The Good Sister: Part One (38 page)

“Shall we?” he asked, holding out his arm. His other hand grabbed my bag.

“Yes,” I said.

Once we stepped foot out the door, someone came forward and took my bag from Ashton. I figured this was Ashton’s driver, since he placed it in the trunk then proceeded to open the back door for us. I looked at the car. A shiny silver Bentley. I smiled.

“Why are you smiling, my dove?”

“Your car is a Bentley.”

“Yes. Do you like it?”

“It is very beautiful, but I’m smiling because my sister’s name is Bentley.”

Ashton helped me into the car. I slid across the fine leather seat, and he slid in beside me.

“Now,” he said, taking my hand in his while meeting my gaze, “tell me about Bentley.”

I talked, and talked, and talked some more. I talked about my childhood, and about my room decorated in small yellow daisies. I spoke about a park my father would take me to, remembering it had to be Central Park, before I started in with memories of my sister. I told Ashton how my sister loved to sing and dance, explaining when we were small, Bentley put on a concert for the neighbors. I laughed when I said I was my sister’s backup singer. It was strange, how easy it was to talk to Ashton. Even when I had talked with Reid, I usually did the listening, while he did the talking.

“Bentley lives in Georgia. She’s attending college there,” I offered. “My sister loves life, and she’s afraid of nothing. Bentley doesn’t hold anything back. In fact her mouth has gotten her into trouble more than once, but I’ve always admired her strength, her uncensored ability. Bentley doesn’t look like me, except I would say we have the same lips, but I think Bentley’s lips are perfect. She has auburn colored hair, the same color eyes as mine, green, but she’s much more beautiful.”

“My dove, I doubt she could be as gorgeous as you.”

I smiled. “You always say such things to me.”

“I always speak the truth.”

“I’ve been talking forever; you have got to be tired of hearing me.”

“No,” Ashton assured.

“We have been driving a while. Are we getting close to the pizza place?”

“We are closer.”

I placed my hand over my mouth and yawned.

“Are you tired, my dove?”

“A little bit.”

“Rest your head on me. When you wake we shall be at our destination.”

I placed my head onto Ashton’s chest, gripping his shirt with my hand before smoothing out my fingers. He wrapped his arm around me. I snuggled up against him in a small curling ball.

I woke to the feeling of being jostled. I was being carried up a flight of stairs, cradled within Ashton’s arms.

“Are we here?”

“Yes, we have arrived at my apartment.”

“Your apartment?”

“Yes, my dove,” Ashton said, opening up a door. Ashton spoke to his driver. “Place the bags by the door, Worthington, then wait for us at the car. We shall only be but a moment.”

I had a hard time seeing; the sun had set, plus there were no lights on inside the apartment.

“You can put me down,” I offered.

“I have something I wish for you to see,” Ashton said. He carried me over to a wall of what looked like curtains. “I am going set you on your feet.” He placed my feet upon the floor, holding onto me until my body adjusted. “Look.” Ashton pointed to his right then pushed a button on a remote control. The curtain moved, unveiling a huge window that framed the bright night lights of a city.

I blinked. “This is Paris,” I uttered. “You brought me to Paris.” I stared out at the magnificent view. “Wow.”

“Yes, my dove. You told me you wished to see Paris. Are you surprised?”

“Oh … yes,” I said turning to look at Ashton from beneath my lashes. “I have always dreamed of seeing Paris.”

I reached up and touched his jaw. “No one has ever done such things for me or said such things to me or looked at me like you look at me, Ashton.”

“My dove, I could say the exact same. No one has ever touched my life as you have.”

“Will you give me my wish?” I asked.

“What is your wish?”

“Kiss me.”

Ashton pulled me into his hold, leaned down, and kissed my lips with softness. When the kissed ended, he spoke. “I believe I promised pepperoni pizza and Coca-Cola.”

“Yes, my lord, you did.”

He held out his arm. “Shall we?”

“Yes,” I said, taking it.

“And after dinner I thought we could go for a drive, see the night lights, if that is your wish,” Ashton suggested.

“I would love that.”

“Then it shall be done.”

I held on to Ashton’s hand and peered out the window of the car, taking in everything I possibly could. I placed my other hand inside my coat pocket and felt something. It was my wishing stone. I smiled. I didn’t need it any longer.

When the car stopped Ashton helped me out, held my hand, and walked me to the door of a little hole in the wall café. It was tucked in an alley with one red buzzing neon light that hung overtop the front door. The light sounded as if it were on its last leg, giving out an intermittent
buzz...

Ashton opened the door for me. We stepped inside. The café smelled of nothing but rich Italian sauces, spices, cheese, and pizza. There were several small round tables all covered with red and white table cloths, along with red jar candles burning in the middle of each table. Scattered about were several potted fruit trees adorned with white twinkling lights. The walls were red brick, rough, with exposed wooden beams across the ceiling.

“This is pretty,” I commented. Ashton led me to a table in the back.

“I am glad you are pleased, my dove.”

There were a few people eating, but it wasn’t packed full of people so I liked that. I was still iffy when it came to crowds. Ashton pulled out a chair for me, helped me with my coat then watched as I took a seat.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You are quite welcome,” Ashton replied.

He took the seat next to me instead of across from me.

“Would it be too terribly tacky if I held your hand at the table?” I asked.

One dark brow rose over Ashton’s expressive eyes. I may have shocked him.

“I would be delighted to hold your hand,” Ashton said, taking my hand in his.

A pimpled faced boy with black curling hair, wearing a white apron and sporting numerous pens protruding from one of the pockets approached with a menu. He spoke in French. I observed him while listening to Ashton as he spoke to the boy. The boy smiled, pulled out one of his many pens from the pocket of his apron, and proceeded to write down what I gathered was the order.

“You speak French very well.”

Ashton turned his attention back to me. “I have spent quite a bit of time in France. One begins to pick things up here and there.”

I smiled. Ashton placed his thumb to the corner of my mouth. “What is this smile about, my dove?”

“The way you speak, it’s not picking things up here and there. Someone taught you to speak French. I would imagine you speak more than French, don’t you?”

“Ah … my dove,” he laughed, “you are dazzling. Yes, I know many languages. Many I learned in my formal studies, others I wanted to learn because they interested me.”

“How many languages do you know?”

“I speak French, Spanish, German, Arabic, Japanese, Portuguese, and dabble in a little Latin and Greek.”

“Wow. I only speak English, and not proper English at that.”

“The way you speak is fine.”

“But not like you speak. I like how you speak. I like the sound of your voice,” I admitted then I hesitated.

“What is it, my dove?”

I worried my bottom lip with my teeth. “Will you say something to me in another language?”

Ashton’s gaze intensified as he leaned in close. “Votre beauté me saisit,” he said softly, “me tient prisonnier, fixe mon regard comme si le soleil occupe mon cœur, comme si les étoiles et prend mon souffle, comme si la lune.”

I sat transfixed as fire streaked across my being. I wondered if I were smoldering in my chair. “That was so beautiful, Ashton. Thank you.”

“You have nothing to thank me for my beautiful, Trinity.”

“Will you tell me what you said? It was like listening to music dance across my skin.”

“Your beauty captures me, votre beauté me saisit. Holds me prisoner, me tient prisonnier.” I chilled, as goose bumps splayed across my skin. “Sets my gaze as if the sun. Fixe mon regard comme si le soleil. Holds my heart as if the stars and takes my breath as if the moon. Occupe mon cœur, comme si les étoiles et prend mon souffle, comme si la lune.”

“Oh my,” I muttered, feeling my body buzz. I might spontaneously burst into flames. I wondered if I were going to come.

Ashton’s face beamed as if he knew what he was doing to me.

“What’s wrong, my dove?”

“I-I,” I stuttered.

The dark haired boy came back. He was carrying two glasses with ice along with two cans of Coke. I was glad for the interruption. I felt strange tingling, and needed to cross my legs in hope I could contain the burn. Ashton’s gaze, and his words had turned me into a wanton. I had visions of being taken right then and there in the middle of the restaurant.

I grinned at the boy. He placed the glasses and the Cokes in front of us. He said something to Ashton. They had a long conversation. I reached out, popped the top of my Coke can, and poured the temping carbonated drink into my glass of ice. I picked it up, took a drink, and enjoyed the cold carbonation, lush sugar, and thick dark syrup. It drowned out the other things I was feeling.

“That is awesome,” I said.

Ashton and the boy nodded at each other in that masculine way men do then the boy left.

“Are you enjoying your Coca-Cola, my dove?”

“Oh for sure,” I said before taking another drink. Ashton let out a guffaw. “Ashton, what were you two talking about? It seemed like a very detailed conversation.”

“We were speaking of you, actually.”

“Me?”

“He told me I was a lucky man to have such a beautiful woman. I agreed with him without reservation,” Ashton stated.

I giggled. “You are messing around with me. That’s not what he said.”

“I speak the truth,” Ashton replied, reaching for his Coke.

No time had passed when the boy arrived with a huge pepperoni pizza. With a twirl of the hot pie, he placed the pizza pan in the middle of our table. Several people passed the table, one man glaring. I tucked myself into Ashton’s arm. Ashton swiped his hand over my hair in a soothing gesture.

He asked, “Why do you do that?”

“What?”

The boy straightened the pizza pan before taking his leave.

“Please do not misunderstand what I am going to say, because I love feeling your body against mine, but why do you tuck yourself into me? I have noticed it before on a couple of different occasions.”

“Sometimes I feel unsure or like I may have an anxiety attack. I used to have them quite often.”

“And you feel secure, touching me?”

“Yes. I feel safe when I’m against you.”

“Shall we eat?” he asked.

“Yes,” I confirmed.

We laughed, and talked over dinner. I was surprised to see this side of him, so comfortable, much more laid back, less formal. He had a wonderful smile, and a warm laugh. I remembered I’d decided to find out what each of his smiles meant. I renewed that decision watching him eat pizza and tell stories of his best friend, Thaddeus Barrington.

“We almost faced expulsion when we were caught smoking the headmaster’s Montecristos,” Ashton said.

“What’s a Montecristo?”

“A Cuban cigar.”

“Do you smoke?”

“From time to time,” Ashton said, “does that bother you?”

“No. I bet you’re sexy when you smoke.”

Ashton laughed again.

“Do you find a man smoking to be sexy?”

“I find you to be sexy,” I confirmed then leaned in close to whisper into his ear, “regardless.”

He captured my face within his hand, kissed my lips then whispered back. “Then would you grant me another wish?”

“What is your wish?”

“I would like you to meet Thaddeus.”

This was so not the wish I thought he would ask for.

“Is he in Paris?” I asked.

“No. He owns a nightclub in London. Perhaps we shall visit him during our trip next week. Will you grant me this wish?”

“You really want to introduce me to your best friend?”

“It is my wish.”

“Then yes,” I said.

I took a bite of my pizza, gazing up to see Ashton.

“Do you realize how terribly sexy you are when you eat?” he asked.

“I doubt I’m sexy.”

“You are terribly sexy,” he said again.

Ashton tucked his booted foot under the bottom rung of my chair, scooting me to him. The legs of the wooden chair
screeched
and skidder-stepped across the tiled floor, making known their protest, but Ashton seemed not to care, even if people turned to look at us, because once I was close, he kissed me in earnest. It was a tangle of passion, pizza, and twining tongues.