Page 89 of Don't Go Faking My Heart

I don't dare turn around to look, though. If I turn around and he's not biting his knuckle staring after me, I don't know what I'll do.

So I walk away.

And hope he follows.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

RUSTY

Ash kissed me.

Ash kissed me.

Ash kissed me.

I shower and get dressed in record speed so I can wait for her at the table. Apart from some missing bacon, the spread looks undisturbed. I flip open my tablet and distract myself with work until Ash comes down.

She's not wearing my jersey anymore, but she is wearing my sweats with one of my hoodies like they were made for her. Pookie follows Ash like a little guard dog.

"I could get used to seeing you like this," I say.

She smiles and sits cross-legged at the table.

"I'm glad to hear that," she says. "Because I'm not giving any of your clothes back."

I laugh and my hair falls forward. She reaches across the table and brushes it back. Her fingernails scrape lightly across my skin, making my eyes close. I want to grab her hand and kiss it. I want to use that hand to tug her forward so our mouths can meet. I want to sweep every last item from this table and pull her across it and kiss her until our souls merge.

I want it all.

I want a million more meals like this one. Smiles passed across the room like secret love notes. Coded glances and the intimacy of her passing me the syrup without my having to ask. Talking work at the table and laughing over Greg’s prolific Facebook posts. Cleaning the kitchen and listening to the latest episode of our favorite podcast.

After breakfast, she pulls me upstairs to my room, and we crash on the couch and work. We put together a half dozen new reels featuring Sugar Maple businesses together, and then we move on to the B-roll and make a handful of more targeted ones for the businesses themselves to share. Parker filmed Sonny at the coffee shop—Sugar Maple and Spice—and got footage of him spilling his drink down the front of his shirt. The camera shakes with her laughter and follows him out of the shop and down the street, where he talks to every person he sees. They walk into Teddy's wife's tourist trap of a store and Sonny flips through a rack of t-shirts. He pulls one out, puts it in front of his body, and looks at the camera with a thumbs-up. He goes into the bathroom and comes out wearing the new shirt with that same thumbs up.

"Let’s align the before and after shots of him in his old shirt and him in the new and do a quick cut," Ash says, and I add it to the list of notes I'm taking.

We have a lot of solid content, and by mid-afternoon, we're spent. Or at least I am. Ash is an Energizer Bunny, but my brain needs a break. When I lean back on the couch and rub my eyes, she doesn't notice at first, so I take advantage of the opportunity to watch her. Her curls are piled on top of her head, with some spilling out because she has so much hair. Her glasses slip down her nose and she pushes them back up. At one point, she stops what she's doing and scratches her forehead, staring at her laptop. Then inspiration must strike, because she starts moving her mouse around, clipping and editing footage and adding a clever caption. Finally, she throws her arms up triumphantly and falls back into the couch.

"This must be how Da Vinci felt finishing the Mona Lisa," she says.

I don't laugh. I'm too entranced watching her smile.

"Let's go out," I say.

She turns her face to mine. "Okay. Should I dress up?"

That's a date question, and it's a good thing, because I'm asking her on an actual date.

"No. What you're wearing is perfect."

"Funny guy. I'll be back down in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Maybe, three."

"I'll wait as long as it takes for you."

"Please tell me someone good's playing at the bar tonight," I say to Patty. He's on speakerphone while I get ready in the guest bathroom. I've thrown on a T-shirt that fits a little closer than I normally like, and I'm wearing jeans Ash once whistled at me for wearing. I haven't worn them since that day, because the pain of hope was too harrowing.

"Yeah,” Patty says. “It's the 77's."

"Oh, they're opening for Lucy Jane—" I shut my mouth, wanting to kick myself.

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