Page 17 of Driven By Impulse

He said it so matter-of-factly that it took a moment for the words to register, then Hanna’s jaw dropped open. “That was you. He told everyone he fell off his dirt bike.”

Ash’s laugh was hollow and harsh. “I told him to say that. And I also told him that if he ever called you anything like that again, I’d break his other arm and raise him up the flagpole.”

Hanna narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

Ash held her gaze, dark blue storms, breaking between them. “You’ve never had to ask, Hanna.”

Her breath caught. This was dangerous. This was summoning ghosts in an abandoned mansion in the middle of a storm. This was digging up cursed pirate treasure. This was…

Exhilarating.

It turned out that no amount of time could erase the longing Hanna had felt for Ash Rhodes from the moment he’d walked through her front door.

“Why…” she managed. “Why did you ask me about that nickname?”

Ash slid his hand down the trunk of the tree, until his large fingers just nearly brushed her neck, tickling the hair that had come loose during their ride.

“Because I want to know, Hanna….” His voice dropped even lower, as if that were possible, as if they were just skimming the very surface of what lay between them. “How you feel about that nickname now?”

She shook her head. “I hate it.”

He grinned. “And what would you prefer to be called, then?”

Hanna’s breath caught. She was consumed by him, the scent of him, the size of him. It had been so very long since they’d stood at the top of the Point together, and back then he hadn’t filled out his leather jacket nearly so well, hadn’t been as broad or strong…

Or as dangerous.

“Ash…”

She had been hoping her voice would come out strong, reprimanding, something to indicate that she was a powerful woman who wasn’t easily taken down by the ghost of her past.

But instead, it sounded more like a whimper.

Ash, damn him, just grinned.

“No, see, that’s my name. I’m asking what you want to be called, Hanna…” He leaned down. “Vixen…?”

Hanna glared at him.

“Tornado?”

She wanted to shove him, but Hanna had the sense that if she touched even a single part of Ash’s body, it would turn out much worse for her than it did for him.

Ash bared his teeth. “How about Firecracker…?”

“How about fuck off, Ash?” she muttered. She tried to shoulder past him, but he had caged her in against the tree, strong arms, nearly a foot taller than her in his riding boots, and a hungry expression in his stormy blue eyes.

“That’s not what you asked me the last time we were here,” he replied.

At that, Hanna did push away, and Ash let her, stepping back so there was finally space to breathe between them, and Hanna practically gulped for air that didn’t smell of leather and want.

“That’s enough,” she gritted out. “I’m out of my depth here, Ash. That’s why I called you. But I’d rather drown all on my own than have you weighing me down.”

Chapter Seven

The air was cold on his face, and Ash was grateful for it. He’d hoped to be on surveillance alone after dropping Hanna back off at the hospital, but even though the entire situation at the top of Hollow Point had left him feeling like the worst kind of shit, he was grateful when Nicco had said he’d come along.

Because despite how much Ash felt like he was trapped in the very heart of a cyclone being back in Bitterroot, it didn’t entirely distract him from the mounting worry that had been growing since the last time they’d come to Montana to help out their family.