❁ Asher ❁

Dating never interested me because I can’t tolerate the charades people play on them. I won’t laugh at jokes I don’t find funny or pretend to be moved by shallowly uplifting stories. First dates are about selling your best self to possible investors.

I refuse to act as a product searching for an owner. Instead, I put my worst foot forward by focusing on my date’s faults and remaining silent about my successes. Few people are surprised to learn I rarely date.

They’d be even less stunned to learn I’m tense while on my way to meeting Junie. After all, I’m an anti-social introvert while she’s a touchy-feely woman who wears roller skates to restaurants. Rather than a match made in heaven, we’re built to fail quickly.

Yet even if I know how it’ll end, I still long to see her again.

I arrive at Willie’s Burnt Toast—a dive on the west end of town where dives are common, and food chains are not—twenty minutes early. Leaving James Cotton playing on my phone, I close my eyes and coax my racing heart to slow.

Nerves settled and heart steady; I remind myself that I’m not a teenage boy. I can handle a new person in a new location. As much as I prefer to remain locked behind the doors of my penthouse, Junie is worth the effort of leaving my home.

Despite my internal pep talk, I feel my confidence disappear as soon as I’m standing at the restaurant’s front door and a fetchingly sloppy Junie skates toward me. There’s something appealing about how she hasn’t put more effort into this dinner than she does for her waffles at the diner.

Junie’s thick hair perfectly frames her oval face, and her hazel eyes shine even in the shadows under the restaurant’s awning. Despite her simple white shirt and black boot cut jeans, she exudes exotic beauty.

“You’re already here,” she says, rolling in my direction. “I thought I’d beaten you.”

“Did you skate here?”

Junie’s bare pink lips lift into a wide grin. “I don’t live close enough for that.”

“So how did you get here?” I ask in the same forceful tone I use for peons at work.

Smile unfaltering, Junie points to the parking lot. “I drove in a car.”

“With skates on?”

Junie’s hazel eyes search my face for something.

“Oh, are you nervous?” she asks, taking my hand and tugging me toward the door. “Don’t be. I’m really very nice. At least, I will be on the first date before I’ve tired of you.”

Snickering at her joke, Junie enters the restaurant. She heads straight for an open table even though a sign asks people to wait to be seated. I sit across from her and look at the plastic menu nailed to the wall.

“I like their French dip,” she says, finally letting go of my hand. “If you’re too shy, I can order for you.”

Wary of touching the clearly sticky tabletop, I mutter, “I’m not shy.”

“Then what’s wrong with you?”

Her question doesn’t startle me as much as the way she sits back and waits for my answer.

“What’s the deal with the skates?”

“The world is more fun when I roll. Maybe if you rolled, you wouldn’t be so self-conscious.”

Cocking an eyebrow, I ask, “You think I’m self-conscious?”

“Yes, that’s why I said you were self-conscious.”

“And do you see yourself as a free spirit?”

“No. I’m just me.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, leaning forward.

Junie studies me, maybe finding my movements too aggressive.

“I am who I am, and I don’t care what others do. I like wearing roller skates, so I wear them. Nothing more complicated than that,” she says and then takes my hand in hers. “Is your life very complicated and that’s why you think everyone else’s is too?”

“You know skating at restaurants isn’t normal, right?”

“Wait, what? Is that why no one else is doing it?” she asks, glancing around while wearing a grin.

Leaning back in the uncomfortable, cheap chair, I sigh, “So you do it to be different.”

“I do it to be me. When I want to skate, I skate. When I want to walk, I walk. See how that works?”

I enjoy how her long fingers cling possessively to mine. Returning my gaze to Junie’s face, I find her smiling at the approaching waitress.

“What do you want?” the woman asks.

“French dip and root beer.”

“Fries?”

Junie’s smile widens. “That’s the only option with the sandwich.”

“I know.”

“Then why ask?”

“Some people don’t want them,” the waitress grumbles.

“But they have to pay for the fries, so why not get them anyway?”

“I don’t know.”

“Neither do I.”

The twenty-something waitress unleashes a hellish frown on Junie who is now focused on me.

“Do you know what you want, Theo?”

Hearing her say my fake name reminds me of how I’m the one testing her.

“I’ll have the same.”

Junie doesn’t look at the waitress who stomps to another table.

“That’s the owner’s daughter,” Junie says, tapping my knuckles. “Just in case you were wondering why they’d hire someone so awful.”

“I wasn’t wondering that at all.”

“Are you still thinking about the skates? Do I need to explain my reasoning again?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Are you, though?”

Junie gives me a half-smile, clearly amused by my edginess. Since my success, women trip over themselves to please me. Of course, those women always knew who I was and how much I’m worth, while this one thinks I work minimum wage.

Stripped of my money and influence, I’m an average man romancing a beautiful woman with plenty of options. This is a game I hadn’t considered when I chose to lie to avoid another gold digger.

Is a minimum wage-earning Theo enough to win over the hyper-confident Junie?

‧:❉:‧ ♂ ♀ ‧:❉:‧

❁ Junie ❁

Asher wears the conflicted frown of a liar worried he’ll get caught soon. Despite wondering how he expects to keep up his ruse for much longer, I have no intention of outing him. Instead, I decide to torment him a little since he was such a wiener about my skates.

“Do you like your job?”

“It’s fine. You can call the Gold Mart and ask to speak to the manager if you want.”

Fighting a giggle, I ask, “Why would I do that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Do you know why I agreed to go on a date with you?”

Asher narrows his eyes, waiting for an answer he won’t like.

“I find you attractive. So, let’s say you’re lying about working at Gold Mart. So what? If you’re telling the truth, I don’t care either. My interest is right here,” I say, waving my hand in front of his sexy face.

“Most women want to date a man capable of taking her to better places than this one.”

“What’s wrong with Willie’s?” I ask, leaning back. “The food is plentiful, yummy, and cheap. Any woman with standards above this place is a woman pissing away money simply for show.”

The corners of Asher’s mouth twitch and I sense he’s fighting a smile. “Is that right?”

“Yes, and dating in Dietrich is too much of a sport already. Everyone is focused on racking up high numbers, but my mother always says dating should be about quality versus quantity.”

“Does your mother live in Dietrich?”

Unfortunately, we’re veered into a topic I’m unwilling to discuss. Without missing a beat, I nod and then ask a question to refocus the conversation on him.

“Do you have friends?”

“Of course,” he mutters, disliking my insinuation.

“Anyone I know?”

“Likely not.”

“Do you have a best friend?”

“Men don’t talk like that,” he says, threateningly gripping my hand.

“I’m not asking how you talk. I’m asking if you have one friend who is closer to you than all others.”

Asher furrows his dark brow, but I only smile at his displeasure.

“My closest friend was Garrett until he got enough money in the bank and ditched Dietrich.”

“Where’d he move to?”

“Seattle. He’s married and has a kid now.”

I vaguely remember reading how Asher and Garrett started the company together out of college. The former was the idea man, the latter in charge of the money.

“So, he hit it big and left behind the one person who knew the real him.”

Asher’s expression remains sour even as he nods.

“Do you like his wife?” I ask.

“There’s nothing to like. She rarely speaks. When she does, it’s about shopping. They have nothing in common. She’s his trophy wife, and he’s her golden goose.”

“Money allows people to create their fantasy life. Mannequins instead of friends and family. Plastic beauty instead of raw emotion.”

“Fuck yes,” he says, pointing at me like I’ve solved an unsolvable math problem. “Plastic is exactly how I feel about his life. Nothing feels real. Instead, their life is an ad with Garrett as the average looking dad who married out of his league.”

“How did their kid turn out?” I ask, thinking of how cute my ugly friends’ babies are compared to how ugly my beautiful friends’ babies always seem.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” I say, giving him a wink.

“Garrett’s genes proved stronger. Though truth be told, I don’t know how much of Paige is original.” Asher tilts backward, fighting a grin. “I don’t usually gossip.”

“Gossip and cattiness aren't all bad. In fact, girls in high school made fun of me which inspired me to care less. If they had been nicer, I might waste a lot of time worrying about people’s opinions.”

“Made fun of you how?”

Asher’s smile fades, and his gaze hardens. The man has a protective temper. He just got fifteen points hotter in my eyes. Too bad I’m about to be brutally honest with the now sexier bastard.

“I’m hairy,” I say, running my fingers over my forearms. “Well, hairier than the girls at school. My parents are of Hungarian descent. In fact, they were set up by my nagymama Aggie, who wanted her sons to marry Hungarian women. Of course, that means we’re wonderfully hairy people. My paternal nagypapa told us to be proud of our fur, but my sister, Oona, let people’s opinions get to her.”

“Get to her how?” he asks while his gaze focuses on my arm. Rather than judging me, he looks more interested in touching my skin. Unfortunately, Asher chickens out and keeps his hands to himself.

“Oona would get up an hour earlier than everyone else, so she could pluck and tweeze and wax and bleach until she was a perfect Barbie. Well, not the real blonde Barbie, but Barbie’s not as special, brunette friend. Anyway, while Oona hoped if she looked the right way that no one would make fun of her, those wieners still talked crap. Except they attacked how much work was involved in getting rid of all the hair. Even seeing what it did to her, I worried too and started doing the same thing.”

“What changed?”

No more avoiding this ugly topic, so I jump in with both feet. “Oona died, and my best friend, Mallory, moved in with my mom and me. My hair-obsessed sister was replaced by a girl who lives in her own personal Idaho. Once Oona was gone, I realized how she wasted too much of her life trying to please the slags at school.”

Asher’s dark eyes study my face while he considers his next question. I don’t know what the hold-up is, but I wish I could hurry him along.

“How did your sister die?” he finally asks, and I realize he wasn’t certain he wanted to keep strolling down my gloomy memory lane.

“My rich uncle took my dad and Oona for a flight in his small airplane, and the engine had a kind of mechanical failure. My uncle was the only one to survive, but he remained paralyzed until dying a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” I say, patting his hand and giving him the affection he’s too chicken to demand from me. “You’re very considerate, Theo.”

The corners of Asher’s mouth curl up. He suspects I know he’s lying. He can’t ask, though, and I am more than willing to play along with his game.

“Are you very lonely now that Garrett moved away?”

“I spend most of my time alone, yes.”

“Have you made any friends at the Gold Mart?”

“No, not yet. I’m still new there.”

“That would explain your soft hands,” I murmur, running my fingers over his. “And how your face isn’t weather-burned.”

“Give it time,” he says, lifting an eyebrow as if to say he won’t reveal the truth unless I force it out of him.

Our waitress, Alana, was one of the uppity slags who mocked my hairy arms in high school. Now she’s serving me food. I smile brightly when she drops off our sandwiches, but Alana doesn’t smile back, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she spits in my food. I take the sandwich and lift it to my mouth while holding her gaze. A bite later, I wipe my mouth and announce, “Tastes perfect, dear.”

Stomping away, Alana is what Mallory calls a waste of space. I don’t know if I’d go that far. In any case, Alana’s existence saves me the effort of putting in my order and carrying the food to the table. The slag really does have a purpose in life.

“Have you ever had the chance to travel?” I ask Asher.

“Yes.”

“Anywhere interesting?”

“No. How about you?” he says, clearly wanting the focus away from him.

“Mallory and I started with quick trips to New Orleans, San Francisco, and New York City. Then we tried Puerto Rico, Mexico, and Argentina. Last year, we spent two weeks visiting Ireland, England, and France. We’re saving up right now to go to Italy.”

“What do you do for a living?” Asher asks, looking over his food.

Still smiling, I consider lying so he’ll still think he’s putting one over on me. Lies aren’t my thing, though, and I’ve never been very good at selling them.

“I work at IT Zen.”

“What do you do there?” he asks without missing a beat, and I wonder if he’s had me checked out.

“I’m a system technician. Repairs, reinstalls, that sort of thing.”

Asher smiles casually, barely hiding how he already knows my stats. I mimic his smile before devouring my delicious sandwich.

I don’t care about his lies. The only question I have is whether he enjoys the French dip? His reaction to my favorite sandwich will tell me more about Asher than his real name and net worth.

‧:❉:‧ ♂ ♀ ‧:❉:‧

❁ Asher ❁

Junie must have my number, but her behavior betrays a gold digger looking to impress a wealthy man. She shared her hairy arm problem, brought the conversation to a sad note with the deaths of her father and sister, and is now devouring her food.

“When did you start skating everywhere?” I ask before biting into my sandwich.

“You’re very focused on the skates. Do you have a roller skate fetish?”

Junie’s grin tells me she loves busting my balls. If not for her smile and the sandwich, I don’t think I could tolerate Willie’s Burnt Toast for much longer. The place is too small and crowded while the floors stick to my shoes. Everything about the restaurant alarms my already raw senses, but I force my gaze to focus on Junie until the noise around us disappears.

“I’m curious where the habit started. Why won’t you tell me?”

“I’m worried I’ll bore you and the date will end on a snooze-worthy note.”

“If I’m that easy to bore, wouldn’t it be best to find out now?”

“Very true,” she says, wiping her mouth. “After Oona and Dad died, my mother fell apart a little. Mallory was basically living with us, but it wasn’t official yet.”

“Why was she living with you?”

Junie shrugs and glances lovingly at the sandwich she longs to return to. “Mallory’s family is bizarre. They can’t keep jobs or pay their bills. I’ve never been clear if they’re purposely weird or if there’s something wrong with them. I just know they weren’t capable of handling a kid, let alone a teenager smarter than them.”

“How did you meet Mallory?”

“In my freshman year in high school, she was in a few of my classes. The first time I saw her, it was instant friend lust. She seemed so cool with her short haircut and tough girl denim jacket. I was such a wiener compared to Mallory that I thought her having two studs in each ear was badass.”

I can’t help smiling at her obvious pride while sharing her high school lameness.

“Mallory isn’t a tough girl, though. She’s fun and loyal and the best friend anyone could ever hope for, but she isn’t a badass. Not even compared to me.”

The blissful look on Junie’s face makes me hope I create such happiness in her one day. I imagine her wearing such a smile while telling someone the story of how we met.

“Does Mallory skate everywhere?”

“Is that your way of segueing back to the original question of why I wear skates?”

“And I thought I was subtle.”

Junie takes this opportunity to pat my left hand before she returns to eating her sandwich.

“Like I was saying,” she says after swallowing, “my mom wasn’t doing well after the death of my father and sister. We needed groceries, and I got the bright idea that I’d do the shopping. The only problem was I couldn’t drive. Mallory had her license, but she wasn’t on Mom’s insurance and didn’t want to get in trouble. My solution was to dig through our garage for a bike and the skates. You can guess which one I used.”

“And that led to you wearing them out to eat?”

“And to the store and at work and pretty much everywhere anyone would wear shoes. They were Oona’s skates, so I could barely stay upright that first day. I held onto the back of the bike while Mallory dragged my clumsy tush to the store and then back again.”

I start to ask how she went from clumsy skater to wearing them daily before thinking of who owned the skates before her.

The answer is right in front of me. As much as I’d like to tug at that painful thread from her past, I remind myself how we’re on a first date, and I already know I want a second. No reason for me to be an ass as usual and scare off a woman I actually plan to keep around.

‧:❉:‧ ♂ ♀ ‧:❉:‧

❁ Junie ❁

Asher doesn’t love Willie’s fries, but he eats the heck out of the French dip. I watch him, having finished my food in eight giant bites. A savvier woman would know to pig out in a dainty way on a date. I am not that woman, and I suffer from a raging crush on these sandwiches.

I’m crushing pretty hard on Asher too. Though reading him proves impossible. His dark eyes stare into mine, revealing nothing. Is he looking at something stuck in my teeth? Or does he find me the most astonishingly beautiful woman ever? The truth is probably somewhere in between.

“Do you want to see me again?” I ask once I tire of the suspense.

Staring hard into my eyes, he continues to remain a big sexy enigma. “I’ll see you at Flamingo Exit, won’t I?”

“Is that your way of blowing me off? If yes, be more obvious. I don’t pick up on subtleties.”

“I’d like to go on a date again, yes.”

“Of course, you do.”

Asher gives me a half-smile, no doubt relishing how I’m doing all the heavy lifting.

“We can see a movie,” I suggest while digging my wallet out of my bag. “The theater up the street from my place has weird movies, classics, and sometimes monster flicks. The popcorn is cheap and the butter plentiful.”

Asher likely knows I’m talking about The Jewel Theater. A high-rise guy like him shouldn’t slum it in such a low-rent place, but I suspect he has a soft spot for dumps. Why else would he eat at the Flamingo Exit Diner when he can afford a private chef to make his chicken and waffles?

“What’s showing now?” he asks, eyeing the cash in my hand.

“If you mean right this moment, I don’t know.”

“What about on Friday?”

“Mallory and I just show up and pick one of the two movies. I’ve never put more effort into it than that.”

“What a casual way to live.”

“How do you live? I only know where you work and that you eat at Flamingo Exit. How do you usually go to the movies if not casually?”

“I haven’t seen a movie in the theater in decades.”

“Does that mean you don’t really want to go to The Jewel, but you’ll pretend for my benefit?”

“Definitely.”

Smiling at his honesty, I’m curious about his real life. I don’t know how long he’ll keep up the Theo ruse, but I worry anything I find endearing about him—beyond his looks—is part of his façade.

My unease at his con might explain why I make such a show of paying the dinner.

“I can get that,” he says, reaching for the bill before I swipe it away.

“No. This place was my idea, and I’m sure I make more than you. It’s only fair that I pick up the check.”

Asher narrows his eyes and glares, but I smile as if blind to his irritation.

“Will you walk me to my car?” I ask and stand up.

A frown still plastered on his handsome face, Asher hesitates before standing too. He follows me out of the restaurant and into the breezy, hot evening.

“What are you thinking?” he asks when I only smile.

“That I’m an open book while you’re written in a dead language.”

“I guess you could say I’m an introvert.”

Watching Asher run his right hand through his thick black hair, I can’t help myself.

“I have to do something,” I announce, reaching for him.

Asher flinches as if so unaccustomed to physical affection that any attempt is viewed as a threat. I ignore his wariness and caress his face with both hands.

“I’ve never known a man with such pretty cheekbones.”

“Pretty?” he says, barely hiding his anxiety with a distaste for my wording.

“Since you know I’m Hungarian, why not share the ingredients in your melting pot?”

“Mom is white. My paternal grandfather was Cuban. Paternal grandmother was Chinese,” he explains and then clenches his jaw. “Are you almost done with that?”

I remove my hands and rest them on my hips. “You’re not such an affectionate fellow, are you, Theo?”

“I believe in boundaries.”

“Even on a date?”

“Especially on a date.”

“Why?” I ask, inching back on my skates.

“Attraction can distract from obvious problems.”

“What kind of problems?”

“A lack of common interests.”

Rolling my eyes, I sigh. “You know that’s dumb, right?”

“Dumb how?”

“Interests can change. People are capable of learning to enjoy new activities. Or you can have separate interests. None of that matters as much as chemistry. We meet people every day we can be friends with, but how many of them do you crave?”

Asher doesn’t respond immediately. He considers my words, working them out in his big brain. I hope he never stops pondering my question, so I can stare into his dark chocolate colored eyes forever.

Moving leisurely, Asher cups my face with both of his hands and holds me still for his incoming lips. I immediately lean into the embrace. Our mouths meet tentatively, tasting and testing before Asher deepens the kiss.

I can’t keep my arms from wrapping possessively around him. First, they trap his neck before my hands grip his waist and tug him closer. More and then a little bit more, I want the heat of his body to spread into mine, and not only to the fun spot between my legs.

Asher feels powerful in my arms. Hungry too. When his lips leave mine, I stare into the confused eyes of a man who doesn’t know what’s in his heart any better than I do. This is where we leave things before saying goodbye with plans to meet Friday at The Jewel Theater—with Asher confused and me hoping he buys a clue.