Page 59 of Ashley & the A-Listers

This washerterritory, and everything was fine and dandy until Dylan showed up. He justhadto come and disturb her peace with his stupid face and his scent.

His dumb, familiar, lovely scent.

“I need to get going.”

“We need to talk more,” Dylan said, and almost reached out.

Ash glanced him up and down. “I’ve still got several weeks left to train Cameron. I’m not going anywhere.”

The look she gave him was sharp enough that she might as well have said the words on the tip of her tongue.I’m not the one who runs.

Properly cowed, he stepped back, and dipped his chin at her. “Alright. See you tomorrow then, I suppose. You’ve got a client to chase down.”

His head jerked toward the empty room, which River and Cam had vacated a while ago. “Shit,” he hissed, and dipped his head at her. “See you next time?”

Ashley busied her hands while he walked across the gym, collected his stuff, and left.

She didn’t bother turning to see if he looked back; she didn’t bother turning to watch him walk through the door.

Even though she wanted to.

When the door hissed shut, she leaned against the wall and groaned.

His scent still filled the room, along with Cam’s, all mixing together until they were as jumbled as her thoughts.

She reached up to tighten her ponytail—a nervous habit—and paused halfway, her wrist lifted to her nose.

Notes of fresh-cut grass and dew met her senses, and she hated that she liked it, that it helped center her.

Annoyance burst in her chest even as she inhaled deeper, chasing every bit of him left behind.

Her first instinct was to chase him down and coat herself in his scent because it was just… so good.

With a snarl she lowered her hand, fists tight as she grabbed the scent-erasing cleaner.

She cleaned every inch of that room, until every trace of Dylan was gone.

Cam, too.

Until it was a perfectly blank, lemony slate.

Ashley was the only one remaining.

It didn’t feel half as satisfying as it should have.

14. PROGRESS

DYLAN

Nic offered him a friendly glance that Dylan didn’t have the wherewithal to return as he left. Dylan was processing. He stalked to his car and sat inside.

Lorie had passed?

Once upon a time, Dylan would have gotten lost in the sudden grief that clutched his chest. Would have floundered and made the entire moment about himself and how he felt with this new information. Once upon a time, maybe he would’ve tried to run from these emotions.

But he’d run once, and it hadn’t gotten him very far.

So Dylan let the guilt seep into him, let it weave through his ribs and grip his heart.

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