them with the foil-wrapped burritos and nachos.

“Are you going to join me or just watch?”

Pondering exactly what he was going to do, he leaned against one of the bookshelves and licked his lips. It wasn’t only the salty tang that rose from the food. It was Emma. She was delectable and as much as he tried to fight it, tried to keep his wall of protection up, she had the ability to chip away with nothing more than her smile. His entire body throbbed for her, making his skin prickle.

It was going to be a long meal.

“Picnic? Really?” he questioned incredulously, running his fingers through his already untidy hair.

“Stop questioning. Just get your arse down here and eat what I’ve so graciously brought you. You said you were hungry, so eat.”

“You’re chastising me?” He strolled toward her. “It’s been a long while since someone told me what to do. It wasn’t very nice then, but now? Well, you amuse me when you’re all flustered.”

“Pfft. You question everything. It’s somewhat annoying at times, especially when I’m doing something nice for you.”

He sat down on the floor facing her and crossed his legs as he peeled the foil from his burrito. Removing a slice of jalapeno, he flung it into the empty brown bag, ignoring her protests.