Page 19 of Hauling Ashe

“Mae, this is ridiculous. We can’t keep stopping every hour. I need to get to California.”

“And I need to walk to Missouri.” She nods in the direction of the bridge and the land on the other side of the river. “Do you have something more appropriate to walk in?”

I’ve removed my suit coat and rolled up my shirt sleeves, but my hard-soled, Italian leather shoes will not be the most comfortable to cross a bridge in. I have workout clothes in my bag, and I’ll need to hit the gym hard once we stop at tonight’s hotel. The tension in me has built to volcanic proportions.

“I’m good,” I say, refusing to give in to another one of Mae’s whims.

She eyes me up and down and I wonder what she sees. Her expression is evidence of what she thinks of me. She wants to pitch me into that river and watch me drown.

“Suit yourself,” she mutters, as she did this morning. Then she shrugs and I hate that motion more than anything. The sign of indifference suggests she really doesn’t care about me or my opinion, and for some reason, the possibility pisses me off.

“Mae, come on. We need to keep moving.”

“We are. Over the bridge.” Mae moves two fingers in midair in a walking motion. She isn’t dressed in athletic attire herself, but the determination in her eyes says everything. She’s crossing that bridge with or without me.

“Mae,” I groan.

“Look, I’ll let you pick the stops in Missouri.”

This is not a consolation, but an idea sparks. I’ll skip the entire state, driving straight on for the next one.

“But we aren’t driving straight through.”

“Fuck,” I moan as she’s clearly read my mind.

Mae slowly smiles while she stares at me. Then she huffs and finally she chuckles, shaking her head. I don’t know what she’s thinking but whatever it is, I’ve made her laugh, and the sound is doing strange things to me. My skin prickles. My heart beats faster. My fingers twitch. I’ve never wanted to run my fingers over piano keys as much as I do at this moment, hoping to chase Mae’s laugh and match it to sharps and flats for a song.

Mae steps forward, interrupting the hum lingering in my head, and I spin on my hard-soled shoes, following her. Like a dog being taunted by a bone on a pull string, I’m starting to sense I might follow Mae anywhere, if she’ll keep laughing.

+ + +

We take our time, especially as her flat shoes and my dressy ones are not conducive to power walking. The distance is a mile over and another one back, and we saunter among the other walkers and the bike riders. Mae stays quiet as we begin the ascent up the bridge. A placard by the entrance explained how the bridge was part of the original route. Due to necessary renovations, the historic landmark no longer allows motorized vehicles, only foot-powered ones.

“I grew up in Missouri,” Mae says as we take our first step over the mighty Mississippi River dividing Illinois from her home state. “In a little town called River City in the southeast corner of the state. My mother still lives there.”

“Next you’re going to tell me we need to detour to see Mommy and Daddy.” I exhale and slip my hands into my pockets. I do not have the patience for additional stops.

Mae gazes forward and narrows her eyes. “My dad left when I was a child, leaving our mother to raise us.”

Shit. “I’m sorry, Mae. That was…insensitive.” I can be an asshole, and this proves it once again. Mae shrugs in that manner I despise.

“It was a long time ago. Had Granddad as my father figure, but he’s gone now, too.” The sorrowful depth to her voice tells me she misses him.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, because what else can I say? Her sad tone hints she was close to this paternal figure, and I’m reminded once more of my grandfather. I shouldn’t ask. I don’t want to ask, reminding myself I don’t want to know more about Mae. I don’t want to cross the personal line, but I can’t fight the next question. “Besides Jane, how many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“We have an older brother, Garrett. Then comes Jane, me, and my younger sister Lindee.”

I’m the only legitimate Ashford heir, but I don’t mention it. The pressure was unbearable when I was young.

“Are you close with your mom?”

Mae sighs and squints into the distance. “My mother believes I should have stayed married to my ex.” Mae pauses, and I admit it’s not what I expected her to say.

“Why?” There were a hundred reasons why I thought my parents should have divorced when I was a child. First and foremost should have been their lack of desire to have a child—me.

“Adam had not only one affair but two, but it’s the fact he stayed. He never left me, so she believes I shouldn’t have left him. She thought I should have remained married to him despite learning about the second one. I disagreed.” Bitterness rings through Mae’s words, and I hear the hurt at her mother’s lack of support. For my part, I want to pummel the man. Who cheats on Mae? She’s been good-natured enough with my assholeness, plus she’s pretty, and those eyes… Plus, any man should be proud to have Mae smile at him like she does.

The thought presses on my sternum. Mae has smiled at me a few times today, and I’ve shot her down at every curve of those lips.