Chapter 3

Violet knew that she should get up and leave. Ash was way too handsome and way too seductive for the likes of her. He practically oozed sensuality with his smile. She hadn’t had sex since William had died. To be honest, she hadn’t even thought about it—until this very moment.

With Ash looking at her with a very obvious I want you gaze and his hair falling across his forehead, his jawline like that of a Greek god? How did he do that? It wasn’t fair. Violet wasn’t stupid enough to think she could combat such raw sex appeal.

So, she did what she always did: she acted like nothing was happening.

She sipped her gin and tonic, amused that Ash had noticed what she’d been drinking and had ordered for her. She decided right then that if he was so intent on getting into her pants, he’d have to put in a lot of effort to get there.

Ash’s lips quirked as he watched her sip her drink in silence. “You sell jewelry?”

“I make and sell it, yes. I have my own business.”

“Really? When did you start it?”

Violet knew very well that most people didn’t really care about the specifics when they asked questions: once she got into things like inventory and financial projections and clasps and chain types, their eyes glazed over, and she knew they’d heard nothing at all.

“I started it about four years ago. I was at a job that I hated, and I was tired of it. I was making jewelry in my spare time, and people started buying it, to my surprise. They wanted more. I was making enough that I was able to work on my business full-time soon after.”

“Impressive. How did you start making your own jewelry?”

She wasn’t at all certain that he really cared, but she shrugged inwardly. She’d tell him everything about bead sizes and charms and pliers and wire until he fell asleep at the bar.

“I took a class and I loved it. I ended up taking more classes, and it kind of snowballed from there.” She opened her purse and brought out a number of samples that she’d already shown to the group of women, placing them in front of Ash. “I mostly make earrings, bracelets, and my favorite, necklaces. Rings, too. This necklace here? It’s made with an infinity chain—see the figure eights?”

Ash leaned closer. “Oh yeah, I see it. I didn’t know there were that many types of chains.”

She bit back a chuckle, mostly because he was trying to sound enthused. That’s more than I can say for most people who don’t care about jewelry, she thought.

“It’s one of my favorite types of chains. I wanted the chain to be fairly delicate with the larger beads and the flower that makes it a statement piece.” She smiled kindly at Ash’s slightly glazed expression. “Am I boring you?”

“Not at all.” He held up a pair of chandelier earrings. “How did you put these together?”

Violet wondered what his game was. Suspicious and amused, she gave him an in-depth explanation about how she’d cut the wires, chosen the beads and beaded the earring. To her astonishment, not only did he stay focused on her as she talked, but he asked salient questions that showed he’d truly been listening.

I’m so doomed, she thought miserably. Why couldn’t he have been a jerk? Hot guys are always jerks!

Ash just smiled and drank his whiskey sour without another word. His eyes seemed to challenge her, like he’d known she’d assumed he was just some self-centered douche and nothing else. Fine, you won that round, she thought, but the game isn’t over yet.

“Enough about me, though,” Violet said briskly, “tell me about you. What do you do?”

Ash leaned back on his barstool, his posture relaxed and open. “Nothing quite as exciting as jewelry. I’m an accountant for my brother’s restaurants. Also his financial advisor. I take care of all of his books, more or less.”

“Are the restaurants here in town?”

“I guess you wouldn’t know, would you? This is one,” he said as he pointed toward the ceiling. “Plus La Bonita and the Wishing Well.”

She blinked. “Your brother owns all three?”

“Yes. My brother is Trent Younger, although I’m actually younger than him.” He rolled his eyes at his pun and Violet laughed.

She hadn’t heard anything about Ash’s family, although in Fair Haven, the family that was most talked about was the Thorntons. They were the most prestigious—and wealthy—family living in the town, and Martha had told her all about the huge mansion in the hills where the parents still lived. They also had a bunch of children—five, six, seven? Something like that.

“Is it just you and your brother, then?” she asked.

He snorted. “I wish. I’m one of five.”

“Wow, what is it with huge families around here? Is there something in the water?”

“Not much else to do in a small town except make babies, I guess,” he said with a lazy, heated grin.

Violet felt a blush climb her cheeks, annoyed at herself for letting Ash get a rise out of her.

“I have a question for you,” he said. “How is it someone as beautiful as you is single?”

“Because I’m actually an old, wrinkled crone underneath this mask.”

He peered more closely at her. “If you are, it’s a damn good mask. I can’t even see your warts.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“How old are you, then?”

She wrinkled her nose. “You can’t ask a lady her age. You know better than that.”

“I’m twenty-eight.” At her dismayed expression, he added, “I promise I’m house-trained. I can even drive.”

Violet instantly felt her age. It wasn’t as if thirty-three was old, but five years’ difference was enough to make her feel a bit like she was robbing the cradle. Besides, men tended to be less mature at twenty-eight than women were at that age. And how would Ash react when he found out how old she was? And that she’d been married and was now a widow?

She stirred her gin and tonic. “You’re just a kid, then.”

“You can’t be more than...” Realizing he was heading into dangerous territory, he said, “Twenty-five.”

“That was a close one. I’m thirty-three going on thirty-four this year, if you’re dying to know. And now that I know how old you are, I’m absolutely sure you’re way too young for me.”

Setting his elbow on the counter, his expression amused, he said, “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough about men.”

“Do you? You don’t strike me as the type who knows much about men at all.”

She bristled. “My husband would disagree with that,” she snapped.

Silence fell. Realizing what she’d said, she blushed in embarrassment, and when she reached to touch her wedding ring, her heart fell when she remembered she’d taken it off.

“You’re married? You aren’t wearing a ring.” Ash frowned. “What are you doing at a singles’ meet-and-greet, then?”

“Sorry, I’m not married anymore.”

“Divorced?”

“Widowed.”

Ash’s face softened. “Sorry. How long ago...?”

She really, really didn’t want to talk about William. It was like another betrayal in a way, talking to this man about her dead husband. Swallowing hard, she whispered, “Two years ago. Car accident. Please don’t ask me anything else about him.”

“Violet, I’m sorry.”

He touched her hand, and she felt stupidly like crying. Taking a deep breath, she gave him a watery smile. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. Now, where were we? You were going to tell me all about how you balance your brother’s books.”

“I doubt you’d want an explanation about that. It’s pretty dull stuff.”

“Yet you seem to enjoy it.”

He raised his eyebrows. “How could you tell?”

“Your voice. The look on your face. I wish I were good at numbers. I can make jewelry and sell it, but making the money make any sense is a challenge.” When he looked like he wanted to ask more questions, she said, “No, no more serious stuff.”

His voice got low, throaty, but then he said, “Tell me your favorite color.”

She blinked. “Really? You didn’t assume it’s purple?”

“I’m not that predictable, and neither are you.”

“You’re right. It’s green. Now, what’s your favorite color? Gray like ash?”

They talked into the night, even when the woman from earlier came by to say something to Ash. Looking more closely at her, Violet realized that she must be one of his siblings. They both had the same eyes and hair color, and when the woman smiled, Violet saw Ash in that smile. It was almost eerie.

“We’re all heading out,” the woman said. “You coming?”

“No, I’m staying here for now.”

The woman glanced at Violet, glanced back at Ash, then shrugged. Addressing Violet now, she said, “Make sure he behaves himself.”

Ash rolled his eyes at her departure. “My older sister Thea. She’s a pain in the ass.”

“I just have one older sister. You’re lucky to come from such a large family.”

“That’s one way to put it,” he said wryly.

As the bar quieted somewhat, Ash moved closer to her, like a glacier slowly sliding downhill. And to Violet’s dismay, she didn’t want him to move away. He smelled so good—like wood smoke and spice—and his muscles bulged with each small movement. When he licked his lips after finishing his drink, her heart almost burst from her chest.

Danger, danger. Get out of here or you’ll do something stupid. Like kiss him.

“What time is it? Oh, I need to get home. I need to feed my—” She racked her brain for an animal to feed and finally landed on, “Clown fish. My clown fish.” Clown fish, seriously?

“Your clown fish. He needs to be fed at one sixteen a.m.?” Ash’s lips twitched.

“Yes, he’s a very particular fish. I got him when he was a baby fish and he’s very important to me.”

Violet paid for her drinks—not looking at Ash when she did it—returned her jewelry to her purse and practically sprinted out of the bar.

Ash watched as Violet jogged down the sidewalk away from him. What the hell had he said or done to freak her out like that? He knew very well she didn’t have to go feed a clown fish or whatever it was.

If she were simply uninterested in him, he’d let her be. But he’d seen the interest in her eyes, the way her pupils had dilated, the way she’d crossed her legs toward him. She’d played with her hair, she’d licked her lips. She’d had so many obvious tells that had screamed KISS ME, TAKE ME, that he’d had to restrain himself from kissing her right then and there in the bar.

“Violet, wait up,” he said as he caught up to her. “Hey, talk to me.” He touched her arm, and she stopped walking but didn’t turn to look at him. “Look, if I said something that offended you, I apologize. Let me make it up to you.”

She inhaled deeply before letting out a deep sigh. Her breath puffed white into the cold air. “You didn’t do anything. Really.” She finally looked at him. “Am I allowed to say ‘it isn’t you, it’s me’?”

“That’s almost as big of a lie as your fish.”

She gasped, then laughed. “Excuse you, Marty the fish is very real and very important to me.”

“Marty? Now I really know you’re lying.” He lowered his voice, wanting to sound inviting. Tempting. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

Her blond eyebrows shot straight to her hairline. “Is that a euphemism?”

So much for tempting her. “No, it’s not.”

At this point, they’d moved toward the opening of an alleyway that afforded them some measure of privacy. The streetlights were just bright enough that Ash could make out Violet’s expression somewhat, but she was still rendered rather shadowy. The mystery of her only intrigued him more. Who was she, really? And why did he want to know so badly?

“When’s the last time you let yourself have any fun?” he asked.

His voice was a murmur, and he leaned down so he was almost touching her ear. To his delight, she was tall enough that he didn’t have to lean far. He was used to getting a crick in his neck when kissing women. The thought of avoiding that small annoyance only added fuel to the fire of his desire for her.

“I have fun all the time,” Violet countered.

“Name an example within the last week.”

“I played dominoes with my mother-in-law.” She said it with such verve that God almighty, he wanted to kiss her right then and there just so she could add some real fun to that pathetic list.

“No, I mean something fun with a person your age.” He moved closer until her soft hair tickled his cheek. “When’s the last time you let yourself have fun without worrying about the consequences?”

“I’m too old to do things like that.”

Ash laughed softly. “You act like you already have one foot in the grave, when in fact you’re a gorgeous, intelligent, young woman. Damn shame, in my opinion.”

Violet huffed. “I didn’t ask for your opinion about my life. And what about you? What kind of a guy picks up a woman during his niece’s birthday party?”

“A man who knows what he wants.”

“Oh my God, you’re so, so—” She growled in frustration. “Annoying. Has anyone ever told you how annoying you are?”

He couldn’t stop smiling; his face hurt from it. The rarity of a woman like Violet, who loved to banter and who didn’t simper, was refreshing. Arousing.

“I’m never annoying to anyone,” he said. “Now, you know what we’re going to go do?”

“Work on our taxes?” She said it almost hopefully.

He touched the tip of her nose. “We’re going to go have some fun and not worry about anyone else.”

She hesitated: he could feel it in the way her body tensed. “I’m not going to sleep with you,” she said in an anxious rush. “I don’t know you, it’s too soon—”

He pressed her lips together with his fingers, effectively cutting her off. “I’m not talking about sex.” At least not yet. “I’m talking good, clean, wholesome fun.”

She moved his hand away from her mouth. “With you?”

“Yes, me.” Ash stepped away and held out his hand. “Do you trust me, Violet?”

She didn’t move for a long moment. Right then, all he wanted was for her to say yes. Not just for his own enjoyment, but for hers, too.

It felt like an eternity before she said, “Yes, I trust you,” and she placed her hand in his.