Page 40 of Chasing Sparks

Now Ash is among them.

Oh, he claims it was ‘just work’ but come on. I may have been born at night, but it wasn’t last night.

Plus, she’s the bitch who intimated Ash only slept with me because of the speakeasy. She took great delight in it, too, and even though Ash negated that theory, part of me believes there is truth in her words.

Something else came of that knowledge—a comparison between the woman he spent last night with and the woman staring back at me from the bathroom mirror.

Total opposites. Literally, nothing in common.

I know I’m fun in bed, but I’m not swinging from the chandelier level. Plus, my boobs and ass are of normal proportions, which next to Raven likely appear downright miniscule.

But tonight isn’t about any of that. It’s simply a thank you to Ash for yesterday. He’s earned this dinner because he was a tremendous help with my pet project.

Yes, my fixer-upper mansion has a new nickname, and at least it’s better than ‘what the hell was I thinking,’ which is what I originally called it. Ash assured me the house was structurally sound, and that I made a good investment.

Once I slog past the gazillion items on my to-do list, I’ll have one hell of a mansion—in between running my store and tryingnotto compare myself to porn royalty.

Ori, what the hell were you thinking?

Seems to be a running theme in my brain these days.

But Ash and I are just friends, which feels safe. Now I just have to convince my body that friends don’t always equal benefits—because benefits, while terribly enjoyable, also tend to muck up my heart.

Best to leave Ash in the friend zone and rely on my vibrator for orgasms.

Good plan.

The doorbell rings and my gaze cuts to the clock. Right on time. No doubt he’s running a tight ship, with at least one other woman lined up after our afternoon soiree.

Lovely thought.

I pause by the foyer mirror and bite back a laugh. I look ridiculous, with my hair perched atop my head in a crooked bun and flour crisscrossing my chin and cheeks.

Don’t even get me started on my outfit.

“Screw it. This will have to do,” I mutter before swinging the door open. “Hi, there.”

As always, the butterflies cut loose the moment I lay eyes on him. Can you blame me? Ash cuts one hell of a figure in his tight-fitting jeans and leather jacket, and he knows it, as evidenced by the smirk on his full lips when my gaze finally travels upward enough to meet his. “Hey, yourself. Am I early?”

If I had spent three hours getting ready, he wouldn’t notice. But when I look like a hot mess? He picks up on it instantly.

“Here I thought this look upped my sex appeal. Come in.”

Ash pauses on the threshold, grasping my chin with his hand. “You’re always sexy, Ori. But if you’re worried, lose the clothes and I’ll gladly reassure you.”

See? Anything my sexual little self desires, so long as it never, and I meannever, includes my heart.

Far too dangerous a game for me to consider.

“Get in here.”

I lead him into the kitchen and motion to the stove. “The food will be done in just a minute. Would you like a drink?”

Ash pulls two bottles of wine from a paper bag. “How about one of these?”

“Look at you, bringing options.”

“Always come prepared.”

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