Igniting Ash (9 page)

“Can we drop it for now? I mean, the more we talk the more we go around in circles.”

“And the more irritated you get?”

He ignored her comment, turning the car onto her street. He hated this area. It smelled different. It smelled of something he couldn’t afford and made him feel like he was fourteen again. He despised that weakness—the fact that he could never forget where he came from. Ike had rescued him but he couldn’t delete what was already installed. The dirt of his past was more than skin deep.

“You can stop here,” Emma said abruptly, unfastening her seatbelt.

“What? There aren’t any houses around her.”

He stopped the car, turning to scowl at her. She clutched her bag, looking over his shoulder rather than making eye contact. His aggression and mood swings were scaring her no matter what she said. He was being a prize dickhead.

Riled with himself, he slammed his fist against the dashboard. The pain was a sick kind of relief. It zipped up from his knuckles, stinging the skin and jarring the bone. The dashboard creaked but thankfully held up to his hostility. Her yelp of horror was lost in the roar of his blood as it pounded in her ears.

Gritting his teeth, he welcomed the discomfort, feeling the ache as it pulsed in unison with his heartbeat. The internal torment he felt was replaced by the physical torture, and it calmed him enough to deal with Emma.

“I’m sorry,” he started but swiftly comprehended he was talking to himself.

He was alone in the car.

Emma had walked out on him.

“Fuck!” he snarled, slamming his fist back into the dashboard.

Chapter 9

“What do you think would be best?” Asher asked the woman in front of him. “What types of flowers are usually given for an apology?”

The woman winked. “Ah, I see. You in the dog house? What did you do?”

Embarrassed, Asher looked at the floor and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “It’s complicated.”

“Oh, dear, isn’t it always?” She began picking random flowers from the numerous pots on the floor, grouping them in her hand. “If I had a pound for every man that walked into here and told me it was complicated.”

“You wouldn’t need the shop?”

The florist tapped him on the nose with the petals. “Correct. Now, how big does this apology need to be? I can tell from the blush in your cheeks this isn’t for your mum. So how big of an idiot were you?” He was about to speak when she continued. “Don’t you go telling me this is a cheater’s apology!”

Asher spluttered, wondering if it would have been easier to buy the flowers from a supermarket. This woman was a bit too forward for his liking. “I…it…There was no cheating.”

The woman grinned, her pink glossed lips spreading wide to reveal her teeth. “Then I’m happy to help. What flowers does she like?”

Shrugging, Asher glanced at the tubs lining the floor. He hadn’t bought anyone flowers before, and except for roses, he had no idea what any of them were called. He liked the purple ones, so pointed toward them and nodded.

“Iris. A great choice. Do you want a bouquet of just those, or shall I add a bit of flair?”

Asher frowned. “If you think flair would look nice, yeah.”

Her laughter burst free, echoing around the shop. “Oh, you’re funny. Flair isn’t a flower, honey. I was just asking if you wanted me to pretty it up or keep it simple.”

His skin heated again as embarrassment flooded his system. Well, how the hell was he supposed to know something like that? He sold books not flowers. “Um, sorry. Yeah,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Knock yourself out. Do whatever you think will work.”

“You mean whatever will make her forgive you. I can’t promise that, but I’ll make sure you get a smile out of it.”

Asher grinned. “Deal.” He watched her as she pulled more stems from the tubs, collecting a good handful before she began to arrange them. She interspersed little white flowers throughout the bouquet and finished it off with a large leaf at the back. “Ribbon or rope?”

“Um, I don’t have a preference.”

Clicking her tongue, the woman began to bind the stems with a lilac ribbon. “So what did you do? You have me curious.”

“I lost my temper,” he replied, scowling as soon as the words left his lips. Why had he said that? And why had he suddenly become so talkative since Emma had entered his life? He was confessing all kinds of shit to anyone who asked now.

“Are we talking in a bad way here? Am I going to have to tell you to leave?”

Realizing how his confession could be construed, Asher shook his head quickly. “No! No, not like that. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. Emma is…well, she’s…I just shouted. I lost it when I really had no reason to. I got frustrated.”

“You scared her.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I think so.” He stared at the tiled floor, scrubbing his jaw with his hand. “I’m not too good at this
friends
thing. Communication isn’t a strong point.”

“I can see that, though you are talking to me.” She raised an eyebrow. “Would you like a card with them?”

It took a second for Asher to grasp her change of subject. “Um, no. I think it would be better if I took them to her myself.”

She tapped him on the nose again with the flowers. “Very wise.”

After placing the wrapped flowers on the counter, she entered the price into the till. Asher handed her his card and waited for her to process the payment. He hadn’t even heard how much the bouquet was. Not that it mattered to him. He’d pay whatever he had to as long as she accepted his apology. He was trying not to focus on why it was important to him, but the question reverberated around in his brain. He hadn’t seen or spoken to her in years, and now he was prepared to grovel to keep her around. It didn’t make any sense to him. He relied on himself, rarely looked for attention, or affection, elsewhere. And yet he was seeking Emma out.

Asher cleared his throat and pocketed his card before taking the flowers from her. “Thanks.”

“Now these flowers won’t do all the work for you. You’re going to have to put some thought into that apology. No girl likes being shouted at.”

“I’ll make it good. I have to. Emma isn’t the sort of person that would accept a simple sorry after my outburst.”

“Then she’s clever. Now, shoo. Go and plead for forgiveness.” Thanking her again, Asher started to walk out of the shop. “You know, I doubt you’ll have to try too hard. You’re rather nice to look at. I bet she gets tongue-tied looking at all that prettiness.”

Asher choked. “Pardon?”

She waved her hand in a circle. “Well, do you own a mirror? All of that male modelness has to keep her interested.”

“Is that a word?” He stifled a smirk.

“Might be. Anyway, go and get her.”

Asher was still chuckling as he walked from the shop. He clutched the flowers, lifting them for a quick sniff before he unlocked his car. He realised only a few moments ago that there was a huge flaw in his plan to grovel to Emma. He didn’t know where she lived. She hadn’t let him drive her to her door. She’d been too mad and wanted out early. However, he did know where she volunteered, and he knew just where the kid’s shelter was.

Dropping the flowers onto the passenger seat of the car, he started the engine and made his way to the shelter. Nerves had his heart racing, and a thin sheen of sweat coated his forehead. He told himself it didn’t matter, that he hadn’t lost anything if Emma refused to accept his apology. She wasn’t a part of his life a few weeks ago and he got along just fine, so he could be without her again.

“Liar,” he said to himself, knowing Emma’s acceptance was important to him. No matter what he tried to tell himself. She’d been kind to him once, and he’d repaid her by being a dickhead. As sheltered as he was, he couldn’t live with leaving their relationship there. He never wanted her to think she’d wasted her time with him. He was far more thankful than she knew for that one act of kindness.

It had changed his life.

Numerous ways of conveying his regret played around in his head as he manoeuvred through the traffic. He even said a few thoughts out loud, trying to make them sound sincere. A simple ‘sorry’ didn’t seem good enough. He’d lost his temper because frustration had gotten the better of him. He just didn’t know how to make Emma understand that.

He slowed the car as he turned onto the street where the shelter was, and as he turned off the engine, he saw his hand tremble. Nerves were getting the better of him. This was important to him; it was important to get it right.

Thinking about that, as well as working out what he was going to say to her, Asher stayed in the car. He stared at the flowers beside him, as he replayed what had happened between them. There was no question that he was in the wrong. All Emma had done was try to help the kid, but it was too close. Far too close to his own childhood for him to think straight. Anger had driven him, hurt kept his blood boiling. Common sense didn’t seep into the conversation until long after he’d been an arsehole.

A knock on the window had him startling. “Shit!”

“You can’t hang around here,” came a deep, male voice, seconds before his face appeared through the glass.

Asher gulped and stared at the man.

“Do you hear me? You can’t park here.”

The bloke was huge. Even his head was twice as big as Asher’s. Whoever he was he was managing to scare the life of Asher.

“Listen, dude, if you don’t move I’m gonna call the police. I’m not a patient man. I have shit to do, and babysitting you isn’t one of them.”

Holding his hand up, Asher grabbed the flowers and climbed out of the car. Looking over the roof, he suppressed a whistle when the man stood up straight. He really was huge. And incredibly intimidating.

“I-I’m here to see Emma,” Asher said, trying to keep the nerves at bay.

The man’s eyes grew wide. “And you are?”

“Asher. Asher Harris. Is she working today?”

“You should know that…if you know her that well.” He ran a large hand over his dark, shaved head.

“I know her well enough to know she volunteers here. So why don’t you go and tell her I’m waiting. She knows me.”

Asher waited, never moving his gaze from the man before him. The guy seemed to debate what to do for a moment before he turned and walked into the large building behind him. Only then did Asher let out a long relieved breath.

The shelter wasn’t what he’d expected. It was a three story house, painted white outside and looked like any other family home on the road. A small plaque next to the door was the only thing to show what the house was. A few teenagers hovered around the entrance. One of them even having the gall to stub out a cig on the sign before he walked inside. Asher shook his head. The kid had no idea how thankful he should be that the shelter existed—that he had somewhere to run to.

“Asher?”

Emma stood in the doorway, holding a pad of paper to her chest. A pen held her blond curls back where it was tucked behind her ear, and she held her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Emma.” He moved around the car to greet her, carrying the flowers with him. Everything else around them faded as he walked toward her, his gaze locked to hers. She was cautious; he could tell that by the way she backed up a step as he neared.

“You need me to stay, Em?” the big guy asked.

With a wave of her hand, and a shake of her head, she sent him away. However, she remained at the bottom of the small steps to the entrance of the shelter. She clutched the pad of paper tighter. “Can I help you with something?”

“I brought you these,” he replied, holding out the bouquet as he tried to calm his rapid heartbeat. “I’ve come to say I’m sorry.”

Her lips tightened. “For what?”

Frowning at her, Asher took a step closer. “For my ridiculous blow out—for being a complete dickhead. I should have been calming you down, not making you feel worse. I lost my shit when I should have been making sure you were doing okay.”

“Why? What the hell made you act that way?”

Asher looked to the ground, swallowing the lump in his throat. He wasn’t about to confess everything to Emma here and now. He doubted he could ever tell anyone the whole truth. He couldn’t even replay the events in his own head, let alone verbalise them.

“Too close,” he finally responded, his voice sounding strangled. “The kid. The situation. It was too much. I just saw red. Felt the same shitty way I did when I was younger. Helpless. Fucking helpless.”

Emma placed the flowers and pad of paper carefully on the step before moving to stand right in front of him. She raised her arms and wrapped them around his shoulders, pulling until he stooped and accepted the hug. “I didn’t think about that. I’m the one who should be sorry, Asher.”

He released a breath, looping his arms around her waist. He inhaled her scent deep into his lungs, unsurprised when his skin broke out in goose bumps. His balls began to tighten too, but he beat that fact down. Pawing over her would not go down well right now. Not that he intended on starting anything like that with her. He couldn’t afford to give up that much of himself.

“You don’t need to say that. Please, just accept my apology—and the flowers, and tell me I haven’t messed this up.”

Her light laughter filled his ears and made his dick twitch. Shit.

“I can do those things if you promise to talk to me. Properly. Not the lies you tell everyone else.”

“Emma.”

“Nope.” She pulled away and glared at him. “Don’t you dare try to deny me. I want to be your friend, but that’s going to be difficult when you fly off the handle. I can’t just ignore them, but I can understand them if I know what’s going on with you.”

“You know, Em. You do.”

She shook her head. “You’ve come here, bringing these,” she raised the flowers, “to apologise to me because you want us to be friends. For that to mean something, you can’t hide. I’m not expecting you to purge your soul. I just want to know what happened. What made you flip out?”

Asher exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Here’s the thing, Asher. Without a little give and take there can be no friendship.”

His insides churned at the reality of her words. He should walk away now. She was already making him feel guilty, giving him rules that he had to adhere to for her friendship to be returned. If he stuck around that would only increase, and his feelings would maybe intensify. He could not allow that to happen. Nothing about him was a good bet. Not for Emma Carnes. Not for anyone.

“I see the struggle,” she said, raising her hand to smooth the skin between his brows. He flinched back but only for an instant. Emma, however, continued to touch him. “It’s written all over your face. You tell yourself you don’t want this—
me
—in your life. You never sought me out, and yet here I am wanting to be friends with you. And here you are, secretly wanting the same but having no idea how to have that kind of relationship with a woman. Am I right?”