Page 20 of Chasing Sparks

“No, because that’s not their specialty. I can, however, offer my personal services to you.”

I snort out a laugh, smacking him lightly on the chest. “Didn’t you just do that?”

“More than happy to revisit again and again,” he replies, a sexy grin once again dancing across his face.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind. Maybe pencil in a standing appointment once per week. Purely for health benefits, of course. Nothing to do with liking you or anything.”

Ash chuckles, knowing damn well I’m full of crap.

He knows I like him. I like him way too much and every second with the man only deepens the spell.

That’s it. He’s a damn witch. It’s the only logical explanation.

“Can’t have you like me too much,” Ash jokes, cupping the back of my head and claiming my mouth in a leisurely kiss. “But for the record, my hands are not just for tattooing or sexual gratification. Braden and I renovated our farmhouse a few years back, and trust me, that was a monster of a job. There’s little that can surprise me—construction-wise, anyway.”

“Is there no end to your talents?”

He considers my question, then shakes his head, a smirk breaking across his lips. “Guess not.”

“Arrogant ass,” I laugh.

“How about I head out to your place this weekend and take a look? I’ll bring the guys along, and we’ll see what needs to be done. Work up a game plan.”

“You have no time, remember?”

“For you, I’ll make time.”

But he hasn’t. This entire week, all Ash has made is excuses for why helackstime.

Still, I appreciate the sentiment, even if it’s total bullshit.

Apparently, the sour expression on my face reads like a billboard.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, lifting my slight frame and sliding down on the couch until his mouth is once again level with my pussy. “You’re overthinking again. Time to reset that gorgeous brain of yours.”

But instead of caving for round two, I press a hand across his mouth, blocking his access. “While incredible, that is not the answer to everything.”

“You sure about that?” Another chuckle rumbles from Ash’s chest and I can’t decide whether to smack him or let him proceed.

I’m leaning toward both. Possibly in tandem.

“I’m positive.”

“Fine. Dinner tomorrow night atGiuseppe’s. It’s a great little Italian place a couple of towns over. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Just like that, Ash lays down the law.

A law I already know I must break.

Figures.

“I can’t tomorrow. I have to get the store ready for Santa.”

I’m not lying. While I finished the back corner, there’s still a ton of decorating to do before the festive gift-giver arrives to entertain the local kids.

Now it’s Ash’s turn to groan. “Thursday, then. Same time and place.”

I bite my lip, realizing this might be how Ash has been feeling all week. “That sounds great, but I’m working late both nights.”

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