One True Thing (18 page)

been lying there silently for a few moments.

“Yeah?”

He reached over and threaded his fingers

through mine loosely. “I’m glad I’m here with you.

This feels good.”

It did. But I had to know. “It does for me too.

But what about my brother? Aren’t you guys kind

of seeing each other?”

Dusty tightened his fingers on mine. “Not that

I think he’ll care, but I’d honestly rather be seeing

you. I mean, it was you that first day, wasn’t it?

The one who caught me?”

“Yeah. That was me. I’ve been thinking of

that day for weeks.”

“Me too. Like, constantly. I actually thought

Archer was
you
when I first met him. That’s why I

gave him my number. But being with him didn’t

feel like this.”

I rolled over onto my stomach and propped

myself up on my elbows so I could look down at

him. “So it was me that you wanted all along?”

“Yeah.” He reached up and touched my face

with his finger. “Definitely you.”

It was one of those moments, those rare,

perfect moments, that are built for a kiss. That is, if

you’re not a total chickenshit. Dusty was gazing up

at me with those big heartbreaker dark eyes of his,

hand cupping my jaw, and what did I do? I

chickened out. At least I saved it a little by

reaching up and covering his hand with my own.

“So.” I turned my head and nuzzled his palm a

little. “Are you still hungry?”

It was bright out still, but it had to be close to

six. We’d been out on the grass for a long, long

time. Even my stomach was starting to growl.

Dusty nodded.

“How ’bout I take you to that Greek place?

Eggplant, wine, maybe some spanakopita?” I was

asking Dusty on a date. A real date. It was hard to

hold back a grin. I couldn’t believe how much

things had changed in less than a day.

He smiled up at me. “I’d love to. Do I need to

go home and change?”

“Nope. You look perfect.” I didn’t want him

to go home. I didn’t want to let him out of my sight

so he could remember that he didn’t like what he’d

heard about my unwanted career and decide that I

was no better than Archer. “Did you drive here, or

can we just hop in my car?”

“No car. You’re stuck with me.” He grinned

and sat up, hopping to his feet before brushing the

grass from his shorts. I followed, but laughed when

I noticed a clump stuck to the back of his shirt.

“C’mere. You have more grass.”

He chuckled and came closer, lifting his arms

so I could brush it off. Even something that small,

my fingers sliding along the warm, slightly damp

fabric of his shirt was enough to make the pit of my

stomach melt. I stopped brushing and left my

fingers where they were, lingering on his lower

back, unable to pull away.

“Did you get it all?” he asked. I couldn’t help

but to notice that his voice had grown hoarse.

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “I got it.”

DINNER and wine turned into a walk on the beach

and ice cream cones on the boardwalk for dessert,

sitting on the dock with our legs hanging over the

side. As a result, it was really late by the time I

pulled up in front of Dusty’s cute little Spanish-

style rambler. I didn’t want the night to be over,

even though if it lasted much longer, the night

would turn into morning again like last time. I was

still holding Dusty’s hand. We’d driven all the

way back from the pier that way. It was probably

sappy of me, but damn, I didn’t want to let go.

“I wish I didn’t have to go to work

tomorrow,” Dusty said quietly. “I just want to

keep….”

“Hanging out. Talking. I know. Me too.” I

brought his pale, freckly hand up to my mouth and

kissed his knuckles. “But maybe you can call me

after work, if you’re not too tired.”

I felt kinda dumb suggesting it until I saw his

smile flash bright white in the dark. “I will—if you

don’t decide you’re sick of me between now and

then.”

I had to kiss him.
No. It’s too early.
He’d

been with my brother, we just decided we were…

well, I wasn’t sure what we were yet. But it was

too early. I had to kiss him.

Fuck it.

I leaned over and cupped my hand around the

back of his neck. I threaded my fingers into his

hair, like I’d done before with Josh, but the thick,

dense strands felt soft against my fingers, and the

warmth of his scalp curved into my palm.

“A-Asher?”

“I’m sorry if this is too soon.”
Sort of. I have

to do it.
I leaned over, tugging gently on his neck,

and then not at all because he was leaning on his

own.

“Not too soon. Kiss me.”

And I did. I didn’t want to take it too far, our

first real kiss, our first kiss at all, actually. It felt

innocent and right, almost like that first time when

I’d kissed Matty Perkins on my back porch in

eighth grade. But Dusty didn’t have braces, or an

awkward tongue that he shoved eagerly down my

throat. His kiss was perfect. His hand lifted to my

chest, and his lips moved, warm and soft, against

mine. Nibbles and tastes, and finally his tongue

slipping past my lips and making me sigh into his

mouth. It was all… perfect. I shivered and drew

him closer, never wanting the kiss to end. I was

consumed by his taste, overwhelmed by how much

I’d wanted this moment. Delving, sucking, brushing

swollen lips across each other’s mouths.

“God, Ash,” he whispered when we were

resting forehead to forehead, lips barely touching.

“It’s just how I thought it would be. You….” He

trailed off.

“I don’t want to stop kissing you.”

Dusty groaned. “I have to go to work in five

hours.”

“Okay.” I pulled back, ready to let him go.

Sort of.

“One more kiss.” Dusty grabbed the front of

my shirt and hauled me back to his mouth. It was

nearly thirty minutes later that I pulled my car

away from the curb, grinning like a fool and

waving at Dusty, who was standing in his doorway

watching me go.

Chapter Eight

Dusty

THE morning after my first real date with Asher, I

discovered it was entirely possible for a man to

run on nothing more than coffee, an hour of sleep,

and bliss. From the moment he’d dropped me off at

home, I’d been wandering around in a weird state

of euphoria, my body functioning on automatic—

cutting and dyeing hair, chatting with clients,

cleaning my station—all while my mind kept

drifting back to Asher. I played and then replayed

every moment we’d spent together, thinking about

his smile, his laugh, the way he looked at me and

said my name. And the kisses. Oh, God, those

kisses. At first so soft and gentle and then… heat

and need and yes-please-yes-don’t-ever-let-it-

stop.

I could have kissed Asher for hours. Days,

weeks, months. No one had ever kissed me like

him, slow and deep and savoring, as if he couldn’t

get enough of me, my kiss, my mouth, my taste.

Christ, the thought of it had me all flushed, half-

hard, achy in a way that had nothing to do with

pain and everything to do with desire.

I wanted him. Badly. I had no idea if I’d be

able to resist him, especially if he pushed. I didn’t

think he would, though. Unlike his brother. And I

wanted him even more for that.

“You seem happy.”

I blinked, pulled back to the present by an

amused-sounding voice. I realized then that my

client, Tawny, whose roots I was in the middle of

retouching, was watching me in the mirror with a

knowing little smirk on her face.

Tawny wasn’t her real name—or at least I

didn’t think so—but it suited her and the golden-

brown color she favored for her hair. Since she

was a bit obsessive about new growth and dark

roots, as she’d informed me during our first

appointment, she came in for touchups more often

than was really necessary. I’d already seen her

twice in the almost two months I’d been at

Embellish, and I liked her enough to answer

honestly. “I am.”

“Hot date last night?”

I laughed and shrugged lightly, trying to be

casual as I turned away to dip my tint brush in the

bowl of dye on the stand beside me. “You could

say that.”

“I thought so. You’ve been smiling on and off,

kind of dreamy-like, and you were humming

earlier too.”

My cheeks warmed. “Humming?” I repeated.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“I figured.” Tawny chuckled, eyeing me in the

mirror with obvious amusement. “So tell me about

him. It is a him, right?”

I smiled a little as I went back to brushing the

dye on her hair, unsurprised that she had guessed.

It wasn’t as if I even tried to hide it. “Yeah. It’s a

him. And he’s… lovely.”

“When are you seeing him again?”

“Tonight, if I have anything to say about it.”

Tawny laughed, and my cheeks got hotter. I

hadn’t meant to be so upfront, but damned if it

wasn’t the truth. I planned on calling Asher the

moment my shift was over, and I was hoping he

might be as desperate to see me as I was to see

him.

“Well, I hope you get your way,” Tawny said.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“HEY.”

“Dusty.” I could hear the smile in Asher’s

voice. “You called.”

I grinned as I wove my way through the

people crowding the sidewalk. It was less than a

ten-minute walk from where I worked to my front

door, but I’d only made it maybe three steps out of

Embellish before I’d had my phone in hand and his

number dialed. I might have felt kind of silly for

being in such a rush if he hadn’t answered before

the start of the second ring, almost as if he’d been

waiting for me. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“No,” he said. “I just… I’ve been thinking

about you all day. Guess I was feeling a little

impatient.”

He laughed quietly, and my grin widened. It

probably looked dopey to the people who passed

me, but that was okay. “So… how about dinner

tonight?” I asked. “I make a mean eggplant

parmesan.”

Asher was quiet for a long moment. Then, “I

can’t tonight. Sorry.” And he really sounded it too,

which went a long way to quell the flare of

disappointment in my chest. “I wish I could, but a

prospective client called me earlier wanting to

know if we could meet tonight instead of tomorrow

morning, and I didn’t want to say no. I have to be

in Burbank by eight.”

“Oh,” I said. It came out a lot more forlorn

than I’d intended it to. I shook myself a little. It

wouldn’t do to look clingy when I’d hardly known

him for two days and we weren’t even a couple.

He had to work. Of course he did. I couldn’t

expect him to just be available whenever I called.

“No, that’s cool,” I amended, in what I hoped was

a much cheerier tone. “Duty calls, right? Another

time.”

“How about tomorrow? I’m free all day.”

Suddenly my smile was back. “Tomorrow

would be awesome, actually. I’m scheduled until

six, but I can probably get out a couple of hours

early.”

“Good. Great. I… I’m looking forward to