Page 35 of Hauling Ashe

“What are you saying?” I question, glancing at her over my shoulder.

“We can sleep together.” Her face turns bright pink, and although I know what she means, I like the color on her skin. “I mean—”

I hold up a hand to stop her. “I know what you mean.”

Mae offers a tender smile to accept the sleeping arrangement and I pat the bed behind me and wiggle my phone which I hold in my other hand. “I need to check on a few things.” I quickly ease back against the pillows I propped against the fake headboard and stretch my legs, crossing my ankles.

Mae distracts me as she climbs up her side of the bed. My gaze focuses on her position, the kitten-like crawl and the curve of her ass in the air clad only in those shorty pajamas. I swallow the dryness in my mouth and try to pull my attention from her, but I can’t.

She was too adorable in her flustered babble when I exited the bathroom. She’s attracted to me on some physical level, and I’m attracted to her. My fingers had a mind of their own today, reaching out and touching her on occasion. I wanted to touch her more, stroke over that soft skin and confirm it’s even softer in other places. I’ve only had a hint of the soft spots on her neck, her breasts, her belly.

“What could you possibly be checking on a Saturday night?” she pokes fun at me.

But I don’t answer, watching as she pulls back the covers and kneels. Sweet Jesus, I want her kneeling before me. Thighs spread. Shorts rising. She has so much leg on display and the tee covers her bottoms, giving the impression she’s wearing only the shirt. If Mae wore only a T-shirt to bed, there’d be a serious struggle to keep my hands to myself. Whether she believes it or not, I am a gentleman, but I’m at the end of the tempting rope that’s Mae.

I remain where I’m seated as Mae slips under the sheets and lays on her back. “You don’t talk much about your son.”

The comment surprises me. I’ve told her more about Julia and the upcoming wedding, but she’s right, I haven’t mentioned Jude much.

“What should I say?”

Mae rolls her head on the pillow to look over at me. “You mentioned you don’t see eye-to-eye with him. Is this a new development or a phase he didn’t grow out of when he was finished being a teen?”

She’s only asking because she has her own set of boys on the cusp of twenty and I weigh how much I want to share with her. I’ve only known her for two days, and while I didn’t trust her with a cup of coffee forty-eight hours ago, there’s something about her that says I can confide in her on a deeper level. Then again, we are only riding companions, and in a few days, I won’t ever see her again. The thought instantly causes melancholy. Does she really need to know things about me? So much of my history isn’t pretty.

I glance up at the red geranium sitting on the dresser, positioned as if placed with pride. Hope, she said earlier. The cheery flower symbolizes an emotion I haven’t felt for a long time. The sensation of trust. The concept of anticipation. The desire for something. My eyes drift to Mae, catching her watching me with those big blue eyes. Is she hope?

Instantly, I decide whatever I say to her, she won’t judge me.

“When my wife died, Jude discovered he wasn’t my biological son.”

Mae’s eyes widen but she remains quiet.

“He was resentful. Not that I am his father, as I’ve been there since his birth, but angry that he hadn’t known the truth.”

Mae’s continued silence opens the door for the rest of the story.

“My own father wasn’t a good dad or even a decent man. He had multiple affairs on my mother, which led to several illegitimate children.”

“So, you have siblings?” The question surprises me for some reason.

“Yes.” How deep do I go into that history?

“And your parents died in a plane crash,” Mae states for clarification. “How old were you?”

“Twenty-three.” My entire life crashed that year. “Within months of their death, my grandfather discovered my father had gotten a young woman pregnant.”

“How young?” Mae asks, her voice holding a hint of concern as it should.

“She was just nineteen.”

“Oh God,” Mae whispers.

“Yeah. Well, Grandfather couldn’t let that mishap go. She was a family friend’s daughter, and she went to him when my father died. Dad promised to take care of her. She didn’t know what to do.”

I remember the call I’d received from Grandfather. Rochelle and I had been friends our entire lives. I didn’t understand at the time how she could have fallen for Dad’s seduction. I even worried at first that he hadn’t seduced her but simply taken what he wanted. She’d threatened to tell her parents about her condition and how it happened. Back then, I hadn’t known what the big deal was. Let her parents know the truth. My father was scum.

There was more to the story, though.