The Good Mom (19 page)

Her heart feeling leaden, she headed down the stairs and out to the street with him.

“Take a walk down to the corner?” he asked her.

“All right.” She was just about to ask him if he was ending things with her before they'd even really started, when she glanced up and caught his gentle smile.

She stopped short, in the middle of the sidewalk. She could drown in that smile.

“Ashley,” he said quietly, hands in his pockets. “I hope you don't feel bad about what you told me last night. Because I don't.”

“You...don't?” She rubbed her arms. The sun had gone down behind the buildings, and the afternoon was getting cooler. “Maybe I'm just... I don't know.
Ashamed
is probably the closest word.”

“I hope that's not on my account.”

She bit her lip. “It feels strange telling someone, after all of these years.”

“Nobody ever asked you?”

“They did. I just refused to talk about it. After a while, people stopped asking.”

“And... Brandon. Does he ask you?”

She sucked in her breath. Did she really want to continue this conversation?

“This summer,” she said cautiously. “And we handled it. I told you he knows his father is deceased.”

“He never asked you when he was little?”

She sighed. “I think he took it in stride back then. My sister once told me that she overheard him explaining to Jon that people in our family didn't have fathers.”

“That's heartbreaking,” Aidan said.

“I know. It did break my heart. It still does.”

Aidan reached over. Casually he put his arm on her shoulder and pulled her closer, even as they walked.

“Why are you interested in me?” she asked, not daring to look at him.

“Because you care about people first, before anything else. I'm not used to that.”

“You, from a family of doctors?”

“Yes, me, from a family of doctors.”

It seemed so strange to her. She could only shake her head in wonder.

“You want to see firsthand?” he asked her.

“What do you mean?”

“My cousin is getting married next weekend. And I need a date.”

That made her laugh. “Oh, right,” she said, snorting. “I'll just put on my best frock and mingle with the high society. Vivian Sharpe will love to see me walking in on your arm—don't you think?”

He looked hurt. “They're people, too, Ashley. And they are my family, such as they are.”

She stopped laughing. “Sorry. You're right.”

“So you'll go with me?”

“First of all, you can't just add a plus-one to a wedding reception the week before the date. That's not how it works, Aidan.”

He pulled a card, now crumpled, from his back pocket. “A note from my formidable grandmother. It was in my mailbox, which I checked before I came over here. She said that she put me in for a plus-one, and that if I was looking for a date, in her opinion, I should take that very sexy hairstylist who gave me the best shampoo of my life, my first day back in town.”

She stopped short. “Are you kidding? Let me see that note.”

Laughing, he handed it over, and it was all true, except for the “very sexy hairstylist” part. That he'd made up.

“I thought she disliked me.” Ashley handed him back his letter.

“Apparently not,” he said. “But the main thing I liked about this note is that it's what I want, too. I'm not doing it for her.”

That...was probably the nicest thing any man had said to her in a long time. She leaned against him, walking in silence, enjoying the moments in the day with him.

“I'm not sure what to wear. Do I have anything nice enough?”

“A, um, cocktail dress is fine. That's what women call them, right?”

She smiled to herself. He was trying. Oh, he was trying.

“Okay,” she admitted. “But under two conditions. First, I don't think it's wise to tell Brandon about the wedding just yet. And second...”

He glanced at her.

“Second, you let me cut your hair.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A
IDAN
SETTLED
HIMSELF
into Ashley's chair in her salon on the afternoon of his cousin's wedding. He was dressed in a suit but had folded his jacket over the chair in the empty salon station next to theirs.

He inhaled deeply and then stretched his shoulders, reveling in how great he felt. Ashley and him, nearly alone. The morning rush was over, and now few coworkers were present—just the receptionist, hidden from view around the corner, and a lone stylist clear across the salon, working on a man that he looked like he might be romantically involved with.

Aidan crossed his arms over his white T-shirt and prepared for another very sexy shampoo.

He heard a clicking noise approaching and he glanced up, watching as Ashley walked across the tiled floor in her stiletto sandals. He sat taller, craning to see her better. She looked like a knockout, dressed to kill, and this was an entirely new side of her that he enjoyed seeing.

She wore a black dress with a hemline just above her knees, showing off great long legs. The sandals were black and strappy, and her toenails were pale pink, like cotton candy.

Something strange was happening to him. He was overcome by the feeling that all he wanted to do was settle her in his lap and kiss her silly.

“I hope I'm dressed appropriately.” She set down a pot with some of concoction that she'd been mixing—it smelled fantastic, like the most sensual oils possible—and then reached for an apron. Before she put it on though, she spun around for him. “What do you think, Aidan? Will I pass muster?”

Her back was bare, crisscrossed by several elegant, sexy black straps. He itched to put his hand on her skin and caress her. Slide it under that side strap and—

“Aidan?” She tilted her head and smiled at him. Her auburn hair was up, a few strands brushing the back of her neck. She'd put some pale pink gloss on her lips, also the color of cotton candy. He couldn't help wondering if it tasted like cotton candy, too.

“Aidan.” His name was breathless on her lips.

With a groan, he pulled her to him. Set her on his lap. In her ear, he whispered, “You look more beautiful than anyone I've ever seen. All I want to do is kiss you.”

She made a small sigh and put her palms flat on his chest. Through the thin shirt he could feel her warmth. On his lap, she shifted slightly, the black hem of her dress rising up her thighs as she did.

He'd never felt such attraction. Feeling the heat rise in his lap, he leaned forward and nibbled her glossy cotton-candy lips. She squirmed some more, sighing again, and then kissed him. He clasped his arms around her, and they were making out like teenagers on her salon chair.

He laughed inside, loving it, loving what she was doing to him, making him feel young and happy again, as if his life was again full of possibilities and charm.

She leaned back finally, and with that breathless voice, said, “I will never look at this salon chair the same way again.”

He grinned at her. “Good,” he teased. He itched to mess up her hair, to see what it would be like if they were in bed together, but he restrained himself.

He would like to ask her to skip the wedding and be alone with him instead, but somehow it seemed important that she get comfortable with his family.

Strange, that.

Low voices sounded behind him. He glanced back, and saw that the couple was headed out. One man—the stylist—saw Aidan looking at him and gave a friendly wave. Aidan nodded back.

Ashley jumped off the chair, blushing furiously. “Goodbye, Anthony,” she called.

“See you Monday, Cinderella.”

She laughed.

“Why does he call you Cinderella?”

“It's the lipstick color I used one time. Cinderella Red. Quite a silly name, if you ask me.”

“I doubt it has to do with the lipstick. You look...well, you look beautiful, dressed like that today.”

A line formed in her forehead, and she frowned at him. “This is new to me. I haven't done anything like this in, well...ever. I take care of Brandon—that's what I do. I've told you that.” Her voice was gentle, but the feeling behind it wasn't. She cleared her throat. “I know it's hard for us to talk during the week, with Brandon there, so maybe we should clarify things now.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, determined not to let her give him excuses. “Single moms are allowed to date, Ashley. There's nothing wrong with that.”

“For most single moms, Aidan, but I have to be careful. If I mess up...if Brandon's father has a family and they find out I've messed up...I'm afraid they'll try to take him away from me somehow. I can't afford to make any mistakes. Maybe that's wrong, but I've always felt nervous. I know some of it comes from my background with my sister and my mom and our tough childhood, but...”

“Hey,” he said softly. “You're not making mistakes. And Brandon's a well-adjusted kid. He loves being with you.” And then he made a joke, just to take away that distressed look on her face. “You know me, Ashley. If you were doing something wrong, wouldn't I tell you?”

She gave him a smile, but it was a sad one. “I'd like to keep this secret. Us dating, I mean. For now.” She swallowed, looking up at him so pleadingly that his heart went out to her. “Can we do that, please?”

“A hundred people will see us together at my cousin's wedding,” he reminded her gently.

“I know. I mean secret from my family. From my sister. And...Brandon. Especially Brandon. For now,” she said again, glancing at him.

He thought back.

The two of them had met in the salon this afternoon rather than at her apartment. She'd specifically asked Aidan to come here, but he hadn't realized that it was because of Brandon. He'd thought it was a sexy thing she wanted to do with him, coming into her workplace toward the end of her regular Saturday work hours and getting a haircut.

“So...you're not going to tell Brandon anything about us,” Aidan clarified. “At all?”

She shook her head. “Why raise his expectations? Especially if it doesn't...” She blushed.

“If it doesn't work out between us, you mean.”

She nodded.

He crossed his arms, suddenly tense. On an intellectual level, he understood. She was protecting her son. But his heart wasn't taking it well. Not well at all.

He glanced at her, and caught her looking at him, worried and sad. It was just a flash of emotion across her face, but it told him that she wanted it to work every bit as much as he did.

“So...if it works, we'll tell Brandon. Is that what you're saying? Because it's what I want. And I think your fears are unfounded.”

She nodded. “I know I have to tell Brandon at some point. But...maybe if we take it slow, I'll feel more comfortable.”

“Get him through his math test. Is that a good goal?”

“Yes.” She nodded again, relieved. “You understand.”

“Yeah, I do.”

His heart softened a bit. He would just have to make sure that it did work.

He wiped his face with his hand. Thought for a second. “What did you tell him about tonight? If you're not with me, then where are you?”

“I didn't have to tell him a thing about tonight, actually.” A smile spread over her face. “I thought I was quite clever about it.”

“You are quite clever,” he agreed, intrigued at what she'd come up with.

“Well...” She put an apron on herself, and then the blue plastic cape on him. Then she put on a pair of rubber gloves and began stirring that pot she'd carried out.

“Because of his cast, Brandon isn't allowed to participate in his required club sport. He'd chosen soccer for the fall, but since that's out now, they gave him a choice of other fall activities.”

“And you guided his choice, I'm assuming.”

“Oh, yes. And quite conveniently, country hiking takes place on Saturdays.”

“And since the Captains are on the road today...”

“Exactly.” She nodded, putting down her spoon. “Brandon is climbing Mount Monadnock with the St. Bartholomew's Outdoor Club as we speak. They'll be down the mountain by sundown, then they'll have dinner and drive back to Boston.”

“Ah.” Aidan actually felt a bit envious of Brandon. He'd always loved hiking. And what he wouldn't give to have Ashley with him, alone, overnight in a tent on a mountainside in New Hampshire. What a fantasy.

“Now lean back,” she told him, swiveling his chair away from the sink and to face the mirror. “After a quick shampoo, I'm going to put this conditioning treatment in your hair. It's quite goopy, but it works great. You'll be under the dryer for fifteen minutes, though.”

“Wait, what? I thought I was getting a scalp massage first?”

She laughed delightfully. “That comes after the conditioning treatment and before your cut and blow-dry.”

He glanced at his watch. “Do we have time for all that?”

“Yes, we have time for that, but I do have one bit of unfortunate news before we start.”

He braced himself. “What?”

“I turn into a pumpkin at eight o'clock.”

“Excuse me?”

She sighed. “Brandon's bus gets back to St. Bart's at nine o'clock. That means I need to leave the reception at eight o'clock. I know that's right after dinner, and I'm really sorry, so I won't feel bad at all if you just drop me off and then return to party with your cousins.”

He shook his head. She really didn't understand him. “Ashley, you're my date tonight. I stick with my dates. I'm not going to go back afterward without you.”

“If you're sure...”

“Yes, I'm sure. If you hadn't agreed to go with me, then I wasn't going to go to the reception at all.”

She smiled at him. “Then I'm glad I agreed, because it's good for you to spend time with your family.”

He laughed softly.

“What?”

“I realized why my grandmother seems to have given her approval.”

“Well...that's one less thing to worry about. Now let me fix your hair.”

“I don't know about this,” he said, eyeing the jar of glop she wanted to slather on his hair.

“A plastic cap will cover it.”

“Forget it.”

“Trust me, Aidan. I am very good at what I do. When I'm finished, you will not only look better but you'll feel like the best you possible.”

He thought the same thing could have been achieved if she'd stayed in his lap for a while longer.

Then again, if he played along with the hair thing, maybe she would reward him later.

“Go for it, Cinderella.”

* * *

A
SHLEY
TURNED
OFF
her blow-dryer and then stepped back to admire her handiwork.

Amazing.
Aidan looked fantastic. Without that wild, long hair always in his eyes, he looked like a new man entirely.

She stepped back farther. Maybe he looked
too
good. Too far above her. As he buttoned up his shirt, tied his blue tie, and tossed on his suit jacket, he seemed...

Unbelievably handsome. All eyes would be drawn to him with his natural magnetism.

She chewed her thumbnail. What had she done?

“You're right,” he said, smiling. “You are good at what you do.”

She crossed her arms, rubbing them.

He was glancing at himself in the mirror. Touching his hair. “I like it.”

“I hope so.”

He glanced at her sharply at her doubtful tone. “It's great. Let's get going.”

They went outside, and down to street level. Ashley walked slowly, constrained by her high heels and the short dress. She clutched her purse in one hand, a shawl in the other. It had been unseasonably warm today, but the evening would get cooler.

Aidan had borrowed his grandmother's town car and driver. He opened the door for her, gently helping her climb in.

The back seats were plush and warm, the air in their compartment quiet and still. She felt cocooned from the world.

The engine started up and the driver steered the car down the street.

Aidan reached for her hand. “Everyone will see that you've tamed me.”

“That's never what I wanted to do!”

“I like being calmer. I'm done with war zones.”

“Tonight won't be one?” she said nervously.

He chuckled and laced her fingers with his. It felt sensual and heartwarming to her, both at the same time. And then she was leaning over, kissing him. Running her fingers through that hair that she'd always loved, though now shorter and softer to the touch, less wild-looking.

Their driver turned the car down a garage ramp, and Aidan gave her a long, soul-sighing kiss.

“You'll be okay tonight, Ashley. I promise.” His eyes glittered in the light from passing headlights in the dim garage.

“Yes, I trust you Aidan.”

* * *

I
NSIDE
THE
VENUE
, Ashley's mouth dropped open at more of those floor-to-ceiling views of the inner harbor. The wedding was on State Street, in an upper floor of a high-rise just behind Boston's famous blue-lit clock tower. It was nearing sunset. Chairs had been set up so that the bride and groom could say their vows facing the water. Later, Aidan explained, tables would be brought in and the guests would dine beneath moonlight that would shine through those spectacular windows.

He was a model escort. As she'd hoped, he kept her arm in his. They circulated the room, and he kept up a commentary in a low undertone, explaining to her who each relative was.

Cousins. Aunts and uncles. His parents couldn't make it, he explained, because they lived and worked in Florida.

“So does my mother,” she blurted, and then blushed. Most assuredly, her alcoholic mother and his doctor parents did not move in the same social circles. Just as she and Aidan didn't.