So This is Love (Miami Stories Book 1) Page 8

  "I, uh, would love for you to come over," he said.

  I had been lost in thought, so I looked up to meet his gaze when he said that. We were standing in the shade of a tree, but it was still bright out, and he squinted a little because of it. I could see his whiskey-colored eyes peering through those dark lashes. He was ever so handsome, and it didn't help matters that he was so sweet and sincere with Sidney's class.

  "Would you like to?" he asked. "It doesn't have to be today, necessarily, but sometime."

  "What was the question?" I asked.

  "I asked if you'd like to come over sometime. Not to see the fish… I mean, we can see the fish, but not just to see the fish." He sighed. "Or maybe I could just take you out to dinner."

  I smiled and shook my head at him. I was tempted to tease him about not dating, but I couldn't decide if I should or not.

  "What?" he asked, noticing me hesitate.

  "You've only seen me in my work clothes," I said.

  He nodded. "I know. What's that got to do with it?"

  "I couldn't possibly go out to dinner with you," I said.

  "Why is that?"

  "Because I'd probably be wearing normal clothes and not smelling like fish."

  "How is that a bad thing?" he asked.

  "It'd be too much," I said. "You'd have to throw your no-dating policy out the window."

  His smiled broadened and he shook his head at me. "I'm already throwing… I'm already doing and saying things that aren't at all… I'm already… see, Abigail? I'm tongue-tied. I can't even think straight around you."

  "I was just messing with you," I said. "I know you have to do what you have to do to focus on your career. I know you won't be in Miami very long. I definitely enjoy hanging out with you, though, and I'd be happy to get a bite of food sometime."

  Ash looked slightly disappointed for a second and then his face changed to a thoughtful smile. "That would be wonderful," he said. "I'd love to get a bite of food with you."

  "Okay," I said with a nod. "We'll do that."

  "When?" he asked. "Tomorrow?"

  I couldn’t contain a grin. "When do you want to?" I asked.

  "Tomorrow."

  "We're doing this thing at my house in the afternoon… grilling some food and getting out on the water. Kristen loves to ski, and I think she's got some people coming over. You're welcome to come by. Or we could plan on doing something later in the evening. What were you thinking?"

  "I'll probably practice until about three. I could come by around four or so and meet your friends, or I could pick you up a little later for dinner. Whatever's best for you."

  "Why don't you come by when you're done practicing?" I said. "Four is perfect. We might not be skiing anymore, but we'll still be hanging out at the house—swimming and everything. We can grab some dinner if you like, but I'm sure there will be a ton of food at the house. We can just play it by ear… see how we feel."

  "Great," he said.

  He unlocked his vehicle, opened the door, and leaned in. I couldn't see what he was doing but he came out with his phone. He handed it to me, and I started entering my number.

  "I'll press 'call' so I can have your number, too." I said. "I'll text you my address later so you'll have it for tomorrow." I smiled as I typed my number into his phone. I added myself as a contact, and when it came time to put my name, I wrote, "My Darling Abigail." I felt nervous doing it, but I thought it would make him smile when he found it later. I called my number from his phone, but I hung up after one ring. And then, rather than hand his phone back to him, I set it in his truck. His door was still open, and I was already anxious about having written that silly phrase as my name. I regretted doing it as soon as I set the phone down. I wanted to pick it up again and delete the words 'my' and 'darling', leaving it to simply say Abigail like it should have in the first place.

  Ash saw me hesitate. "You okay?" he asked.

  "Yeah," I said, even though I wasn't.

  If this guy only knew how much I liked him. If he only knew that my heart was pounding and I could barely breathe.

  "I assume it's casual tomorrow," he said.

  I let out a laugh. "Yeah, don't wear this. Y-you can if you want. It looks nice and everything, I just…"

  He smiled. "It might be a little much for a pool party."

  I gave him a tiny shrug. "I think your landlord has the number for the shop, but now you have my number. You can call me directly if there's ever a problem with the fish."

  He smiled. "Don't tempt me," he said. "I almost threw a pizza in there when Mandy told me you weren't coming back till next week."

  "Oh, no, don't do that."

  "I wouldn't. But I might have gotten desperate enough to call and make up a problem."

  "Well, now you have my number," I said. "Don't hesitate to let me know if you need anything."

  "Thank you," he said. "Thank you for everything today. I had fun. I'm so glad I tracked you down."

  "I'm glad too," I said. "Sidney and the kids were happy to meet you."

  "They were awesome," he said.

  "I wish I would have told them you were a musician," I said. "They would have loved that."

  "I'm kinda happy you didn't," he said.

  "Do you not like telling people?" I asked. "Because if you come tomorrow, I don't have to tell anyone. I mean, I think my roommate already knows who you are, but I could ask her not to mention it if you—"

  "It's not that," Ash said. "It's just that part of me is happy you forgot to bring it up. I guess it just feels neat that it's not the first thing on your mind when you think of me."

  I let out a little laugh. "I still kind of think of you as the mover."

  "And you're still keen on having dinner with me," he said as more of a statement than a question.

  "Well, you are a really handsome mover," I said. "And it's just as friends, anyway. Remember? Since you don't date."

  "That's my rule."

  "I know," I said, nodding. "That's what I'm saying. You've got a rule against it, so it's not a problem."

  "No, I mean, it's my rule. I'm the one who made it, so I'm the one who can break it. I say whether I date or don't date."

  "Yeah, but just because you change your policy doesn't mean I'm automatically going to go out with you."

  Obviously, I wanted to go out with him. I would drop everything to go out with him. I had absolutely no rules against it or reservations about it. I was totally bluffing about refusing him, and I was sure he knew it.

  "I think I'll be able to talk you into it," he said. "I think I have a chance. I'm pretty sure you like me a little since you just accidently admitted that you've already mentioned me to your roommate."

  I gave him a shy smile and shook my head as I opened the car door. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow," I said with a shrug.

  He smiled as he watched me get into my car, and then he turned and climbed into his truck. I wanted to squeal, but I held it in. Once we parted, going in different directions, I clinched my fists and pounded the steering wheel, letting out my contained squeal.

  Ash—in all his splendid, well-dressed glory—tracked me down at work and then let me drag him around town.

  I was on cloud nine for about three minutes.

  Until I remembered the name I had programmed into his phone.

  My stomach turned.

  My darling?

  Really?

  Had I seriously done that?

  I slapped a hand to my forehead. At the time, I thought it was cute and funny, but now I would give anything to get that off of his phone.

  Chapter 11

  Ash

  My Darling Abigail

  Ash stared at his phone, blinking at the name. He had searched for her under the A's, but he couldn’t find her. He went to the S's for Spencer, but she wasn't there either. Finally, he remembered that she had called herself from his phone, so he went to the recent calls.

  My Darling Abigail was the first name on the list. The funny thing w
as, it seemed natural. She was darling, and as far as Ash was concerned, she was his.

  He wanted it to be that way.

  How was that possible?

  After only two encounters with Abigail, Ash felt this overwhelming urge to protect her, possess her, claim her, announce to the world that she was his. He had dated women in the past, but none of them had ever stirred his emotions the way Abigail did. He told himself to calm down and remember how every woman he ever got into a relationship with tried to control his life.

  Then he would remember Abigail's face, her barely-there freckles and the way little strands of her silky dark hair made its way out of her ponytail and fell in loose wispy pieces around her face. And her eyes. Those blue-grey eyes that had a ring of dark blue around the edges. He could see her face when he closed his eyes. She haunted him. She wove her way into his thoughts, and Ash found it impossible to stop his mind from wandering back to her.

  Then, he would remind himself that a relationship was a bad idea. He'd tell himself all the things he already knew… that Miami was only temporary, that women were never okay with his practice schedule. She'd claim to be okay with it in the beginning, and then slowly but surely, she'd become aggravated by the time they spent apart and begin to resent the cello as if it were another woman.

  He tried to tell himself of these things, but he just didn't believe it with Abigail. He wasn't convinced.

  When a person desires something enough, they become an excellent sales person, and that was exactly what happened with Ash. Every time he had himself convinced that things would never work with Abigail, he started thinking of all the reasons why they would.

  He thought of her sweet, beautiful face, her quick wit, her compassion, her intelligence, and her drive. It surprised him, however, that the thing at the top of the list was the conversation she had with the kids about prayer. Those few short sentences revealed a lot to him about Abigail. He remembered the way it all went down, and somehow, as a result of that brief section of their encounter, he began to truly believe that she was the one. She admitted to the class as she hadn't always been very good at praying, which showed humility and honesty. And then she told them a practical truth that could possibly change their lives. Abigail had no idea what Ash's beliefs were when she said that, and yet, she was confident and unashamed.

  These thoughts made Ash get out his Bible. He was relatively sure he knew the Lord's prayer by heart, but it had been a while since he recited it, so he searched it, and he prayed it, and at the end of all that, he found that he respected Abigail Spencer even more. It takes a certain humility and tenderness to pray those words and mean them, and Ash looked up to Abigail, not only for having those traits, but also for being willing to share about it with others.

  Ash loved God, and fully believed in His existence, but it had been a while since he had talked to Him. He was thankful to Abigail for giving him a practical idea about how to reconnect. He recited the prayer when he went to bed that night, and he slept better for it. He said it again when he woke up the next morning, and he liked that, too. Sure, it wasn't a huge accomplishment compared to the time some people devoted to God, but it was a start.

  Ash was drawn to Abigail from the moment they met (otherwise he wouldn't have pursued her like he had). But this was what impressed him the most. More than her adorable face, her gorgeous, toned body, even more than her intelligence, her kindness, or her sense of humor. Her connection with something bigger than this world was the thing that put Ash over the top.

  He was in a position of prestige—one where gorgeous women with money and connections threw themselves at him on a regular basis. Women were at Ash's beck and call. That was the pure and simple truth. He sold out shows night after night, and night after night, stunning, elegantly dressed women made it clear that they wanted to be with him, get close to him.

  Ash never felt the urge to let any of them in.

  Until now.

  He had to have Abigail.

  He simply had to.

  Not having her wasn't an option.

  He was thankful for the way she had labeled herself when she put her name into his phone. She was his darling Abigail, that's all there was to it.

  Ash played the cello for an outrageously long time that day, stopping only to eat, work out, stretch, and use the restroom. He had spent a good portion of his life playing the cello, and by now, he had his practice routine down to a science. He would play for fifty minutes, and then work out and stretch for ten. He did stretches, sit-ups, push-ups, squats, and jumped rope in quick succession before sitting down behind his cello again.

  Three times a week, he went to the gym and worked out in earnest with weights, but these simple workouts were added to his practice time to keep him mobile and focused. He had woken up at 5am that morning, and he knew he wouldn't see Abigail until later that afternoon, so he practiced all day, knowing it would make the time go by faster.

  He stopped playing at 3pm so that he could shower and get dressed in time to leave at 3:30.

  He wore khaki shorts and a thin, white linen button-down shirt that was made to be rolled at the sleeves. He let his hair dry naturally after his shower, and it was still damp when he left for Abigail's.

  Ash had a few texts and calls that he missed while he was practicing. Abigail had sent him a text with her address saying she was looking forward to seeing him. He sent a message back confirming that he got it and would see her at four. The missed calls were from his mom and little sister, and he took care of calling them back once he got on the road.

  His mom and sister were together at his parents' house, so he talked to them on speakerphone. At first, he told them he was going to a barbecue at a friend's place, which was the truth. He could have left it at that, but he didn't. He added that the friend was a lady, which set them off, asking all sorts of questions about her. Who was she? Where did they meet? What did she look like?

  His family new about his reluctance to date, and they always encouraged him to try to find another musician so that she could identify with his ambitions. They were slightly thrown off when Ash told them Abigail was a marine biologist who traveled around Miami, taking care of fish. They wanted him to send a picture, but he told them he didn't have one… not yet at least.

  He got off the phone with them a few minutes before he made it to the house. He was staying in a really nice place, but Abigail's house was a mansion. He pulled around to the back, noticing that there were six or eight other cars already parked in that area—some of them new, and others not so much. He wondered who all was there and what had brought them together.

  Ash parked and walked up the driveway toward the noise—music and laughter. There were around twenty or so people in the pool area, but only about five or six were actually swimming. A few of them seemed to notice his arrival, but they were still at a distance, so no one acknowledged him.

  Then he saw her.

  There she was, walking toward him, wearing a huge smile. Her long hair was hanging over her shoulders with the sides pulled back. She had on nice shorts and strappy sandals with a sheer, sleeveless top. It was much dressier than the work attire he had seen her in before. It was delicate, and it made him feel a desire to protect her—shield her. Ash breathed deeply, urging himself to calm down.

  "Hey, you came," Abigail said.

  She leaned in to hug him as they converged. It was a casual, friendly, one-armed hug, which was nowhere near enough for Ash. He wanted to hold her tightly for an unlimited amount of time and then turn and walk toward everyone else with his arm around her shoulders. He settled for a half hug and pretended that was good enough.

  "Thanks for having me," he said. "This is a really nice place."

  "It's not mine," she said. "I don't remember if I told you or not, but my roommate, Kristen, and I live in the guesthouse."

  He nodded. "You mentioned it when we were talking to Jake at The Bombay," he said. "He said something about living here before you."

  This
made Abigail smile and look around. "Jake's here, actually," she said, as if that news would please Ash. It didn't. He remembered how Jake had touched her leg that day when he was trying to get her attention. Maybe it was innocent enough—but still.

  "Hey!" Jake yelled, noticing Ash's arrival.

  He was one of the people standing next to the pool, and he began walking toward them. The two men greeted one another with a handshake.

  "It's good to see you, Ash. I didn't know you were coming today."

  "Abigail invited me," Ash said.

  "Well, welcome! We've got tons of food," Jake said, motioning by throwing a thumb over his shoulder. "And drinks in the coolers. Help yourself."

  "Thanks," Ash said with a nod.

  Someone called for Jake, and he excused himself before walking away. Ash and Abigail didn't even have the chance to say another word to each other before Ash noticed a blonde rushing up to them.

  She was grinning from ear to ear as she approached, and without hesitation she reached out and hugged Ash. It was a tighter hug than the one he got from Abigail. This young lady was truly excited to see him. He could tell by the way she groaned when she squeezed him around the waist.

  "Oh, my goodness, I am so excited to meet you!" she whispered. She pulled back and stared straight at him with wide eyes. "I couldn't believe it when Abigail told me she met you the other day. She had no idea who you were, and I was like, duh Abby! He's only one of the most famous classical musicians ever." She had been speaking quietly, but she paused and looked around, making sure no one overheard. "Don't worry," she said. "I haven't told anyone who you are. Abby said you may not want them to know."

  "It's fine," Ash said smiling at her enthusiasm. "I told Jake I was a musician already."

  "You know Jake?" Kristen asked, looking confused.

  "Ash came by The Bombay yesterday," Abigail explained.

  "Are you Kristen?" Ash asked.