MISCHA HIT Answer on the call from the unknown number. “Hello?” It was a nice break from sifting through resumes. So far, everyone had either been under qualified, or asking for way too much. Not that he was willing to admit he should have heard Ash out.

“Who is this?” A woman—girl?—asked.

“You called me.”

“Your number was in my sister’s phone. Oh, hey, this is Mischa, isn’t it? That’s what MD stands for. Not doctor after all. I guess that would be kind of weird. Anyway, this is Kelly, Ash’s sister. I thought you two were done.”

Mischa was entertained by the string of consciousness conversation. “I don’t think we ever started. What can I do for you?”

“So, I need an adult, and like I said, I found your number in Ashy’s phone, and the only other people she knows are from work, and I’m not really comfortable calling them, and I was hoping whoever owned this number could help. That’s you, by the way.”

“Help with?”

“We’re at an InstaCare clinic.”

His amusement vanished. “Are you both all right?”

“Yeah. Completely. I mean, Ashy’s not, but she will be.”

“What happened?” His concern grew, squeezing in his gut. The only reason he cared was because that was common decency, not specifically because it was Ash.

“She’s a klutz and dropped her phone, and somehow that meant landing on her wrist, and now it’s broken—her wrist not her phone, ‘cuz otherwise, no phone number.”

“Okay?” He didn’t want to be rude, but he hoped Kelly would get to the point sooner rather than later. Then again, this was better than resumes.

“They won’t let her drive, because of the cast, and they won’t release her without an adult to make sure she gets home safely. I told them I’d call a cab, but Ash says we don’t have enough money for that, and they want an adult here.”

“So you said.”

“And all the adults I know are at work, and I guess you probably are, too. I’m sorry for bugging you, but I’m out of options. The only reason she’s not freaking out right now is because they gave her really good drugs. You don’t actually have to stay with us, I can watch her, but... please?” The energy vanished from her voice in that single word.

How was he supposed to say no to that? “Give me the address, and I’ll be there in half an hour.” Nice thing about this valley was that anywhere was half an hour or less away, in the middle of the day. He’d take a long lunch and help the girl out. It had nothing to do with seeing Ash again.

Twenty minutes later, he walked through the clinic doors. Ash and Kelly sat in plastic seats near the entrance. Ash grinned when she saw him. “I-thought you hated-me.” Some of her syllables ran together, as if she couldn’t be bothered to pronounce all of them.

“You know better,” Kelly said to her, then grabbed Mischa’s hand and tugged him toward the front desk. “This is Georgia’s boyfriend,” she told the woman behind the counter.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Ash’s voice carried through the room, and several people scowled.

Mischa had a feeling it would be a lot easier to check Ash out if he went with the dating story rather than we just met, and I never thought I’d see her again. He smiled at the nurse. “We’re fighting. My fault. Forgot to bring the wine to dinner the other night. You know how it goes.”

“Uh-huh.” The woman barely glanced at him. She slid a folder across the desk. “This is the financial relief form she asked for. Make sure she gets it. She can take the pills again in four hours, but she should try to only use them if the pain is really bad.” She set an orange bottle on top of the paperwork, gaze fixed on her computer.

“Thanks.” He grabbed the folder and bottle, and turned away. Customer service as its finest.

He returned to Ash, and offered his hand. “Let’s take you home.”

“My hero.” Her palm fit neatly in his, and heat rushed though him, carrying memories of soft lips and hard rain.

He couldn’t tell if the swooning was genuine or exaggerated, but in the interest of getting things over with, he was sticking with genuine.

They made their way to the parking lot. Ash stalled halfway to his SUV. “We can’t leave my car here.” Her lower lip jutted out.

“I’ll drive it home.” Kelly reached into Ash’s purse.

Ash jerked away. “No.”

Mischa stepped between them, and pointed Ash toward his vehicle. “I’ll get it for you later.”

“Says you.” Ash climbed into the passenger seat. “Even if I was going to let you drive my car, you can’t drive two at the same time.”

He’d probably have Tristan give him a ride back here. “I’ll figure it out.”

“I guess.” She reached for the seatbelt, and her fingers slipped off metal. She growled.

He stepped closer. “Let me help.”

“I’ve got it.” She waved her cast at him, then grabbed the belt with her left hand instead, and latched it into place.

“Glad to hear it.” He wasn’t at all disappointed at the missed chance to reach across her. Brush against her. Because he was a grown man, not a horny teenager.

He and Kelly situated themselves as well, then he pointed the car toward their apartment.

He understood the stress of money, probably better than Ash would believe. The iron curtain crumbled when he was nine, and his parents decided that was a good time to leave Russia behind and come to the US.

Money was nonexistent when they got here. The first time his mother had to take him to the emergency room, he learned a new subclass of Russian curse words when they handed her the bill.

“Do you need to stop anywhere? Or can I get you anything?” He glanced at Ash.

She held up her cast. “The job I was qualified for would be nice, but I’m guessing that’s not what you mean.”

He didn’t appreciate the attitude. “I didn’t have to come get you.” He regretted the words the moment they were out. She’d broken her arm, and he couldn’t cut her a little slack?

“You’re right, you didn’t.” The edge in her voice sharpened. “And if you’re going to hold it over my head, pull over and we’ll catch the bus.”

He clenched his jaw, and a dozen retorts, ranging from rude to fucking obnoxious, raced through his head. He settled on, “How’d you break it?”

“I got flustered in a job interview because the guy kept staring at my...” she looked over her shoulder at Kelly “...chest. Then he offered me an after-hours assistant position. I left in a hurry. Wasn’t paying attention. Dropped my phone. Caught it, but not myself.”

“I’m sorry it’s broken.”

“Me too.”

So much for conversation. When she turned toward the window, he was happy to let silence fill the vehicle.

Quiet music filtered through the speakers. His phone had auto-connected to the car stereo, and strains of Incubus’s Stellar drifted out.

Ash’s voice mingled with the song rather than disrupting it, as she sang about watching the earth and growing tired of the place. She continued to stare outside.

Was she aware she was singing, or was it an absent-minded reaction? He glanced in the rear-view mirror. Kelly was reading, and either didn’t hear or didn’t care.

He wasn’t going to interrupt, and risk shutting her down, so he kept his mouth shut and his attention on traffic. When the song ended, she went silent again, and disappointment whispered through him.

As he was parking on the street in front of their house, his phone rang. Tristan’s name and number flashed on the display in the center console. It was three, so there was a fifty-fifty chance it was business related.

It would wait. He turned to Ash, and she was already sliding from the car.

“Thanks for the ride. Take your call.” Her tone was flat, rather than holding the sharp edge it did a few minutes ago.

He felt like a heel dumping them and fleeing the scene, besides, she still needed her car. “Are you sure you’re—”

“Fine. Yes. Thank you.” Ash shut the door before he could say anything else.

He hit Answer on the car’s touch screen. “Hey,” he said, just as Kelly called, “Thank you for the ride, Mischa Dozniyov.” She swung her door shut.

“She sounds a bit young for you.” Tristan’s voice carried through the car stereo system.

Mischa winced, tapped a few buttons to take the call off Bluetooth, and picked up his phone. “She is. And there’s no way you know that from her voice.”

“Tell me you didn’t skip out on work to pick up jailbait.”

“Watch it.” Mischa surprised himself with his growl. “She’s the sister of a friend.”

“We don’t have any friends with a sister that young.”

Mischa watched Ash and Kelly disappear around the back of the house. “You’ve never met her.”

“Apparently not. Does this friend have a story?”

“Not really. Did you call to give me shit about whatever random thing popped up?”

Tristan sighed. “I don’t like to lead with bad news.”

Mischa clenched his jaw. “Might as well spill it.”

“Wolfram called me. Or rather, he wanted to talk to you, but you didn’t pick up your desk phone.”

And didn’t forward it to his cellphone either. Mischa pinched the bridge of his nose. He should have done that. “He has my mobile. Maybe I was onsite.”

“You weren’t on his site—and yes, he made sure to emphasize ownership—because he called from there.” Tristan let the news hang in the air. “He wanted to follow-up on his Summer Splash offer.”

And drive home the point that in a month, the property would probably belong to him, not Mischa. “I hope you told him I’d be there with my nonexistent family.”

“I would have liked to.” Tristan’s teasing had vanished, replaced with resignation.

Someone knocked on Mischa’s window, and he turned to see Kelly. “Just a sec,” he said to Tristan as he rolled down the window.

“From Ash.” Kelly handed him a ring with a single large key. A car key.

“Thanks.” He smiled.

Kelly skipped back up the driveway.

“And there’s no story there?” Tristan asked.

Mischa shook his head in the empty car. “Not a good one. I need a favor—help fetching a car. Can you pick me up?”

“Only if you tell me the story on the way, and we go for drinks after.”

Drinks meant their favorite bar, and hooking up. Mischa liked the idea of that kind of distraction. “Deal.” He gave Tristan the address.

A short while later, Tristan parked his Subaru WRX STI. Tristan insisted on the hatchback—he refused to strap his snowboard to the roof of his car, because it ruined the lines of the vehicle.

Mischa hopped into the passenger seat, and pointed Tristan toward the clinic.

As they drove, Tristan drummed his fingers harder against the steering wheel with each passing minute.

“Something wrong?” Mischa hid his amusement.

Tristan made a clucking sound. “I was promised a story. There’s a woman involved, and you’re keeping her a secret.”

Mischa laughed at his friend’s impatience and need to be kept in the loop. “That’s not it. It’s just not a big deal.”

“So, spill.”

“I met this woman at the skate park. Cute. Blonde. Captivated.”

“By your sweet moves, yeah, yeah.” Tristan waved his hand in a hurry up motion.

“Exactly. Bought her coffee, she brushed me off at the end of the night...” The details stacked up in his head. It wasn’t such a simple story after all.

“And?”

“And then I got a resume, from some guy saying he exploited a well-known flaw to hack our customer database. Dude noticed we were hiring and he’s qualified.”

“When’s he start, and what’s that got to do with Blonde and Captivated?”

“Ash. Her name is Ash.” A spike of defensiveness rushed out with Mischa’s correction. “Would you really have hired someone like that?”

“Guy knows how to fix the flaw, right? It’s our fucking customer data.” Tristan had a point.

“Here’s the connection. Turned out he is a she. Ash.”

“So, you didn’t hire her because she brushed you off a second time? You’re slipping.”

Mischa didn’t like the way this painted him. “Not exactly.”

“And this is her car we’re fetching? Because...”

“Yes. Because...” Mischa drew in a deep breath. “She broke her wrist. The hospital wouldn’t let her drive home. Her sister found my number in her phone—”

“I’m missing something.” Tristan shook his head. “Why are we going to the bar? Send the sister to the movies, and let Blonde and Captivated Ash show her gratitude.”

“Not a good idea.” That was a safer answer than admitting Ash was more Hot and Cold than Blonde and Captivated. Worse, if he went down pursuing-her path, he’d have to figure out why he cared how she reacted to him.

Tristan pulled into the parking lot, and Mischa pointed him toward the red Honda he’d seen parked in Ash’s driveway.

“Meet up in an hour or two?” Mischa asked as he climbed from the car.

“I’ll be there.”

Mischa started the Honda, and Halestorm blared from the speakers, threatening his eardrums. He fumbled for the volume. His ears were still ringing as he pulled onto the main roads, and he swore he could hear Ash singing along with Lzzy Hale. He shook his head to try and knock the idea away.

Snippets of the conversation with Tristan replayed in Mischa’s head as he drove Ash’s car back to her place. He felt like he was going in circles as much mentally as physically. Something Tristan said was stuck in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t grasp it.

Why was this woman stuck in his skull?