Free Storm Shades by Olivia Stephens

financial mess that they’d left behind them, perhaps it was time to stop worrying about what they would want from her.
    “Penny for your thoughts.” Ashton doesn’t even turn around, and she wonders if this guy has some kind of sixth sense.
    “I don’t think they’re worth that much.” Sofie laughs lightly, shaking off the thought of her parents, which inevitably brings her down every time.
    They’ve walked through the shop to a workshop at the back of the store and Ashton retrieves a shirt from the workbench. As he passes it to her, their hands touch. The contact sends a jolt through Sofie, as if electricity hit her. From the look on Ashton’s face, he felt something too, and for a few moments, they both just stare at each other, breathing heavily, heat passing between them.
    “Go ahead and put it on.” He turns his back but doesn’t leave the room.
    Sofie is shivering from the cold, and she wonders if—between getting drenched yesterday and soaked again today—she was getting sick. She turns around but is still acutely aware of Ashton behind her. She pulls off the t-shirt that’s stuck to her body like glue and puts on the denim shirt he’s given her. It’s about ten sizes too big for her and clearly one of his. She inhales the scent of him that clings to the shirt and feels her stomach do that somersault thing that only seems to happen when he’s near.
    “You can turn around now,” she tells him, as she pulls her wet hair up into a high bun on her head.
    “It looks good on you.” Ashton looks her over appreciatively, making Sofie feel like she’s wearing something far more revealing than an oversized denim shirt.
    “I doubt that, but it’s dry. Thanks.” Sofie locks eyes with Ashton, and she gets the same feeling that she did when she first saw him. It’s like the rest of the world stops, disappears, falls away, and all she can see is him. That lazy smile of his is back, and Sofie finds herself wondering what it would be like to kiss those lips, to have those lips on her, on her neck, on her breasts, on her pussy. She blinks a couple of times to bring herself back to the present moment, spinning around so she’s no longer facing him and trying to hide how red she must be turning. “What are those?” she asks, trying to deflect the attention from her own embarrassment. However, as she looks at the pieces, she feels herself drawn towards them.
    “Totem poles,” he says in a hoarse voice, as if he too is being pulled back from distracting thoughts of his own.
    There are three wooden poles—all over 8 feet tall. One, in particular, captures Sofie’s attention. She walks towards it, tracing her fingers over the intricate carving of a tree that winds its way up the pole. At the top is an image of the head of a wolf, and there’s something magical about it; yet, it looks so real. Not only that, but there’s a dignity about it that makes Sofie feel like she shouldn’t be touching it, as if she weren’t being respectful. She draws her hand back, and Ashton seems to take the movement as dismissive.
    “They’re not done yet,” Ashton says, sounding almost embarrassed, like an artist that doesn’t like to show his work to anyone before it’s finished. But there’s something else in his voice, something that sounds a little like hurt at her reaction.
    Sofie whirls around, taking a few steps towards him, closing the distance between them. “They’re beautiful.” She looks up at him and feels the magnetic pull that draws her towards him. “The wolf…it’s so life-like. It’s amazing,” she says, breathing the words. Her heart is beating faster, and she feels like the temperature of the room is rising.
    “I’m glad you like it,” he says, gently. Sofie can’t stop herself from wondering what it would be like to have that gentle voice talking to her in the dark. “I don’t let people come in here usually.”
    His words touch her, and she knows she would be lying if she tried to