Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“Fuuuuck,” Ash groaned. “You destroyed me.”
“You destroyed me first,” Truman accused matter-of-factly, burying his face into Ash’s shoulder. Ash’s arm came around him and pulled him close. Truman kissed the skin in front of his mouth until Ash stroked his head.
“Damn. Okay.”
Ash sounded conclusive.
“What?”
“Well, just, I’d been wondering what it would be like. And it was so much better,” he said reluctantly.
“You’re a big nerd,” Truman murmured.
“Yeah.”
They lay entwined, and Ash’s warm palm stroking up and down his spine lulled Truman closer and closer to sleep.
“Maybe this is the solution to your fashion problem,” Ash muttered just as Truman was drifting off.
“Hmm?”
“Maybe you’re not supposed to wear any clothes. Maybe you’re just meant to be naked all the time.”
Truman grinned with delight. “Yeah, I think you solved it.”
“Mm-hmm,” Ash congratulated himself sleepily. “Solved it.”
Then he gave Truman a pat on the ass and dragged him even closer.
Chapter 20
Truman
“I have an idea,” Truman said into Ash’s shoulder.
Still half-asleep, Ash made a sound of lustful assent and slid his hand down Truman’s spine.
“No, no, a business idea.”
Ash squeezed his ass.
“A flower shop business idea.”
Sleepy blue-gray eyes blinked open and focused on Truman.
“Hey,” Ash said.
Truman watched as delight, then surprise, then hope crossed Ash’s face. How had he never noticed how expressive Ash’s face was before?
“Hi.” Truman brushed Ash’s hair out of his eyes and pressed a kiss to his stubbled cheek. “So I have an idea,” he went on.
Ash schooled his features into a listening expression, but his fingers still explored Truman’s skin like he was convincing himself Truman was real.
“Okay, so, you know how everyone gets those ugly red plants for Christmas?”
“Poinsettias,” Ash said absently.
“Right. What if you gave them another option? What if you ran a special on red roses for Christmas—er, I’m assuming most people on the island celebrate Christmas? Just because…it’s very…homogenous.”
“Right,” Ash confirmed. “Greta’s family is Jewish, and the Pivens practice Buddhism, but they still come to all the Christmas things in town.”
“Okay, so, red roses with greenery—still red and green—and we could find some kind of Christmassy name to call the bouquets, and then you put a big picture of one in the window with a sign that says, like, ‘Tired of having the same poinsettias every year? This Christmas, try roses!’ Or something like that.”
Ash’s brow was furrowed but he was nodding. “I’d need to start small, because I don’t have the cash for a big outlay right away.”
“Yeah, start with a few people, then you imagine they’ll tell their friends.”
“The thing about poinsettias is they last all month. Roses only last four days. Five at most.”
“Oh. Right.”
“I like the idea, Truman. Really.”
Ash stroked his cheek.
“Aw, Ash, it’s okay. I like telling you ideas. You don’t have to do them. You know about the actual flower side of a flower shop and I don’t. You won’t hurt my feelings by telling me the problems with my ideas.”
Ash ran a hand through his hair. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. That is, as long as you’re not mean about it, I’m sure.”
“Well, I like the roses idea. I wish I had the money to do rose bushes. Like, little miniature red rose bushes instead of poinsettias. People could plant them outside in the spring. But they take a lot more care. Most people just throw the poinsettias away.”
He was staring at the ceiling as he spoke, and Truman got the feeling he was seeing a new side of Ash. An unselfconscious, less-filtered side than the Ash who couldn’t even brainstorm without feeling like his ideas were too unpolished.
Ash cupped Truman’s face. “It’s a good thought. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Ash kissed him slow and sweet, and Truman found his thoughts moving far from business.
“I have an idea,” Truman said.
Ash started to move away from him. He slid a hand down Ash’s spine and grabbed his ass.
“Mmm, yes, please.”
***
Truman finished his work for the day, then decided to check out what kinds of holiday fare the shops on Main Street had on offer. He told himself it was research for Thorn, but he was just in the mood to poke around.
Muskee’s was his first stop. He hadn’t explored the nonfood offerings yet.
Carla was washing the counter when he came in, and she waved a hand in her customary greeting.
“Hey, Carla. How’s it going?”
“Can’t complain, can’t complain. The Larson girl just spilled a blue Gatorade on my counter, but what can you do?”
The back of Muskee’s General Store was divided into roughly five sections: home goods, clothing, bath products, décor, and a collection of things that Truman could only reconcile into a category called Maine things. There were spoons with Maine written on the handle, candles with cabins on them, plaid towels, cast-iron doorstops in the shape of bears, et cetera.
Truman picked out some extremely Maine soap for his mom and headed to the counter.