So, you’re sure it’s okay that I come along?”
Emma nodded as they got out of her car in her sister’s driveway.
Asher glanced toward the two-story home. Unlike most neighborhoods in Glenwood Falls, where the houses were all different shapes and sizes, with full backyards and lawns, these homes were mirror images of one another, with so little space between them that he suspected the neighbors could hear one another sneeze…among other things. He liked his privacy far too much. A home like this would make him claustrophobic. Even his bachelor pad in New Jersey was a top unit, corner suite, giving him the illusion of privacy at least. “Like ‘she invited me’ okay? Or ‘she’ll give you pointed looks all night’ okay?” he asked, struggling to get out of her low-riding vehicle and reaching into the backseat for his crutch. Two weeks into therapy, he’d removed the brace, but still relied on the crutch for support.
“Does it matter?” she asked, a look of anxiety on her face.
She’d been slightly on edge since picking him up, but she was always that way whenever she was seeing her sister. “Yes.”
“Fine. The second one.”
“Emma!” he growled, contemplating getting back in the car, but it was too late.
The front door opened and the first of the many looks appeared, before Jess hid it behind a forced smile. “Asher, nice to see you.”
“Oh, you don’t mean that, Jess,” he said with a wide, fake smile of his own as he leaned in to accept her awkward-as-shit hug. “But something smells delicious,” he said as she closed the front door behind them.
“Hey, Jess,” Emma said, handing her sister the expensive bottle of wine Jess had asked her to pick up on the way over.
Jess frowned, looking at the bottle. “This is a ninety-six. I wanted the ninety-seven.”
“This was the only one they had,” Emma said.
“Did you ask Cliff? He usually puts it away for me.”
“No, I did not ask Cliff.” Emma’s voice was tight. He could almost see the knots of tension forming in her neck and shoulders. Being around her family always had this effect on her. Why she insisted on putting herself—and him—through it, he didn’t know.
“Ninety-six, ninety-seven, either way, it’s old grapes, right?” Asher said with a shrug.
“Its fine,” Jess said—look number two, the one that said, You’re even dumber than you look, appearing on her thin features.
Body-wise, the two sisters couldn’t be more different. Jess was tall and slightly curvy, not at all athletic-looking like Em, but their features were identical. The same small nose and brilliant brown eyes, framed by long blond lashes, full pouty lips, and high cheekbones. Their beauty came from their mother, who’d always been mistaken for a third sister.
Emma removed her coat and took his, hanging them on a hook near the door.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” Jess said, glancing through the side window near the door. “We’re just waiting for one other guest.”
“Is Dad coming?” Emma unwrapped her pale pink cashmere scarf from around her neck, but leaving it on, letting the ends dangle.
The way they framed the swell of her breasts, visible beneath her V-neck sweater, tempted him to reach out and grab the ends and pull her into him, but he knew they had to keep things PG around Jess.
“Jess, are we waiting for Dad? I could have picked him up,” Emma said when Jess didn’t answer.
Jess actually looked slightly nervous. “No, we’re not waiting for Dad.”
“Then who else is coming?” Emma asked.
A parade of kids interrupted the answer. “Aunt Emma!” the littlest one—whose name he could never remember—said as he ran to hug her.
“Hey, Brayden,” she said, scooping him up.
Right. Brayden the brat, Emma had affectionately labeled this one. The youngest of her nephews, he was the spirited troublemaker. She always had stories about him whenever they Skyped. Hearing her talk about her family and the kids left him feeling slightly homesick for his own nieces, and he usually changed the subject.
“You three are supposed to be washing up for dinner,” Jess said, but her voice and expression actually softened at the sight of her kids.
Okay, but even Darth Vader had a soft side for his own kid.
“We heard Aunt Em’s car pull up…and then we saw Asher,” said the older boy…he was going to go with Baxter…no, Baxton. Damn, Jess and all her B names.
Asher noticed he held a small hockey stick. “You want me to sign that?”
The kid nodded eagerly.
“Sure, man. Got a pen?” he asked, taking the stick.
He handed him a marker. “It’s Braxton,” he said.
So close.
“Can you sign my puck?…I found it under the bleachers at the arena, and your brother…I mean, Coach Westmore said I could keep it,” the middle kid—Asher had no clue whatsoever what his name was—said shyly.
“No problem,” he said, grateful there was only enough space for his spirally signature and no room to personalize.
“Sorry, we don’t get many visits from athletic royalty around here,” Jess said with an eye roll.
Right. Only her own sister. The way the family devalued Emma’s Olympic career drove him crazy. There was nothing like family to keep you humble. His own had never given him a big head, but the Callaways took it to a whole new level when it came to Emma. One he didn’t like. To them, it was as if her career had been a joke…or something to be ashamed of. He didn’t get it, and Em could say it didn’t bother her, but he knew her better than that.
Though, to her credit, she refused to let any hurt or disappointment show as she continued to tickle the little boy in her arms.
His gut twisted at the sight of her with the kid, the same way it had the other day at his sister’s house. She was wonderful with children, and she obviously adored the little rugrats…Did she want one someday?
Tearing his eyes from her, he turned back to the boys. “Hey, next time I play in Denver, I’ll get you tickets to the game, okay?”
Jess was shaking her head behind the kids, but he ignored it.
“Your Aunt Emma can take you,” he said.
“That would be so cool,” Braxton said.
“Yeah, thanks, Ash,” the other kid said, then blushed. “Can I call you Ash?…Aunt Em does…”
“Yes, you can call me Ash, and the tickets are my pleasure,” he said, winking at Jess over their heads. According to Emma, Jess didn’t allow the boys to play competitive sports, and the family rarely attended any sporting events. That was something else he didn’t understand. Sports taught kids so much. It was a shame the boys weren’t allowed to benefit from the camaraderie and life skills gained from the ice or on a field.
Jess sighed. “Okay. Now go wash up, you three.”
Going into the kitchen, they found Trey up to his elbows in buttercream. Emma’s brother-in-law was a closet pastry chef, according to Em. He hated his corporate law job and would quit to pursue his real passion—baking—but the legal career paid for the family’s lifestyle.
Asher could never do a job he hated every day. Luckily his dream job also paid a ridiculous salary, but he knew even if he’d only made it as far as the East Coast Hockey League like Jackson had for years, he’d be happy making the five-figure salary, if it meant he got to play for a living.
“Hey, you two,” the man greeted him, spreading the icing onto a three-layer chocolate cake.
Asher’s stomach growled as the scents of cocoa and coffee and vanilla cream reached him. They could skip dinner and go straight to dessert. He needed to get back to his clean eating and workouts, and he would…after this cake.
“Trey, that looks amazing,” Emma said, running her finger along the edge of the bowl to collect a generous dollop of vanilla-flavored buttercream.
Reaching out, Asher caught her hand before she could bring it to her mouth. Redirecting the buttercream, he licked her finger clean, immediately regretting the impulse as her wide-eyed gaze fell to her finger between his lips—regretting it only because they had an audience and he couldn’t grab the bowl and frost her entire body with it to lick every inch clean.
Her gaze flew to his, and the hint of a smile on her lips revealed she’d had a similar thought.
“Good?”
“Heaven,” he muttered, savoring the taste on his tongue as he released Emma’s finger, but still held her gaze.
Trey broke the moment between them by handing Emma the spatula-like thing he was using to spread the icing. “Enjoy,” he said, before turning away to put the cake in the fridge.
Oh, how Asher would like to.
* * *
There were so many other things Emma would rather be doing with Asher that evening, and the images that had just sprung to mind at the sight of him licking buttercream from her finger had leaped to top of the list.
Maybe Trey could whip her up a batch of buttercream to go.
Asher raised his eyebrows, and she had to resist the temptation to grab his hand and ditch out on dinner with her sister. She’d been so relieved when he’d turned down Jane’s invitation.
She needed to talk to him. She couldn’t continue to put off telling him how she felt for fear that he didn’t feel the same. She could feel the same intensity from him, the same attraction, the mutual respect and admiration they shared through their friendship, which brought them closer on a deeper level. She couldn’t go on like this, pretending she was okay with the idea of him dating anyone else. She wanted a commitment from him.
Hearing voices in the hallway, she turned on the stool as Jess approached the kitchen. Their mystery dinner guest had arrived.
“Make yourself comfortable. We’ll just be a second. Can I get you a glass of wine?” Emma heard Jess say.
“Yes, red if you have it,” a male voice answered.
Emma’s chest tightened and she saw Asher’s expression change to a look of slight annoyance as Jess entered the kitchen.
Emma stood and gave her sister a gentle shove back to the privacy of the hallway. “Who’s that?” she whispered.
Jess looked squirmy.
“Jess! Tell me you did not invite a guy here to set me up. Ash is here,” she hissed.
“I didn’t invite Ash. You sprung him on me,” Jess said. “Anyway, it’s not a setup.”
Emma released a breath. Thank God. Talk about awkward. “Oh, so who is it?”
“Don’t be mad,” Jess said, holding her shoulders.
“What did you do, Jess?” Her eyes widened and the momentary relief she’d felt dissipated.
“It’s Sean Whitney.”
Sean Whitney…Emma’s eyes widened. “You invited the head of the University of Florida’s physical therapy department?” Her heart raced. The man awaiting her response to his acceptance letter was in the living room?
“No. I invited an old friend,” Jess said calmly.
“So this was a setup.” Just a different kind. “I haven’t responded to the offer of early enrollment yet, and I totally dodged the man’s call earlier this week,” she said, frantically pacing. Now she had to meet him in person for the first time…with Asher there? This was not the way she’d wanted to tell Ash about the program. She was going to strangle her sister.
Jess stopped Emma’s pacing. “Look, it’s nothing. He was going to be in Denver for the holidays, so I thought it was the perfect opportunity for you two to have a face-to-face, that’s all. Relax.”
Relax. Sure. Because her future decisions were suddenly demanding an answer. One she hadn’t fully worked out yet…in front of the man she hadn’t even told about the opportunity. Damn. She knew this anxiety was worse because she didn’t know how Asher was going to react, and while her mind told her she shouldn’t be even considering making decisions about her future based on him, her heart already was.
Her commitment to his recovery and the fact that she’d always put him first were the reasons she’d decided not to accept the early enrollment.
Asher and Trey came from the kitchen, and she resisted the urge to push Ash back in and give him the Cliffs Notes version of everything.
“Here’s the wine,” Trey said, handing the glass to Jess.
Her sister forced a smile and shot Emma a look suggesting she do the same. “Shall we?” she asked, leading the way to the living room.
Where the youngest head of anything stood.
Youngest and hottest.
Emma blinked.
Weren’t university professors old? Didn’t they wear sports jackets with patches on the elbows? Not this one. Dressed in a pair of charcoal dress pants and a red-and-black-checkered sweater over a body that made him look more like a GQ model than an educational professional, he certainly didn’t fit the stereotype. His hair was long in the front and gelled to the side, and he wore a pair of dark-rimmed glasses that made him look sexy-smart. Suddenly Emma couldn’t feel her tongue as she stared.
“Hey, man.”
Emma jumped. It was Asher who’d spoken behind her, extending his hand to Dr. Whitney. Not her. Nope, she just continued to stare.
“Asher, this is an old friend of mine from college, Sean Whitney. He’s the head of the physical therapy department at the University of Florida. Sean, this is Emma’s friend.” Jess stepped forward to do the introductions. “And you know Trey,” Jess continued as the two men shook hands. “And this is my sister, Emma,” she said, shoving her not so gently forward.
Emma swallowed hard, ignoring the questioning look on Asher’s face as she accepted Sean’s outstretched hand. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”
His hand was firm, solid, yet soft and smooth. Desk job hands. So different than Ash’s sports, calloused, rough hands…
“I feel like I know you already,” Sean said.
Yep, the smile was definitely straight from the pages of GQ. “Yeah…um…yeah.” What did she say to that? The comment felt far too personal, intimate almost, and awkward in the small living room, filled with too many people.
Filled with too much Asher and his questioning looks.
Asher cleared his throat and she realized she was still holding Sean’s hand. She pulled back quickly, but not before catching another smile from the professor.
Shit. Where were her legs?
“Jess didn’t mention we had a hockey superstar coming to dinner,” Sean said, addressing Asher. His words were casual, but the steely gaze he offered was not.
Emma shifted uncomfortably as Asher nodded. “A Devils fan?” he asked.
“No. I’m not really into sports.”
“There must be some impressive athletes at the University of Florida, though, right?”
“I can’t say I’ve noticed. I prefer spending time with the graduate students in my program who are attending university for the education, not as a stepping stone or back-up plan to their professional sports career,” he said.
Again his tone was far too casual for such a debate, revealing an underlying tension.
Emma removed her scarf from around her neck, suddenly feeling much too hot.
Asher raised his hands. “Hey, you can’t peg me as one of those students. I skipped college hockey and went straight to the pros,” he said.
Emma spun to look at him. Oh, come on. Where was that arrogance coming from? Manly pride? Really? She shot him a look, but he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was locked with Sean’s.
“Now, you’re benched though, right? A knee injury?” Sean asked. “Can’t play forever, I guess.”
Asher’s jaw locked and Emma’s eyes widened. Shit, this discussion had escalated quickly, and she wasn’t completely sure why. She opened her mouth, desperate to say something to cool the tension, but she had nothing.
Trey thankfully saved her. “Dinner’s ready. Why don’t we head into the dining room?” he said, leading the way.
Good. Eating would prevent more talking.
She hurried after Trey, but Asher grabbed her elbow, forcing her to hang back as the group left the living room. “Head of physical therapy at the University of Florida?”
“Yeah, an old friend of Jess’s.” She shrugged. A young, sexy old friend of Jess’s who wanted her to attend his graduate PhD program. Somehow the clarification she knew he was expecting refused to surface from her lips.
“So his profession is a coincidence?” Then his eyes narrowed. “Or a perfect match for you?”
Damn. “Look, I wanted to tell you, but you’ve had other things to worry about.” She paused, studying her hands. “I was accepted into their PhD program.”
He released a slow, deep breath. “I didn’t know you’d applied.” He looked hurt, and she wished she’d told him sooner.
“I didn’t want to tell you until I got in.” It was the truth, but it didn’t make it any better. They were best friends. They told each other everything. They got advice from each other about big decisions—and this had been big. She knew why she hadn’t asked him his opinion—he would have brought up her snowboarding career and tried once again to convince her to give it another shot before moving on with her new life path.
“And you did.”
He didn’t sound happy about it.
She nodded, suddenly wishing he could at least pretend to be supportive. Yes, she should have told him, but this was the exact reason she hadn’t. She hadn’t wanted to be influenced by him, knowing that he was still hoping she’d go back to the slopes.
“Guys. Dinner,” Jess said, the look on her face when she poked her head around the corner clearly stating Don’t embarrass me in front of guests.
Asher sent Emma a searching look, obviously not done with the conversation.
“We’ll talk later, okay?” she said. Now was not the time. No, the time had been months ago…or two weeks ago when she’d gotten the early acceptance letter. She couldn’t blame all of this on Jess.
Not waiting for a response, she followed her sister into the dining room.
* * *
Leave it to Jess to know how to turn a bad situation worse.
“I’m sorry, Ash, I hadn’t expected you,” she said as she pointed to where he’d be dining that evening.
The children’s table.
It was about two feet off of the ground, with little blue stools around it. The adults’ table had four place settings set, and conveniently enough the round table could only comfortably accommodate four. “No problem,” he said casually as the kids took their spots at the table. At least he would have more stimulating conversation than with the dull, academic sweater, and at least Jess had been kind enough to give him an Avengers-themed plate.
“Jess, can’t we all just move a little?” Emma asked.
“I can add the extra leaf to the table…” Trey said, earning him daggers from Jess, who obviously had zero intentions of making him feel like he was welcome there that evening. Her agenda was perfectly clear.
Any other man would probably have the sense to leave, but the idea of giving Jess any sort of satisfaction was absurd. Besides, he would rather be annoyed watching the interaction between Dr. Harvard and Emma than be imagining what was happening. “It’s cool. I love the Avengers,” he said, struggling to lower himself onto the tiny stool and praying it could support his weight.
“Ash, your leg won’t be comfortable stretched out like that. You can have my spot, I’ll sit there with the boys,” Emma said.
He gently shoved her toward her place at the table. “I’m great. You go ahead.”
“Jess sucks,” she muttered under her breath.
No argument there. “I’m an uninvited guest,” he whispered, shooting her a look that said You’re not the innocent one this time. He set his crutch against the wall next to him and moved his seat until his leg was positioned as comfortably as possible.
“This is awesome. I can’t believe Asher Westmore is sitting at my table,” Braxton said.
That made two of them.
“I thought Ben was your favorite player, Brax,” Jess said with a smirk as she unfolded her grown-up cloth napkin and placed it on her lap.
“Jess!” Emma said, her cheeks reddening and her guilty look, full of sympathy, getting worse by the second.
Asher just smiled. “Ben is everyone’s favorite. The kid knows greatness when he sees it.”
Jess ignored him, instead uncovering the serving dishes on the table. “Help yourselves,” she told the adults.
In the center of the kid’s table, he removed the lid on the casserole dish to reveal a veggie lasagna. Jess’s insistence that her kids share her vegetarian lifestyle was ludicrous. Kids needed meat.
He needed meat. Which of course was on the table.
Fantastic. He’d have to struggle to stand and reach past Dr. Genius to fill his own plate, unless he wanted to eat this gluten-free, meat-free, taste-free lasagna with the kids.
His appetite vanished.
“When can you play again?” Brayden asked.
“Hopefully in two or three weeks,” he said, reaching for the orange juice on the table. “Juice, boys?”
They nodded. He poured.
“At least four weeks,” Emma corrected from her spot next to Dr. GPA.
“Two to three,” he repeated to the boys. “Your aunt is a wonderful therapist. She’s whipping me back into shape.” As soon as the words escaped him, he wished he could pull them back.
Dr. High IQ looked impressed, and Jess sent him a smile that said, Perfect lead-in, thank you.
Damn.
“That’s right, Emma is a fantastic therapist. And I agree with Asher. In two to three weeks he will be good as new and on a plane right back to where he belongs…ahem…lives,” Jess said, biting into a broccoli spear.
If Dr. Textbook observed the tension between them, he ignored it as he turned to Emma. “So, tell me about the kinds of injuries you’re treating here in Glenwood Falls.”
She took a sip of the ninety-six-not-ninety-seven wine and looked slightly uncomfortable as she answered. “Well, anything from shoulder dislocations to knee injuries like Ash’s. I work with all ages, as the office here is small, only one part-time and two full-time therapists on staff.”
“So you have your certification to work with children?”
She nodded.
“That’s wonderful. Already ahead of the game.” He cut into a thick piece of honey-glazed ham, and Asher’s mouth watered. He reached for the spoon and dished the casserole onto his plate.
“What specialization were you thinking of pursuing?” Dr. Smartypants asked Emma.
“Sports injury I think would be most interesting. As a former athlete, I can understand that world a little better.”
He nodded. “Yes. You had an impressive sports career of your own. I Googled you,” he said.
Emma blushed. “Thank you.”
“That was another lifetime ago,” Jess said.
Asher shoveled a forkful of lasagna into his mouth and resisted the urge to gag. What the hell was this anyway?
“Sean’s area of expertise is sports injuries as well, isn’t that right?” Jess said.
The youngest-looking professor on the planet nodded, taking a second to swallow his food before saying, “Yes. You would be working directly with me should you choose to join our program.”
“Of course she will,” Jess said.
Emma shot her a look.
“Sorry, I’ll stop talking for you,” Jess said, not sounding the least bit sorry.
Asher couldn’t decide if Jess’s intent was to secure for Emma a place in the school or a place in this guy’s bed. And he hated that it seemed Emma wasn’t fighting against either one. In fact, as she asked Dr. Diploma questions about the program and the course load, she became more relaxed and confident, and within minutes, she seemed to have completely forgotten he was there.
The head of the department seemed more and more impressed, the more she talked.
And Asher felt more and more ill.
“It sounds like you’re perfect for the program. We’ve offered you early enrollment. I think you and I could work well together, and you seem interested in pursuing the opportunity, so what’s holding you back?” he asked, setting his fork aside and leaning on his elbows on the table.
Jess and Trey sat quietly, waiting for Emma’s response.
Her gaze met Asher’s, and he silently asked the same question. He hoped it was the fact that she hadn’t completely walked away from her snowboarding career just yet. That some part of her still wanted that life. That this four-year break was just that, and she didn’t want the everyday normal life that small town Glenwood Falls would have to offer. He almost needed that to be true. Otherwise, it meant he wasn’t as clued in about his best friend as the other people sitting around the table, and that made his chest tighten.
While they’d never officially had the conversation, he’d assumed they were on the same page—sporting careers as long as they could ride it out, and then a future…together. But if hers was really over already, could she wait for him?
The look in her eyes didn’t give him any comfort. His mouth went dry, and he took a sip of the orange juice, but the liquid felt stuck in his throat.
“I’m just not sure the timing will work,” she said finally, her gaze still locked on his.
Timing? Because she was helping him recover? She was putting this opportunity on hold, not because she wasn’t sure she wanted it, but because she was committed to helping him heal?
And yet he wasn’t entirely sure he could put her first above his own career…not yet at least.
He broke the hold on their gazes and could sense her disappointment from across the dining room as she said, “But don’t worry, Sean. This program is what I want.”
Shit.
* * *
Neither of them spoke as Emma climbed behind the wheel later that evening, and the unusual tension between them in the car was unbearable, forcing her to roll down her window for a little air, despite the freezing temperatures.
She was suffocating on unsaid words and conflicting emotions.
Meeting Sean had been unexpected, but she couldn’t deny that he’d definitely intrigued her more with his information about the program. But the entire evening, doubt had dampened her enthusiasm. Doubt over whether the early admission date was something she could pull off. Asher’s recovery was her main priority right now. She wouldn’t leave him while he still needed her.
Though he was healing faster than expected.
Pulling out of the driveway, she waited for Asher to speak first, to call her out on the Jess thing or to ask why she hadn’t told him about the PhD program, but he was excruciatingly silent as he stared through the front window at the quickly accumulating snow.
A long silence fell between them as she drove out of the cul-de-sac. The sound of the windshield wipers swishing back and forth grew louder as the only noise.
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel and she cleared her throat. She had to say something.
“I’m sorry about the kids’ table.” Seemed the easiest place to start. “Jess is…Jess.”
Asher nodded.
He was obviously pissed. “And I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you about the program at the University of Florida. I just knew you’d have a very definite opinion, and honestly, I didn’t want to hear it.” The truth came out in a rush.
“Pull over,” he said.
She glanced at him but he stared straight ahead. “What?”
“Pull the car over.” He pointed to the side of the street and undid his seat belt as she slowed the vehicle.
Where was he going? Was he that upset that he was walking home? He couldn’t walk that far in this weather on his leg. “Ash, don’t.”
But instead of getting out, he turned in the seat and reached for her.
She went willingly into his arms, breathing in the scent of his soft cologne, enjoying the feel of his arms around her as she released a sigh of relief. The evening had been awkward and tense and a little overwhelming with the feeling that she was on an impromptu interview she hadn’t prepared for—all in front of the man she loved. Right now she just wanted to sink into him and stay there. Avoid making any big decisions. Avoid any arguments. Just be there. In his arms. The only place she ever truly felt like herself. “I would have told you.” At least about the school. That part would have been easy in comparison to the other secret she was hiding.
There was so much more she needed to say. So much he should know.
He pulled back slightly and tucked her hair behind her ears. He cleared his throat, and his blue eyes looked troubled, like he was struggling with something. The only thing she’d ever seen Asher look conflicted about was hockey. And this new, serious, pensive expression that she knew had nothing to do with his career made her hold her breath as she waited.
And waited.
And waited.
He continued to shift his gaze from one of her eyes to the other, and his palms felt slightly damp against her cheeks.
“Ash?” she said finally when the sound of the wipers once again started echoing in her brain. He needed to say something. Anything.
He took a breath. “Okay, the thing is, I don’t do relationships well.”
Or at all, really. She nodded slowly. Where was he going with this? And did she want to know? Her own hands felt clammy as she stared at him, trying to read his mind.
“The only thing I’ve ever really placed any importance on was hockey.”
Again, not breaking-news information.
“That is, besides you.”
Her mouth gaped. She hadn’t exactly expected that. Not even close. His words were slow to register, but her heart pounded in her chest.
“You are the only other thing in my life I need.”
Mind. Blown. All coherent thoughts vanished.
“I mean, not need…just want…a lot…Okay, maybe need. I’m not sure. I’ve never had to test that theory.” He frowned, looking frustrated by the emotions he was revealing.
“Where are you going with this, Ash?” Her chest was about to explode if he didn’t get to the point soon.
“What I’m saying is, I don’t want to test that theory. I don’t want you to not be here.”
“In Glenwood Falls?” This was about Florida? He was worried about her moving?
“In my life,” he said.
Oh.
He took another breath. “I want to go on a date with you,” he said quickly, his hands sliding down her cheeks to cup the back of her head. His fingers tangled in her hair as his gaze searched hers.
A nervous laugh escaped her, easing the tension. Just slightly. “A date?”
“Yes. A real date. Not a hookup or all-night sex…Okay, maybe that, too. But this time, start with a date that we both acknowledge is a date and see if we—you and I—work together that way.”
She hesitated, wondering where this was coming from. She suspected it had everything to do with Sean’s blatant interest in her that evening. And she wasn’t sure if Asher’s asking out of jealousy or a sense of desperation was the way she wanted to accept this rare opportunity…
But she’d be an idiot to tell the man she loved she didn’t want to date him, so she nodded. “Okay. We can go on a date.”