Page 38 of Puck to the Heart
Ash’s proud grin cracked my heart in two. “Barnes, did you Google me again?”
“I Googled the Knights, not you. Don’t get cocky.” I clicked over to the Knights’ official page quickly but not fast enough to avoid stills from an old photoshoot. Oof.
“Whatever you say, Barnes.” His dark eyes sparked with mischief, and I huffed, returning to my potatoes.
“Wow, you could cut the tension in here with a knife.” Dad waved a butter knife, chuckling at his bad joke.
“So, Darren, you’re from here, right? Raleigh?” Ash glanced between Dad and me as he removed the domed cover from a mountain of scrambled eggs.
“Livy is, but I’m from Nashville originally. Started in the industry there.” Dad poured more coffee in our mugs. He had to use his left hand, but he managed well enough without my interference.
“Industry?” Ash seemed genuinely interested, which was nice.
“Music. I was a sound engineer for years. Before Livy came along, and for a little while after.”
The sound of a butter knife scraping across dry toast grated my ears until I realized I was the one doing it.
“What an awesome job. I guess that’s where Olivia gets her love of music.” Ash already knew about Dad from my tearful sobbing after the concert, but it was sweet of him to bring it up.
“Yep. Met Livy’s mom at Red Rock and got a shock when she showed up nine months later, ready to give birth.” He gave me a fond look as he shook hot sauce on his eggs. “Neither of us were ready to be parents, but when we saw this squishy, screaming kid,” he saluted me with a forkful of fluffy yellow eggs, “we were in love.”
“I bet.” Ash’s eyes were the same color as the coffee in my mug before I poured milk in, and the look he gave me as he spoke was unreadable.
“Anyway, after a couple of years, Katie got the itch to tour again, and I stayed behind to raise Livy. Best thing I’ve ever done.”
It didn’t matter how many times he said it, I still held onto lingering guilt. I hated being the one who took him away from what he loved, no matter how much he insisted it was his choice.
“How is Katie, by the way? Been a while since I’ve heard from her.” In an aside to Ash, he said, “Livy’s mom and I realized a long time ago that the best thing we could do together ended up being Livy, and we’d best leave it there.”
Of all the horror stories I heard of parents breaking up, I was always grateful mine wasn’t one of them. “Mom is singing in Vegas. We talk sometimes, but her schedule is so weird now.”
“I bet she loves the nightlife. You ever been to Vegas, Ash?”
“A few times.”
“No courthouse wedding certificates hiding anywhere, hmm?”
“N—no, sir.” Ash’s eyes went wide.
“Good.” Dad pointed a biscuit at Ash. “Can’t be too careful.”
“Da-ad.” I drew out the syllable into a whine.
“Anyway, tell me about yourself, Ash. What do you like to do when you aren’t playing hockey?”
For a moment he considered, shifting in his seat under Dad’s scrutiny. “My grandmother keeps me on my toes. If I’m not working, she treats me like her personal chauffeur, but it’s kind of fun. During the off season, I work in our garden and I read a lot, too, when I can.” He punctuated the end of the sentence with a long gulp of coffee.
Dad poured another cup of coffee, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, Livy’s a reader. I picked up some of the stuff she reads, but I couldn’t make heads nor tails of it. Too many euphemisms.”
Oh, no, I forgot he picked up one of my historical romances on a whim last year. I wanted to crawl under the table. If he perused my Kindle now, I might evaporate in a puff of embarrassed smoke.
“Olivia’s books are pretty interesting.” Ash’s long-lashed, black eyes met mine over the rim of his glass as he took a sip. “I feel like I’m learning something new about her every time I read one.”
I choked on a bite of toast and tried to quash the rising mortification.
Without taking his eyes off me, Ash drained his orange juice and pushed away from the table. “I’m sorry I have to go so early, but you guys are welcome to stay as long as you need.” He crossed to an end table near the door and stood in front of a small mirror. On the table lay a tie, and Ash draped it around his neck. My mouth went dry.
It shouldn’t have been attractive, the act of tying a tie; I’d seen it done a thousand times. But as with all things Ash Wilder, it was somehow even more attractive watching his fingers adjust the silk, tugging the end of the tie through the loop, and straightening his collar.
