At least, that was what Kallie told herself.
That they cared about the woman reorganizing their lives.
“Could I come help you with your laundry then?” Ash asked.
Kallie looked at him sideways.
Why in the world would a man like him want to do laundry? He probably paid someone to wash his own clothes. To pick them up from the dry cleaners. Why would he offer to come back to her place and wash your dirty clothes? But the idea of him coming back to her place didn't sit well with her. No, she needed this distance from him.
Even if he didn't understand it.
“I think I’ve got my laundry under control,” she said. “But thanks for the offer.”
“Then I could bring you dinner later on? The pizza and the dessert?”
“It’ll be fine. I’ve got plenty of food I had delivered when I got back,” she said. “I’ll give you a call, okay?”
Kallie gripped her purse as she headed for the door, but Ash took a hold on her arms. He slowly brought her around in front of him before crooking his fingers underneath her chin. Just that smallest touch made her weak in the knees. Made her legs crumble and made it harder to stand. She drew in a deep breath as Ash pressed against her skin, raising her gaze up to meet his. She lost herself in his hazel eyes again. In the beauty of his mahogany hair that hung just a little too long on his forehead. In the smattering of freckles that didn't seem as dark now that they weren't in the harsh sun of the island of St. Barts.
“Sasha means nothing to me, Pretty Kallie. Nothing at all.”
She’d never get used to that nickname. She loved it and hated it at the same time. How it made her feel special in the arms of a man whose reputation dodged around in her mind as often as Serena Williams returned a damn tennis ball.
“I don’t want you to go,” Ash said as he pressed his forehead to hers. “Not like this.”
“You’re overreacting,” Kallie said as she gazed up into his eyes. “I’m fine. I really do have things to go do.”
“Then call me,” he said. “For real this time. Call me tonight. Or in the morning. Let me know how your work goes. Call me when you get home.”
Kallie nodded, then pulled away from his grasp and opened his door.
Her wobbly legs carried her down to the front of the building. She hailed a cab and quickly got in, her eyes peeking back up to the top of the building. The penthouse windows were tinted, and she knew he would never be able to see anything, but something in her gut told her Ash was looking down on her. Watching her get into the cab and drive away.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
She rattled off her address, then settled back into the seat for the cab ride home. She had no idea why she was reacting this way. Seeing one of Ash's old flames shouldn't affect her like it was. Right? But the more she thought about it, the more it really wasn't about the fact that she was an ex. It was what she represented. The reality of the life Ash lived before she met him on the island. The game he ran on her before things changed.
If things hadn't changed, would he have even remembered her? And if he didn't usually remember his conquests, then why did he remember Sasha?
Sasha was a physical representation of the line of women that had come before her. The line of women that dropped to Ash’s feet to do anything for that man. Anything for his attention and his time and his money. Simultaneously, she could see why Ash hid who he was, as well as why she was so hesitant to jump into something with him. He had a past. A past that had to do with hopping from woman to woman. What in his past proved to her that he wouldn't hop around to other women while she was with him?
Was it his money that made him play women like that? Or was that simply his personality?
Did it really matter? Was one somehow better than the other?
Kallie had no way of knowing if Ash was ready to give up that life. A life of hooking up on an exotic island and never having to attach himself to someone. Was he willing to give that up and start something with her? Or did he somehow think if he could strike something up with her and still be able to keep that life going in the background? That was something she wouldn't tolerate. She would not tolerate being cheated on again. And it seemed like the more she peeled his layers back, the more she found proof that he might be more like James then she wanted to admit.