For some reason, Ash was the one person Rose’s empathic sense didn’t work on. But she didn’t need psychic powers to be able to tell that Ash was baffled by his team’s absence. Possibly no one else would have been able to read that from his still, remote face, but Rose had known him for a long time.
“I don’t know where everyone is,” Rose said, too quickly. “Maybe there’s some sort of event going on. I’ve been bored stiff. Come keep me company, will you?”
Moving as gingerly as a cat on unfamiliar territory, Ash approached the bar. He clasped his hands behind his back, feet setting in parade rest. He had the air of a man who suspected a surprise party might be about to spring out at him.
“The usual?” Rose asked, already reaching for a glass.
Ash’s chin dipped in a fractional nod. “Thank you.”
Rose poured his drink. As always, Ash slid a twenty across the bar in return. Rose had given up arguing with him about this years ago. Although she’d at least managed to talk him down from paying fifty per glass of perfectly ordinary ice water. Even though he didn’t drink, he didn’t need to feel that guilty about occupying space in her pub.
Rose occupied herself cleaning an imaginary spill on the worn oak bar. “Busy day?”
“Evidently busier than yours,” Ash murmured, staring around the empty pub again. His eyebrows drew down, his head tilting as though he was listening to something.
“Anything from the gang?” Rose asked, recognizing the look that Ash got when he was attempting to contact his fire crew telepathically.
“No,” Ash said, his brow creasing further. “Their minds are closed at the moment. It is not like them to miss our customary social gathering.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry.” Rose fought down a smile, forcing her tone to stay nonchalant. “No doubt they’re all just enjoying some quality time at home tonight.”
As a matter of fact, she knew for a certainty that they were. Thanks to a quiet word with their mates—and some assistance in arranging babysitters—she was confident that all the other firefighters of Alpha Team were currently having a very enjoyable evening. And would be far too preoccupied to answer their Commander’s telepathic call for quite some time.
Ash let out a faint sigh. He settled onto a bar stool at last, though his posture stayed as straight as a soldier on duty.
“I suppose,” he said, “that I should have expected this.”
“Well, the whole team is mated now,” Rose said, her voice softening in sympathy. “Not to mention most of them have children, or babies on the way. No how much they all might want to keep up the weekly pub meet tradition, they’ve got a lot of new demands on their time.”
“That is true.” Ash eyed her sidelong. “Though not what I was referring to.”
Rose blinked at him. “Oh? What did you mean, then?”
The corner of Ash’s mouth rose, ever so slightly. “That perhaps I might have saved you a great deal of evident effort and planning, had I simply agreed when you first asked me for a private meeting.”
Rose laughed, shaking her head ruefully. “I can’t get anything past you, can I?”
Ash’s mouth quirked a little more, into what for him was the equivalent of a broad, beaming smile. “I have known you for a long time.”
“Ten years.” Rose flicked the corner of her dishrag at him in a playful swat. “Which should be long enough that it shouldn’t be so hard to get you alone. Honestly, Ash, you could drive a woman to her own drink sometimes. Why do you have to be so evasive?”
Ash’s gaze slid away. He didn’t answer, toying with his water glass. His shirt cuff rode up a little with the motion, exposing the old, faded scar that twisted around his right wrist.
“I am here now,” he said, in that deep, quiet voice. “What is on your mind, Rose?”
Rose licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. Even though she’d rehearsed this, it was one thing to practice the words in the silent solitude of her bedroom, and quite another to say them to Ash’s closed, forbidding face.
She took a deep breath. “I know you aren’t happy, Ash.”
His head jerked back up, as though this wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting her to say. “I assure you, I am content enough.”
Rose shook her head firmly. “I may not be able to read your heart, Ash, but I’ve known you a long time, too. There’s a difference between acceptance and contentment. And lately, you’ve been losing what little peace you ever had. Seeing the other members of the team happily mated…I know how hard it is for you.”
Ash’s expression shuttered down even further. “I appreciate your concern, but it is both unnecessary and unwanted. The only thing that I have ever asked is that you respect my privacy. Please continue to do so.”
Rose had seen full-grown dragons cower in submission when the Phoenix used that tone. She gripped the edge of the bar, taking comfort from the familiar feel of the old, smooth wood.
“You’re lonely, Ash.” She steeled herself. “And so am I.”