Page 12 of Chasing Sparks

Trust me, I hadmanythoughts about Asher Hammond before our truce, but none of them involved him as a potential mate.

Mostly, they centered on his revolving door of women, with a seemingly new one every night.

Each of his conquests seemed so enamored with him as they batted their lashes and hung on his every word, all while hoping they would be the one to change his mind about love.

None of them even chinked his armor. Instead, he moved down the line to the next willing recipient with nary a thought to the pile of wounded hearts he left behind.

How do I know? He’s honest aboutthatfacet of his personality, too.

Ash’s beliefs are built on a foundation of heartbreak and jaded emotions, and it will take more than a talented tongue or hour-long blowjob to sway his opinion.

It will take a woman who’s strong in her own right. Stubborn, like him, but able to turn him on his head and keep him guessing.

I thought I might be up for the job. Hell, even as a sort of experiment to test the limits of our neighborhood demigod.

Now, I’m not so sure.

The worst part? Asher Hammond is a nice guy, so long as you don’t dare to fall in love with him. But if, or should I say when, you do, remember he warned you against such foolish notions.

“You know the real difference between you and those women?”

Once again, Mina’s voice cuts into my internal monologue, but she’s a welcome reprieve. My mind has dark corridors and rabbit trails, and when given free rein, there’s no telling what stories I might concoct in my head.

“I told you already,” I reply. “Two cup sizes, several dozen tattoos, and at least a few glasses of wine by now.”

Mina slings her bag over her shoulder before turning toward the door. “It has nothing to do with tits or tattoos. All those women ask Ash out, butheaskedyou. That never happens.”

“I asked him first, remember? He turned me down.”

Mina shakes her head and wraps the scarf around her neck. “Fine. But then he asked you to hang out a few times, and you shot him down—or conveniently had plans with another man.”

“A happily married man who has zero interest in me,” I remind her.

She shrugs, pulling her keys from her bag. “Ash didn’t know that, though, and it bothered the hell out of him. I’m telling you, Ori, you’re not like those other women. See you tomorrow.”

I marinate on Mina’s words as I watch my friend stroll to her car, barely managing to stay upright on a slick spot caused by the falling snow.

We got snow on Long Island, too, but this is insanity. Every day it’s either snowing or forecast to start within twelve hours. Such is the life in the mountains of New York.

Still, it makes for a beautiful landscape, and it is almost Christmas.

Shit! Christmas.

With all my afternoon musings over one tatted hottie, I forgot to finish preparations for Santa’s visit to the bookstore.

I threw out the idea on a lark at a town council meeting, unsure if the residents would be interested.

Newsflash: they were.

We have over fifty children descending on One More Page in two days, and this store needs to look like a winter wonderland.

Since Mina has vacated the premises, it looks like I’m Santa’s sole elf.

At least it will keep my mind off Asher Hammond and his platonic playthings next door.

An hour later, I’ve finished Santa’s workshop, but Ash is no further from my brain.

I’m also still chewing on Mina’s words about how I’m different from all those other women, although I call bullshit on that statement.

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