Our plane lands back in Hawaii, and our fake honeymoon ends. Although we are back in paradise, we are back in the real world. Back to work where we can’t just have sex every day and pretend like the real world doesn’t exist. We have to get back to work, and I have to continue on with…
I don’t even want to think about it.
All I want to think about is all the sex. Sex in our hotel room. Sex in the alleyway. Sex in the restroom of every restaurant we ate at. Sex on the balcony. We had more sex than I think I’ve ever had in a week’s time.
And, even though we were in Italy and Asher planned on having us travel across Europe, I guess that is going to have to wait for another time, I think, smiling.
Because I wouldn’t change our honeymoon for anything. I wouldn’t have given up the sex for seeing all of Europe. Ever. Because sex with Asher is better than anything I ever imagined. I’ve never felt so in touch with my body. I’ve never ached to feel someone else’s touch so much that I’m in a constant state of pain because I can’t have him.
“So, what happens now?” Asher asks as we climb into a taxicab.
I give the cab driver my address.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m sure you have our whole lives planned out. So, let’s hear it. What is your plan?”
I frown. I hate that he thinks I have everything planned out because, honestly, I don’t. I know what I want the end result to be. I know what I want from this arrangement. But that’s it. I don’t know how to get there. I’m just making it up as I go along.
“Well…you move in with me, and we continue on with our married life. We go to work. We make occasional appearances together as a couple. We have sex.”
“And how do we decide when this ends?”
I sigh. “When we have had enough.”
He nods but doesn’t say anything else until we get to my condo. We get out of the taxi.
“I don’t know when you need to get back to work or training or whatever you usually do with your time. But I would love for you to go to work with me today or tomorrow to meet everyone. And I can have a moving truck at your place to move whatever you want over to my place today or tomorrow or whenever you would like.”
He frowns. “Why are we moving into your place? Why not my place?”
“Because my place is…” I trail off, not wanting to finish that sentence the way I intended.
“Better,” he finishes for me.
I nod and blush a little. But I’m not going to apologize because it’s the honest truth.
“My place is better than your place. It’s bigger. It’s more secure. It has furniture that isn’t falling apart. It—”
“My place has the beach. It has everything I could ever want,” Asher says.
I frown. “My place has a shower that actually shoots out warm water.”
“Mine does, too. You just have to wait a little longer for it to warm up.”
I throw up my hands. “There is no arguing with you, is there?”
“For however long this arrangement lasts, I just don’t want to have to deal with your snobby attitude, thinking you are better than me. Because you’re not.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I’m not saying that. At least not because I have nicer things and you don’t. But I definitely have different morals than you. You think it’s okay to steal and cheat while I don’t.”
“Yes, you’re a saint, and I’m the devil. We’ve already established that.” He paces back and forth. “You know what? This isn’t worth it. Just file for divorce or an annulment or whatever you need to do to get me out of this mess.” Asher starts walking back to the cab.
“Wait,” I say, grabbing hold of his arm.
He stops.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I am asking a lot from you to do this. And I appreciate you doing it. How about we come to an arrangement?”
He frowns. “Another arrangement?”
“A deal then? You stay here for a week. Then, I’ll stay at your place for a week. Then, we can decide what is best.”
He sighs. “Fine, but I expect plenty of sex, no matter which place we stay at.”
He walks over and kisses me on the lips, letting enough tongue in to let me know he is ready for sex right now if I’m up for it.
“Oh, I think I can arrange that. But, right now, I need to get changed and ready to go into the office for today. You want to come with me?”
“Sure. If it would help.”
I smile. “It would. Come on, let’s go get showered and changed, and then I can show you my life.”
* * *
I run a brush through my hair again and then head out of my bathroom in my khaki dress pants and pink blouse. I stop in my tracks when I see Asher in his swim trunks and T-shirt.
“Is that what you are wearing?” I ask.
“Yes. You have a problem with that?”
I shake my head. “Nope.” I grab my purse and then head to my door. “Let’s go.”
Asher grabs hold of my hand. This time, it feels more like he’s trying to reassure me that he’s with me, which I desperately need because, unlike the honeymoon, as soon as we step foot inside my office building, we are going to be swarmed with questions.
And, sure enough, the second I pull up to the building, we are swarmed with photographers and reporters. I guess it is a big deal when the local girl who runs a large nonprofit almost dies, calls off her wedding, and then marries someone else all in a matter of two days.
I climb out of the driver’s seat of my car without even thinking about Asher. I’m sure he’s dealt with his fair share of press before. I smile and wave as lights flash all around me. I walk toward the back of my car and wait for Asher to join me. He looks a little shell-shocked, but when he makes it to the back of my car and I grab his hand, his smile lifts.
“You didn’t tell me there would be so many people excited to see us, sweetheart,” he whispers into my ear.
I laugh. “Just smile and wave until we make it inside where we will get a whole new group of people attacking us.”
I start leading him toward my office building as dozens of reporters yell out questions to us.
“When did you get married?”
“Where did you get married?”
“How long have you two known each other?”
“How are you doing after your near-death experience?”
The questions keep coming and coming.
I see Marissa, a reporter who I actually respect, standing near the entrance to the building. She smiles at me and then leans into my ear as I open the door.
“Give me an exclusive, and it will get this mob of people to leave you alone.”
I look at her, giving her an I’ll-think-about-it look.
She smiles brightly because she thinks I’m going to take her up on her offer. And maybe I will if it will get all the photographers outside to leave us alone.
I take a deep breath once inside. Even though I can already feel the stares on me when we enter the two-story building, I don’t care. This is my home. This is where I flourish.
I start walking toward the stairs that lead up to my office, but Asher freezes, holding my hand. I turn and look at him with a fake smile on my face. I shake my head sideways, trying to get him to come on.
He leans down and whispers in my ear, “I’ve never felt like I should have worn something nicer so much in my life.”
I laugh and look at him. He looks like a wrinkled mess. I doubt he even owns an iron. Other than the stubble that covers his face and the tiny lines around his eyes, giving his true age away, he looks like he’s eighteen.
“You’re fine. Now, come on, or we are never going to make it to my office, and I have work to do.” I let go of his hand and start walking toward the stairs.
“Hello, Miss Hart—I mean, Mrs. Calder,” my receptionist says from behind her desk.
“It’s still Ms. Hart. I’m going to keep my name,” I say.
“Of course, Ms. Hart.” But Bonnie’s eyes don’t stay on mine long. Instead, they are eating up Asher.
He must have gotten his confidence back because he is strutting behind me as all the women ogle his body that I know they wish were more visible than what his clothes allow.
I sigh and walk back the five feet to where Asher is now getting swarmed with people asking for his autograph.
“Asher needs to come with me now. But I’ll make sure you all have plenty of time later to talk to him and get his autograph,” I say a little too sternly.
I grab hold of his hand again, feeling like a mother corralling a two-year-old, which, at the moment, makes me never want kids if it is anything like having to deal with Asher. We make it to the stairs, and I start taking them two at a time, despite my heels.
Even though I live in heels, my work requires me to be quick on my feet. I’m always putting out one fire or another. And I like interacting with the kids who live next door. They’ve been trying to better their lives after the abuse, neglect, and trouble they got into prevented them from reaching their full potential. I love seeing how resilient the kids are and how they are able to turn their lives around.
“I don’t know how you do that in your heels,” Asher says when we make it up the stairs.
I smile at him. “Years of practice. I wasn’t always so good in heels. I know you won’t believe me, but for much of my childhood, I lived in tennis shoes and T-shirts. It wasn’t until my early twenties that I started wearing heels and dresses.”
“I would have never guessed, but then I’ve learned to never guess with you.”
I keep walking until I get to my office at the back of the building. It’s a small room. Not anywhere close to the largest office in the building. But I like it this way. I like having a small office that is just mine. It keeps other people from feeling like they can hang out when I have work to do. Plus, we have plenty of conference rooms that I can go to if I need to meet with more than one person. But there is one awesome benefit to my office that none of the other offices have.
“Holy shit! I thought your condo had a nice view, but this…” Asher says when he walks into my small office.
I take a deep breath, looking at the view. “It was the main reason I chose this building to house our offices.”
Asher walks over to the large window that my desk faces. It makes more sense for my desk to face away from the window, but there is no way I could have given up the view.
I take a seat at my desk and fire up my computer. I wait for the endless amount of emails that I get to start pouring in.
“So, what do you want me to do? Besides stare at this incredible view all day,” he says.
When I look up, he isn’t looking out at the ocean anymore. He is looking at me. I’m the incredible view he is talking about. I blush slightly but am not really that embarrassed.
I glance at my clock. “My mom is going to be here in half an hour. She’s excited to meet you. So, it would be great if you could take her to the café downstairs and just get a coffee or something with her.”
“Without you?”
I nod. “Most likely. I have a shit-ton of emails I need to answer. And then I need to go over and talk with some of the kids today. I’ve heard there are a couple who are struggling with the program, and I want to go see to them personally.”
His eyes are wide as he looks at me.
“You’ll be fine.”
“I don’t do parents.”
I laugh. “Well, my mother isn’t really a parent. Technically, I lived with her when I was growing up, but I wouldn’t call her a parent. I usually refer to her as Catherine anyway instead of Mother. Especially when I’m at work. So, I really don’t care if you impress her or not. Just keep her out of my hair and keep her from drinking anything alcoholic—at least until after lunch.”
He sighs. “Fine. But you owe me the dirtiest sex ever on your desk or pressed up against this window after this.”
“Well, at least wait until I’m gone for that. Although I would be happy to take you up on that offer if my daughter doesn’t,” Catherine, my mother, says.
I frown and take a deep breath, trying to calm myself before I get up.
Asher, on the other hand, doesn’t bother to apologize for his words, which is one of the things I like about him. He doesn’t apologize unless he feels he is actually in the wrong, and it turns out, that isn’t very often.
I give my mother a quick hug, like I actually love her and am happy that she is here.
“This is Asher, my husband,” I say.
Asher finally stands and extends his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Catherine. I haven’t heard much about you, but I’d love it if you would catch me up over some coffee.”
Catherine lights up. “I would love to.”
I wink at Asher and say a silent, Thank you.
He smiles back, conveying that I owe him.
I nod and grin because I actually think he is going to be good at talking with my mother. All he has to do is flash some muscles, and he’ll be good.
As they leave, I realize I need one more thing from him.
“What’s your schedule for the week, Asher? Do you have any competitions or training that I need to work around?”
“I usually train for at least three hours every morning. After that, I can do whatever for you, sweetheart.”
I smile.
Then, my mother grabs hold of his arm, and I know he isn’t going to get another word in for the next hour. I turn back to my computer. But at least I can get some work in instead of focusing on my husband who isn’t really my husband. I feel myself caring a little too much about him at the moment, but it’s nothing a long morning of work can’t fix.
* * *
After working for almost three hours and getting through most of the urgent emails, all I can think about is Asher.
Shit.
I shouldn’t want him. I just had him last night. And, on the plane, we did hand stuff under a blanket. I’ve gone weeks, months, without sex in the past. Why am I this needy now?
Because I never had sex with Asher before. Because I never knew what I was missing before him.
I get up from my desk, stretching. I’m surprised that Asher hasn’t texted me that he can’t take my mother any longer and I need to come rescue him or that he’s calling the whole thing off and asking for a divorce. That’s what I would have done if I were him. Nothing is worth having to deal with my mother—or father, for that matter—for this long. It makes me wonder who has murdered whom.
I slip my heels back on that I kicked off while working, and I make my way down to the café where I told Asher to take my mother. I search for five minutes, but I don’t see signs of either of them. I walk over to the barista behind the counter.
“Have you seen my husband or mother?” I ask, hoping that she knows who the hell I am. “My husband is a surfer who would be hard to miss, and my mother is dressed like she is going to a ball later today.”
The barista smiles. “They were here earlier. Your mother left in a car about an hour ago. And your husband asked for something more fun to do. I sent him across the street to talk with the kids.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
I run outside into the warm air. I immediately feel drenched in sweat every time I step outside. It makes me wonder why I even bother to wear nice clothes. Maybe Asher has it right. It does make sense to always be wearing swim-type clothing while in Hawaii.
I make it into the building across the street, and thank God for the air conditioner. I’m actually surprised that I didn’t see any press waiting for us outside.
But, after I emailed Marissa, she must have kept to her promise to help get rid of the press. I don’t know how she managed it. Maybe she allowed them to pick up the piece as well. I don’t know.
I run my hand through my hair as I search the home that holds somewhere around a hundred kids on any given day. The age range of the kids varies. But all of the kids here are in need of a fresh start. It’s expensive to fly them to Hawaii. But we have found that most of the kids thrive after they come here because it is so different from the environment they were in before. They can actually see a future after coming here. They see the beauty in the world again. So, the money is well worth it.
They come here and heal while we work to find them new homes. And, with the older ones, we work to get them jobs, college scholarships, or anything else that they need to make it in the real world once they graduate high school. We become their substitute family.
I start walking down the hallway, looking for Asher. I don’t have a lot of time to look for him. I need to find the couple of kids on my list and spend the afternoon with them, so I can figure out how to help them. I stop dead in my tracks when I see Asher sitting with one of the teenage boys, playing a basketball video game on the TV. I stand in the doorway and watch them.
“You’re kicking my ass, Jordan,” Asher says.
“Fuck yeah, I am,” Jordan says back.
“Do you cuss like that in front of the ladies?”
Jordan thinks for a minute. “Yeah. But they love it.”
“Do they? Then, the chicks must have changed a lot since I was your age. Because most of the women I know don’t love it when I cuss. Not the ones I hope to spend more than an afternoon with anyway. If you want a woman you can take out on a date more than once, you are going to have to reduce the amount of cussing. You feel me?” Asher asks.
Jordan nods slowly. “Yeah, I feel you, man. Thanks.”
“Now, if you really want to impress a girl, then you should take her surfing.”
“But I’ve never surfed before in my life. I would look like an idiot.”
“Well, I can help you with that. An athletic guy like you, I could have you up on a surfboard in no time.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. What does your school schedule look like?”
“I have classes until three and then free time after that.”
“I’ll come by around three then, and I’ll teach you how to surf and how to get that girl to go out with you. But you have to go to classes, or the deal is off. Understand?”
“But why do I need school? I want to play professional baseball. I want to be an athlete. Look at you. You are a surfer. What do you need school for?”
“You don’t think I needed an education to do what I do?”
“No, all you do is surf all day and get paid for it.”
Asher laughs. “No. It isn’t that simple. I don’t make a lot of money off of my competition wins. I make most of my money off of sponsors and advertising, which means I have an agent. I spend a lot of my day signing contracts. I have to read contracts and understand them. Otherwise, I’d get screwed out of money that I deserve. I have to be able to protect myself. If not, I don’t get to be a surfer anymore,” Asher says, looking up at me. Like he knows how stupid it was for him to sign a prenup without actually reading it. But it also says that, above everything else, he trusts me.
“And what is your genius plan if you get injured in your first year? You will need a degree so that you could work as an agent or do something else related to baseball, if that is your passion. But you need education.”
Jordan nods and is seriously thinking about everything that Asher said.
“So, do we have a deal? No more skipping classes.”
Jordan takes his time but holds out his hand to Asher. “Deal.”
Asher shakes it. “Good. Now, get your ass to class.”
Jordan smiles, gets up, and then walks past where I’m standing with my arms crossed, leaning against the doorway.
“You married an awesome guy, Mrs. Calder,” Jordan says.
“Thank you, Jordan.” I consider correcting him, but it seems that everyone is going to start calling me by Asher’s last name.
Once Jordan is gone, I walk over to where Asher is sitting on the couch and take a seat next to him.
“How did you just do that?”
“Do what?”
“Jordan is one of our most troubled kids here. I was actually coming over here to talk to him. How did you not only pick him out of all the kids here, but also get him back on track?”
“I don’t know if he is back on track or not. It’s up to him to decide if he really wants and is ready to be back on the right track. But, hopefully, I gave him a good push.”
Asher grabs my legs and drapes them across his body. “And, as far as how I picked him out of all the kids here, I guess I could see a little bit of myself in him.”
I cock my head to the side as his lips softly kiss me. Far too soft for what I want. I want passion, the kind where he is going to carry me to the restroom and fuck me.
“What do you mean, you see a little bit of yourself in him?” I ask, genuinely curious now about his childhood. I honestly don’t know much about him.
He shakes his head. “I’m not going to spill my guts until you tell me more about you. Because, after spending two hours with your mother, I have a better understanding of how you turned into a wild child. So, tell me a story, and maybe I’ll tell you one from my childhood.”
I frown. I don’t like sharing anything about myself. But I guess it’s only fair.
“My parents were never there for me, growing up. They basically left me, and…I mean, they left me to my own devices. They didn’t even bother to hire a nanny or cook. I was just on my own. That’s why they sent me to Hawaii to live with my grandmother every summer. They didn’t want to deal with me, and my grandmother was the one who actually straightened me out. Anyway, my parents would have all of these parties where their fancy friends came over with their fancy jewelry and money. I kind of got good at pickpocketing.”
He raises an eyebrow at me.
“I know. I would pickpocket them and take any cash they had. They usually had a couple hundred dollars. But I never spent the money on myself. I would always donate the money or give it to friends who had less money than I did.”
“So, you were kind of like Robin Hood? Stole from the rich to give to the poor.”
I laugh. “I guess you could say that. I think running this nonprofit kind of became my penance. My parents gave me plenty of inheritance. Enough to comfortably live off of without working another day in my life. So, I live off of that money and don’t take a salary from the nonprofit.”
He nods.
“Your turn,” I say.
“My story isn’t really that exciting.”
“I don’t care. I want to hear it anyway.”
He sighs. “Fine. I never knew my mother. She left me when I was still a baby. My father raised me. And, honestly, much of my childhood was amazing. My father was the best. We didn’t have a lot of money, but it didn’t matter because we loved each other, and we were all either of us needed. But then he died.”
“How old?” I ask when Asher stops talking.
“Eleven.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He shakes his head. “It’s okay. It happened a long time ago.”
I hold his hand and kiss him on the cheek, hoping that I can somehow take his pain away even though I know I can’t.
“I moved from California to Hawaii to live with my coach until I was old enough to live on my own. I didn’t realize it then, but he only let me live with him so that he could have a say in my competition and sponsorship earnings. Even though I won a lot and should have had more than enough money to survive on by the time I was sixteen, with him being my legal guardian and signing all the contracts, he got control of my money. I eventually figured it out.”
“What did you do?”
“I ran away and lived on my own for a while. I didn’t really have a home, so I was couch-surfing for a while. But, after I won one competition, I suddenly had enough money to buy an apartment, and the rest is history.”
I tilt his chin up to me and kiss him on the lips, letting him know how much I appreciate him sharing and how much I wish I could take away the pain from his childhood. Within seconds, the kiss turns to more. More kissing, more need, more passion. Asher’s hand tangles in my hair, and mine goes under his shirt as Asher pushes me on my back. We make out on the old couch like two horny teenagers.
“Excuse me, Mrs., uh…um…”
We both freeze. We stop kissing. But our hands stay on each other. Because it doesn’t matter who is standing in the entryway. We need each other. We are desperate for each other. And, even though he is going to ruin our make-out session, we can at least still cling to each other for a few more seconds.
“You can still call me Ms. Hart,” I say with my eyes closed as I press my forehead against Asher’s for a little bit longer.
We each suck in a breath, and then I open my eyes back to reality as Asher does the same.
“I have to go,” I whisper.
He nods. “I’ll meet you back at your place.”
I lean forward and kiss his lips one last time. Then, I get up to meet one of my employees who needs me at the door before returning to the hustle and bustle of the office.
“Ms. Hart, I need you to look over some plans, and then I need…” Kenny keeps telling me what he needs as he walks down the hallway, expecting me to follow him so that we can talk and get things accomplished at the same time.
I have to stop though for just a second and look back at Asher one last time before I enter the real world again.
He has a heart. Honestly, I wasn’t sure he had one. But it makes my heart ache, just thinking about his.
I turn and hurry to catch up with Kenny. All the time, I’m thinking, Asher has a heart. And it’s a good heart that is capable of love. Who knew?