Page 69 of The First Spark

Ash nods, averting his gaze. “Yeah. Raven was hungry, so I took her to grab a bite. No alcohol, for obvious reasons, but they had all sorts of food. Brilliant suggestion.”

Or maybe I never even crossed his mind. Instead, he used my recommendation as a pseudo date with another woman.

Just like that, his earlier compliment fades into the ether, leaving nothing but a gnawing jealousy in the pit of my stomach.

I don’t bother asking which woman out of the manymeandering about the area is Raven. What’s the point? Bruise my ego a bit more this afternoon?

I clear my throat and slide on my gloves. “Glad to hear it was good, although I’m past the point of chocolate curing what ails me. I need something more substantial.”

Ash motions over his shoulder toward Black Lotus. “There’s plenty of pizza left.”

Which sounds as appetizing as being Ash’s second run to the wine bar. “Hmm. Cold pizza or hot soup. Tough decision.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Mental note: woman hates pizza.”

I wag a finger at him before standing. “No, no, no. I adore pizza and I eat it all the time, but I’m craving something different. Know what I mean?”

I also need to get the hell out of here and put some space between me and Sparkwood’s resident playboy.

The smile drops from Ash’s face, replaced by a hunger as his gaze roams over me. “I absolutely do.”

Sadly, that comment has zero effect on me, considering he likely said something similar to Raven or Dove or whatever other bird he’s courting—and escorting—into bed today.

Lucky for me, someone else is looking for Asher Hammond. Miracle of miracles, it’s also not a woman.

Zane pokes his head into the tent, rolling his eyes when he spots Ash. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Your custom is waiting inside.”

“Already?” Ash pulls out his phone, a scoff escaping his lips when he spies the time. “Guess time really does fly when you’re having fun.”

“Your custom?” I ask, burrowing my face into the warmth of my scarf.

“Custom ink piece. The winner from earlier today.”

Ah yes, who can forget the gothic playboy bunny with legs for days and tits the size of cantaloupes?

Sadly, I do not possess a poker face. Every emotion shows and this time, I feel the aggravation slide across my features.

Ash notices it, too.

A low chuckle rises from his chest as he stretches, his gaze fixed on me. “You can keep hiding in that scarf, but I know what you’re thinking.”

“That I’m freezing?”

He leans in, his mouth a gentle whisper at my ear. “That you’re jealous.”

What an arrogant know-it-all.

“Not possible. I already told you, Ash, I’m not looking to be a part of your rotation.”

But instead of the thin-lipped reply from earlier, his face settles into a full grin as he playfully leans in to press a kiss to my cheek. “You’re in a league of your own, Oriana Thorne. No one even comes close.”

I hate how smooth he is with these lines. How very honest they feel as they dance across my heartstrings.

I motion toward the tent entrance. “You better go. Don’t want to keep your custom waiting.”

Ash nods and stands, but pauses, focusing his gaze on me. “Since I don’t have time right now, how about you set aside some time tonight? After I finish up, I’ll take you to the wine bar or wherever you want to go. Sound good?”

It sounds amazing, but I refuse to cavethateasily.

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