Page 64 of Dirty Like Dylan
If I were her, that’s what I’d be wondering.
I was still wondering myself.
“So…” he said, as he carefully laid Amber’s food out on a plate for her. Her eyes widened when she saw the spread: a giant grilled portobello mushroom cap that stood in for a steak, a veggie skewer and a roast potato. “Johnny O, huh?”
Amber cringed, blushed, and took the plate Ash handed her. She set it on the table between us, then sighed and cracked open the Prosecco. “Yeah.”
“How did you two meet?” I asked. That, I hadn’t bothered to dig into. Figured she’d tell me herself, if she wanted to.
“I met him at a party Liv invited me to. Actually, it was at Jesse’s place. I just didn’t really know who Jesse was at the time. Actually…” She took a generous gulp of the wine she’d just poured herself, shivered as it went down, then peered at Ash. “I met you there, too.”
Ash stared at her, maybe trying to remember that party.
“Was I there?” I asked her.
“No. Think I would remember the auburn-haired giant.”
“What was I doing?” Ash asked. “Who was I there with?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did I hit on you?”
“Um… no.” Amber held the wine bottle up, offering me some, and when I nodded, she poured me a glass. “I was kinda busy.” She handed the glass to me.
“With Johnny?” I ventured.
“He kinda sought me out and cornered me…”
“No doubt.” We toasted silently, clinking our glasses together, and I watched as the blush crept over her cheeks.
“Funny how life goes,” Ash mused. He stood looking down at Amber, arms crossed. “You meet me and Johnny O at a party… you end up dating Johnny instead of me.”
“Well, what can I say.” Amber took another sip of her wine and avoided his eyes. “He kissed me first.”
When Ash looked at me, I smirked.
Amber looked at me, too, then finally glanced at Ash. “And, um, just to clarify. I didn’t just date him. I married him.”
Chapter Thirteen
Amber
Roslyn Pike.
Holy shit.
When I got back to Ashley’s place that evening, I took a quick shower, then threw on my short cotton sundress; cute, comfy, and easily did double-duty as a nightie. I threw on my loose cardigan overtop and pulled out my laptop. The sun was already down, so I clicked on a couple of small lamps and lit a fire in the fireplace, keeping it cozy and cabin-dark.
By now, I was used to Ashley hanging out at Dylan’s all evening, so I sat down at the dining room table and immediately did a Google search for Ashley Player and Roslyn Pike.
The search turned up a few photos of the two of them together. Mostly because Ashley was pretty famous. I was pretty sure no one, other than a photographer like me, would know or care who Roslyn Pike was, even though she was so successful in her field. I’d met her once at an exhibit of her work, and she looked pretty much how I remembered. She had wavy blonde hair and kind eyes, and she’d been really nice to me, down-to-Earth.
Which kind of made me wonder what she’d seen in Ashley Player.
Well, besides the gorgeous face and smoking-hot bod.
The search also turned up a couple of gorgeous, moody, gritty black-and-white photos of Ashley, closeups of his face, taken by Roslyn. I didn’t want to feel jealous, but shit, I kind of was. She was so talented. And apparently Ashley had liked her. At least for a few months, according to him.