Page 14 of Close to the Edge

Can’t believe I nearly kissed Ash yesterday at the wishing pool. Can’t believe he had to remind me that this thing between us is off limits. So mortifying.

“This one has a bathtub,” Jana says beside me, tilting her phone so I can look. “But no oven. Only a microwave.”

I hum and prod at the listing, trying to force myself to concentrate.

My best friend is having accommodation issues. This is way more urgent than some guy I only met yesterday brushing me off. C’mon, Tess.

“Which do you care about more? A bathtub or oven?”

Jana sighs, taking her phone back and scrolling through to the next listing. “What I care about is having a secure roof over my head, and being able to both cook and bathe. Why is that so freaking hard to find?”

“It’s bullshit,” I agree. And it’s quiet in the bar right now, with no one out in the yard and only a handful of customers scattered around the booths, so we huddle around Jana’s phone and read every single listing in town.

There are insanely overpriced studio apartments.

A place with no kitchen.

One with moldy walls.

A live-in landlady with a strict nightly curfew.

And an ad that says, ‘Must love snakes.’

Every single listing is completely unhinged in some way, so by the time we reach the last one, Jana is slumped over the bar with her head in her arms.

“Fine.” Her voice is muffled against the wood. “I give up. I’m moving into your brother’s cave. At least that’s rent-free.”

“You mean you don’t want to curl up with some dude’s snakes?”

Jana kicks at my ankle without looking up, and I dance out of her way. “Kidding! I’m kidding. Come on, it’s going to be okay. You can stay with me until you find somewhere good.”

She gusts out a tragic sigh. And I’m wracking my brain for a way to cheer Jana up when the biggest man I’ve ever seen squeezes through the bar doorway and crosses to the bar, the floorboards shuddering under his boots.

Ash.

It’s been less than twenty four hours since I saw him last, and still my stupid heart throbs like we’ve been apart for decades. Every cell in my body sparks to life, crackling with the need to go to him, touch him, get close.

Crazy.

There are shadows beneath Ash’s eyes, and he’s in a navy t-shirt today, the fabric straining across his huge shoulders. It looks soft, and I blink away images of petting his barrel chest.

“Hey,” Ash says when he reaches us. Jana stays face-planted on the scratched wood, muttering to herself, and he glances at her with concern before raising his eyebrows at me.

“Renting issues. She’s looking for a new place.”

He grunts in commiseration, then jerks his chin at the door to the back yard. It’s propped open, bright sunshine slanting through, with dust motes glinting gold as they spin in the air.

“Can we talk for a second?”

My heart flip-flops. “Sure.”

Jana can handle the bar for a few minutes, even in her current mood, because we haven’t fixed anyone a drink for nearly half an hour. And it’s no big deal that Ash is here; no big deal that he wants to talk to me privately outside. We’ll make this quick and businesslike, whatever it is.

No. Big. Deal.

But tell that to the jitters swarming my stomach and making my hands shake. Tell that to the red-hot flush suddenly climbing the back of my neck as I slide out from behind the bar and follow Ash outside.

It’s hotter out in the midday sun—brighter, too. Squinting against the glare, I shade my eyes with one arm, relieved to find no one’s keeping their pups out in this heat. The yard is empty, and since we haven’t switched the music on yet, there’s only the shiver of insects and distant rumble of the road to break the quiet.

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