Page 21 of Your Last First Kiss

“Yes.” The favor doesn’t matter. Ashton has always given all of himself for everyone in his life, including me, and the least I can do is help him out in return.

He smirks, and it makes him look so much younger. “You don’t even want to know what the favor is?”

“You wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important to you.”

“True, but this favor has more to do with you than it does me.”

That seems odd, but whatever. I shrug at him.

“Our tenant is moving out soon,” he says. The glint in his eyes is suspicious.

“Okay?”

“Chance Lake is where I learned to live again. I think it could do the same for you, but you have to be willing to stay there for a while and…” He looks at something beyond his computer.

“Stay there and what?” I wish he’d get to the damn point.

“And I need you to keep an open mind. Nova is gearing up for awards season, so I have to be in LA with her to take care of Hope, but this is something that could have a profound effect on the entire town.”

“What does that have to do with me? My skill set is limited at this point, Ash. I don’t even know what you’re asking of me.” His large wooden desk takes up half my screen and illustrates the differences between a home where life happens and my far-too-modern condo in the middle of Manhattan that’s always cold and lifeless. I didn’t even decorate this place.

Do I even know what I like anymore?

“It’s going to take you back to your roots. Back to who you were before you took on Vanessa’s last wish and life made all the choices for you. You’ll have the opportunity to help hundreds of kids.”

“With what? What do you want me to do?” Frustration has my leg bouncing. Why is he being so cagey?

“Sports. Life. Community. It all centers around one thing, but I can’t do it myself because I’m not there, and the owner, well, let’s say he’s old school, and this isn’t a business to him. It’s a way of life.”

“I don’t know the first thing about kids or community,” I grumble. The truth is, I’m barely living myself. “And ‘one thing’ doesn’t tell me a damn thing.”

“You don’t have to know everything now. But you do know sports, and you know more than you think about community. I need someone willing to be there as the face of the company. The owner won’t sell to just anyone. It has to be to someone with good intentions, someone with a love for the town. I think this could be a fresh start for a lot of people, including you, and all you have to do is be there for six months or so.”

He looks beyond the camera again. “Sorry, man. I have to run. I’ll send you the details.”

The video shuts off abruptly and the time pops up on my screen.

Shit. I’m late. And being late for Penny is unacceptable, so I grab my keys and rush out the door.

After her visit to my home last summer, I vowed to be grateful for her friendship. I promised myself I wouldn’t push or leer like a pervy old man. I even swore that I’d make a wholehearted attempt at dating.

Well, three out of four ain’t bad, right?

I tried to date.

I am trying to date.

Sort of.

I can’t help it if they never make it past the app.

And it’s not because I’m holding everyone else to Penny’s impeccably high standards.

I’m not.

Mostly.

I roll to a stop outside of Penny’s favorite coffee shop and send a quick text letting them know I’m here. A disgruntled-looking teen hurries outside with my order a minute later. I hand him a large tip, then ease back into traffic.