No Attachments

chapter 20: The First Snow

Nathan

I was f*cked and I knew it. The moment I touched Ashton, I realized that getting her out of my system was easier said than done. In my stupidity, I'd convinced myself that once I had her it would curb the desire that crackled like a live wire between us. What an idiot. After lying with her curled up in my arms for the third night in a row, losing myself in her body yet again, it had become glaringly obvious that getting her out of my system was like trying to get off crack. It was an ironic analogy, but she was my drug of choice. Everything about her pulled me in and clouded my mind more sufficiently than any drug would ever be able to. When I was with her I was no longer the same person. Laughter in my regular life was sporadic at best, and yet, with Ashton it was as natural as breathing. Each new discovery I made about her was as enchanting as the last and made me want to continue probing until I knew everything that made her tick. It was becoming almost painful not to know the secrets she hid behind her smiles and jokes. I needed to know what we were facing. The complexity of our relationship was daunting. A week ago I would have balked at it, but everything was different now. In a week she had changed me completely.

I tightened my arm around her taut midriff, pulling her more snugly into my arms. She sighed with satisfaction in her sleep, and though I had just made love to her a short time ago, I immediately became aroused just watching her. Every curve. Every lightly-colored bit of peach fuzz on her stomach. I buried my face in her hair, inhaling her, feeling drunk from the scent. I felt comfortable lying here. So much so that I drifted to sleep, wrapped around the woman I wasn't supposed to fall for.

I woke the next morning to Ashton's excited squeals. I sat up blurry eyed and smiled when I saw her literally dancing at the front window. "Did you win a new car or something?" I teased, climbing out of bed to stand behind her.

"It's snowing," she crowed, clapping her hands with glee.

"I'm taking it you feel better?" I asked, chuckling at her enthusiasm.

"Much. We have to go out and play in the snow," she said, frantically pulling warm clothes out of her wardrobe.

"I don't think it's going anywhere, sweets," I said, placing my hands on her to still her frantic movements.

"Oh, you're naked," she said, stating the obvious as her eyes darted down to my morning companion.

"Yeah, we sort of went to bed that way," I teased, watching as a delicate shade of pink crept up her neck, staining her cheeks. "Does it make you uncomfortable?" I asked.

"What? No, it's just like, you know, 'Ta-da. Here I am.' It threw me off," she stumbled out.

"Well, for your information, this is pretty common for most guys in the morning."

"Really? How unfortunate," she said.

"Get dressed," I laughed. "The snow is calling your name."

"Snow?" she said, looking momentarily confused. "Right, snow," she said finally, making me laugh again as she hurried off to the bathroom with an armload of clothes.

Fifteen minutes later, we were out in front of her cottage watching big snowflakes fall lazily from the sky. The ground was already covered with an inch of the snow, making the ground crunch beneath our feet. Everything was peaceful and serene.

"It's beautiful," Ashton exclaimed in a hushed tone as big flakes landed on her upturned face. She slowly turned in a circle with her arms outstretched.

"I'm sure by December you'll feel different," I observed.

"I won't be here in December to…" she trailed off.

"Really? I was under the impression you planned on living here permanently," I said, watching her bite her lip. From her expression, I could tell she had slipped up.

"Oh, I haven't decided," she answered. "Do you think enough will fall to make a snow angel and a snowman?" she asked, changing the subject.

I studied her for a moment, debating whether I should pursue the issue. The forced gaiety in her voice convinced me to let it drop. "At the rate it's falling, I bet by noon you'll be able to make a decent snow angel at least. Do you want to go for a walk?" I asked, offering her my hand.

"Yes," she answered as some of her excitement from earlier returned.

"Are you warm enough?" I asked before we headed off toward the trail behind her house.

"Yeah, I can barely walk from all the layers you forced on me," she reminded me.

"Trust me, you'll be thankful for all those layers," I said, linking my gloved fingers with hers. "Besides, just yesterday you were laid up with a fever and a cold. You probably shouldn't even be outside."

"I'm fine. There's no way I was missing the first snow."

"You're awfully stubborn."

"So? You're bossy, and I overlook that," she reminded me.

"Not bossy. I just like things to get done the way I want and direct others to follow them out," I said, defending myself.

"Yeah, that doesn't sound bossy," she teased, rolling her eyes. "Have you always 'not bossed' people around?" she added.

"Liked things my way? Probably. When I was younger and it was just my mom and me, I felt the pressure of being the man of the house. My mom always seemed to have the weight of the world on her shoulders, so I wanted to help relieve some of the pressure for her. By the time I was thirteen, I'd taken over all the maintenance of the trailer we lived in. I became an expert at fixing leaky faucets, reattaching loose paneling and making sure our roof didn't leak during rainy season. Home Depot became my playground on weekends, as I took every workshop they offered. Seeing my interests, I think my mom had the idea that I would grow up to be an architect or a contractor. I think she was disappointed when I told her I wanted to be a journalist."

"Why would she be disappointed?"

"I think she was under the impression that a journalist was a fluff job that I wouldn't make any money doing. She wanted me to have security and money for a rainy day. Years of living week to week had jaded her and she put little stock into dreams. She eventually got over her aversion of my job choice, but didn't live long enough to see it amount to anything."

"I'm sorry. I bet she'd be proud of your successes if she saw you now," Ashton said earnestly.

"I'm not entirely sure she would. I think she'd be disappointed in some of the decisions I've made."

"I think everyone feels that way."

"Do you?" I asked, keeping my voice casual.

"Of course, but we can't please everyone. All we can hope is that we learn from the decisions we've made and anyone we've hurt along the way will forgive us someday."

"So, you believe that if someone betrays you, they deserve a second chance?" I asked.

"I would hope I'd get a second chance, so yes, I'd give someone another chance," she said with an intensity that matched my own.

"Fair enough," I said, getting the answer I was hoping for. I didn't know if that applied to me, but I had to hope so. I kept delaying telling her the truth, but I knew the clock was ticking, and I would have to tell her soon.

"Besides being a handyman, what else were you like when you were younger?" she asked as we trampled through the snow.

"Aren't you bored hearing me talk?" I inquired.

"No way. I like hearing your stories. Plus, I'm not going to lie, you could read the dictionary and your sexy-as-sin voice would make it appealing."

"I've heard women say that about my voice before. What about it makes it so appealing, so I can home in on it?" I teased.

"Believe me, you don't have to try any harder. If it got any sexier, you'd leave women in puddles wherever you went."

"Are you telling me it liquefies you?" I asked, pulling her into my arms. "So, if I talk lower like this, does it make you damp in all the right areas?" I persisted, dropping my voice to just above a whisper.

"Just being with you does that," she admitted, biting her lip in the way that hit me in the right spot. "Of course, I'm sure I'm not supposed to admit that."

"Sweetheart, the fact that you're so open with how you're feeling is one of the things I like the most about you. Your blush gives away some of it," I said, rubbing my gloved thumb over her cheek. "But I love how you don't try to hide it like most women."

"You mean you love that I have the dating skills of a baboon?" she mocked. "Me monkey, I like you, can I climb you?" she added, laughing halfway through her speech.

"God, only you could make that sound hot," I said, hauling her into my arms. "And just so you know, you can climb me anytime you want," I added, dropping my mouth to iced lips. She parted her lips at my insistence, clinging to me as I deepened the kiss. I placed my hands on her hips, dragging her lower half to my body so I could emphasize just what her words did to me.

"Damn your layers," she complained, pulling back with aggravation.

I bit back my own groan as my body strained toward hers. "We could go back to the house," I suggested. "I could get a fire started in the fireplace," I enticed, capturing her lips again with mine.

"Deal," she agreed.