“You are such a smartass. I’ll have you know that sex isn’t the only thing I want.”
I couldn’t stop myself from bursting with laughter. “You are hilarious. Do you not realize I have seen you in that exact position numerous times before? If I hadn’t turned up, you would be having sex with her.”
“Can we please not talk about who I may or may not have had sex with? I have lasagna to eat. I’ll give you a tip: make your lasagna for any guys you want to fuck, and they’ll be putty in your hands.”
“I’m becoming a lesbian, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right. How could I forget?” He rolled his eyes at me, completely disregarding my decision.
AFTER RUSHING INTO THE foyer, coffee in one hand and my phone held to my ear by the other, I greeted the receptionist with a smile and headed for the elevator. Monday morning blues had arrived, and I was heading for a horrendous week of meetings, hiring new staff, and working on the acquisition of a west-coast-based magazine.
I marched into my office, fired up my laptop, and took a seat behind my desk. I had been employed by Anderson Publications since I finished my business degree, and I was on the management team of Bangs and Beats, alongside Ky. My role was managing the editorial team, where I oversaw the layout and features before they went to the final viewing with the editor. My job was to make it look, feel, and seem as enticing as possible. I loved my job, and it seemed to provide me with what I needed: access to women, money, and the opportunity to travel.
Ky knocked on the glass wall beside my opened door and strolled in. I tapped in my password as he folded his body into the visitor’s seat across from me and rested his crossed ankles on the edge of my desk. The ding of emails filling my inbox sounded, and I lifted my eyes to give my attention to my brother.
“How was your weekend?” he asked, knowing full well how it started. “Have you and your dick recovered from Friday night?”
“You are such an asswipe.” I laughed. “Me and my dick are just fine. As for the rest of the weekend, it was good.”
“Did you see Ash at all?”
“Yeah, I went to her place and had dinner on Saturday night.” I gazed down at my laptop as the ping of a new email came through.
Lachlan Johnson’s name flashed on my screen, and my fists clenched violently. Who the fuck did he think he was? My eyes narrowed in on the subject line: Ashlyn Hart.
“Josh.” Ky’s voice boomed and dragged my attention from the email I was obsessing over.
“Huh? What?”
“Are you free for lunch? I need to discuss something with you and Ash.”
“Uh . . . yeah, sure. Where? What time?”
I was entirely distracted, and my curiosity as to what Lachlan could possibly have to say was gnawing at my every nerve.
“I just sent her a text. She will be here at noon, then we can head to Antonio’s.” He rose from the seat, put his phone in his pocket, and worry covered his face as he stared at me. “Are you okay? What the hell is going on with you?”
“Yeah, I’ve just got a lot of work to do this morning.” I gave him a half-assed answer, and he thankfully took it.
The moment Ky shut the door behind him, I pulled up my emails and clicked on Lachlan’s name, desperate to see what he could possibly have to say to me. I never responded to his last email, the one asking if I had seen Ashlyn, the same email that made me aware that she was back in the states, and he would have to know that I would not be looking for any friendly interaction considering I was aware of what he did.
From: Lachlan Johnson
To: Joshua Crawford
Subject: Ashlyn Hart
Asshole, what have you said to her? Stay away from her, Josh. I mean it. Stay the fuck away from her.
I read it five times to make sure I had actually just read his pathetic attempt at intimidation. My heart swelled with pride because, with a question like “what have you said to her,” I knew Ashlyn had confronted him. How I would have liked to be a fly on the wall when that conversation happened. I closed down his email and refused to give him the satisfaction of replying. I knew the time would come when I’d be face to face with him, and that’s what kept my anger simmering just below the surface. The time I could tell him what a fucking asshole he was.
My attention had to be solely on Ashlyn. Seeing her façade on the brink of crumbling in her apartment had shot me to life. There weren’t a lot of people who knew that Ashlyn often hid behind the confident woman she wanted the world to see. I had seen her bruises rise to the surface on numerous occasions; bruises that reminded her that she was on her own . . . or so she thought. We had many arguments over the years where I begged her to talk to me, but she always shut me out. She’d always retreat, and I wouldn’t see her for days. It was as if she only wanted me to see her as the woman she thought I wanted her to be. Maybe it was my fault, because I’d always paid extra attention when the sassy, confident, balls-to-the-wall woman came out to play. In reality, I wanted all of her: the sass, the insecurities, the fears, and the triumphs.
Now I knew those bruises would start to darken and play on the surface again, but this time I wouldn’t be letting her retreat. I was done with allowing her to retreat. I was done with her thinking she was on her own.
As the day progressed, I got lost in a sea of emails and checking editorial submissions, and completely overlooked the time. Ky’s visit was all but forgotten. Brother of the Year right here. My head was throbbing with information and, when my desk phone rang, I nearly jumped out of my chair.
“Yep,” I said sharply, still tapping away at my laptop and typing up the next issues feature details.
“Josh, Ashlyn has arrived and wants to see you before she meets Ky.”
As soon as Ashlyn’s name was mentioned, I stopped typing and looked at the closed door. “Sure, send her in.”
The door opened minutes later, and Ashlyn sashayed in with a smile that finally reached her eyes. I leaned back in my chair as she crossed my office, wearing skinny jeans that hugged her curves like a second skin, and a fitted shirt that gave me a glimpse of her taunting cleavage. Her smile never disappeared as she pulled out the chair and took a seat across from me.
“Good to see you smiling, Ashy.” I hummed in acknowledgement of her smile, which only encouraged it to grow.
“Well, I had this guy come over on Saturday night and tell me how much my lasagna rocked, and then we drank too much wine. What’s not to smile about?” she asked in a singsong voice.
“Geez, he sounds like a keeper.”
“I guess it just depends on how many more compliments he feeds me.”
“Have I told you how beautiful you look today?” I shot her a wink and her cheeks flushed.
She laughed loudly. “You are such a player.”
“I know the game, Ashy.”
“I am very aware of that. I’ve seen you play it plenty of times,” she said with a smirk.
It was true. Ashlyn had come out for Friday night drinks with Duke and I every so often and, even though I didn’t want to, there were times when an opportunity presented itself and I had to take what was offered, whether it be in the form of a blond, brunette, or redhead. But now, sitting in my office, I wanted to erase all of those memories she had. I didn’t want her looking at me like I was a player; I wanted to prove that I was more than that; that there was more to the man than where he put his dick. I wanted her to see me as the guy she met when we were nineteen; the guy that sacrificed a future with her for the sanity of his brother. Fuck, this was getting too intense. I ran far away from the memories of the past and came flying back to the future.