The Promise of Paradise - By Allie Boniface Page 0,17
Off the heartache that wouldn’t go away.
Man, she hoped Eddie was home. She hoped he didn’t have plans for dinner.
“Hey, stranger.”
He sat on the front porch, a six-pack between his feet and a lazy grin on his face.
“Hey, yourself.” She smiled and dropped to sit on the top step. “You’re home early.”
“Yeah. Frank’s going outta town for the weekend, closed at two.” He flipped the top off a bottle and handed it over.
“Thanks. How’d you know that’s exactly what I need?”
Eddie took a long pull on his own bottle. “Figured you’d be pretty beat. Fridays always get a big lunch crowd down at the restaurant.”
Ash cocked one eyebrow. “Thanks for giving me a heads-up. You could have let me know.” She leaned against the porch railing. Nothing moved. No cars turned down their block. No joggers ran by; no kids played in the park across the street. She closed her eyes and welcomed the silence.
“So how was work this week?” she asked after a while.
“Same as always. Crazy customers want to know why we can’t fix their cars in an hour, when they’ve been driving around for two weeks with the problem.”
Ash smiled. “Yeah, people are funny that way.”
“So what’s for dinner?”
She turned. “Whatever you’re making.”
He laughed, and she noticed that his goatee had grown a little more in the last few days. Thick and dark, it caught the light and turned a reddish-brown in places. Not like Colin or anyone else I ever dated. All her past boyfriends had smooth faces and baby-soft cheeks. For the first time, she realized she liked the look of stubble on a man. Hot. Rugged. Rough in all the right ways.
She dropped her chin, hoping Eddie couldn’t read her thoughts. “I was thinking about ordering Chinese.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“You don’t have plans for tonight? It’s Friday. ”
“Nope.”
“No hot dates?”
“Not until tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Ash studied the stain on her sock. With one hand, she reached up and loosened her ponytail, damp with perspiration. “Who’s the lucky girl?”
Eddie cleared his throat. “Cheri Ryerson.” Long pause. “Don’t think you know her.”
Ash got up, sticking her empty bottle back inside the cardboard carrier. “Don’t think I do. She live in Paradise?”
“Next town over.”
“Well, lover boy, I’m sure you’ll have a good time.”
He stood too, following her to the door. “I’m sure I will.”
They were halfway inside when Helen called to them from across the street. Ash had one hand on the doorknob, and Eddie was picking up the empties, when the woman hobbled over.
“Ashley!” Helen’s voice scratched on the syllables, and her breathing came in great gasps. “Edward!”
In slow motion, Ash turned. She didn’t like the tone in the woman’s voice: eager, gossipy, dangerous. She took a step back, meaning to create some sort of excuse and head upstairs. But Eddie had already loped down the steps, a playboy grin on his face.
Helen stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, hands on her hips. “I was downtown today, getting my hair done.” She stopped, drawing in a deep, rattling breath. “And a newspaper reporter came into Hair Heaven. From Boston.”
Oh, God. Ash took two steps across the porch and tumbled down the stairs, straight into Eddie’s back. Into Eddie’s strong, tall, incredibly muscular back. He turned and grabbed her with both hands before she knocked the two of them over.
“You okay?”
She blew out a long breath, conscious of his hands on her even as she looked at her feet and willed Helen away. “I’m fine. Just tired. Sorry.”
The white-haired woman looked as though she hadn’t even noticed. “He was asking about someone named Ashton Kirk.” Her beady eyes stared at Ash. “I told him I’d never heard of anyone by that name.”
Eddie shrugged. “Guess it sounds a little like Ash’s name, but – ”
“But it’s not,” Ash finished.
“Of course it’s not.” He let his arm drop around Ash’s neck, looping it across her shoulders. “Why was he all the way up here, anyway?”
Helen pulled a crumpled tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. “I don’t know. Said he was looking for Senator’s Kirk’s daughter.”
“In Paradise?” Eddie began to laugh. “Why? Don’t those types stay close to home?”
Something like a stone sank inside Ash. Those types…
“That’s what I told him,” Helen said. “Said there wasn’t any reason for a stuck-up politician’s daughter to get her hands dirty way up here in New Hampshire. I guess he had some kind of lead. Thought maybe she skipped town to get away from the family mess.”
“Can't say I'd blame her.” Eddie