Page 38 of Until Tomorrow (Love Doesn’t Cure All: The Ashwood Duet #1)

Rhett

I wasted time. I asked questions. I did whatever the hell it took to keep spark plug around for a couple more minutes. What I didn’t do was ask her name. Though, spark plug suited her.

Dick conversations didn’t last long and that dating app of hers vanished as we started talking about ourselves.

She loved music and used to sing. I would’ve given anything to hear her, but she shut down the minute we got a little too deep into that conversation.

That poised expression of hers fractured, showing me a glimpse of the broken girl underneath.

I retreated real fucking fast. I wasn’t about to push that button.

When I found out she used to do charcoal drawings, I stole every napkin I could find and a few pens.

We doodled as we talked. Flower after flower decorated her napkins, but at some point, she grew bolder.

Flowers turned into hands and eyes with greater detail.

The woman was talented, and I had a feeling she didn’t know just how much so.

Her modesty and damn near indifference toward it broke my heart.

That shit only happened when others knocked down creatives.

No one deserved that, especially someone with her kind of natural, God-given talent.

I saved those napkins. Stowed them away in my jacket pocket for safekeeping. Her art deserved to be adored, even if only by me.

I talked about Aimee—told her stories of growing up, our hopes and dreams, and so many of the little things in between.

When was the last time I talked about my late wife without feeling judged for being stuck?

A long fuckin g time. Spark plug wasn’t at all fazed by anything.

She shared stories of her husband to relate and listened when I needed her to.

Words came easily around her, even when the emotions were high.

By the time we walked out of the bar hours later, I didn’t want our time together to end.

She wasn’t the kind of woman I wanted to take back to any of my places.

Not that I didn’t want to kiss her. I would’ve killed for the chance to do so.

No, I just wanted whatever shred of time she was willing to give me.

My motorcycle was parked just down the street. I stopped in front of it as I considered inviting her to join me. Would a woman like that even get on a motorcycle?

Fuck it. I’d never know if I didn’t ask.

“Hey, spark plug,” I called after her. She paused on the sidewalk, doing this cute little twirl thing to face me. “Want to go for a ride with me? I know this spot up the coast that’s gorgeous at night. It’s a little under an hour away.”

At least she was in pants this time—even if they were dress pants. Did the woman own anything casual? Maybe that was something I could find out about her over time. I could hope that, whatever this was, it lasted long enough to find out.

“As in… on your motorcycle?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said with a chuckle. She wandered closer, staring hard at my bike. “Promise I won’t let you fall off.”

“Okay, well ,” she began a little dramatically, “I wasn’t thinking that until you said it. Will you keep me safe?”

“I’d rather not crash at all,” I told her honestly. “Self-preservation and all that.”

“At least you’re honest.”

“I promise I’ll keep you safe,” I continued with a reassuring smile.

I shrugged out of my jacket and helped her into it, even though she hadn’t given me a definitive answer yet.

It swallowed her up, but damn if she didn’t look good in my leather.

The sight made my dick stir, and I pushed those thoughts aside.

The last thing I needed was to be riding with a hard-on. “Looks good on you.”

“I have no hands.” She giggled as she flapped the sleeves. God, she was fucking adorable.

“Try not to fly away on me now,” I teased as I climbed on my bike.

I patted the seat behind me. Watching people who’ve never been on a motorc ycle try to get on one always entertained me.

It was a bike through and through, but they always made it more complicated.

She was no different as she grabbed onto my shoulders for support.

I kept my mouth shut while she settled behind me.

“What do I do with my hands?” she asked loudly over the engine as it roared to life. There were a few things my dick could think of for her to do with those hands. Had to think with the upstairs brain.

“Hold on.” I lifted my elbows. She sidled up closer, and her arms circled my waist. The small concern I’d get cold without my jacket vanished at the warmth of her soft body pressed against mine.

That spark, that fire. She ignited something deep inside me.

So much for not riding around with a fucking hard-on. It was inevitable at this point.

I chuckled as her arms and thighs tightened around me when my bike began moving. I hadn’t even opened it up yet. As I eased into traffic, I ran my palm over her linked fingers, enjoying the little surge of comfort the simple contact brought.

I kept her out later than I probably should’ve, but who knew if I’d get the chance to share it with her again?

We drove up the coast, stopping in all the little inlets and secret spots I knew of that my bike could get easy access to.

The ocean hit differently at night when the waves were calm and the moon was high.

I couldn’t have asked for a better night, which was how we ended up staying out until almost two.

She stifled a yawn when I stopped in front of her building. There was no question about how opposite our worlds were as I stared at the neighborhood. The likelihood was that her condo probably cost more than all three of my places combined.

“Thank you,” she said as she got off.

“Anytime, spark plug,” I replied, and I meant it. I’d fucking drop everything to take her out again if she wanted.

“Evangeline,” she told me with that show-stopping smile of hers. The name and that smile gave me pause. “My name is Evangeline, but you can call me Eva. You never asked.”

“ Maybe I just like calling you spark plug,” I replied. Or maybe knowing her name would give me one more thing to obsess over. “It’s nice to meet you, Eva.”

“Yeah, it is,” Eva whispered. “Good night, Rhett. I hope you sleep well tonight.”

“I will.” Why I said it was beyond me. I knew I’d be plagued by fantasies of her laugh, her smile, and those goddamn hips of hers.

Only after she disappeared upstairs did I realize she still had on my jacket. My lucky jacket. That thought made me grin. I’d had that thing since I was eighteen, but I’d lost it more times than I could count over the years. Every time, it managed to find its way back to me.

I may not have had Eva’s number, but I knew my lucky jacket would bring her back to me.