Chapter 5

CHAPTERFIVE

Ashlyn couldn’t remember when she’d had a better week. Her sex life was suddenly amazing. All her clients were doing well at the moment. Even her relationships with Elodie, Lexie, and the others seemed to somehow be better just because she was dating Slate. She was happy. Very happy.

And tonight he was taking her out to dinner. She’d proposed the friends-with-benefits arrangement because she’d had the hots for him for what seemed like forever, but she hadn’t thought they would click as well as they had. She figured they’d continue hanging out with their friends in a big group like they always had, throw in sex maybe every once in a while, and that would be that.

But she was finding that Slate had more depth than she’d given him credit for. She felt kind of bad about that. He was more than the cocky, good-looking Navy SEAL that she’d labeled him.

Yes, there were things about him that rubbed her the wrong way, but she was discovering she could overlook those things when his good traits were so much more important. He was still impatient and bossy and overprotective, and somewhat gruff. But he was also considerate, appreciative of the little things—like when she made him dinner—and he could turn his more irritating quirks into positives in bed.

Of course, good sex wasn’t the only key to a successful relationship, but it sure went a long way toward making it better.

Ashlyn pulled up to Slate’s small beach house and smiled. She loved his place. It wasn’t fancy; from the outside it looked pretty rough, in fact. But she’d been inside a time or two, and he’d done a great job of making it homey and comfortable.

She parallel parked on the street in front of his house and made her way up to the door. It opened before she could even knock.

She’d spent way too long trying to decide what to wear on their date. Slate had seen her in everything from jeans to shorts to bathing suits, but since this was their first official date, she wanted to look nice. She’d decided on a flowy skirt that ended just past her knees, a V-neck light blue blouse, and a pair of strappy sandals that she thought accentuated her calves.

It had only been a couple days since Ashlyn had last seen him, but when he opened his door, he looked even better than she remembered. Instead of his uniform, he wore a pair of jeans and a navy-blue collared shirt. His black hair framed his square jaw perfectly. He had a slight hint of five o’clock shadow, and Ashlyn couldn’t wait to feel the scratchy skin against her sensitive thighs once again.

Blushing at how her thoughts immediately turned to sex, she smiled up at him. “Hi. I hope I’m not late.”

“Only a few minutes,” Slate said in the deep rumbly voice she knew so well. “Come in.”

Ashlyn was well aware that Slate hated when people were late. It seemed to be ingrained in his DNA to be on time or early. But she didn’t hear even one iota of irritation in his voice. It was somewhat surprising, but she wasn’t going to look that gift horse in the mouth.

His hand was warm on her lower back as she walked into his living room, and it was all Ashlyn could do not to spin around and jump the man. God, she’d turned into a sex fiend after just two times together. It was almost embarrassing. But when she caught a glimpse of the bulge in Slate’s jeans, she didn’t feel so guilty.

“I made reservations for seven-thirty, so we’ve got a bit of time before we have to leave. You want to sit on the roof deck for a bit?”

“Yes.” Ashlyn didn’t even have to think about her answer. His roof deck was the best part of the place. He’d built it himself, after getting approval from the owner. The house was a block back from the beach, but when sitting on the roof, it almost seemed as if they were right on the sand. The last time she’d been at his place with a few of their friends, the sun was setting and it had been one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.

Then, something else he said sank in. “Wait, seven-thirty? I thought you said reservations were for seven.”

“I lied,” he said without remorse. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to get here on time, so I gave us a cushion.”

Ashlyn frowned and put her hands on her hips. “I think I’m offended,” she told him.

“No, you aren’t,” he retorted, wrapping an arm around her waist and yanking her close.

She landed against him with a small oof. When he leaned down and took her lips with his, she forgot about being irritated. In fact, she forgot about everything.

They’d kissed before, but this one seemed more leisurely. He took his time, teasing with small nips and licks before enticing her to open for him.

By the time they pulled apart, Ashlyn didn’t even remember what they’d been talking about. But he quickly reminded her.

“I hate being late, so I figured I’d give us some breathing room, just in case.”

Ashlyn couldn’t muster up the energy to be pissed. He’d mellowed her with a single kiss. He’d already figured her out…and that didn’t bode well for her in the future.

“Whatever,” she huffed.

Slate grinned. “Come on, I brought glasses and wine up right before you arrived.”

Okay, that was sweet. And he couldn’t have thought she’d be too late if he’d already brought the wine up to the deck.

She walked up the stairwell with Slate at her heels. Under ordinary circumstances, she would’ve been a bit worried walking up the stairs, but she knew without a doubt that Slate wouldn’t let her fall. The only other time she’d gone up to the deck she’d been a nervous wreck because the steps were both small and steep, but she didn’t have Slate at her back that time.

She opened the door at the top of the stairs and sighed in contentment as she walked into the warm evening air. Slate had built a small alcove of sorts, with a roof in case it was raining and he wanted to sit up there, but for the most part it was a simple design. A flat surface of thick boards with a couple of chairs and a small table. There was a short railing around the deck, maybe four feet high at most, making the area feel safe but not hemmed in at all. In the distance, over the rooftops of the houses on the other side of the street, was the ocean. If she listened carefully, Ashlyn could hear the waves breaking on the shore.

“I love it up here,” she said on a sigh.

“I know.”

She turned to look at Slate. “You do?”

“Yup. I watched you when you were up here last time, and it was obvious how much pleasure you got from the view.”

It somewhat surprised Ashlyn that he’d taken notice, since that had been at least three months ago, but it warmed her heart knowing that he’d paid attention to her even back then.

“Here, sit. I’ll get you a glass of wine,” Slate said, gesturing to one of the extremely comfortable Adirondack chairs she would have considered snatching the last time she was there if she could figure out how to get it off the roof and into her car without Slate noticing.

Ashlyn never drank anything if she knew she’d be driving—ever—but she didn’t want to make a big deal out of her quirks. She sat down and immediately sighed in contentment as she stared into the distance at the rolling waves.

Slate handed her the glass of white wine, and she took a tiny sip as he settled into the chair next to hers. He’d poured himself a glass as well.

“You like wine?” she asked, not able to remember seeing him drink any before.

He shrugged. “Yeah. Why?”

“I don’t know, it just seems…not you.”

“It wouldn’t be my first choice of a relaxing drink, but I know you like it, and sharing a glass while sitting on my deck with a beautiful woman seemed appropriate.”

She smiled. God, that was such a nice thing to say.

“I could go downstairs and get a can of beer, guzzle it, then crush the can on my forehead if that would make you feel more comfortable,” Slate said with a grin.

Ashlyn burst out laughing. “No, this is perfect. Thanks.” And it was. Seeing the delicate glass in his large calloused hand was somehow sexy. She knew firsthand how gentle those hands could be, and how good they felt on her skin.

“How private is this deck?” she asked, looking around, trying to figure out if people could see them from the windows in the surrounding houses.

Slate snorted. “Not private enough.”

“Damn,” Ashlyn said under her breath.

Slate didn’t say anything, just took another sip of his wine and stared at her over the edge of the glass. His gaze was intense, and Ashlyn had a feeling all she had to do was give him the smallest sign and dinner would be forgotten.

But as much as she loved sex with Slate, she’d been looking forward to going out with him all week. Every time previously, they’d hung out with the whole group or at least a few other people. She wanted to get to know him more, one-on-one.

Breaking his gaze, she turned and stared off into the distance. “If I had this kind of deck, I’d live up here,” she said after a moment.

“I come up here all the time,” Slate admitted. “Especially after a tough mission. Watching the stars, hearing the ocean…it helps recenter me.”

Ashlyn nodded. She could understand that. One of her favorite places was the balcony in Kenna and Aleck’s condo. Her friends’ place was beautiful and more expensive than she’d ever be able to afford, but that view overlooking the ocean was worth every penny the place cost.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, Slate sipping his wine, before he eventually looked at his watch and asked, “You ready to go?”

“What if I say I’m not? And I want to sit here for the rest of the night?” she asked.

“Then we’ll sit here for the rest of the night. I’ll call and order something to be delivered. You can sit your ass right here for as long as you want.”

“That’s a good answer. But I want to go out. I’m dying to know where you’re bringing me tonight.”

“Admit it, you don’t trust me,” Slate said.

Ashlyn frowned in surprise. “I trust you,” she told him. “I do,” she insisted when he raised a brow. “I mean, if I can’t trust you, who the hell can I trust?”

“I’ll always have your best interests in mind when I do something,” Slate assured. He didn’t give her time to question that declaration. He sounded much more serious than the conversation warranted. He stood and held out his hand. “Come on, let me feed you.”

Ashlyn stood up and grabbed her glass.

“Leave it. I’ll come up later and grab everything. I don’t want you going down those stairs without having both hands free to hold on to the railing.”

Since Ashlyn wasn’t all that pumped about trying to hold a glass of wine while negotiating the stairs, she nodded.

“I’ll go first,” Slate said as he opened the stairway door.

“So you can break my fall?” she teased.

“Yes.” His answer was immediate and sincere. “Put your hand on my shoulder if you need to,” he continued as he waited for her to approach.

Ashlyn swallowed hard. Man, he was making it hard to remember any of his faults by being so sweet. They made it down the stairs without her making a fool out of herself by tripping, and she grabbed her purse as they headed for the front door.

Slate held open the passenger door to his Trailblazer, and Ashlyn couldn’t help but marvel at how polite and solicitous he was being. She was more used to his quips and gruff orders than the side of him she was seeing tonight. But she didn’t hate it. Not at all.

To her surprise, instead of heading in the direction of Honolulu and Waikiki, he headed for the west side of the island, getting on 93 toward Waianae.

She so wanted to ask where they were going, but managed to contain her curiosity since she knew he wouldn’t tell her anyway. After a lovely scenic drive up the coast, he pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant called Staxx Sports Bar & Grill.

He cut the engine and turned to her. “It’s nothing fancy, but I don’t think you’re a fancy kind of woman.”

“I’m not,” she agreed immediately.

“They’ve got some delicious traditional Tongan dishes, but also steak, wings, fish tacos, burgers…and we’re definitely getting an order of their tater tots. After that meal you made me the other night, I’m guessing the garlic tots are something you’re gonna want to try.”

Ashlyn grinned. “I like garlic. Sue me.”

“Lucky for you, I do too,” Slate told her. “There are also a ton of TVs, dartboards, and sometimes they have live poker and trivia tournaments.”

“Ooooh, trivia,” Ashlyn said with excitement. “I love trivia! I suck at it, but I love it.”

“For the record, babe, I didn’t pick this place because I’m a guy who’s only comfortable in sports bars. I chose it because they’ve got damn good food. And because I wanted to share it with you.”

“Okay.” Honestly, the thought hadn’t crossed her mind, but she was glad he clarified.

“Come on. I swear I’ve been listening to your stomach growl for the entire drive.”

Ashlyn rolled her eyes. “You have not.”

He grinned at her, and Ashlyn swore she could feel her ovaries explode at the heat she saw in his gaze.

“Food first,” he muttered before climbing out of the vehicle, proving he was definitely on the same page as she was when it came to what they were most hungry for.

She didn’t wait for him, but popped out before he could get to her side of the car.

He didn’t comment, which kind of surprised her, just took her hand in his and led her toward the entrance.

An hour later, Ashlyn sat back against the pleather booth and sighed in contentment. “Those tater tots were literally the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” she said happily.

“I guess so, since you ate about twenty pounds of the things,” Slate teased.

He was a great dinner companion. The conversation had been steady, he hadn’t let his eyes wander around the crowded restaurant as if bored, and Ashlyn loved how interested he seemed in everything she had to say. But then again, she’d been just as fascinated by the stories he told about some of his deployments. She was well aware he wasn’t telling her anything classified, but it was a side of Slate that she hadn’t previously allowed herself to think about.

Like the time he and his team had been cut off from their extraction point and they’d literally had to crawl three miles to stay undetected by the enemy. Or when he’d eaten spiders and a snake when they ran out of MREs after a mission went on longer than they’d expected.

He was trying to keep his stories light and funny, and while Ashlyn laughed in the expected places, the thought of how much danger he and his friends were in every time they were deployed wasn’t exactly a laughing matter.

They’d just finished their entrees—she’d gotten the Staxx burger, and he’d devoured his braised pork belly bao—and were now waiting for the deep-fried ice cream they’d ordered for dessert.

“Can I ask you something?” Ashlyn started.

“Of course,” Slate said, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the table, giving her his undivided attention.

“I could use some advice…but not if you’re gonna go all uber protective on me.”

“Can’t promise that, as I am protective of you,” Slate said calmly. “But I’ll do my best to temper it, since this is just a discussion.”

Ashlyn chuckled. It was such a Slate answer, she couldn’t take offense. “Okay, you know how we were talking about some of my clients earlier?”

“Yup.”

Ashlyn had been pleasantly surprised at Slate’s interest in the men and women she brought meals to. She’d been reticent to talk about them, since she knew he didn’t exactly approve of her job, but he’d listened carefully, asked appropriate questions, and he honestly seemed curious about the people she interacted with on a daily basis.

“Well…I’ve been thinking about Christi.”

“She’s the one in the wheelchair, right?” Slate asked.

“Yeah. That’s her. I don’t know exactly what her disability is; I feel kind of weird asking. I mean, if I spent more time with her and her sister, I’m sure they’d open up, but I suppose that isn’t important. Anyway, I was thinking about seeing if I could arrange for her to get out of the house. Like, bring her down to the beach for some fresh air or something. I’m sure I can figure out how to transport her, but I don’t want Lori to feel bad if I offer. Her nurse’s aide would obviously come with us, but I just don’t know how to broach the subject.

“She’s always in the house when I get there. Usually sitting in front of the TV. I just feel awful that they’re in Hawaii, and Christi never gets out. What do you think?”

Slate reached across the table and took her hand in his. “First, I think you’ve got the biggest heart out of anyone I’ve ever met. Most people would do their job of delivering meals and that would be that. They wouldn’t get to know the Turners, wouldn’t sneak in extra treats for the elderly clients, and they definitely wouldn’t care about a handicapped girl needing more fresh air.”

“But?” Ashlyn prompted when he paused for a long moment.

“I’m not saying it’s a bad idea, but maybe Christi is perfectly happy with her life as it is. Maybe she doesn’t like the smell of the sea because it reminds her of things she can’t do because of her handicap. Maybe she doesn’t like being stared at when she’s outside the house. Obviously talking to Lori is a very important step, because she’s ultimately in charge of her sister’s well-being. You’ve already told me how hard she’s working to keep Christi with her, and the last thing you want is her thinking she’s not doing enough.”

“Very true,” Ashlyn said.

“But even if you talk to Lori and she agrees, and you can arrange for transportation, and you check to make sure wherever you want to take Christi is wheelchair friendly, and the home health aide gives her approval for the trip and agrees to accompany you…there’s still something big you’re missing.”

“What?”

“Asking Christi if she wants to go to the beach. You’ve said she’s non-verbal, but she has to have some way of communicating. She’s a human being, and she deserves to be asked her opinion, not for decisions to be made without her input.”

Ashlyn stared at Slate. He was right. One hundred precent right—and she was an idiot. She hadn’t expressly said otherwise, but it had been her intention to discuss it with Lori and the nurse…not Christi. She closed her eyes, feeling awful.

Slate squeezed her hand. “Hey, look at me.”

She didn’t want to, but opened her eyes and met his gaze.

“She’s lucky to have someone like you in her life.”

Ashlyn swallowed hard. She’d been all gung-ho to try to make Christi’s life better, without a clue as to whether the woman was content or not. She wasn’t seeing her as a person. Not really. She just got an idea in her head and started planning stuff without thinking of all the angles. Asking Christi if she wanted to go to the beach should be the first thing she did, not the last.

Slate leaned forward and brought their clasped hands to his mouth. He kissed her fingers gently. “You’re an amazing advocate, Ashlyn. You care about your clients, which is fucking awesome.”

She chuckled. Leave it to Slate to make her laugh when she felt like shit for being so thoughtless.

Their waiter appeared then, holding a giant plate with three scoops of fried ice cream. He put down the plate and two spoons, and said, “Enjoy!”

Slate kept hold of her right hand and reached for a spoon. Ashlyn tugged on her hand. He didn’t let go. Without acknowledging her slight struggle, he scooped up a bite of ice cream and ate it.

“Hey, big guy, I need my hand to eat,” she told him with a grin.

“You’ve got another,” he said, seemingly unconcerned.

“Yeah, but I’m right-handed,” Ashlyn reminded him.

“I know. If you have to eat with your left hand, I’ll get more.”

“Hey!” she complained, laughing now and tugging at her hand with more effort.

Slate’s lips curled up into a grin. “You know you’ll eat more than your fair share if I don’t give you a handicap.”

“I will not!”

“Babe, you’ve got the biggest sweet tooth of anyone I’ve ever met. I don’t care that you’ve eaten twice your weight in tater tots and gobbled that burger like you’ve got a stomach parasite. If you get the chance, you’ll inhale this ice cream and leave me only a few slurps of melted goo.”

Ashlyn couldn’t help it, she laughed even harder at the vision he painted. “Fine. I promise to only eat my half if you give my hand back.”

He eyed her skeptically.

“And aren’t you supposed to be worried about eating all healthy and shit? Mr. I Only Eat Protein Shakes and Bars For Breakfast.”

“It’s Friday. My cheat day,” he said without missing a beat.

“Come on, it’s melting!” Ashlyn whined.

Slate squeezed her hand once more, then let go. She didn’t hesitate to reach for a spoon and dip it into the dessert. Taking a huge bite, she glared at Slate.

“Fuck, you’re cute,” he muttered, before turning his concentration back to the treat between them.

Ashlyn had never in a million years thought being called “cute” would get her motor revving…but then again, she’d never imagined the words coming from Slate either. The smile never left her face as they finished their dessert.