Page 86 of Chasing Sparks

“Yeah?”

“What did you mean when you said you want something I can’t give you?”

Do I have a good idea what she meant? Of course, I’m not stupid.

But maybe I need to hear Ori say it to finally break free of the chains tethering me to my past. Maybe if she lays down the law and demands every part of me, I’ll stop being afraid of a future.

Or maybe hearing it will only heighten the fear.

Doesn’t matter either way, because my beautiful lady has no intention of spilling her secret.

Her only answer is to blow me a kiss and walk out the door.

Chapter 12

If I Pee On It, It’s Mine

Ori

Turns out Mother Nature doesn’t care about first-class tickets. Despite our upgraded travel accommodations, we’re flying on the same plane as everyone else—a plane that currently sits empty on the tarmac.

Seems New York has no desire to let us escape. If she’s stuck with this miserable weather, so too should all her residents.

Our flight is delayed due to icing, but Ash assures me we’re getting to the Keys, even if we have to drive the whole way. I’m praying it doesn’t come to that, though a road trip with him might be its own kind of adventure.

Hell, this entire relationship is an adventure.

It’s hard to believe that just a few months ago, I hated Asher Hammond. Now, he’s whisking me away to a tropical vacation.

I glance over at him, his fingers drumming against his thigh in sync with the erratic tapping of his foot.

He’s aggravated, that much is clear. Things aren’t going according to plan, and even though no one—not even him—can control the weather, it’s eating at him.

I get it.

But luckily for him, I’m the roll-with-the-punches type. Shit happens, and I’d much rather err on the side of caution in this nasty weather than tempt fate.

As long as we eventually arrive safe and sound on the sand, I’m good.

Until then, I’m making the best of it. Spotting a table in the first-class lounge, I head straight for it. Time for some grub.

“It’s not so bad,” I say, releasing a moan of contentment as my French toast arrives. “I really wanted this fat-filled feast, and now it’s all mine.”

Ash chuckles, swiping a piece off my plate before I can stop him. I gasp in mock indignation.

“What? Your food came out first,” he says with a smirk.

“You’re lucky I like you.” I smile, retaliating by snatching a piece of bacon from his plate the second it arrives.

“You more than like me, Ori.” Ash winks before diving into his omelet, but his words linger, wrapping around me like a warm hug.

He’s right.

I do more than like him.

I’m in love with him—a fact which hit me a week ago as we snuggled in front of the fire at his house. Maybe it was the light snow falling outside the window, the way his hand interlaced with mine, or the way his eyes softened when he looked at me. Perhaps it was the whiskey warming my veins or the simple comfort of the chicken dinner I’d cooked for us earlier.

Maybe it was all those things. Or none of them.

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