Page 25 of Sweet Like Whiskey

Ash walks off, an effortless swagger to his steps. I manage to pull my eyes off his ass long enough to register what he said.

Darlin’.

Home.

Fucking hell. I don’t think I was prepared for Ashley Alcott.

Chapter 7

Ash

I wince as I get out of bed, my body sore and muscles tight. It’s not a surprise. I’ve been neglecting my routine while getting settled at Darling Ranch, not the wisest decision on my part. At least today is Sunday, so I’ll have some time to recoup.

I stop by the empty upstairs bathroom before heading downstairs to the kitchen. The breakfast crowd is long gone by now, the house relatively quiet. I can hear some activity upstairs, but I’m not sure which Darling brother it is.

I’m just sticking my rice-filled heating pad in the microwave when there’s a shuffle of feet behind me. The teen in the doorway stops still, head cocking as she looks at me.

“Um, hi,” I offer.

“You’re new,” she says, crossing her arms.

“I am. Ash Alcott, the new cook.”

She tentatively accepts the hand I hold out her way, shaking once before letting go and refolding her arms. “Wendy Darling.”

“Wendy Darling?” I repeat. “As in Peter Pan?”

The teen immediately scowls, reminding me so much of Jackson that I have to bite back a laugh. “Go ahead,” she says. “I’ve heard it all.”

“No, it’s a great name,” I assure her.

She rolls her eyes. “Have you seen my dad?”

For a heartachingly long second, I wonder if Iamlooking at Jackson’s daughter. Not that it would matter one way or another. Would it? But then Lawson stops outside the kitchen, and his expression is so fond and full of pride, there’s no doubt in my mind who Wendy’s parent is.

“I thought I heard you,” he says, smiling as he steps forward to tug the teen in for a hug. Wendy’s own face softens as she hugs her dad back. “Did you meet Ash?”

“Just did,” Wendy says.

Lawson kisses the side of her head before letting go.

“Dad,” Wendy grumbles, raking a hand through her hair, although I swear she looks pleased.

“Ready to head out?” Lawson asks her.

She nods decisively. “Yep. See ya, Ash.”

“Nice to meet you,” I reply.

Wendy leaves the kitchen, but Lawson lingers, maybe having sensed my curiosity. “We’re going trail riding,” he explains.

“How old is she?” I ask.

“Sixteen.”

“I didn’t know you were a dad.”

He nods idly, picking at the wooden door frame as he says, “Yeah. It’s been…hard with the divorce. Wendy has been staying with her mom.”

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