After spending the better part of Sunday in Fiona’s bed, she and Asher had declared Monday all business. Or at least, mostly business.

Okay, half real business, half monkey business.

Fiona rolled over in the king-size bed they’d stolen from Teddy in the suite and grinned as Asher slept the sleep of the dead, passed out on his stomach, his face turned toward hers, resting on the pillow as he breathed deeply, steadily.

They’d set up a reward system. For each scene they successfully revised and reworked, they granted themselves thirty minutes of fooling around, but not sex. That was the big carrot, the grand prize that Asher called “completion for completion.”

After ten hours of work, interspersed with kissing, fondling, sucking and stroking, they’d both been panting by the time they’d finally finished the fucking script.

Her stomach growled. She’d eaten precious little in the past two days, sating her hunger in other ways.

But now, her body ached in all the right places, and her stomach was done waiting for its turn. She walked out to the living room and grabbed her cell.

“Hey, Yvonne,” she said when her cousin answered the phone. “Any chance I could get a couple of tonight’s specials bagged up to go?”

Yvonne put the orders in for her, and they chatted a couple minutes more about the script…and then, her cousin less than subtly inquired whether or not Fiona would be sleeping in her own bed tonight.

She said no, ignored Yvonne’s “I knew it!” and hung up, promising to be there in half an hour to get the food.

“Fee?” Asher called out from the bedroom.

“Out here.”

He was in the doorway before she made it two steps back toward the bedroom. Like her, he hadn’t bothered to tug on any clothes. They’d actually spent the last two hours writing in nothing but their underwear.

“Come back to bed,” he said in that deep, grumbly voice that had her body responding before her mind could engage.

She started to walk toward him, then her stomach growled again. She stopped. “No. Food. I’m going to throw my clothes back on and head over to the pub. I placed a couple of take-out orders for us. Plus, I want to grab my toothbrush and pajamas.”

“Forget about the pajamas. You won’t need them. Bring the vibrator instead. I want to use it on you again.”

She shivered at the thought, recalling how incredible it had felt when he’d used the toy on her. So much better than when she played with it herself.

Asher grinned as her face grew hot with the thought. “Come on. Let’s get dressed and get the food. Otherwise, we’ll never get there.”

The two of them threw on their clothes and held hands as they walked along the cobblestone streets of Fell’s Point. Out in the fresh air, the thick, heavy desire that seemed impenetrable in the hotel eased, and she was able to walk and talk without the thought of sex constantly buzzing in her ears.

Sex with Asher was highly addictive.

She was surprised when he bypassed the pub and led her toward the waterfront instead, but she didn’t hesitate to follow him. It was a beautiful spring night and like him, she was happy to be outside in it.

Once they reached the water, he found a bench for them to sit on. They watched the lights from the boats and surrounding buildings twinkle on the smooth, glassy surface of the water.

“Fiona, these past two days have been some of the best of my life.”

She smiled. “Mine too. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“The sex thing.” She tried to figure out how to phrase her questions. Asher really did seem like a different man in the bedroom, so domineering, so alpha. She wasn’t so innocent to believe that they probably hadn’t scratched the surface of his experience. “It’s pretty intense and…”

“Out of character?”

She shook her head. “No…yes…maybe? Where did that guy come from?”

He sighed. “You really want to talk about Christina?”

“No. Not exactly. I mean, I figured a lot of this…” She waved her hand around, her vocabulary failing her.

“This?” he questioned, but she didn’t answer. She could feel her face growing hot despite the cool breeze, which basically answered his question for him.

“The dominance? The hair pulling? The bondage?”

She nodded. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

Asher rested his arm along the back of the bench and she shifted closer, loving how it felt to nestle into him. “Yeah. There’s more. But, Fiona, I would never do anything without talking to you first, without making sure it was something you wanted too.”

“I know that.” She did. Because despite the beast who emerged in the bedroom, at heart, Asher was her Boy Scout, and that seemed to be the stronger trait.

“I like what we’ve done. A lot. More than I know how to say.”

“I love being with you, Fiona.”

“I’m just wondering if…we could…”

She stopped. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if they could drop ménage from the kink list. God, she wanted to do everything else, but that…that wasn’t working for her.

However, Asher had been the one to instigate the threesome and, despite her reservations about it, she didn’t want to disappoint him if it was something he wanted.

Something he needed.

“We’re going to explore it all, Fee. There’s so much I—we—want to do with you.” He paused before leaning closer to whisper, “To you.”

She shivered, and the hormones she’d managed to shake off on the walk reemerged full force, and she reconsidered her request. They’d only tried it once. Maybe she wasn’t giving the idea a fair shake. After all, she’d loved everything else.

Owen would return tomorrow. Which gave her one more night alone with her sexy, commanding lover. She’d take advantage of it. Then tomorrow, she’d simply have to trust that Asher knew how to guide her and Owen the rest of the way.

“Let’s hurry up and get the food,” she said, standing and heading back toward the pub.

* * *

Asher didn’t chastise her for, once again, trying to rush to the good stuff. He took her hand and they walked back together. Yvonne had their food ready for them, so Asher said he’d wait at the bar while Fiona ran upstairs to pack an overnight bag.

Tris was behind the counter while Patrick was in what Fiona called his usual spot, dead center of the long, shiny mahogany bar.

“Pull up a seat, son,” Patrick offered.

Asher placed the food on the counter and refused Tris’s offer of a drink. He was in too much of a hurry to get Fiona back to the hotel. The clock was ticking on their time alone. They only had one more night together before Owen returned, and Asher intended to make it count.

“Yvonne reports that the two of you finished your script,” Patrick said.

Asher suspected there was very little her Pop Pop didn’t know about what was happening in his children’s and grandchildren’s lives—big stuff and small.

“Yep. It’s in the can. Rest of the cast will arrive on Thursday.”

“I hope my line didn’t change,” Patrick mused. “I think I’ve finally figured out a great way to say it to make it funny.”

Asher chuckled at the older man’s enthusiasm over appearing in the sitcom. The plan was to film the show right after the bar closed one night the next week. They’d tried to figure out a way to avoid closing the pub down for real business. Since the show’s script took place at night, and because they wanted to limit the number of people who saw it before it aired, they’d opted to film it at two a.m. on Monday night. They’d scheduled practices at that same late hour for Friday and Saturday nights, with a dress rehearsal Sunday at midnight—since the pub closed earlier that day. Apart from the cast and a handful of hired extras, everyone else on the set would be Fiona’s family. Tris and Padraig would be behind the bar, Yvonne and Sunnie waiting tables, and the rest of her aunts, uncles and cousins were lined up to be patrons.

“We didn’t touch that line,” Asher reassured Patrick. “It was perfect from the start.”

“Looking forward to Teddy getting back. I didn’t get to talk to him much. Everyone keeps telling me he’s a funny guy, but all I got was the boring polite routine reserved for ancient grandfathers.”

Asher laughed. “Give him a couple shots of whiskey and he’ll forget to be on his best behavior.”

“So noted. Fiona said Owen got called back to Hollywood for a big audition.”

Asher nodded, his chest going tight at the mention of Owen’s name. Then he realized something in his face had caught Patrick’s attention.

“Will that work for the show or does this mean the sitcom will end?”

“Oh, no. Filming for the movie would happen when Wild Winters is on hiatus. We’ve got a contract with the studio for two more seasons.”

“That’s good. So if it’s not the audition bothering you, what is?”

Asher wasn’t sure how to reply.

“I’m an old man, Asher. I don’t have time to beat around the bush. I mention Teddy, you laugh. I say Owen’s name, you frown. So, I’ll ask again. What’s the problem with him?”

Asher wasn’t sure confiding in Fiona’s granddaddy was the smartest thing to do, but he’d had too many worries bottled up since Saturday night.

“He’s, um…Owen is…”

“Interested in my granddaughter?”

“Wow. You aren’t kidding about just laying it out there, are you?” Asher raised his hand toward Tris. “I changed my mind. I’ll have a Jack and Coke.”

Tris shot his father a look, but Patrick raised his hands, palms up. “What?”

“You driving Asher to drink?”

“We’re talking. There’s nothing wrong with talking,” Patrick insisted.

Tris put Asher’s drink down in front of him and shot his Pop an “I’m watching you” look before walking away.

“Owen has been in love with Fiona since college.”

“He told you this?”

Asher nodded, recalling that night senior year, how drunk and depressed Owen had been over losing her. “Yeah. He did.”

“So,” Patrick said, “what do you intend to do about it?”

“Do?” Asher asked, swallowing heavily. “About what?”

“Don’t play stupid, son. You’re not stupid. You know what I’m talking about.”

Asher choked on the sip of drink he’d just taken, and Tris, who’d walked to the end of the bar, glanced their way, scowling. When Patrick rolled his eyes, Tris continued to take another patron’s order.

Patrick turned his attention back to him with a chuckle. “Take it easy, my boy. If you can’t say it yet, I’ll say it for you. You’re in love with my granddaughter.”

Asher felt as if he was standing on shaky ground. The Collins men were known for being overprotective of the women in their family. How the hell was he supposed to reply to Patrick’s accurate assessment? And what the hell did the older man expect him to do about his feelings?

“Have you told Fiona how you feel?” Patrick asked.

“Sort of.”

Patrick frowned. “How do you sort of tell a woman you love her?”

“I proposed a ménage.”

Asher held his breath, waiting for the man to either laugh him out of the pub, or call Tris back over to kick his ass.

Patrick did neither. “A noble suggestion. That won’t work in your case.”

“Why not? It worked for Sean and Killian.”

“Different situations entirely. Both of them were okay with sharing the loves of their lives with their best friends. I don’t think you are.”

Asher ran his finger along his glass, wiping at the condensation left there by the ice. Patrick was right.

“I hate it. Every time Owen touches her, kisses her…I want to punch him in the face.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“The thing is, me, Owen, Fee and Teddy have been friends for a long time. We’re practically family. No. We are family. And in Owen’s case, we’re his only family. I can’t do anything to screw that up.”

“Have you asked Fiona how she feels?” Tris asked.

Asher glanced up, surprised to see Fiona’s uncle standing there. It was clear he’d been eavesdropping the entire time.

Patrick chuckled. “And you call me nosy.”

Asher answered Tris’s question, grateful to have people to talk to about this. “I suggested the threesome idea and she went for it.”

“Happily? Or is she pretending like you are, afraid of hurting you and Owen?”

Asher didn’t know how to respond—because he hadn’t asked her outright. She’d said she was okay with it during the Truth or Dare game, but then she’d lost her nerve when their shirts came off. Asher had been too preoccupied with his own uneasiness due to Owen’s presence that he hadn’t really taken the time to see if she felt the same.

Since then, they’d been on their own, without Owen.

And it had been perfect.

Bliss.

Patrick gave him an understanding smile as he said the words Asher didn’t want to hear. “You’re going to have to buck up, son, and tell Fiona and Owen the truth.”

“What if she wants all or nothing? Or what if…” Asher forced himself to voice his biggest fear. “What if she chooses him?”

Tris leaned forward, resting his arms on the counter. “I’ve lived a lot of my life thinking there was happiness in playing it safe, waiting for the right time. Then I met Lane, my wife, and I realized sometimes the only thing you can do is jump into the flames. This last year reminded me of that again as I watched my son with Mia…saw him open his heart to her even knowing how it would end. There’s a lot to be said for just opening your heart and going for it because even feeling the way he does now, Padraig has said more than once he’d do it all again in a heartbeat. And I know that’s the truth.”

Patrick placed a firm hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Life’s too short, Asher,” he said softly.

“I’m ready,” Fiona said, stepping up behind them. “Hey, Pop Pop.” She gave her grandfather a kiss on the cheek. “Been keeping Asher entertained?” She caught sight of Asher’s drink and lifted it, taking a sip. “With bourbon?”

They all chuckled.

“Did you want to hang out for a while?” she asked.

Asher shook his head, Tris and Patrick’s words striking deep and true. He and Fiona needed to talk. “No. We better head back or our food will get cold.”

He reached for his wallet, but Tris waved his money away. “I’ll put it on Owen’s tab.”

“Thanks,” Asher said, looking at Tris, and then Patrick. “For everything.”

He grabbed the bag and Fiona’s hand.

She waited until they hit the street to ask the question he knew was coming. “Thanks?”

Asher rolled his eyes. Of course she’d picked up on that. “Your Pop Pop and uncle were giving me some advice.”

“Advice about?”

“You.”

“Oh, shit. Listen. You already know all my faults, Ash. I’m opinionated and stubborn. I tend to think I know best on pretty much everything, and I might have a teeny-tiny princess complex.”

“Three tiaras in your desk drawer at work and the fact that you packed one—”

“Two,” she interjected.

“Two,” he continued, “for your trip to Baltimore, does not constitute ‘teeny-tiny.’”

She smirked. “I regret nothing. Apologize for nothing.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Do you really think your Pop Pop and Tris would try to scare me away from you?”

She shrugged, then admitted, “Not unless they didn’t like you.”

“Have they ever done that?”

Fiona nodded. “Last Christmas. With Brock. And only because the manly-man intimidation tactics hadn’t worked the few times Mr. Big Gesture had come home with me before that. I think they were getting desperate and decided to take a different approach. Guess I should have seen the writing on the wall about Brock then.”

They had just reached the hotel and Fiona stopped walking. “So, if they weren’t warning you away, what was the advice about?”

Before Asher could reply, they heard someone calling Fiona’s name.

“Fee! Fiona!”

Fiona glanced back toward the direction they’d just come, her eyes widening. “Mom? Dad?”

“Tris said we might catch you if we hurried,” Teagan said breathlessly.

Fiona turned away from Asher, her question forgotten when her parents jogged up to them. She was clearly equal parts surprised and delighted.

“There’s my girl,” Sky said, giving her a big bear hug. “I swear you look more like your mom every day. Beautiful.”

Fiona rolled her eyes, making it clear her father made that comparison often, then she recalled Asher was there.

Asher had spent quite a bit of time with Sky and Teagan in the past, going out to dinners or chilling with them at Fiona’s place whenever they came for visits.

Her mom hugged him after releasing her daughter, and Sky shook his hand.

“You were just here for Mia’s memorial. I thought you had a show in New York,” Fiona said.

“We did it. But I didn’t get enough time with either of you girls last week.”

Asher recalled Fiona saying her parents were in the midst of a mini-tour, so they had only been able to stop in for the day of the memorial, taking off that night for a big show at Madison Square Garden.

“Besides,” Teagan added, “there was no way we were missing everyone’s big TV debut at the pub.”

Fiona looked uncomfortable and a little bit panicked. “You know you two can’t be in the show, right? You’re too big, too recognizable. We didn’t write parts for you. If Sky Mitchell and Teagan Collins show up on Wild Winters, we’d have to rewrite the whole thing.”

Teagan rolled her eyes. “We’re not here to crash your show, sweetheart. We were hoping we could watch with you during the filming. Al let us do that the last time we were in California. I didn’t want to wait until the show came out to see Pop deliver his big line. Every single time we talk on the phone these days, he runs through it for me a few times.”

Sky groaned. “Then he makes her hand the phone to me so I can analyze it. I’m a singer, not an actor.”

They all laughed. “We’ve both heard him say it a few thousand times too,” Fiona added. “To pretty much every patron at the bar. It’s a good thing it’s not a major plot spoiler, or he would have given the whole premise of the show away.”

“Are you guys still working tonight?” Teagan asked.

Asher shook his head. “No.” He lifted the takeout. “Late dinner. We’re finished with the script tweaks. Nothing more to do until the cast arrives and read-throughs and rehearsals begin. We just hang around the set, in case anything falls flat and we need to rework lines.”

“So you’re free?” Teagan asked Fiona. “I was hoping I could convince you to spend the night with us on the bus tonight for a laugh.”

Sky grinned widely. “Your mother is going through some sort of delayed empty-nest thing. All she could talk about on the way into Maryland was how much she misses all the times you girls used to curl up on the big bed in our room and watch romantic comedies as we barreled down the highway.

“I pulled out a few for tonight,” Teagan said. “Thought we could do a Meg Ryan-a-thon. You’ve Got Mail, When Harry Met Sally and Sleepless in Seattle.”

Fiona glanced back at Asher, obviously torn since the two of them had made plans for dinner—and then after-dinner plans that included burning off what they’d just eaten.

He let her off the hook easy. He knew how much Fiona missed her parents. Their visits were always highly anticipated as they were too few and far between.

“Go spend the night with your parents. It sounds like a lot of fun.” He gestured to the food. “Leaves more for me.”

Fiona wasn’t as easily convinced. “Maybe you could hang out with us a little while.”

Asher shook his head. “Nope. It’s obviously girls’ night. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Because he didn’t know how much her parents knew about the two of them, he gave her a quick, friendly kiss on the cheek, then waved, saying goodbye before Fiona could continue to protest.

As he walked to the elevator, he decided he was actually glad her parents had shown up. Life had been a whirlwind since his arrival in Baltimore, and he thought it might be nice to have a few quiet hours to reflect on what was happening.

Tris and Patrick had given him a lot to think about.

Then his cell phone rang. A glance at the screen showed it was Owen.

“Hey, Owen,” Asher said when he picked up the phone, walking into the suite at the same time. “How was the audition?”

“It was amazing.” For several minutes, Owen filled him in on all the details and how good he felt about it. Asher was thrilled for his friend, but he found his thoughts constantly drifting back to Saturday night in Fiona’s bedroom.

He considered bringing it up, but this wasn’t a conversation for a phone call. If it went south, Owen was on the opposite coast and too far away for Asher to fix it.

“About the other night—” Owen started.

Asher sighed. “Listen, Owen—”

“No. Let me say this. I love you and Fee, you know that, right?”

“Of course.”

“You guys and Teddy are my family. I feel bad about what I said at karaoke.”

Asher didn’t reply. Apparently, he’d been thinking about the wrong night. “What did you say?”

“That comment about no one ever looking at me like Fiona’s family looks at her. You guys do. I shouldn’t have sounded like such a whiny dick. You don’t have to share blood to be family. The way you and Fee finished the script so I could do this audition, the way Teddy came back with me to run lines and keep me calm…I’m the luckiest bastard on the planet, and I know it. I’m sorry for what I said.”

Asher had never received a more unnecessary apology. Or one that made him feel worse about what he planned to say the next time he and Owen were together.

“Owen. You don’t need to apologize for that. I feel the same way. You’re the brother I never had. And Fee and Teddy are the sisters—”

He let Owen’s loud laughter drown out the rest of the joke.

“Cool.” With his peace spoken, Owen bounced right back to the audition, chatting another ten minutes about every single thing the casting director had said to him, the studio’s plans for the movie and twenty-seven-thousand other things. He hadn’t heard if he got the part yet, but that didn’t seem to matter to him. There was no denying Owen’s feet weren’t touching the ground.

When they hung up, Asher glanced at the bag of take-out food, but he’d lost his appetite.

He’d made a mistake of epic proportions, convincing himself a threesome was the answer and then plowing headfirst into it, without thinking about what would happen if it went south.

It was then that Asher was forced to admit something to himself. He was a cocky bastard at heart, who didn’t fail often. Typically, he could put his mind to something and make it work, no matter what.

This didn’t fall into that category, and to make it worse, he wasn’t just hurting himself. He was taking Owen and Fiona down as well. Things were amazing when it was just him and Fiona, but more than a few times, he’d wondered if she was wishing Owen was with them. After her initial nervousness wore off last weekend, she’d been all-in, and Asher suspected she’d regretted it when he’d taken sex off the table.

As for Owen…the guy just said they were his family. After so many years of being passed from one relative to the next, Owen had never felt wanted. How the fuck could Asher make him feel the same way?

He couldn’t.

He walked toward the bedroom, stripped off his clothes and lay down, as one word kept drifting through his brain on auto-repeat.

Shit.