the way through.”
“And you’re saying I’m incapable of committing to something that takes more than fifteen minutes?” Her tone was sweeter than his mom’s iced tea, but her smile held saccharine’s bitter edge. “That someone like me—” her volume went up, competing with the music, “—couldn’t possibly—” another decibel uptick, “—be more than a—” yeah, she was in crystal-shattering range now, “—blonde bobblehead.”
Shit. He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, and he sure didn’t want to piss off Mrs. Chappell. Living out by Lily Lake was one of the few things that had kept him sane after hauling ass out of Dallas. His digs weren’t exactly the Taj Mahal, but they suited him for now. “No, all I’m saying is I’m not the guy for the job.”
Rather than rail on him more, she simply nodded. A tiny movement somehow full of disappointment. Before he could recover from the odd pain that set off inside him, she tugged out of his hold and walked away.
“Ashton,” he called. For some odd reason, he was desperate for her to understand. “I’m just not the man you need.”
Hell, he wasn’t the man anyone needed.
* * *
Clearly, Ashton needed help convincing Mac to work with her on the project since he’d turned her down flat last night. After leaving Harry’s, she’d sat up half the night, rubbing Napoleon’s Kibble Kare–bloated belly and watching HGTV.
The one person who seemed to understand human nature better than anyone else she knew was Jessup, so as soon as the sun was peeking through the windows, she called him and made a lunch date. That afternoon, as she strolled across Southeast State’s campus carrying lunch, students flowed by her. Chatting, smiling, flirting. They were...babies. Bright futures before them. Optimistic about their upcoming successes. Just like she’d been once upon a time at Virginia Commonwealth. Before she’d been sucked back into the Davenport family’s sphere. The expectations. The lack of expectations.
Interspersed in the sea of youthful faces were a handful of more mature people. Some were professors if she had to guess. But others carried messenger bags and books. One lady she passed must’ve been seventy if she was a day. Reinventing herself? Now that...that took guts. Grit.
The kind of grit Gigi had. The kind Ashton
wanted
to have.
She rolled her shoulders back, squared them.
A person’s chances at making something of herself didn’t suddenly disappear when she hit thirty. Or any other age. The only thing that held her back was her own mindset.
Through the buzz of activity, Ashton found her way to a fountain in the center of campus. The picnic tables where Jessup had said she could find him should be nearby. She twirled in a circle and spotted him. Wasn’t hard. She could pick him out anywhere. His close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair. His perfect posture. His general air of distinction.
She headed in his direction, studied him while he studied a book through a pair of reading glasses. Instead of his normal black suit and bright pocket square, he wore sharp-creased khakis that would do a fraternity pledge proud. His loafers—shined, of course—matched the belt. But his polo shirt was an eye-popping blue with yellow trim at the sleeves and collar. He was intent on the book before him and wore a little smile.
He was happy.
If his smile and outfit weren’t adorable enough, the backpack propped on the table was. A muted navy with lime-green piping.
Ashton’s heart did a fist-pump. This had to be how every mom felt when her baby went to kindergarten, a strange combination of pride and loss. However much she might want to keep her child close, she let him go because it was the best thing for
him.
And in that moment, Ashton lost her claim on Jessup. On him as anything but her friend.
“You know girls have a thing for guys in glasses.”
Jessup’s head slowly lifted, and he slipped the tortoise-shell frames from his nose.
“And you’re saying I’m incapable of committing to something that takes more than fifteen minutes?” Her tone was sweeter than his mom’s iced tea, but her smile held saccharine’s bitter edge. “That someone like me—” her volume went up, competing with the music, “—couldn’t possibly—” another decibel uptick, “—be more than a—” yeah, she was in crystal-shattering range now, “—blonde bobblehead.”
Shit. He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, and he sure didn’t want to piss off Mrs. Chappell. Living out by Lily Lake was one of the few things that had kept him sane after hauling ass out of Dallas. His digs weren’t exactly the Taj Mahal, but they suited him for now. “No, all I’m saying is I’m not the guy for the job.”
Rather than rail on him more, she simply nodded. A tiny movement somehow full of disappointment. Before he could recover from the odd pain that set off inside him, she tugged out of his hold and walked away.
“Ashton,” he called. For some odd reason, he was desperate for her to understand. “I’m just not the man you need.”
Hell, he wasn’t the man anyone needed.
* * *
Clearly, Ashton needed help convincing Mac to work with her on the project since he’d turned her down flat last night. After leaving Harry’s, she’d sat up half the night, rubbing Napoleon’s Kibble Kare–bloated belly and watching HGTV.
The one person who seemed to understand human nature better than anyone else she knew was Jessup, so as soon as the sun was peeking through the windows, she called him and made a lunch date. That afternoon, as she strolled across Southeast State’s campus carrying lunch, students flowed by her. Chatting, smiling, flirting. They were...babies. Bright futures before them. Optimistic about their upcoming successes. Just like she’d been once upon a time at Virginia Commonwealth. Before she’d been sucked back into the Davenport family’s sphere. The expectations. The lack of expectations.
Interspersed in the sea of youthful faces were a handful of more mature people. Some were professors if she had to guess. But others carried messenger bags and books. One lady she passed must’ve been seventy if she was a day. Reinventing herself? Now that...that took guts. Grit.
The kind of grit Gigi had. The kind Ashton
wanted
to have.
She rolled her shoulders back, squared them.
A person’s chances at making something of herself didn’t suddenly disappear when she hit thirty. Or any other age. The only thing that held her back was her own mindset.
Through the buzz of activity, Ashton found her way to a fountain in the center of campus. The picnic tables where Jessup had said she could find him should be nearby. She twirled in a circle and spotted him. Wasn’t hard. She could pick him out anywhere. His close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair. His perfect posture. His general air of distinction.
She headed in his direction, studied him while he studied a book through a pair of reading glasses. Instead of his normal black suit and bright pocket square, he wore sharp-creased khakis that would do a fraternity pledge proud. His loafers—shined, of course—matched the belt. But his polo shirt was an eye-popping blue with yellow trim at the sleeves and collar. He was intent on the book before him and wore a little smile.
He was happy.
If his smile and outfit weren’t adorable enough, the backpack propped on the table was. A muted navy with lime-green piping.
Ashton’s heart did a fist-pump. This had to be how every mom felt when her baby went to kindergarten, a strange combination of pride and loss. However much she might want to keep her child close, she let him go because it was the best thing for
him.
And in that moment, Ashton lost her claim on Jessup. On him as anything but her friend.
“You know girls have a thing for guys in glasses.”
Jessup’s head slowly lifted, and he slipped the tortoise-shell frames from his nose.
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