Not the Marrying Kind Read online

  “Exactly. It might be fun for our moms, but personally, I find all that wedding-planning stuff more stressful than my last world tour. Booking a concert at Madison Square Garden was less complicated than booking the country club for our wedding reception!” Leo gave Holly a pleading look that was only halfway kidding. “Are you sure you don’t want to elope? Think about it… Just you and me on a remote beach, exchanging vows in white bikinis as the sun sets against a cloudless, blue sky…”

  “Don’t tempt me,” Holly muttered.

  Lisa flicked a tortilla chip at them. “Oh no! You two are not eloping. You can’t deny the people who love you the chance to see you get married.”

  Sasha nodded her agreement. “Plus don’t you want to show the homophobes that not only can we get married now, but we refuse to do it quietly to avoid offending their small-town sensibilities?”

  No one reacted to the way she had phrased the sentence, using we instead of you. Either her friends didn’t care, or they hadn’t paid attention to her choice of words.

  Leo chugged down the rest of her beer. “I want to get married, not make a political statement.”

  Sasha gave her a sympathetic look. “Well, if you’re one of the most successful recording artists of the decade, who happens to be gay, you can’t do one without the other.”

  Jenny reached over and patted Leo’s shoulder. “Just wait and see. It’ll be the best day of your life. Once you see Holly in her dress, you’ll forget about all the stress.”

  “God, and here I thought getting divorced was bad,” Derek said.

  Everyone laughed, and the conversation turned to Derek’s failed marriage and his life since they had last seen each other.

  Sasha didn’t really listen. She started peeking at her watch. It wasn’t that late yet, but she had gotten up early and after Derek’s remark about Ashley and why she hadn’t dated him in high school, she wasn’t too interested in his love life. She finished her beer and tucked a couple of bills beneath the empty bottle. “All right, guys. See you next week. Mr. Sandman is calling my name.”

  “Ooh, new boyfriend?” Travis drawled.

  She gave him the finger but didn’t grace his remark with a verbal reply.

  Derek stood to let her out, and she squeezed past him. A chorus of “Night, Sasha” followed her as she walked toward the door. The air outside smelled like spring, but the temperature had cooled down after sundown. She paused on the sidewalk to zip up her jacket and gazed across the street.

  A light was still on in Ashley’s flower shop.

  Sasha walked down the street, but instead of climbing the stairs to her apartment, she unlocked the door of the bakery.

  What are you doing?

  She knew she should go home and get some sleep. But she didn’t stop. She went to the walk-in cooler and looked at the leftover cakes.

  A piece of orange cheesecake with a bittersweet chocolate glaze seemed like the perfect choice for a late-night-at-work snack. Plus the complex, contradicting flavors were a perfect fit for Ashley’s personality.

  Oh, now you’re a cake psychologist? Eat the damn cake yourself and go to bed!

  Again, she didn’t listen to that inner voice. Gently, making sure not to chip the glaze, she placed the piece of cake into a bakery box, put a Pupcake for Casper into a separate box, and locked the door behind herself.

  The light in the flower shop drew her toward it like a moth.

  Soft music came from inside, and Sasha recognized “Crazy in Love” by Beyoncé, a song that had been in the charts the year she’d been a junior in high school. In fact, she had heard Leo and her band perform that song at school parties, with Ashley at the keyboard. But after Leo had left, she had never again seen Ashley play or heard her sing. Maybe she had given up music the way she had given up women.

  Sasha paused in front of the flower shop and peered through the glass door.

  Ashley wasn’t working on a funeral wreath. Well, she held a carnation in her hand, but at the moment, it served as a fake microphone that she sang into as she danced through the shop as if it were a stage.

  God, this was the cutest—and the hottest—thing she had ever seen.

  Laughter bubbled up, and Sasha pressed her free hand to her mouth to stifle it. No way did she want to end this performance by making her presence known.

  Her heartbeat thudded in her ears, nearly drowning out Ashley’s singing. The way Ashley shimmied her hips was doing dangerous things to her pulse.

  Ashley danced around a potted ficus tree, circling it as if it were a lover she was trying to seduce.

  Oh sweet Jesus! Sasha’s free hand came up to steady herself against the glass door while she clutched the two bakery boxes with the other. The temperature outside no longer felt cool at all.

  She knew this was stupid, not to mention creepy, but she couldn’t make herself stop watching. The chance to watch Ashley act so unrestrained might never come again.

  Finally, the song ended, and Ashley lowered her carnation microphone and stopped dancing. She went back to her work area, trimmed the stem of the carnation, and inserted it into a half-finished wreath as if she hadn’t just given Beyoncé a run for her money.

  Sasha exhaled the breath she’d been holding and gave herself a mental kick. Stop acting like a smitten creep! She would just give Ashley the cake, pretend she hadn’t just witnessed this little erotic dance interlude, and then go home. Yeah. Piece of cake—literally.

  She lifted her hand and knocked on the glass.

  Ash inserted the carnation into the wreath and forced herself not to glance in the direction of the bar for the hundredth time. She had already wasted too much time staring out the window and letting the music playing in the back transport her to her high school years, when she had played keyboard in Leo’s band. If she hurried up, she might be able to join the gang at the bar before everyone went home.

  But knowing Sasha, she had probably already left, so even if she went to Johnny’s now, she might not see her.

  Regret tightened her throat. Well, she had only herself to blame. She didn’t really have to finish the wreath tonight; she had just wanted to avoid running into Derek when he joined the gang at the bar.

  It was stupid. Why had she let herself be kept from seeing her friends, on the off chance that Derek might be there and try to ask her out?

  She wanted to know how the wedding preparations were going, if Jenny had finally told Travis about the dent in his car, and most of all how Sasha’s canine customers had taken to the Woofins and the Pupcakes.

  Now she’d have to wait another week to find out. Being in the closet really sucked sometimes. If she were as out and proud as Leo and Holly, Derek would never even think of asking her out.

  She sighed, took another carnation, and picked up her knife to trim the end.

  A knock on the glass nearly gave her a heart attack.

  The sharp edge of the knife grazed her finger. Pain flared up her hand and made her drop the knife. “Ouch! Dammit!” Clutching her finger, she looked up to see who had knocked on the door so late.

  Sasha stood on the other side of the glass, an embarrassed grin on her face and two small bakery boxes in her hand. She waved and mouthed, “Sorry.”

  She looked so much like a little kid who had accidentally smashed a window with a baseball that Ash had to smile despite the burning pain in her finger. She curled her left hand into a fist to stop the bleeding, crossed the room, and unlocked the door.

  “Sorry,” was the first thing Sasha said as she stepped inside. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “It’s okay. I was—”

  “Shit, you’re bleeding. Did you cut yourself?”

  Ash hid her hand behind her back. “It’s just a little nick. I get them almost every day. It comes with the job.”

  Sasha strode closer with the determination of a
superhero on a rescue mission. She set the bakery boxes on the counter and stepped close. Concern darkened her chocolate-colored eyes. “Let me see.”

  Slowly, Ash pulled her hand out from behind her back and held it out to her.

  They stood close together, gazing down at the injured hand.

  Blood was trickling out of a cut on her index finger.

  Sasha sucked in a sharp breath as if she were looking at a deadly wound.

  Ash had to smile. “It’s not so bad. Won’t even require stitches.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “One hundred percent. Trust me. I’ve had my fingers stitched up twice. I would know if this were lucky number three.” Ash went to the sink in the back room to run her finger beneath ice-cold water that would clean the wound and help to stop the bleeding. She felt more than heard Sasha follow her. Sasha’s presence always seemed to fill every room she entered.

  “Where’s your first aid kit?” Sasha asked.

  “First aid kit? All I need is a Band-Aid.” With her unharmed right hand, Ash pulled open the drawer where she kept Band-Aids of all sizes. She fumbled with the paper wrapper that proved difficult to remove with just one hand.

  “Let me.” Sasha carefully dried off the injured finger with a clean tissue, then took the Band-Aid from her and removed the wrapper. She curved her hand around Ash’s, positioning it the way she needed it.

  Ash held very, very still. Not so much because putting on the Band-Aid hurt but because the gentleness in Sasha’s strong hands made her breath catch. The way Sasha’s fingers moved over her skin seemed to put her in some kind of trance.

  “You okay?” Sasha asked, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper. “You’re not going to pass out from what you insist is just a nick, are you?”

  Ash shook her head. If she passed out, it wouldn’t be from this little cut.

  Sasha smoothed the edges of the Band-Aid down, careful not to apply pressure on the wound. “There. Good as…” She looked up, and their gazes met.

  Warmth flooded Ash that had nothing to do with her harmless little injury. She had a feeling she was flushed from head to toe.

  “Um, new.” The look on Sasha’s face made Ash almost think—or maybe wish—she would lift her hand to her lips and kiss it all better. But, of course, she didn’t. Sasha stepped back, finally awakening Ash from her trance.

  Under the pretense of throwing away the wrapper, Ash turned away because she needed a moment to get herself together. What the heck was that? Sasha was becoming a friend, and that was all it could ever be. Her short-lived relationship with Holly had nearly destroyed the tentative friendship they had built after Holly’s return from college. She wouldn’t allow her goddamn libido to do that a second time.

  Sasha walked away, toward the front of the shop, as if she needed to put some distance between them too.

  But that was probably just wishful thinking.

  “I brought you some cake,” Sasha called. “I thought since you’re working late, you might need a snack.”

  God, good-looking and considerate. Sasha Peterson might just be the kryptonite of closeted lesbians.

  “Where’s Casper?” Sasha asked. “I brought something for him too.”

  “He’s having a sleepover at my parents’.” They had offered to take Casper so he wouldn’t be home alone all evening while she hung out with her friends at the bar, and Ash hadn’t wanted to tell them she wasn’t going.

  “Well, then he can have his Pupcake later. But you can have your snack now.”

  When Ash joined her in the front of the shop, Sasha slid one of the bakery boxes over and opened the lid.

  Ash stared at the huge piece of cake, covered by a dark chocolate glaze. Her mouth watered, and her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she had forgotten to eat dinner. “Wow. That looks positively decadent. I’ll need to start working out if we keep spending time together.”

  “Do you want to?”

  “Eat the cake?” Ash chuckled. “As if I could resist.” At least not the cake. She could resist the baker just fine…right?

  “No. I meant, continue to spend time with me.”

  Was Sasha asking her to be friends? Or was there something more behind the question? To buy herself some time, Ash rummaged through another drawer and dug out a plastic fork that had been left over from ordering taco salad last week. When she turned back around, Sasha stood looking at her, waiting for her answer.

  She really shouldn’t hang out with Sasha too often; Ash knew that. Betty Mullen from the hair salon had already told her parents that she’d been spending a lot of time with Sasha when it wasn’t even that much. If they began to hang out more often, rumors might start.

  Stupid rumors that wouldn’t be true, but still.

  She opened her mouth to tell Sasha that she didn’t have time to hang out very often, but what came out instead was “I’d really like that.”

  The smile spreading over Sasha’s face stopped her self-reprimanding instantly. “Great.”

  “Just as friends, of course,” Ash added quickly.

  “Of course.” Sasha nudged her gently. “Jeez, someone thinks very highly of herself. What makes you think I’d want to date you?”

  A flush rose up her neck so fast that Ash was sure Sasha could follow its path. “I…I didn’t think that. Of course I didn’t. I mean, you… I…”

  “Relax.” A smile crinkled the edges of Sasha’s eyes. “I’m just teasing. Well, I’m not teasing about not wanting to date—you or anyone else. I’m not looking for a relationship right now.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Then we’re on the same page. Friends.” Sasha stuck out her hand as if to seal the deal.

  Ash took her hand and felt Sasha’s long fingers cradle her palm. “Friends,” she repeated and ignored the tingle going through her body.

  They held on a couple of seconds too long for a simple handshake.

  Finally, Ash pulled away and picked up the plastic fork to try the cake, trading in one temptation for the other, safer one. The dark, bittersweet chocolate melted on her tongue and blended with the tartness of the orange cheesecake. “Oh my God,” she mumbled even as she took a second bite. “Why have I never had this before?”

  Sasha chuckled. “Because you always order the same thing. Every now and then, you should really take a risk on something new.”

  Ash looked up from the bakery box. Were they still talking about cake?

  Sasha held her gaze but didn’t say anything else, so Ash continued to eat.

  “How’s your finger?” Sasha asked once the last crumb of cake was gone.

  “Much better already.” Ash smiled and licked the last bit of chocolate off the plastic fork. “Must be the cake.”

  Sasha cleared her throat. “Yeah, never underestimate the power of cake.” She leaned one hip against the counter and hooked her thumb into the front pocket of her faded jeans that clung to her strong thighs.

  God, why did she have to be so damn sexy? Ash tossed the used fork away with more force than necessary.

  “So, why are you working so late on a Saturday evening?” Sasha pointed at the nearly finished wreath. “Last-minute order?”

  “Um, yeah.” With anyone else, Ash would have left it at that. She was so used to telling only selective parts of the truth that it would have been easy to do. But to her surprise, she didn’t want to do that with Sasha. “But truth be told, I didn’t really have to do it tonight.”

  “Oh.” Sasha’s face was so expressive she couldn’t hide her dismay. “Then why did you tell Zack you couldn’t make it to Johnny’s?”

  “Derek,” Ash said as if that would explain everything. But then again, she didn’t even know if he had actually shown up, so Sasha might have no clue what she was talking about. “My mom invited him to join us at the bar.”

  “Yeah
, he was there.”

  Well, at least she hadn’t missed the get-together with the gang for nothing. “Did he ask about me?”

  “Did you want him to ask about you?” Sasha asked.

  “God, no! That’s why I didn’t go to Johnny’s tonight. My mom thinks he might be interested in asking me out, and I wanted to avoid that awkward moment when I have to tell him no without being able to offer an explanation.”

  Sasha gave her that quiet look that always made Ash wish she had the same inner peace. “Since when do you need an explanation? A simple no should be enough.”

  Ash swiped a couple of trimmed stems into the garbage can with her arm. “I guess.”

  “He isn’t just in town to visit his folks, you know?” Sasha said. “He’s here to stay.”

  Ash sighed. “I know.”

  “Sooner or later, you’ll have to face him. Or are you planning to avoid the bar—and your friends, not to mention the bank—for the rest of your life?”

  “No, of course not.” Ash knew she had to stop running from her problems, at least a little. She held Sasha’s gaze. “I’ll be there next week.”

  “Good.” Sasha brushed her shoulder with a fleeting touch that Ash felt all the way down to her toes. “If he doesn’t accept a simple no, you know you have backup.”

  The protectiveness she radiated warmed Ash. “Thanks.”

  Sasha nodded at her. “No need to thank me. You’ve got friends in this town who’ll have your back—if you let them.”

  Ash didn’t know what to say to that. It happened often when she was around Sasha.

  “So,” Sasha said after a while, “was your little workout earlier enough to burn off the calories from the cake, or—”

  “Workout? What workout?” Ash looked around the shop. What could she possibly m—? Oh shit. She remembered what she had done just before Sasha had knocked. Heat shot up her neck. She covered her overly warm face with her hands and peeked through her fingers. “Please tell me you didn’t see that!”

  Sasha sported a big grin. “I saw.” She pulled Ash’s hands down but was careful not to squeeze her injured finger. “Hey, come on. It was cute and—”