~~*~~
What the hell was wrong with her? Swimming? Seriously? It was only sixty degrees outside at best. What in the world was she thinking?
Ashleigh grabbed her laptop from the table, turned and darted inside the house as fast as she could. Depositing it on her bed, she turned to her dresser to find a swimsuit.
Ha! Served her right. Staring down into the near empty drawer, Ashleigh took stock of the one and only bathing suit she’d unpacked as of yet. It was a two piece – two very small pieces – and it was bright, neon pink. Admittedly, it didn’t look all that bad on her when it was the middle of the summer and she’d had a chance to get a little sun. Right now, in February, she wasn’t sure which would be brighter, the bathing suit or her pale skin.
And now she was shaking. Actually, she’d been trembling since Alex had scared the daylights out of her a few minutes ago. Apparently those tremors were causing her to lose brain cells.
She hadn’t expected Alex to show up, so when he walked across her back lawn, her brain had lost some of its functionality. Apparent by her agreeing to go swimming. At his place. Those two things combined were a recipe for disaster. Especially considering her libido was in overdrive after the last couple of chapters she’d written.
Her body didn’t seem to be caught up with her brain’s reluctance because five minutes later, Ashleigh was traipsing across the living room, a small bag containing the neon pink bikini in hand.
“Ready?” Alex asked from his perch on the arm of the sofa.
No, not really. “Yep.” She blurted.
Alex stood, once again towering over her, and she wondered what he was waiting for. Standing there like an idiot, she watched him until a sexy as hell smile tipped his lips.
“After you.” He said, holding his hand up in the direction of the door.
Good grief. Her brain was overloaded, and now she wished she’d reconsidered this astronomically stupid idea.
By the time she was safely inside Alex’s truck, buckled up and staring out the side window, her stomach was a jumble of nerves.
“Do you swim a lot?” She asked, because, at this point, only stupid things were coming out of her mouth.
“No, not really.” Alex glanced at her, then back to the road, “In the summer, I get out a few times a month, but since I’m not home much, I don’t.”
“When I was a kid, Dylan and I would get in the swimming pool at Pop’s house all the time. Even in the winter and sometimes when he didn’t remember to heat it.”
“That’s commitment.” Alex laughed.
“I was on the swim team in high school. For one year anyway. Turns out I didn’t want to be a fish like I once thought.” Actually, it turned out she was way too shy and far too awkward to go out in public and compete in anything. She froze the few times her coach had tried to get her in the pool.
“No?”
“No. I found my writing niche while I was in high school though.” At least writing gave her exactly what she was looking for. Solitude. “Turned out to be a great way to escape. I could become someone else for a little while. Like a fantasy coming to life.”
“What did you write about back then? I couldn’t imagine a teenage girl had much interest in writing children’s books.”
Ashleigh laughed. “There wasn’t much rhyme or reason back then. I’d write short stories and most of them didn’t fall into any specific category.”
Her parents had died before she was old enough to even remember them, and Ashleigh found herself fantasizing about the mother and father she never had, putting their stories down on paper. It helped with the grief.
“And now?”
“And now what?” She asked. Ashleigh didn’t know where he was going with this, but she was half tempted to push him.
She knew, thanks to Sam’s admission, that Alex was well aware of her pen name. Oddly, she thought he’d be more determined to get her into bed because of that fact.
Originally she wondered if Sam had been mistaken, but Ashleigh didn’t think so. There was a gleam in his eyes when he talked about her writing. He knew, he just wasn’t going to bring it up.
“Do the children’s books hold your interest?”
“For the most part, yes.” That was partially true.
“Have you thought about writing something else?”
“Like what?” A knot formed in her stomach. This conversation was going in the wrong direction.
“Oh, I don’t know. Mysteries? Romance, maybe?”
Or erotica? She wanted to say the words out loud, knowing that’s what he was hinting at, but she didn’t.