Page 30 of M.M. Scrooge
“Still a beer guy?” asks Ash from the kitchen.
“Yeah, thanks.” I probably shouldn’t be drinking, but I’m not going to turn him down. I don’t know what’s in store for me, and the way I see it, a couple of beers can only help the situation.
“Sam Adams it is.”
A fresh beer hisses. My mouth waters. He pours a glass of red for himself and saunters into the room with a drink in each hand.
I take the beer and gratefully down the first fizzing gulp. Alcohol on an empty stomach. Usually, I’d know better but whatever. I could use the buzz.
Ash steps out of his dress shoes and nudges them aside, then curls up next to me on the couch, which is less awkward than I would have thought. I’m sitting in the middle, and he’s turned to face me, the length of his shin pressed to my thigh. He sips delicately from his wine glass, holding the stem in elegant, slender fingers.
The lights dim to a warm glow. I clutch my beer with both hands, bracing for anything. This cozy atmosphere? It could just be an illusion to make me feel safe when I’m not. I won’t fall for more tricks.
“How have you been, Max?” he asks, leaning in. “Tell me about your life these last five years since we broke up.”
I don’t want to answer questions; I want to ask them. Starting withHow the fuck are you related to some supernatural monster man?And finishing withWhy would you do this to me? Was I really that bad?
But reality hits. Maybe I was. That bad. Maybe I still am.
Maybe I should try not to be. I could definitely have been kinder to Daniel. He didn’t deserve my snark. Regret settles uncomfortably in my heart.
A long, deflated sigh passes my lips as I open them to answer. “My life is mostly work. I spend a lot of time at the gym.”
He drapes an arm over the back of the couch, and his fingers land softly on my shoulder. “Is that going well?”
I get the feeling Ash already knows. “My name’s always on top of the leaderboard.”
His brows arch. “That doesn’t answer my question, though. Does it?”
No, it doesn’t. “I’m not where I want to be.” I can never get far enough ahead to break free of the big chain facility and start my own fitness studio. It’s time to admit I’m chasing my tail and have been for a while.
Though I don’t say the words aloud, Ash responds as if he heard them. “What needs to change to make your dreams come true?”
I scoff. “Winning the lottery would help.”
“Be serious, Max. You might not have realized it yet, but opportunity lies at your fingertips if you’ll just get over yourself long enough to seize it.”
“Is that why you set your demented uncle on my case? So I’d seize my opportunities?”
He shrugs. “That’s part of it. I’m giving you a second chance before it’s too late. I did care about you, Max. I loved you. And even though you took my love for granted, I don’t wish you ill. Not truly. Maybe a little payback, sure, but no real harm.”
A little payback? That’s what he’s calling tonight’s events? I’ve been wrecked, humiliated, bossed around, and slung through a vortex of space and time, and Ash has the gall to call that a little payback?
I down half the beer in one go. It’s either that, or I’ll say something regrettable. My anger has never done me any favors. “So what’s your lesson going to be, then?”
He presses the rim of his glass to my biceps. Mischief dances in his gaze. “Don’t rush me. I’ve been thinking about this for years. I plan to enjoy it.”
An unwelcome tremor grips my chest. “What am I in for? I’m nearing the end of my rope here.”
Ash takes another swallow from his glass. The wine stains his upper lip red until his tongue darts out to clean it. He catches me watching, and that wicked grin returns. “So dramatic. All right, I’ll put you out of your misery. It’s nothing you won’t learn to enjoy.”
Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel any better.
He rises from the sofa and takes what’s left of my beer.
I stare at my empty hands. “Hey, I wasn’t finished with that.”
“You are now.” He sets both drinks on the kitchen bar, turns, and unbuttons his dress shirt. With slow steps and a sultry sway to his hips, he approaches, then stops when he’s standing between my parted knees.
