A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 52: CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

KYLE

“You think I wouldn’t know just because you hid it from me?” I murmured, tilting my head slightly. “I know things about you, Freckles… like how you were here with that dude two days ago.”

Ashley’s breath caught, her spine straightening like I had just confirmed her worst suspicion.

“So I wasn’t imagining it.”

I let out a quiet chuckle, slow and deliberate. 

“You’re good, but you’re not that good. I was in the area.” I leaned casually against one of the unfinished counters, watching the way her fingers twitched—like she couldn’t decide whether to cross her arms again or strangle me. “Didn’t realize I had to announce myself every time I pass by.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Too late.”

Her jaw clenched, but I didn’t miss the way her gaze flickered—half irritation, half something else. Something she didn’t want to name.

I pushed off the counter, closing a sliver of space between us. Not too much. Just enough to watch the subtle shift in her expression.

“You were with him at dinner, too,” I said, my voice dropping slightly. “Ethan, right?”

Ashley exhaled sharply, as if physically restraining herself from rising to the bait. “Wow. You really do have too much free time.”

I grinned. “I make time for things that interest me.”

She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “So what? You’re stalking me now?”

I placed a hand over my heart, mock-offended. “Stalking is such an ugly word. I prefer… staying informed.”

Her eyes narrowed further, the amber flecks in them catching the afternoon light. “Well, if you’re so ‘informed,’ then you should know that whatever you think is happening here—it’s not.”

I hummed in amusement. “You sure about that?”

“Positive.”

I held her gaze for a moment, letting the silence stretch. Letting the weight of it settle.

I leaned in just slightly, voice dropping to something only she could hear. “You can pretend all you want, Freckles, but you and I both know—you don’t hate that I’m here.”

Ashley swallowed hard, but before she could fire back, Marco’s voice rang out from the other end of the store.

“Hey, boss! You want me to mark up where the shelves are going, or do you still need a minute to stare longingly at him?”

Ashley let out a strangled noise of frustration, rubbing her temples.

I just laughed.

God, I missed this.

Ashley groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Marco, I swear to—”

“Relax, boss,” Marco called back, clearly enjoying himself. “I’ll be over here. Pretend I’m invisible.”

I bit back a grin. I liked this guy.

Ashley exhaled slowly, as if physically forcing herself to ignore him. “Kyle,” she said, leveling me with a stare. “Why are you really here?”

I shrugged, running a hand over the smooth wooden surface of the display counter. “I told you. I heard you were opening a store, and I wanted to help.”

She crossed her arms, her skepticism obvious. “And how exactly did you hear about it?”

I smirked. “You give me so little credit, Freckles. Just because you didn’t tell me doesn’t mean I wouldn’t find out. New York’s a big city, but not that big.”

Her lips pressed together, as if weighing whether to push further. Then she sighed, clearly deciding it wasn’t worth the energy. “Fine. And the trays?” She gestured to the decorative pieces Marco had mentioned earlier—sleek, handcrafted trays that fit the boutique’s aesthetic almost too perfectly.

I ran a hand along one, feigning deep contemplation. “I figured you’d need something for displays. Thought these might do the trick.”

Ashley stared at me, suspicious. “You just happened to come across these and thought of me?”

“Something like that.”

Her gaze flickered over the trays, then back to me. “Kyle.” Her voice was quieter now, cautious. “Are you trying to buy your way back in?”

I tilted my head slightly, watching her. “If that’s what I was doing, would it be working?”

Her lips parted, but no words came. Instead, she exhaled sharply and shook her head. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered.

I chuckled. “Relax, Freckles. There’s no secret agenda here.” I gestured to the trays. “Take them. Or don’t. But they’re yours.”

She hesitated—just for a fraction of a second. And I saw it. That little crack in her resolve.

Finally, she rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath before turning toward Marco. “Put them in the back.”

Marco shot me a look that was half amusement, half approval. “You got it, boss.”

I grinned. Interesting.

Ashley turned back to me, arms still crossed. “That doesn’t mean anything,” she said quickly, as if trying to convince herself more than me.

I leaned in just slightly, my voice dropping. “Whatever you say, Ash.”

Her breath hitched, but before she could respond, her phone buzzed. She glanced down, brows furrowing as she read the message.

I watched as she read the message and I could tell she was already looking for an out. I could see it in the way her shoulders tensed, the way she clung to that damn phone like it was a lifeline. A perfect little escape route.

Too bad for her—I wasn’t letting her off that easy.

“So,” I said, slipping my hands into my pockets, watching her closely. “How about a drink tonight?”

Ashley’s head snapped up. “What?”

I fought back a grin at her immediate resistance. Predictable. “A drink. You, me, a bar. Shouldn’t be too complicated, right?”

Ashley’s expression flattened. “I remember that I don’t have time for it.”

Expected. I let out a slow exhale, nodding as if I accepted her excuse. Then, with deliberate ease, I shrugged. “Come on, Freckles. It’s just a drink. Not a marriage proposal.”

She huffed, shoving her phone into her pocket like she was physically trying to shut me out. “Kyle—”

“Or are you scared?” I tilted my head slightly, watching her reaction. “Afraid you might actually enjoy yourself?”

Her eyes flared, and there it was—the challenge.

“That’s not—”

I took a slow step closer, lowering my voice. “Because if you are scared, I totally get it,” I murmured, my gaze locked on hers. “I mean, last time we went for drinks, things got… intense.”

Ashley groaned, rubbing her temples, like she could scrub the memory away. “I am not scared.”

Liar.

I smirked. “Then prove it.”

She didn’t say anything right away, but I could see the flicker of something in her eyes. A flash of heat, of recollection, of that night.

The dimly lit restroom. The way she had been just tipsy enough to let herself stop overthinking. The way she had let me touch her— her breath ragged, fingers digging into my wrist as she tried so damn hard to stay quiet.

The way she had come apart against my hand, her forehead pressing against my shoulder as she shuddered through it.

Yeah, she remembered.

And judging by the way she suddenly couldn’t meet my eyes, she was thinking about it right now.

Good.

I waited, letting the silence stretch between us, watching as she squared her shoulders and forced herself to meet my gaze again. Her jaw tightened, like she was trying to shove the memory into a locked box.

Her mouth opened, then shut again. Her jaw tightened, her fingers curled into her palms, and I knew—I had her.

She let out a slow breath. “One drink,” she muttered. “And only because I need one after the week I’ve had.”

I grinned, victorious. “I’ll take it.”

Ashley pointed a warning finger at me. “No funny business.”

I raised my hands in mock innocence. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She narrowed her eyes, clearly not believing me. Smart girl.

I pushed off the counter, turning to leave. “I’ll text you the place,” I said over my shoulder. “ See you at eight Freckles”

Ashley rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

And just like that, she was exactly where I wanted her.