Page 36 of The Gift
He broke my not touching rules, but I am so fucking glad he did. And then he drowns me in his scent, holding me to his chest purring.
I surprise myself and temporarily surrender to everything, even letting the stupid tears in my eyes wet my cheeks.
Bailey
On a different day, I might have read something prophetic about the sudden appearance of the squalling wind and rain, but this morning, I’m in a pretty good headspace. And that’s without a doubt in light of my time with Koda, his magical dick last night, and that purr I can still hear echoing in my ears.
I feel like a different person, not different enough to stop taking my own pharmaceutical preemptive measures, but good enough to be here with a skip in my step. What slows my buzz is Ashton.
The normally put together, dependable member of the A-team is off his game.
“Tea? Coffee? Something to eat?” he asks over his shoulder as he rushes away, leaving me standing at the open front door. I presume I’m meant to follow after him, and I do, but at a much slower, more relaxed pace.
I don’t have much of a memory of the last time I was here. Admittedly, I was off with the fairies, so I take the chance now to snoop to see how the A-team lives and works.
“Well, last night, Henley insinuated Reno would be baking, so I haven’t really eaten. I don’t drink coffee. You should have called me before I left and I would have picked something up,” I offer as I get closer to where he stands waiting, his eyes not meeting mine.
I wait quietly for him to look at me, and when he does, he still doesn’t speak. Like in the movies, we end up doing one of those long-drawn-out pauses where no words are spoken but lots is said. Which sounds sweet and romantic, but the probability of us both being on the same page is unlikely. And then it takes me another second to realise but Ashton, doesn’t smell like Ashton at all which further takes the shine off my happy vibes.
“You know, I wasn’t worried before I got here. Now I am,” I say softly.
“Jesus, I told Henley we were going to screw this up.” He runs his hands through his long sandy blond hair, messing it up so he looks more like himself.
Ashton is a suit man, but in a way, it looks wrong on him. Don’t get me wrong, he wears them well, the sharp crisp lines accentuate his height and form, though I think he’d wear grey sweats better. Drop a cap on his head and a white t-shirt and I’d be doing all those things the books tell you about: whining on his lap, rubbing my nose along his jaw desperately… the possibilities are endless.
“Well, lead on. Do I get to choose my last meal first?”
“Come on, Bailey, that was the worst joke I’ve ever heard.” He swings back around suddenly, a stunned look on his face. “Am I really doing that bad a job? Actually, don’t answer.”
I laugh, rolling my eyes at his uncharacteristic dramatics and he opens a door separating the business side of the A-team, to the more homely side. Although, it’s not warm homely but freezing cold. And I can see why. Even with the bleak weather, one of the windows is wide open and by the metallic flavour that hits my tongue entering from the room, they’ve clearly gone slightly overboard with the desensitiser. I know they’re only trying to be considerate, in what promises to be a fun chat.
Making a grand entrance, I start sneezing non-stop, trying to apologise and explain, but Ashton moves quicker than I can, closing the window before fiddling with the wall control for the heater.
“It’s the spray you used,” I offer when I don’t stop sneezing for a few more times. He keeps his back to me, kind of dropping his head forward, a bit defeated, and I go over to him and pat his shoulders encouragingly. “Is it only you and me?”
“No, Henley will be joining us in a second. We didn’t want to overwhelm you.” He offers a small shrug as he maintains his stance towards the wall and not me.
“When did I lose my cred? I mean, what’s happened to have you both second guessing I’m able to sit and listen to what you have to say?”
Ashton turns, still not speaking, though he leads me towards a table and chairs set up in the corner of the room. And since we’re kind of getting more comfortable again, I take the chance to look at how the A-team live.
The eclectic mix of furniture along with the industrial styling works. Large black window frames section off snippets of the view to their garden. Whoever thought to use windows like this did so intentionally, using the frames like snapshots or photos. And turning away from the greenery outside, the modern industrial feel on the inside, complete with the countryside brick wall and thick timber is warmer than I thought it would be. The room is definitely manly, the angles and material too sharp or harsh for my taste but I can easily visualise them all in here, enjoying the space.
He leaves me looking around at the photos hanging on the wall, and the mood feels lighter. Looking over my shoulder I see why. The man is looking lustfully at a commercial sized Italian espresso machine on the kitchen counter.
“Coffee? No, shit, sorry, no coffee. I know that.” he says, grimacing like a little kid in trouble.
“I’ll have a tea. But by all means, you have coffee. Open the window. Please tell me you’ve mastered a tall black on that thing?” I laugh and he nods instantly. The smile on his face is almost reverent. “You like your coffee?” I ask, interrupting him in what looks like a prayer of thanks.
“You have no idea. This baby is my life. Well, she was. Not any more, we’ve broken up. We’re all team-tea these days.”
Taking one of the stools at the island bench, I watch as he purposely by-passes his coffee machine, filling the kettle and fumbles making a pot of tea. It’s pretty entertaining to watch. Henley enters through a sliding black barn door to my left as soon as my butt hits the seat. Rising up to meet him, we shake hands without speaking. I leave it to him to initiate any chatting while we wait for Ashton because this is not my show, but he doesn’t.
“Tea, Henley?” Ashton calls out over the noise of cups and kettles boiling.
I watch them interact. They work together gathering drinks and then a plate of croissants, but I feel like I’m intruding, so I leave them and watch the garden instead.
Keeping track of them is easy, follow the black clouds hovering in the kitchen, so when they’re ready I feel them at my back, without them saying a word.
