Page 2

CHAPTER TWO

ASHLEY

My co-worker, Demi, was excitedly chattering about meeting the Seahawks players as we laid out our stuff in the room we’d been assigned to do the measurements and alterations in.

Outwardly I smiled at her and nodded, but inside I winced. I had an issue with football players seeing as how my dad was one and had apparently cheated on my mom every chance he could. A lot of his teammates had been the same, so I had zero trust and respect for them. That might sound a bit harsh, but I’d seen the devastation and hurt their actions caused to not just their wives, but their kids as well.

Sure, not everyone was unfaithful, but the football players I’d known had acted like it was their God given holy right to stick it where they wanted. In fact, one of the guys from Dad’s team had said just that during his divorce. So, I enjoyed the games, but avoided footballers at all costs.

If I was brutally honest, I avoided most sports players. The only exception had been my soccer playing ex who’d ended up cheating on me with my boss in Ohio, and had then moved here after I did to try and join the soccer team my brother played on. Such a dick!

The door opening and loud voices entering the room pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Where do you want us, ladies?” one of them asked as they all lined up against the wall.

Glancing at Demi, I gave her a nod to proceed with organizing how this was going to happen.

The clothing and sewing company I’d just started working for, Because I Said Sew, had been tasked with outfitting the team with suits for business functions, and tuxedos for official parties. There was a charity gala happening in two weeks, so today was the day we were making the final alterations to the tuxedo part of the project.

“Okay, your tuxes are in garment bags with your names on them. If you could go and put them on, we’ll do the adjustments in here.”

The men followed their orders and left the room, all laughing about something that had happened the day before. If I’d been listening instead of now reading a book on my phone, I might have realized that it involved the incident between myself and Kip Sutherland, but the book had just hit a really interesting bit while we’d been waiting, so I was invested. I’d give myself until they came back and then part with it.

Within minutes, the first players were back.

“I’ll take you over here, and you can go over to Ashley,” Demi ordered, and I shut my phone off and put it to the side.

Picking up the pin cushion that fastened around my wrist and the little piece of tailors’ chalk that I’d need, I readied myself for the player to get up onto the step.

Immediately I saw an issue. One of the legs wasn’t falling properly, like the inseam was twisted at the top. Squatting down, I tried to think of something to say to break the awkwardness of the position, but the guy got their first.

“What is it with you and my legs? The guys have been teasing me about the bruises you left on them all day.”

Some people might apologize or defend themselves. Me? I got such a shock that it was him that my hand jerked as I pushed the pin through the material and buried itself in his thigh.

Before I could move to pull it out or apologize, he let out a yell and slapped the area, pushing it even deeper.

“What the hell?” he shouted, groaning when he hit it again.

Wincing, I reached forward and did my best to grab the bright pink pearl on the end of the pin. With him moving around, though, I had to keep jerking my hand away to avoid being the one to hit it.

Finally, out of patience I snapped, “If you’d stand still for a second, I’d be able to get it out. You hitting it is just pushing it farther into your thigh, you…” I paused, trying to think of a word that wasn’t overly offensive, unprofessional or a curse word. Oh, I had many that immediately came to mind, but all of them would end with me being fired. “Silly Sally,” I finished weakly.

“Did she just call him a silly Sally?” the player that was with Demi snickered.

“Harsh, girl, harsh.” One of the other players—who, when I glanced over my shoulder, I saw was Craig Wilson—chuckled.

Looking back up at Kip, I took in his clenched jaw and the way his bright blue eyes were watching me like I was an alien or something as yet undiscovered. “Will you please get that giant ass needle out of my leg. Like, now.”

Giant ass needle? What a pussy!

Shrugging, I did a quick grab and pull, and had the puny little pin in my hand in seconds.

Holding it up for him to see, I spoke without thinking. “Wanna keep it as a souvenir?”

During the incident, the rest of the players had come back from getting changed, and as soon as I finished talking, they all burst out laughing.

Not taking his eyes off me, Kip waited for it to die down before he introduced me, making the shitty situation even worse.

“Guys, allow me to introduce you to Ashley Wilkes. Ashley is Hayden Wilkes’s sister. Ashley apparently likes to go wall climbing in her spare time. Ashley is also the one responsible for the bruises you’ve been laughing at all day. Ashley is also the one responsible for my new piercing.”

It was like the worst version of a dating introduction ever. There were no long walks, helping kids, doing stuff for charity, none of the stuff that gave a hint that the person you were meeting was a good person.

Instead, I sounded like a crazy person who was responsible for multiple injuries to the guy. Oh, and I had a brother who was a well-known soccer player for the Seattle Sounders. That was the extent of my resume.

Thinking she was helping but was in fact digging my grave that little bit deeper, Demi recounted the story I’d told her on the way here. “She also has a partially blind Yorkshire Terrier that she used to take to the pediatric ward at the hospital, but he got into some cupcakes and had diarrhea in one of the rooms. She’s not allowed to take him back.”

Glaring at her, I considered correcting the parts that she’d gotten wrong—like the fact that it was one of the nurses who kept feeding him the aforementioned cupcakes even though I’d told her not to—but decided that silence was better.

Eyes wide, Kip gasped, “That was you? We got there ten minutes after that to hand out some stuff to the kids, and the smell almost made me puke.”

I held in the wince that wanted to break free. Admittedly, it’d been horrific, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of agreeing with him.

Instead, I ground out, “He’s getting a vest that says not to feed him. Once he has that, he’ll be allowed back because the kids loved him.”

“That’s if she doesn’t use him to break her fall or as a voodoo doll,” Craig snickered, making everyone else in the room laugh.

Sighing, I rolled my eyes and got back to work.

After that, the day went better than it had started, and I was able to forget about all of the bad things that I’d been thinking about the new ‘Seattle solidarity’ mentality, where big companies and sports teams used Seattle based companies for their merchandise which led to me having to deal with big assholes.

That was until I got home and my brother called to ask me to go in his place to the charity gala I’d just been outfitting the Seahawks for. Oh, and my boss somehow found out thanks to him Tweeting about it and decided I had to go to represent Because I Said Sew, too.

Doing the only thing I could to feel better, I sat on the couch in my one-bedroom apartment over my brother’s garage, with Able, my hospital banned Yorkie, curled up beside me, and ate ice cream with Baileys poured over it.

Two weeks later, at the Lust for Life Gala…

I hated wearing ballgowns. Every time I took a step forward, I had to make sure I wasn’t standing on the bottom of the dark red strapless dress I’d bought. And would it kill shoe designers to do something to the sole of them to stop them from slipping on the floor?

Sighing, I smiled at the waiter as I took a glass of champagne from his tray and looked around the room, taking a small sip. I was a lightweight, so I drank sparingly and carefully so that I didn’t end up making a fool of myself. I could just see the news tomorrow—a photo of me lying on my back, making marble angels on the floor of this hotel, while grinning up at the crystal chandelier hanging above my head.

Regardless of all of my complaints and irritation, I was hugely supportive of what the money being raised tonight was for.

Lust for Life was a charity that renovated old buildings into mental health wellness drop in centers. People of all ages could go and either sit and talk or speak to one of the counselors. Therapists and mental health professionals from all over the city had volunteered to take on hours at the center once it was completed, and if they thought that the person needed further help or treatment, they would refer them on and support them throughout. There were even debt advisors, grief counselors, people trained to help kids… it was a huge deal and had already proven successful in other cities.

“Ashley,” a familiar voice called, and I turned around to see Craig Wilson walking toward me with a beautiful auburn haired woman that I recognized from the news as his fiancée, Meg.

Smiling back, I raised my hand in greeting, doing my best not to blush at the memory of the last time I’d seen him. “Hey!”

As they reached me, he chuckled. “Meg, this is Hayden Wilkes’s sister, Ashley. She was the one who?—”

“Landed on Kip and then stabbed him in the thigh,” she snickered, not looking at all ashamed for interrupting him. Shocking me, she held out her hand. “Trust me when I say that it’s a huge pleasure to meet you. The videos didn’t do you justice, but they were absolutely awesome.”

What’s that now ?

“Videos?”

“Yeah,” she nodded with a wide grin. “Kip’s security footage was a bit grainy, but you can clearly see the moment you took him out. And the one of you stabbing him only started when he was hitting his leg and making it worse, but I’ve watched both of them on repeat for the last two weeks.”

Why do bad things happen to good people ?

Not knowing what to say, I just smiled and shrugged.

Reading it for what it was—me feeling totally awkward—she asked, “Where are you sitting? Are you here with anyone?”

“Uh, no. I was forced to come tonight by Hayden and my boss.”

Wincing in sympathy, she gestured behind us at the open doors to the ballroom. “Come and sit with us, then. Nothing worse than coming to an event on your own and having to sit with strangers.”

“Well, technically there’s a lot that’s worse than that…” Craig murmured, but quickly cut off when she glared at him. “But you should definitely sit with us.”

I really should have considered the possibility that he would be there with them, but I was so distracted by dresses, celebrities, crystal stuff being everywhere, people talking about the bids they’d placed on blind auction items as we passed them, the fact I’d never be able to afford those amounts no matter what, and making sure that I didn’t step on my dress or fall on my ass in my slippery shoes, that I gratefully accepted the offer and followed them to their table.

A table that had none other than the biggest pain in my ass since my brother sitting at it. And my chair was right next to his.

“Kip, you remember Ashley, don’t you?” Meg asked him as she sat down two chairs away from me, with Craig in between us.

“Of course, how could I forget,” he drawled, shooting me a smirk.

Smiling sweetly at him instead of stabbing him with a fork like I wanted to, I leaned into him and whispered, “Thanks for sharing the videos.”

“Well, if I had your number, I’d have sent them to you, too.”

Mental note to self: doesn’t understand sarcasm.

Before I could say anything back, more of the team arrived at the table, some with dates, some on their own.

“Thought you said you were coming solo tonight?” one of the guys that I didn’t recognize said to Kip as he took his seat.

“I am. The event apparently hadn’t updated the list in the last five months, so Ashley decided to honor me with her presence instead of sitting surrounded by boring old farts discussing their private jets and yachts.”

Nodding understandingly, the guy held his hand out, his arm going in front of Kip who leaned back slightly to avoid contact with it. “Hey, stabby girl. I’m Tosh Sinclair.”

Taking it, I did the mandatory two shake thing, then went to release his hand, except he wouldn’t let go.

“Uh, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he murmured, grinning at me and looking at Kip out of the corner of his eye.

The longer he held on, the more awkward it became, and the other occupants of the table laughing quietly didn’t help.

Eventually, Kip snapped. “You can let go of her now.”

“Mm,” he hummed. “I think I’m okay. In fact, do you want to swap places and I’ll sit next to Ashley. I don’t think she likes you.”

“She likes me just fine,” he growled.

“But she’s holding my hand,” he pointed out with a grin, and I realized he was baiting Kip. “And my hands are soft, not rough and gross like yours.”

“Well, now you’ve just made it awkward,” he huffed, voicing my thoughts and tugging my hand out of Tosh’s.

Linking our fingers together, he made a point of placing them on top of the table so that everyone could see them.

Tosh hadn’t been lying—his hands really were soft. But there was something about the way Kip’s rougher one felt that…

“So, Ashley. Are you bidding on anything tonight?” one of the other player’s dates asked, and I was grateful for the distraction.

“No, I don’t think so. It’s fascinating listening to other people talking about what they’ve bid, though.” Kip rubbing his thumb over the top of my hand momentarily distracted me, and I had to give myself a subtle shake to finish what I was saying. “What about you?”

And there started the big debate about who was going to win what.

Apparently, a majority of the players had donated things themselves and they all thought theirs was going to get the highest bid out of all of them. They were also arguing over who was going to win a weekend in Jamaica, a week on an island in Barbados, a weekend in New Orleans, and weirdly enough, a day pass for two into one of the most exclusive spas in Seattle.

“The question I have,” a tall blonde in a beautiful blue dress said, “is who is going to win ‘The Bachelor?’”

Thinking she was talking about the TV show—something I’d never watched an episode of in my life—I zoned out of the discussion and looked around the room. There were celebrities and movie stars at tables with people that were clearly just your average joes, talking to them like they were of the same elk. It came as a shock, but I made a point of memorizing their names so I could buy their products or watch their movies in support. I loved it when famous people didn’t care what ‘level’ other people came from.

I was brought back into the conversation when someone asked, “Will you be bidding on him, Ashley?”

Not wanting to make it obvious that I hadn’t been listening, I nodded and smiled. “Of course. Who wouldn’t?”

The smiles and laughter the response got didn’t clue me in to what we were discussing, but the way Kip’s eyes softened on me definitely put me on guard.

Before I could ask what was up, the emcee announced that our meals were being served, and a plate with some sort of fluffy foam, some small toast points and what looked like a brown mush was placed in front of me.

I could only assume that this was meant to be ‘fine dining’, something I’d never understood. If my food came in a portion that wouldn’t feed a toddler, was something that I couldn’t pronounce, and looked like this, how was that ‘fine’?

Not wanting to embarrass myself, though, I picked up a toast point and gingerly nibbled on a corner. When it didn’t invoke my gag reflex, I took a slightly bigger bite, bracing for the moment the mush hit my taste buds.

“It’s not going to kill you,” Kip murmured out of the corner of his mouth before popping the whole thing in it.

“Like I’d trust anything you said,” I muttered, taking another small bite.

It actually wasn’t bad. There were definitely herbs in it, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.

Shrugging, I popped the rest of it in my mouth and almost moaned when the full flavor of it hit me. Holy shit, that was good. In fact, it was so good that I put the other piece in my mouth and then looked around the table to see if anyone wasn’t eating theirs. There were two women—both brunettes—who were looking at their plates with distaste.

Seeing where I was looking and guessing why, Kip asked, “If you aren’t eating yours, could Ashley have them, please?”

Both women looked at me like I had two heads, and one of them screwed her face up.

“I don’t know how you can eat fois gras. Who eats goose liver and fat and calls it a delicacy?”

Gulping as the words registered, I started taking deep breaths to stop the toast points coming back up.

The problem was, with each breath in, I could taste it all over again. It was so good, but it was the liver of a goose, man!

A glass of something fizzy appeared under my nose.

“Drink this. It’ll help.”

Desperate to get rid of the taste, I grabbed it and shot it back like it was water. In fact, in my panic, I’d actually thought that it was sparkling water, but it turned out to be champagne. Did that stop me? No, I finished that glass like a boss.

I really should have ended the night there, but instead I stuck it out. I would say I regretted it, but I ended up having way too much fun for that.