Ashlyn chuckled. It was such a Slate answer, she couldn’t take offense. “Okay, you know how we were talking about some of my clients earlier?”
“Yup.”
Ashlyn had been pleasantly surprised at Slate’s interest in the men and women she brought meals to. She’d been reticent to talk about them, since she knew he didn’t exactly approve of her job, but he’d listened carefully, asked appropriate questions, and he honestly seemed curious about the people she interacted with on a daily basis.
“Well…I’ve been thinking about Christi.”
“She’s the one in the wheelchair, right?” Slate asked.
“Yeah. That’s her. I don’t know exactly what her disability is; I feel kind of weird asking. I mean, if I spent more time with her and her sister, I’m sure they’d open up, but I suppose that isn’t important. Anyway, I was thinking about seeing if I could arrange for her to get out of the house. Like, bring her down to the beach for some fresh air or something. I’m sure I can figure out how to transport her, but I don’t want Lori to feel bad if I offer. Her nurse’s aide would obviously come with us, but I just don’t know how to broach the subject.
“She’s always in the house when I get there. Usually sitting in front of the TV. I just feel awful that they’re in Hawaii, and Christi never gets out. What do you think?”
Slate reached across the table and took her hand in his. “First, I think you’ve got the biggest heart out of anyone I’ve ever met. Most people would do their job of delivering meals and that would be that. They wouldn’t get to know the Turners, wouldn’t sneak in extra treats for the elderly clients, and they definitely wouldn’t care about a handicapped girl needing more fresh air.”
“But?” Ashlyn prompted when he paused for a long moment.
“I’m not saying it’s a bad idea, but maybe Christi is perfectly happy with her life as it is. Maybe she doesn’t like the smell of the sea because it reminds her of things she can’t do because of her handicap. Maybe she doesn’t like being stared at when she’s outside the house. Obviously talking to Lori is a very important step, because she’s ultimately in charge of her sister’s well-being. You’ve already told me how hard she’s working to keep Christi with her, and the last thing you want is her thinking she’s not doing enough.”
“Very true,” Ashlyn said.
“But even if you talk to Lori and she agrees, and you can arrange for transportation, and you check to make sure wherever you want to take Christi is wheelchair friendly, and the home health aide gives her approval for the trip and agrees to accompany you…there’s still something big you’re missing.”
“What?”
“Asking Christi if she wants to go to the beach. You’ve said she’s non-verbal, but she has to have some way of communicating. She’s a human being, and she deserves to be asked her opinion, not for decisions to be made without her input.”
Ashlyn stared at Slate. He was right. One hundred precent right—and she was an idiot. She hadn’t expressly said otherwise, but it had been her intention to discuss it with Lori and the nurse…not Christi. She closed her eyes, feeling awful.
Slate squeezed her hand. “Hey, look at me.”
She didn’t want to, but opened her eyes and met his gaze.
“She’s lucky to have someone like you in her life.”
Ashlyn swallowed hard. She’d been all gung-ho to try to make Christi’s life better, without a clue as to whether the woman was content or not. She wasn’t seeing her as a person. Not really. She just got an idea in her head and started planning stuff without thinking of all the angles. Asking Christi if she wanted to go to the beach should be the first thing she did, not the last.
Slate leaned forward and brought their clasped hands to his mouth. He kissed her fingers gently. “You’re an amazing advocate, Ashlyn. You care about your clients, which is fucking awesome.”
She chuckled. Leave it to Slate to make her laugh when she felt like shit for being so thoughtless.
Their waiter appeared then, holding a giant plate with three scoops of fried ice cream. He put down the plate and two spoons, and said, “Enjoy!”
Slate kept hold of her right hand and reached for a spoon. Ashlyn tugged on her hand. He didn’t let go. Without acknowledging her slight struggle, he scooped up a bite of ice cream and ate it.
“Hey, big guy, I need my hand to eat,” she told him with a grin.
“You’ve got another,” he said, seemingly unconcerned.
“Yeah, but I’m right-handed,” Ashlyn reminded him.
“I know. If you have to eat with your left hand, I’ll get more.”
“Hey!” she complained, laughing now and tugging at her hand with more effort.
Slate’s lips curled up into a grin. “You know you’ll eat more than your fair share if I don’t give you a handicap.”
“I will not!”
“Babe, you’ve got the biggest sweet tooth of anyone I’ve ever met. I don’t care that you’ve eaten twice your weight in tater tots and gobbled that burger like you’ve got a stomach parasite. If you get the chance, you’ll inhale this ice cream and leave me only a few slurps of melted goo.”
Ashlyn couldn’t help it, she laughed even harder at the vision he painted. “Fine. I promise to only eat my half if you give my hand back.”
He eyed her skeptically.
“And aren’t you supposed to be worried about eating all healthy and shit? Mr. I Only Eat Protein Shakes and Bars For Breakfast.”
“It’s Friday. My cheat day,” he said without missing a beat.
“Come on, it’s melting!” Ashlyn whined.
Slate squeezed her hand once more, then let go. She didn’t hesitate to reach for a spoon and dip it into the dessert. Taking a huge bite, she glared at Slate.
“Fuck, you’re cute,” he muttered, before turning his concentration back to the treat between them.
Ashlyn had never in a million years thought being called “cute” would get her motor revving…but then again, she’d never imagined the words coming from Slate either. The smile never left her face as they finished their dessert.
CHAPTER SIX
When they pulled up to Slate’s house after dinner, Ashlyn was feeling extremely mellow. The night had been awesome. She’d loved spending time with him one-on-one. He was a great conversationalist. When they were out with their friends, he stayed in the background, often saying very little. When they’d first met, she’d actually pegged him as being moody and a bit of a downer, but that wasn’t the case at all. He just preferred letting his friends take the spotlight.
“You comin’ in?” Slate asked when he turned off the engine.
It was fairly late, but neither of them had to work in the morning, so Ashlyn nodded. “If that’s all right.”
“It’s more than fucking all right,” he answered, leaning in and snagging her behind the neck, pulling her close. He kissed her hard right there in his truck, his tongue twining with hers, immediately making Ashlyn squirm with lust.
“Inside,” he growled after abruptly pulling back and opening his door.