Out of the Ashes (2 page)

Four Years Later

“Lexie! Have you seen my shoe?” I yelled as I straightened from inspecting under my bed.

“What shoe?” a voice yelled back.

“You know, the cute ones with the ankle strap and patent leather?” I called as I abandoned the shoe search in my room and decided to look downstairs. I needed those shoes today. They were not only the only piece of footwear that went with my current outfit, but they were also my most kick ass heels. Heels that would contribute to a kick ass look, which I needed to help me feel mentally prepared for the day. Because my thoughts were on my dearly departed shoe, they were not on me navigating the mess that was my hall, which meant I tripped over an ill-placed box.

“Great Caesars Ghost!” I exclaimed with irritation as I caught myself from a header.

I really needed to get around to unpacking those boxes. They were a health hazard. Someone - namely yours truly - could break a leg from tripping on those death traps, and crutches were not conducive with my fashion choices. I mentally added
unpack house
to my to do list.

I came face to face with Lexie, who was holding a shoe in one hand and a coffee in the other. I sighed in relief. “I knew there was a reason I keep you around,” I said, taking the coffee and the shoe.

“I thought it was because you gave birth to me,” she replied with a smirk, sipping her own cup. Caffeine addiction was genetically transferred.

I waved my hand while inhaling the liquid needed for me to be a functioning human. “Yeah, that factors in there somewhere, but the fact you are handy at finding things, namely my favorite pair of heels is the frontrunner today,” I told her, trying to hop and not spill my coffee while I put on my other shoe. “Plus you give me coffee,” I added, waving the cup.

I stared at my daughter, turning serious. “You nervous, Dollface?” I asked her quietly.

She shook her head, smile still in place and her blonde ringlets swung with the movement. “No, actually I’m not.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re seriously not anxious at the prospect of starting a new high school where you don’t know anyone?”

Lexie shrugged her shoulders. “I assume the school isn’t filled with Satan worshippers and necromancers. There’s gotta be at least some decent humans in there somewhere. I’m sure I’ll survive.” She linked her arm with mine, directing us toward the stairs. “Plus, I’m too busy being proud of my mom for being in charge of a freaking hotel to be thinking about something as trivial as high school and the possibility of a
Mean Girls
situation,” she declared as we descended the stairs.

I gave her a sideways glance. “Do not so casually joke about such a work of cinematic genius,” I told her with mock seriousness. “The fate of your high school survival depends on this one piece of advice.” I paused for dramatic effect. “On Wednesdays we wear pink.”

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll only wear sweats once a week,” she replied just as seriously.

My daughter and I had a lot of conversations spoken purely in movie quotes.

I laughed at the prospect of Lexie actually going to school in sweats. I didn’t think I’d ever seen my daughter leave the house in sweats, apart from when she left for exercise purposes. And even then she wore cute ones that looked better than half the people in regular clothes.

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to face Lexie, putting my hand on her cheek. “You sure you’re not harboring some secret resentment for me yanking you away from your school, your friends, and you’re not going to make it known one day by declaring you are into the black arts and demanding to be called Moon Shadow?” I asked.

My daughter gave me a look. “No, Mom. I promise I’ll make new friends. And thanks to the wonder that is the Internet and the creation of motorcars, I’m still going to see the old ones. I’ll get used to the new school, and if it does somehow scar me for life, it’ll just give me more material for my memoirs.” She waggled her eyebrows.

“That only means I get a cut of the royalties,” I countered.

She scowled at me. “You wish.”

I turned serious and shook my head with pride. “How’d I get such an awesome kid?”

Her face turned solemn. “I think someone seriously screwed up at the hospital.”

I laughed. But I seriously regarded my daughter. My kid was the freaking shit. I was lucky as hell my sixteen year old was who she was. I was so proud of her some days I thought I’d burst. She was beautiful, not in the “she’s my kid so I’m genetically programmed to think she’s stunning” kind of way. She was just growing into a spectacular young woman. It frightened me slightly. With such looks like the ones she was growing into came boys. I so wasn’t ready for
that
yet. Her blonde hair fell long in ringlets down her back, her skin was yet to realize it was a teenager and was blemish free and flawless apart from a light dusting of freckles. Her blue eyes mirrored mine, as did her heart-shaped face. She was also short like I was, but her muscles were lean thanks to the fact she actually exercised, the weirdo. Me, on the other hand, I was petite and was blessed with a fast metabolism so I was reasonably slim. I had no muscles to speak of. That was due to my fear of any form of torture disguised as exercise.

“Okay, by some miracle of the gods we aren’t actually running late, so how about we start the recon of the breakfast situation in this burg?” I suggested, scouring our half unpacked living room for my purse.

Lexie bent over the sofa and handed it to me. “Sounds great.”

Sometimes I thought she was the one taking care of me, not the other way around.

“Okay, I’m giving the coffee a hundred and twelve and the pancakes a solid nine and a half. I deducted half because I feel like they could be improved by adding chocolate chips to them,” I declared, leaning back in my seat.

Lexie nodded at me. “I’m seconding the coffee, and I’m hugely impressed a town this small has embraced acai bowls. I must say this one is hells good.”

I rolled my eyes. “I fail to believe that any acai bowl could be “hells good.” It’s a crime to breakfast foods everywhere that that can be considered appropriate as a meal. It’s a smoothie poured into a bowl. It’s like cold soup,” I said, my nose curled in distaste.

Lexie folded her arms. “Acai is a super food and it does wonders for your immune system. It’s full of antioxidants and is a much better way to start the day than with processed sugars and bleached flour,” she told me in a scolding tone.

“The
only
way, other than coffee, to start a day is with sugar. That’s the only thing that gets me out of bed in the morning,” I argued. “That and the possibility Jensen Ackles will finally realize he’s in love with me,” I added dreamily.

Lexie sighed. “I don’t know how you’ve stayed this skinny, Mom. You should need a crane to get you out of the house,” she said, scrunching her nose at me while she looked me up and down.

“I don’t know how my daughter learned about acai and freaking quinoa when such things are sacrilege in my mind,” I countered.

“A little thing called the Internet,” she replied.

I frowned at her. “Well, that’s got to stop. No more surfing the net for ridiculous health foods. Strictly porn and gambling from now on,” I ordered.

Somehow my daughter had become a health freak of epic proportions. It wasn’t my doing. For the first thirteen years of her life I didn’t even know if I had bought a broccoli, let alone freaking kale or whatever the fad vegetable was. But suddenly my budding teenager had come home declaring we buy things such as salad and hummus. I had complied, more out of shock than anything else. I had thought it would be a passing fad, like those weird jelly bracelets things I had been obsessed with as a teenager. But this healthy eating thing had stuck in a way tacky jewelry could not.

Lexie’s grin dimmed and her eyes went wide, her jaw slackened slightly as her attention went over my shoulder.

“I know you can’t be satisfied after that bowl of goo, but please do refrain from drooling on the table, Dollface. We’ll get you a muffin to go.” I patted her hand, assuming such a look was at someone else’s breakfast.

Blue eyes darted to me. “Don’t look now, Mom, but some seriously hot guys have just entered the building.”

“Scale rating?” I shot at her. This wasn’t our first rodeo.

She contemplated. “Off the charts.”

I stilled, my coffee to my mouth. “Off the charts? Hotter than that firefighter we saw saving that kitten one time?” I asked in disbelief. That wasn’t possible. You get a hot firefighter, combine that with an adorable furry animal, you get a perfect score on the Lexie and Mia hot guy chart.

“Blows him out of the water,” my daughter declared.

I slowly swiveled my head to get an eyeful of this record breaker. There had never been an “off the chart” before. Lexie and I were very particular with our rating system.

What my eyes fell on told me the record books had been broken. We may as well just set them on fire and be done with it now. No man would ever compare to what we were gazing upon. The three men standing at the counter were hotter than Hades. I didn’t think men like this existed in real life. They were all tall, like
tall.
And built. Not in a gross steroid freak way, but in an ”I’ll bench press a car then chop wood with my bare hands” type built. One was joking with the woman at the cash register, an easy smile on his face. He was rocking a freaking amazing man bun and he looked like some kind of badass surfer. Every part of his face was chiseled and perfect, apart from a slightly crooked nose, which made him look more rugged and twelve times hotter. Another one was talking into a cellphone, his inky black hair brushing his collar, a tender look on his handsome and rough face. I totally envied whoever was on the other end of that call who made such a badass look like that.

It was the last one who drew my attention. I didn’t know why but my eyes seemed to be locked on him. They were all big, but he was
big.
Not fat. That guy didn’t look like he had an ounce of body fat on him. Huge, in a way that every woman liked because he exuded power and strength. He also exuded something else. Menace, danger, and something I couldn’t put my finger on. His hair was cut close to his skull and his features were hard and masculine. My eyes rested on his goatee. Now, I would never consider myself a goatee fan, but I sent a little prayer up right then and there to thank the Creator for them. His face was blank and it looked like he never cracked a smile. Every inch of him looked rough, dangerous and forbidding. He was beautiful. I didn’t miss the fact that all of their impressive bodies were covered in ink. This wasn’t cheap scribbles; from what I could see it looked awesome. I also didn’t miss the leather cuts they were wearing, ones that had insignias on the back. Ones that usually communicated some type of gang.