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Wild Heart (Alaska Wild Nights Book 1) by Tiffinie Helmer (8)

Chapter 9

Sorene struggled to keep Ash upright on the trek across the icy parking lot. She was out of breath when they finally reached her Jeep.

“Here, hold onto the side.” She fished her keys out of her purse and unlocked the door, opening and helping Ash slide into the passenger seat. His head fell back onto the headrest, and he closed his eyes when she buckled him in.

Good, hopefully he’d pass out and the drive to his house would be uneventful.

She skirted the hood and climbed in behind the wheel, starting the Jeep and inching it out onto the road.

“I missed you.” Ash angled in the seat to face her. “Tell me you missed me?”

So much for uneventful.

Did she answer him honestly? He was deep enough in his cups that he most likely wouldn’t remember this conversation.

“Yes, I did miss you.”

“Do you hate me?”

Did she?

If she were honest, a part of her did. The jealous, petty part that felt betrayed.

“Why did you sleep with her? Her of all people?” She couldn’t help herself from asking.

He gave a heart-wrenching sigh and rubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know. I don’t even remember that night.”

“That’s convenient.”

“It’s the truth. I remember the party at her place, the pot, the beer, but that’s all. You’d broken my heart, remember? We weren’t together any longer. You’d made that crystal clear.”

He was right. She’d broken off their four-year relationship the day before. “Yet it hadn’t taken you longer than twenty-four hours until you jumped into someone else’s bed. Of all the women, why Leia? You know how I felt—feel—about her.”

“Maybe that was why? I truly don’t know.”

“Are you going to get back with her now that you’re in town?” Why the heck had she asked that? It said too much about how she still cared for him.

His head lulled on his shoulders toward her. “The only woman I have ever wanted to be with is you. Marry me, Sorene.”

The Jeep swerved at his words, and it took all her concentration to pull it out of the skid.

“You promised me that you would be my wife,” he continued, not seeming aware that she’d almost landed them in the ditch. “Be the mother of my children.”

“You know why I called it off. I couldn’t keep you from your dream.”

“Our dream. And it could have been postponed. I would have waited, been there for you. Helped you.”

His words pricked like a thorn festering deep under her skin.

“You were a kid yourself. How could I ask you to help me raise my six brothers and sisters? That wouldn’t have been fair.”

“You didn’t even give me the chance. You thought so little of me and my love for you that you cut me loose.”

Had she?

“You were a coward, Sorene.”

Ouch, that really stung.

“Well, you were an immature, selfish boy,” she fired back. “Sleeping with Leia proved it. I know you did it to get back at me, to hurt me.”

He fell silent at her outburst, and after a few minutes, she glanced over at him thinking he’d fallen asleep.

His eyes met hers and the pain reflected in the depths had her second guessing. He didn’t look drunk now; he looked sad and sober.

She shivered.

“Where’s your coat?” he asked softly, reaching over to turn up the heat.

“Back at the bar,” she muttered.

“You know not to go anywhere in winter without a coat.”

“There are blankets in the back if something were to happen. I’m fine.”

“You aren’t fine. Neither am I. Neither one of us have lived a full life without the other.” His eyes shuttered closed and stayed that way until she pulled into the driveway of his house.

She sat there for a minute, but he didn’t move.

Now he slept?

Why couldn’t he have done that before he’d unloaded on her?

“Ash?” She shook his shoulder, but he didn’t stir. “Come on, Ash, we’re home. Wake up.”

His eyes opened sluggishly and gazed into hers, searching for something. What, she couldn’t begin to fathom.

Slowly, his hand came up and cupped her face. “You are so beautiful.”

She didn’t know why she allowed him to kiss her—curiosity, maybe. Softly he kissed her, coaxing her mouth to allow him entrance. Once she did, the sweet exploration became an inferno that burned her up from the inside out.

He groaned, his hand cupping her breasts through the knit dress she wore.

Sorene tore her mouth free of his. “Ash, stop.” Weakly she pushed at his shoulders. He didn’t budge. He tried to take her mouth again, and she turned her head to evade his lips. Lips that made her stupid.

They were in the front seat of her Jeep. There was no room for this type of heavy make out. The kind that led to sex.

“Don’t push me away, Sorene. Love me.” He buried his face in her neck, his hands cupping her breasts.

“Not like this.” She wanted him to love her—her and only her—but how could she trust him when he’d so quickly left her bed for Leia’s?

She pushed harder at his shoulders and created enough room to anchor her elbows in his chest. “You need to back off. I don’t want this.”

His face hardened and a tingling of warning traveled up her spine.

Could he be drunk enough that he wouldn’t think rationally and force her? As soon as the thought formed, Ash fell back into the passenger seat.

“I’m sorry.” He covered his face with his hands. “I’m not myself.”

That much was true. “Let me help you inside.” She went to open the door, and he reached over and stayed her hand.

“I can make it on my own. Will you be okay driving home?”

“I’m not the one who drank a brewery tonight. I’ll be perfectly fine.”

It took three attempts until Ash was able to get the door open.

He stumbled out of the Jeep and promptly fell on his ass.

“Ash!” Sorene climbed out of the vehicle and rushed to his side. “Are you hurt?”

He laughed, looking up at her, drunk as a skunk. “Oops.”

She draped his arm around her shoulder and helped him up. “Come on. You’re about as steady as a newborn moose.”

They weaved to the porch and had to take extra care in getting Ash up the three icy steps. Sweat ran down the middle of her back by the time she got him to the front door. This was more of a workout than any yoga session Cat could think up.

There was a soft lamp in the entryway on and dim lighting shining from the living room, coming from a TV by the sounds of the guns going off and sirens blazing.

The noise of the cop show suddenly muted. “Ash, is that you?” Quinn asked, his voice half the timber it usually was.

“Yeah,” Ash slurred.

Sorene half-carried, half-dragged him to the living room, stopping short at seeing Quinn Bleu in a hospital bed.

The look on Quinn’s face registered shock and…embarrassment?

“Oops,” Ash said again. “Sorry, Dad. Guess your secret’s out.”

Ash stumbled over to a couch pushed into the corner with the other furniture to make room for the large bed.

“What? How?” Sorene stumbled. “Ash said you were sick. I thought it was a cold.” She gestured to the bed, IV stand, and heart monitor machine. “This isn’t a cold. What in tarnation is going on?”

“He says he’s dying,” Ash supplied, “But I’m working on getting a second opinion.”

“Dying? With what?”

“It’s my heart,” Quinn said sheepishly.

“Your heart? But you and Dad were just snow machining last weekend.”

“It came on kinda sudden.”

“This sudden? Hospice sudden?” She turned to Ash. “So, this is why you came home after all these years?” He hadn’t come for her. She was so stupid thinking he might have returned for her. Why had she even thought to hope for that? Of course, he wouldn’t return for her. If he’d wanted her, he’d have returned before now. Not wait ten years. She turned back to Quinn who wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Did you have a heart attack?” she demanded. “Why wasn’t I told? Does Dad know? Why the heck aren’t you in a hospital?”

“Slow down there, Sorene. Take a breath. First, explain why Ash is passed out on the couch. What’s my boy been up to?”

Sorene glanced back to Ash. He lay half on the couch and half off, his mouth hanging partly open with soft, drunken snores escaping.

“He was at the Pump House and had one too many.”

“Those one too many have your name on them?”

“Probably,” she muttered. She’d been looking forward to numbing her senses with a few drinks with his name on them herself, but she hadn’t gotten the chance.

“I take it he caused a scene?” Quinn gave her a give-it-to-me motion with his hand when she pressed her lips together. “Spill. I’ll hear about it through the gossip vein anyway, and by then it’ll have been embellished some.”

“I was dancing with Bart, and Ash went all possessive on me.”

A twinkle entered Quinn’s eyes and he bit back a smile. “My boy has always been sweet on you.”

She ignored that and asked a question of her own. “What’s really up with this situation?” The healthy bear of a man lying on those white sheets couldn’t be this sick. His color looked good. Better than good, in fact—he seemed to be having the time of his life.

“I’d rather not get into it. But I’d like to ask you a favor.”

“Okay,” she dragged the word out. Quinn was evading, and she had a suspicious nature. What was he up to?

“I need Ash to take the reins of the business. He’s going to need some guidance. It’s been a while since he’s worked at the shop. I’ve put Bart in charge of day-to-day stuff, but the lake house is a good way for Ash to get his feet wet. Would you help him out?”

She badly wanted to say no, but she found herself agreeing instead. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for Quinn, and if he was death-bed sick, she’d hate herself for saying no to anything he asked.

“That’s my girl. Can I ask another favor before you go?” He pointed to Ash. “Throw a blanket over him. I doubt he’ll find his bed tonight.”

She chuckled her agreement and picked up a blanket folded over the end of the couch and gently draped it over him. Ash looked younger, more approachable in sleep. A lock of hair had fallen over his forehead, and she caught herself brushing it back. When she turned back to Quinn, his satisfied smirk told her he’d seen the action.

Drat.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Nope, I’m right as pie.”

She narrowed her eyes at his wide smile.

Yeah, Quinn was definitely up to something.

Could he be faking his illness to get Ash to come home? That seemed the most likely scenario, but then what if he were really sick? This town couldn’t lose Quinn Bleu. She couldn’t lose him. He was like another father to her, or a favorite uncle at the very least.

“You get better,” she said, leaning down and kissing his forehead. “I’ll check in on you later.”

“Call first,” he was quick to respond. Maybe a little too quick. “Rea comes daily to help, and I’d hate for you to show up when I’m getting a sponge bath.”

She gave him a slow nod and then made her way back outside.

She needed to talk to Jack and find out what was up.

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