Ledger

  Fifteen Years Ago

  “A shooting star. Look.” I point to the last remnants of it as it dies out with its fall.

  “Make a wish,” Asher says, squeezing my fingers currently laced with hers.

  “That’s ridiculous. No one believes that shit.”

  “Fine. Then I’ll make one for you.”

  “Go ahead.”

  I turn my head so I can look at her. We’re lying on a blanket in the middle of the lavender fields staring at the stars. Or at least she is while I’m trying to figure out when to make a move. A guy only has so much restraint when the girl he’s with is like Asher—gorgeous, funny, unique.

  A girl who looks at me like I’m a normal boy instead of the prep-school trust-fund kid whose father is part of New York City’s elite.

  Hell, she’s never asked for a damn thing. Not once. I have girls back home asking for fancy shit when they can afford it themselves. And then there’s Asher who has nothing and asks for nothing. If she did, I’d give it to her in a heartbeat. Without question. It’s not like Dad ever checks what we spend money on anyway.

  If he did, we’d be majorly screwed for all the money we shelled out for beer on this trip.

  Asher closes her eyes and scrunches up her nose. It’s freaking adorable.

  “What’d you wish for?” I ask when her nose un-scrunches. Apparently, that’s her wish-making face.

  “I’m not telling you.” She swats playfully at me, but her eyes remain fixed on the sky above. “If I do, it won’t come true.”

  “C’mon. I wanna know.” What does a girl like Asher wish for?

  “No.”

  “Pretty please?” I lean up on my elbow so I can stare at her and so she can’t ignore me.

  “No.”

  “Ah, there’s a smile,” I say, putting my hand on her hip and rocking her back and forth. “You know you want to tell me.”

  “I need the wish more than you want me to tell you,” she says drolly.

  “You need it?” I draw the word out. “Then that means it’s me, right? Since you need me.”

  “Oh, geez.” She rolls her eyes. “Did you seriously just say that?”

  “Yes. And I’m pretty sure I’m right.”

  She pats the top of my hand still on her hip. “For your ego’s sake, I’ll keep letting you think that.”

  “Don’t you worry about my ego. It’s doing just fine.” I flop back onto the ground, look up at the stars like she is, and huff. “You’re no fun.”

  Crickets chirp all around us and beetles make their distinct clicking sound, but the only thing I really hear is Asher’s even breathing beside me.

  Feeling slightly and ridiculously dejected because she won’t tell me, I fall quiet.

  “I wished that I’d get a chance to make my mark somehow.” I’m just about to ask what she means when she continues, her voice barely audible. “That people will look at me and admire me, what I’ve done, what I’ve made of myself instead of looking at me and feeling sorry for me because I’m Lydia Wells’s, the town floozy’s, daughter.”

  Her voice breaks, and it fucking kills me. I’ll never understand how she feels because we’re polar opposites. Whereas she has pressure weighing on her because people expect nothing from her, I have it because they expect too damn much from me.

  We’re from completely different worlds, and yet somehow . . . we work.

  “Ash.” I lean back up on my elbow and run a hand up and down her arm. I don’t even know what to say. How to respond.

  She shakes her head and musters a smile I don’t believe. “It was stupid. Forget I said anything.”

  “No. It’s important,” I murmur and press a kiss to her lips. “And I want you to know I already do look at you like that.” Another kiss. “You are Asher Wells, my lavender girl, and maker of her own destiny.”

  Then another one.

  And later when we see another shooting star, I make my own wish: for Asher’s wish to come true.

  Asher

  “Did you see it?” Ledger asks, his free hand pointing to the sky as a star streaks across it before burning itself out.

  We’re lying on the blanket. His arm is wrapped around me with my head resting on his arm. Two bottles of wine have been consumed, a charcuterie has been devoured, and we’re both just soaking in the tranquility of the evening. Of the perfection he created in bringing me here tonight.

  “I did,” I murmur.

  “Are you going to make a wish? I seem to remember you were quite big on that back in the day.”

  My smile is bittersweet. What’s is like to be young and naïve and think the world will treat you like you deserve?

  “I think I’m too old to make wishes, Ledge.”

  “What? No. You’re never too old for wishes”—he squeezes his arm around me—“or dreams. You need to make one.”

  I feel silly but close my eyes and scrunch up my nose anyway.

  But I remember that last wish I made. And how not long after Ledger up and left Cedar Falls abruptly—once I’d given myself to him—and the gossip that burned through town in the days and weeks to come. That Ledger had gotten what he’d wanted from this small-town girl before going back to his hot, socialite girlfriend. That I’d ruined the summer for every other girl there who’d had their sights set on Callahan and Ford because they’d left too. That I was trash just like my mom, trying to screw my way up because I’d never amount to anything otherwise, so I deserved the cruel words and harsh judgment. I’d earned it like a badge. And I’d proved them right—I’d never amount to anything.

  And yet, with my eyes clenched shut, I wish.

  I wish that this were real. I wish this never had to end. I wish the same wish as I did before, fifteen years ago.

  When I open my eyes, he’s still there, still looking at me like he did back then. But this time, there’s something more in his eyes. Adoration. Lust. Respect. Desire. Hope.

  Important things for any woman to see. To know that someone feels that way when they look at her.

  I reach out and cup the side of his face, needing to touch him. Needing to know he really is real.

  He turns his face into my hand and presses a kiss on my palm. Be still my heart.

  I rise onto my knees, his eyes narrowing and full of curiosity as he watches me lean forward and press a kiss to his lips.

  He tastes of the wine we just drank and the certainty that I need as I slowly move to straddle him while I deepen the kiss.

  His body is warm beneath me, and the summer night air has the slightest hint of a welcome chill to it.

  He kisses me back with the same gentle demand that I do him. His hands are in my hair, on my cheeks, cupping my face. Our tongues dance against one another’s, and our bodies heat up as we make out in the moonlight between the lavender rows.

  “Asher,” he murmurs against my lips, a reverent sigh between kisses.

  Leaning back, I strip my shirt over my head, wanting to feel the intimacy that comes when his hand runs over my skin. Needing to feel it.

  I look down at him, my moonlight boy, and know this is my favorite look on him. Eyes heavy with desire and his smile soft and a little crooked.

  “What?” he asks.

  “I just want to look at you.” I lean down and press a kiss to his lips. To his chin. To his neck. “I need to touch you, Ledger,” I murmur against his skin. My hand runs down the front of his chest. “To taste you.” My lips follow their descent as I crawl back to where his cock is hard and pressed against the seam of his jeans. His stomach muscles tighten beneath my lips when I make quick work of his zipper, free his cock, and stroke it with my hand. “To devour you.”

  The hiss of his breath fills the night air as I slide his cock between my lips and take him all the way to the back of my throat. His thighs tense. His guttural groan is the only thing I hear as he reaches down and cups my chin.

  I look up at him through the moonlight night as his eyes turn dark and his eyelids grow heavy with desire. And with my gaze locked on his, I give him the pleasure he deserves. With my tongue licking over his crest and my lips suctioning around his shaft and my hands stroking every thick, hard inch of him.

  It’s a heady feeling sucking Ledger off. To know that drop of precum that hits my tongue is because of me. To watch a man usually so measured in his actions, lose himself in the sensations I create.

  “Ash.” My name is a strained rasp in the night as he fights to hang on to his control, and I provoke him to let go.

  By letting his cock hit the back of my throat. By using my fingers to work their magic around the base of his shaft. By humming to add a vibration to the onslaught of sensations I’m already creating for him.

  He hardens and swells as his hand moves to my hair and fists there.

  I suck harder and stroke faster, my own body aching for his release so he can shift his focus on me. So I can enjoy this body of his.

  Because when it comes to Ledger, I can’t seem to ever get enough. Not his touch. Not the sounds he makes when he’s about to come. Not the way he makes me feel, physically and emotionally.

  “Ash.” He struggles in indecision. “Fuck.” One hand still in my hair. “Yes.” The other hand pulling on my arm for me to come ride him. “Now.”

  A yelp escapes my mouth as he hauls me up and makes quick work of my jeans in an awkward dance of desperation and laughter, all while trying to kiss the breath out of me.

  It’s my turn now to moan in ecstasy. At the way he stretches me when I sink down ever so slowly onto him. At the feeling of fullness he creates. At the ever-burning ache that I fear will never be sated.

  “Ledge . . . so good,” I murmur against his lips as his fingers dig into the flesh at my hips while I adjust to him.

  “Good God, you’re going to be the death of me,” he groans out.

  I begin to rock my hips.

  At least I can ensure he dies a happy man, then.

  Ledger

  “The protestors are back again,” Hillary says when she pokes her head in my office.

  “Seriously?” I barely even glance up from my laptop. That’s how much I don’t fucking care about who’s protesting now. “What do their signs say this time?”

  “Let me see.” Hillary moves to my window and peeks down below. “Preserve our lakefront is one. No unions here, which is rather comical considering there isn’t a union happening. Big city greed means small-town ruin. Wow,” she says as she turns to look at me with raised eyebrows. “That’s a new one.”

  “Rather catchy, don’t you think?” I lean back in my chair and try to switch gears from Takashi getting squirrely on details to the debacle front and center. “Is there a website they go to find these slogans?”

  “Who knows. Catchphrase.R.Us perhaps?”

  “How about GoFuckYourself.com.”

  “I vote for that one.” She chuckles and looks back out the window again. “They need to make up their mind though, because they change their message daily.”

  “Which is why I think the mayor is behind this.”

  “He really does have a hard-on for you, doesn’t he?” she says as she moves away from the window and takes a seat in the chair in front of my desk.

  “The question is why? My guess is that visibility is key when you’re running for reelection.”

  “My guess is he needs to lose simply on principle.”

  I laugh. I love Hillary and her dry sense of humor. She’s been with S.I.N. going on ten years now and has been an incredible asset.

  “While I have you, where are we in ‘project town involvement’?” I roll my eyes to emphasize how thrilled I am about this.

  “We’ve passed out flyers to all local businesses, placed an ad in Cedar Falls and Bear Valley newspapers, and notified the City of Commerce. Maybe we’ll get some submissions from local artists and craftsmen so we can feature their work at the resort. Maybe we won’t.”

  “It’s a crapshoot. The big question is, what do we do if we only get ugly shit for submissions?”

  Hillary laughs. “Then we don’t take it? Or we put it on the back walls and not front and center. We paid a fortune for our interior designer. The last thing I want to do is have to ugly up their esthetic to accommodate this new glitch from Grossman.”

  “Agreed.” I take a sip of my water as she rises from the chair. “And thank you.” She stops and looks at me. “I know you have a crap ton on your plate, trying to get this done on time and under budget, and then I added this to it. You’re doing a great job.”

  Hillary has the oddest expression on her face as she looks at me.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Do you know I worked for your father for over eight years and while he was a kind man, he was also more than demanding. He paid me well and understood when I needed time for my kids or whatever, but not once did he ever say something like what you just did. Thank you, Ledger.” Her voice is soft, her eyes sincere. “I truly appreciate it.”

  And when she walks across the hall to her office, her words echo in my head, and I smile.

  About the time I turn back to my laptop and type answers Takashi isn’t going to like, a little pair of legs—whose torso is hidden behind a picket sign—comes walking into my office.

  “I think you took a wrong turn,” I say.

  “It’s me, though. Tootie.” She sticks her head out from behind the cardboard and offers me her toothless grin.

  “Did you think I’d want you walking in here with that sign?”

  “It’s my cover,” she says, leaning it against the wall and crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Your cover?” I ask.

  “Yep.” She takes a stroll around my office space, touching almost everything in the process. The walls, the windowsill, the corner of my desk. It’s almost as if she’s assessing it, which is ridiculous. “I needed a way to sneak in here. I figured this was the best way.”

  Hillary walks back toward my office with a perplexed expression, perhaps wondering how Tootie got past her, but I just hold up my hand to stop her. I nod to let her know it’s okay.

  “Does your mom know you’re here?” I ask as Tootie finishes her survey and helps herself to the seat Hillary vacated minutes ago. She takes a moment, making a show of wiggling her butt in the chair to feel out if it’s comfortable.

  The purse of her lips tells me she finds it suitable.

  “Yep. I told her I was going to come sweet-talk you into coming over for dinner, but don’t come. Ever. My mom burns toast like it’s an Olympic sport. I wouldn’t subject you to her cooking. Not even my enemy.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  “Anytime.” She folds her hands in her lap as she tries to scoot her tiny body to the back of the chair. “Besides, people are talking.”

  “About?”

  “You.”

  “They are, are they?”

  She sighs heavily. “I mean, I try not to listen, or at least I say that I try not to, but you know I do.”

  “Of course, you do. Should I ask what they are saying or are you going to tell me in your own sweet time?”

  The little giggle she emits has me shaking my head. “They say you have a woman.”

  “First lesson in life, Tootie. If you ever date a man who says he ‘has a woman’, dump him on the spot.”

  “Why?”

  “A man does not have you. You are your own person with your own thoughts. He can enjoy you and your company. He can want to spend time with you and laugh with you. At no point does he ever have you. Got it?”

  “I think you’re going a little deeper than is needed. Should I rephrase? I’ll rephrase.” She clears her throat and sits a little taller. “They, the people in town, say that you are enjoying the company of a woman.”

  Smart-ass.

  “It’s none of their business what I’m enjoying,” I assert. To an eight-year-old.

  “You’re right. It’s not. But it’s a small town, so technically everyone thinks it is their business.” She looks down to where she’s started picking at her yellow fingernail polish. “Are you going to explain to me why Mayor Grossman wants to screw you over?”

  I choke on my next breath. “Tootie.”

  “What?” she asks innocently enough. “Would you rather me say fu—”

  “Nope. Screw works. Screw is just fine.” Jesus. This kid. “Why do you say he wants to screw me over?”

  “He was at the coffee shop when Momma was talking to Ellie May about the man she wants to . . . er . . . enjoy.” She winks and grins, but her cheeks turn pink. “And the mayor was sitting behind me talking and talking and talking about how he needs to keep the pressure on you because it looks better for him.”

  And there is the answer Hillary and I were just asking the question to. I look up to see Hillary across the hall nodding, clearly hearing Tootie’s whirlwind conversation.

  “He’s not exactly in my fan club.”

  “You have a fan club? How did I not know this?” She sits up a little straighter. “Do you charge a membership fee? Have a paying Patreon club where you reveal extra tidbits? How. Did. I. Not. Know. This?”

  “It’s an expression, Tootie. A turn of phrase. It’s not a real thing.”

  She waves a hand at me. “And to think you got me all excited about nothing.”

  “Was there more you wanted to say about the mayor?” I ask.

  “You need to kill him with kindness. That’s what Momma says to do when Alex teases me.” She rolls her eyes dramatically. “A fist to his nose sounds better in my opinion, but apparently killing him with kindness works even better.”

  “Sure. Yes. Okay.” There’s no way I’m going to tell her I vote for bopping Alex in the nose. But I do.

  “What did you ever do to him, anyway?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” I shrug. “He’s just an opportunistic . . .”

  “Asshole? Is that the word you were going for?”

  It’s Hillary’s turn to cough out a laugh.

  “Something like that.” I fight my own smile. “Why are you trying to help me, Tootie Tootie Bo Footie?”