CHAPTER 3
The following morning, I arrived at Golden Gate Park at eleven a.m. sharp. I paid to park in the underground garage and made my way to the music concourse. As he’d promised, Asher was waiting for me near the first fountain.
“I’m so glad you came,” he greeted me with a friendly side hug. “I just arrived myself. Here’s a map of the booths. Are you hungry?”
I folded the map in my hand and took in our surroundings. Easels, portable wall panels, and small tables had been arranged in large, rectangle sections. Food trucks were parked off the far lawn and small groups of street musicians dotted the landscape. I could smell funnel cakes, marijuana, and Nag Champa wafting through the air.
This may not be my type of festival.
“I haven’t had lunch. But let’s take a quick walk through before we get food,” I suggested.
“Sounds good to me,” he agreed.
We started at the far right side of the park and wove our way through the makeshift aisles. We didn’t slow down to get closer looks at anything, but I spotted several pieces that deserved more attention. We reached the left side of the park and I turned toward the food trucks.
“Okay, now that I’m sure this isn’t the wrong type of festival, I’m ready to eat something,” I explained.
Asher smiled and pushed a rogue curl behind his ear. “I smelled the pot too. For the record, that’s not my thing. But I don’t care if other people do it.”
“I smoked once in college and turned into a paranoid lunatic,” I confessed. “I know it doesn’t affect most people that way. My boyfriend told me it was probably a fluke and I should try again. But I didn’t want to take the risk.”
“This is a different boyfriend than the current boyfriend, I take it?”
I didn’t miss a beat. “There is no current boyfriend. What kind of food do you feel like?”
Asher stopped dead in his tracks and took my arm. “No current boyfriend? You’re single?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t change anything Asher,” I insisted. “I want to be your friend. And at the moment, I’m your hungry friend. So what kind of food do you want? Looks like our choices are Korean barbecue, tacos, Indian food, and the corndog funnel cake truck.”
“I’m down for corndogs and funnel cakes,” he replied. “But there’s no law that says we have to eat from the same truck.”
I grinned. “That’s actually what I wanted too. I was worried your palate might be a little more refined than mine.”
“Corndogs and funnel cakes it is. And I was joking back at my house. I wouldn’t feel right letting you pay. That doesn’t have to mean this is a date.”
“I’ll let you do that,” I agreed, thinking of my shrinking bank balance and lack of paycheck for the foreseeable future.
“So tell me something about yourself. Where did you grow up?” he asked as we made our way to the truck.
“Not far from here, in Sonoma Valley.”
“Ah, wine country. Is your family in the industry?”
I shook my head. “No, not directly. Before I was born, my parents bought a small farm and turned it into a bed and breakfast. They have huge gardens and a few dozen animals. My mother loves to cook, so they offer lunches and dinners to compete with their competitors and justify their slightly higher prices.”
We reached the front of the line and studied the small menu posted in the window.
“Are you brave enough to try a funnel dog?” he asked with a laugh.
I shook my head and smiled. “Nope. I think I want one of the corn brats and an order of fries. Let’s come back for the funnel cake so we can eat it when it’s hot.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed.
A flustered looking teenager appeared in the window to take our order.
“We’ll have a corndog, a corn brat, a large order of fries and two… what do you want to drink?” he asked me.
“Coca Cola is fine.”
“Two large cokes,” he finished.
“Twenty-seven fifty,” the boy replied.
Asher gave him a ten and a twenty and told him to keep the change. He handed Asher a ticket and directed us to the pickup area. We joined the small group of people still waiting for their food.
“So where did you grow up?” I asked, eager to learn some personal information about this private man.
“I had a pretty normal, middle class childhood in Seattle. My father was a musician and my mom was a nurse.”
“Was? Are they retired?”
He shook his head. “They passed away in a car accident during my first year at MIT.”
My heart sank and I felt horrible for asking the question. “I’m so sorry, Ash, I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t,” he said with a shrug. “It took a long time, but I’ve made peace with it. They were both only children and so am I, so it’s just me now. Holidays are a little lonely, but I manage okay.”
“Order four-ninety-seven.”
We stepped up to the pickup window, took our food, and made our way to the condiments table.
“Okay if I cover these in ketchup?” he asked, lifting the cardboard boat of thick cut fries.
“It’s fine by me.” I covered my corndog with mustard, grabbed a handful of napkins, and turned toward the group of picnic tables. Asher followed me and we settled in under a large oak tree.
I took a huge bite of my corndog and the bratwurst filled my mouth with cheese and spice. I chased it with a drink of coke and wiped my mouth with a napkin.
“This is delicious.”
“Try a French fry,” he suggested, swallowing a bite of potato. “The seasoning is unique.”
I took a bite of a fry and Asher studied me as I chewed. “So I know you have to be educated if you work at the museum. Where did you go to school?”
“Harvard. For my undergrad degree, I majored in art and minored in business. My master’s is in modern and contemporary art,” I explained.
He raised an eyebrow. “Ever think about going for your doctorate?”
I shook my head. “What I really want to do is paint. Deacon’s been my mentor since I was in junior high. He’s really the main reason I went to school. And he was right. The more I learned, the more I studied other artists, the better I became. And I’ll always have the degree to fall back on if becoming an artist doesn’t work out.”
“Do you get much time to paint? I expect the museum keeps you pretty busy.”
I swallowed another bite of my food and shook my head again. “The museum doesn’t keep me busy. Not anymore, at least. I was fired yesterday morning.”
His mouth dropped open and he reached for my hand. He stopped himself before we actually touched and stared down at the table with an adorable blush.
“I’m sorry. What happened?”
I decided not to tell him my visit to his house had caused problems. David would have fired me one way or another, and I didn’t want Asher to feel guilty.
“I’ve never really gotten along with the man who took Deacon’s job,” I explained. “He filed some trumped up complaints about me as soon as he took over. I’m fine with it, really. I didn’t relish the idea of working with him. I’m going to start the job hunt first thing Monday.”
“I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”
“I appreciate that. But honestly, I’m okay. I’m actually looking forward to starting something new. I spent my days in a cubicle doing busy work for the curators. I’d rather be a part of creating something.”
“I can understand that,” he agreed with a nod. “That’s what I do. I create whole worlds for people to escape into. And let me tell you, people have some pretty diverse tastes. You’d be surprised by some of the custom scenarios we’ve had requested.”
“You do that, customize the games for people?”
“For the right price. Most people can’t afford the service, but it’s one of the things we offer.”
Asher finished his corndog and dropped the stick into the empty fry boat. “Do you feel like that funnel cake, or would you like to take a closer look at some of the booths?”
“Let’s walk around again and work up our appetites for the funnel cake,” I suggested with a lift of my brow.
Asher stacked our trash, carried it to a nearby can, and returned to the table. We grabbed our drinks and turned back to the lawn. When he reached for my hand, I let him take it.
***
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Asher asked as he maneuvered my car up the mountain road. “We can hang out at your place, if you’d be more comfortable.”
It was early Saturday evening; we’d spent the entire day together and neither of us was ready to go our separate ways. After the arts festival, we’d gone for a long walk on the Baker Beach. We followed that with three hours at a small local coffee shop. After the baristas started giving us impatient eyes, we agreed to find a change of scenery. Asher suggested we go back to his place for dinner, and I quickly agreed.
“My place could probably fit in the bathroom of your place,” I told him. “And I’m comfortable with you, Ash. I’m not afraid to be alone with you at your house.”
“That’s good to know,” he replied with a wink. “I picked up some fresh tuna at the market this morning. But if that doesn’t sound good, we can stop and pick up something else. We can’t really order delivery, so speak soon or forever hold your peace.”
“Tuna’s fine with me. But I have to warn you, I’m not much of a cook.”
“You don’t have to be. I am,” he assured me. “Besides, I’d never invite you over and then put you to work.”
“That’s good to know,” I replied, mimicking his wink. Asher laughed and moved his thumb against my palm in soft circles. We hadn’t moved past holding hands, but we’d barely released each other all day. Neither of us had mentioned it.
“The fish won’t take long to cook,” he continued. He turned onto the narrow road that led to his house.
“You can peruse the movie selection while I get everything ready for the grill. And if you’d like to have a few drinks, you’re welcome to sleep in the guestroom,” he offered.
“The guestroom?” I asked, stroking his hand with mine.
Asher blushed a little, but kept his eyes on the road. “Obviously, you’re welcome to sleep wherever you’d like. I didn’t want to come across as forward.”
“I appreciate that,” I replied, my tone genuine. “And I’ll probably take you up on your offer.”
“Perfect. After I wow you with my barbecue skills tonight, I can show you how versatile I am when I cook you pancakes tomorrow morning.”
“Are you this charming with all of your friends, Mr. Reynolds?” I teased.
“No, Ms. Matthews. No, I’m not.”
He slowed to a stop beside the security box and lowered the window. The camera turned and a few moments later, the gate sprung open.
“If you don’t have live-in help, who opens the gate?” I asked.
“A rotating staff of paid security guards,” he explained. “Their stationed a few hundred feet into the woods so I can pretend they aren’t here.”
“I have to say, I’m surprised you don’t at least have a housekeeper,” I observed.
“Lauren, I’m wealthy. But I’m not Montgomery wealthy,” he pointed out.
Asher hadn’t been at all surprised when I told him about my best friends. He said I came across as someone who knew how to behave around money. He assured me it was a compliment, but I wasn’t sure how to take it. I hoped he didn’t think I was interested in him as a means to have Kennedy’s lifestyle. I’d thought about telling him that, but decided to let my future actions speak for me instead.
“My house is my sanctuary,” he continued. “I come here so I don’t have to deal with people.”
“I completely understand. I was just teasing you. I’m not sure I could get used to having staff like Jackson’s family.”
“Well, that definitely adds a point in your favor,” he replied. He slowed near the garage and pulled out the opener he’d grabbed from Gabe’s car. The door slowly lifted and he eased in next to a black Ford Explorer. I pulled my purse over my shoulder and followed him through the garage door, which opened to an underwhelming laundry room. From there, we moved into the kitchen.
“Sit your stuff down wherever you’d like,” he said, moving to the sink. He washed his hands and moved for the refrigerator while I continued on into the living area. I dropped my purse on the couch and surveyed the liquor bottles arranged on the bar cart.
“Do you have any tonic water?” I called to Asher.
“I’ve got tonic, soda, limes. Just bring the bottle in here,” he called back.
I grabbed a bottle of gin and returned to the island. Asher filled two glass tumblers with ice, passed them to me, and pulled a lime and two cans of tonic water from the refrigerator. I mixed our drinks while he covered the fish in citrus and herbs.
“Do you like squash?” he asked, sealing the tuna in aluminum foil.
“I do.”
“Perfect. We can grill that up too. We’ll be eating twenty minutes after the food hits the grill. Are you hungry now?”
“I’m starved,” I confessed. We’d never gone back for the funnel cake and the pastry selection at the coffee shop had been less than enticing.
“Then I’ll cut the squash, wrap the bread, and we’ll take this party to the deck.”
“I can help,” I offered, sliding from the stool. I took another drink and reached for the aluminum foil. “Where’s the bread?”
“The freezer,” he directed. He sprayed two pieces of yellow squash off in the kitchen sink and then tossed them onto his cutting board. I retrieved the bread, wrapped it in foil, and then passed the roll to Asher. He made a boat for the squash, covered it in olive oil and spices, and sealed it shut. He pulled a cookie sheet from a cabinet and arranged the food on it.
“I’ll get all of this and the door, if you can get our drinks,” he offered.
I took our glasses from the island and followed him onto the deck. He moved to the side opposite the lounge chairs, where a simple patio table sat near one of the largest grills I’d ever seen.
“You take this pretty seriously.”
Asher sat the tray on the table and lifted the door of the grill. “This was an impulse buy,” he explained. “Don’t get me wrong, I love it. But it’s three times bigger than I actually need.”
He removed the grates, stacked charcoal, and lit the fire. Flames rose high in the air and Asher picked up a chair and moved it directly beside mine. He sat down and pulled my hand into his lap.
“I’m having a really good time with you, Lauren.”
“I’m having a good time with you too,” I replied. I squeezed his hand and stared into his content eyes.
“So you’d be interested in hanging out again sometime?”
“Of course I would.”
As I watched, the pupils in his eyes dilated a little. “I know I promised not to, but I really want to kiss you right now.”
“Well… I sometimes kiss my friends,” I teased. “But only on very special occasions.”
He let out an amused laugh and lifted a hand to my face. He caressed my cheek and stared into my eyes.
“Does this qualify as a special occasion?” he asked, his voice low and soft.
I bit my lower lip and nodded. “Yes. Yes, it does.”
Asher stood, pulling me to my feet and I waited, my breath growing stagnant in my lungs. He wrapped me in his arms and planted a single sweet peck on my cheek. The heat of his touch lingered long after he pulled away from me.
“The fire is ready,” he explained and his dimple showed with his grin.
Asher arranged the fish and squash over the fire and tossed the bread onto the upper rack. He closed the grill again, returned to his seat, and pulled me onto his lap. I leaned back against his chest, my head on his shoulder.
“I don’t want to come across too strong, Lauren. But the way this feels… holding you in my arms. I’ve never felt like this before. I know you’re as attracted to me as I am to you. This morning, after you told me you were single, you said we were still just going to be friends. I want you to know…”
I sat up and turned to meet his eye. “Of course I’m attracted to you, Asher. I feel the same way you do. I’ve never felt this before either, and none of it makes sense to me. I’ve made mistakes in the past, mistakes I don’t want to repeat with you. Which is why I think we should take things slow. Like snail’s pace slow.”
Asher leaned forward and gave me another light, soft kiss. “What I was about to say is that I want you to know I’m willing to take things as slow as you want. This, what we’re doing now, I’m fine if we never do more. Just to have you here, to hold you. That’s enough for me.”
I put a hand on one side of his face and my lips on the other. I kissed his cheek, then brushed my lips over his skin. I covered his lips with mine, gently opening my mouth and teasing him with my tongue. He nibbled my bottom lip and I pulled away slowly, smiling back at him.
“This is insane, but I’ve never felt so happy. And for the record, me wanting to take things slow has nothing to do with not being attracted to you. It’s just that I’m not capable of separating sex and emotions. I never have been, and it’s gotten me into quite a bit of trouble in the past. And the emotions I’m already feeling are all I can deal with right now, if that makes sense.”
“It makes complete sense,” he assured me.
I kissed him again and then turned in his arms. I leaned back into his shoulder and stared up at the clouds.
“Do you have an air mattress?” I asked.
“I do. Sometimes, I drag it into the woods and sleep under the stars.”
“Could we blow it up and sleep out here tonight?”
“You want to sleep outside?” he asked, looking adorable in his surprise.
“I grew up on a farm, remember? I used to love sleeping outside as a kid. Sometimes when we were booked solid, my dad would let me sleep in the hayloft so I could have some peace and quiet.”
“You’ll have to take me to this farm sometime,” he insisted. “It sounds like a beautiful place.”
“It really is. I don’t make it there nearly as often as I should.”
“Well, maybe you’ll be able to, now that you’re an unemployed bum,” he teased and playfully squeezed my hip. “Hop up. I’m going to check the food and then I’ll go grab the air mattress. Are sleeping bags okay with you, or should I pull out proper bedding?”
“Can we zip them into one big bag?”
He growled, low in his throat. “I wouldn’t have suggested them otherwise.”
With the exception of a few quick runs into the house to refresh our ice supply and use the restroom, Asher and I spent the rest of the night on the deck. We ate his gourmet meal, watched the sun set over the valley, and then stared up at the stars and talked about our hopes for the future.
When Asher returned from his final trip into the house, he brought me one of his t-shirts. He turned his back and stripped down to his boxers while I kicked off my pants and replaced my tank top with the soft cotton shirt that smelled like the man I was already falling in love with. We crawled between the sleeping bags and held each other until morning.
***
“Oh Lauren, that sounds so romantic. Personally, I can’t believe you managed to keep your clothes on,” Kennedy said with a little laugh. “The first time Jackson put the moves on me, I was putty in his hands. I had sex on a rooftop, for Christ’s sake. I guess you’re a stronger woman than I am.”
I held my phone to my ear with one hand and scanned through online job listings with the other.
“Not having sex wasn’t as hard as you’d suspect,” I tried to explain. “Just having Asher’s arms around me was all the rush I needed. It’s strange, Kennedy. He has this air about him. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but it makes me feel incredibly comfortable and excited at the same time.”
“I’m so happy for you. Damn it, I wish we could fly back out there right now and meet him.”
“It’s a little early for that,” I insisted.
“Fine, but keep me posted with the details. How’s the job hunt going? Do you want me to ask Jackson to make a few calls? He’s bound to know someone who’s hiring.”
“Thanks, but I want to find one on my own. I got a check for the paid time off I’d accumulated at the museum. As long as I’m not out of work for more than a month, I should be okay. And if I’m not, I promise to call you.”
“Alright. So, when are you going to see Asher again?”
“We’re having dinner tonight,” I replied. “He’s supposed to call when he leaves his office. I’m going to meet him at his place.”
“Let me get this straight. You told the man you want to take things slow. But you spent all weekend at his place, left this morning when he went to work, and now you’re heading straight back? How is that taking things slowly? I can feel you rolling your eyes, you know,” she added at the exact moment that I was in fact rolling my eyes.
“I don’t want to jump into the sex stuff. But I honestly can’t stay away from him. I think he feels the same way. Like I said before, this is all weird and crazy in the best possible ways and I wish like hell you were here to help me figure out what it all means.”
“Well, Jackson’s meeting with Jack went well. They’re asking for broker referrals in the area. I wasn’t supposed to say anything until the plans are finalized, but I think we’ll be there around Halloween to start looking at properties.”
I let out a squeal and Kennedy laughed.
“I thought you’d be excited. Jackson warned me not to get my hopes up. He said real estate in the area is super expensive and he’s not even sure the type of property they’re looking for is available. There’s a whole list of criteria that has to be met, and then they’ll have to consider building codes and zoning laws. But I have a feeling things will work out.”
“That’s because in your world, they usually do,” I teased.
“Things don’t seem half bad on your end right now,” she countered.
“They are. Things are exactly half bad. My personal life has suddenly become exhilaratingly wonderful. But professionally, I may be screwed. I’m not seeing much of anything to apply for. There are a few museums hiring, but the fact I was just fired isn’t going to bode well for me. If I have a hope of getting a job, it’s going to be somewhere that cares about my portfolio more than my employment history. You’d think someone in San Francisco would be looking for an artist or a graphics designer, but there’s nothing listed. Looks like I’ll be going door to door at the galleries tomorrow.”
“Why don’t you just freelance?” Kennedy suggested. “I bet Asher could show you how to build a website. You could probably figure it out yourself. You can design the site, upload your portfolio, and run a few online ads. You won’t be paying rent soon and you’ll have a huge studio. I bet you’d find as much work as you can handle. And you’d be doing what you love.”
I chewed at my nail, considering it. “I don’t know… I didn’t love the museum, but I loved the security of having a steady paycheck. I’m not sure I could handle the uncertainty that comes with freelancing. And I’m certain I can’t afford the startup costs.”
“I’ll loan you the money,” she insisted, speaking quickly. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll charge you interest. Spend a year trying to build a client list. You can always find another job if it doesn’t work out.”
I sat silent for a moment and considered her suggestion. I loved the idea of being an artist full time. But I wanted to be paid to create what I wanted to create, not what a customer had ordered.
“I’m not sure I’m ready to turn over creative control of what comes out on the canvas,” I confessed. “But I guess I could freelance as a graphics designer. I bet a lot of companies around here don’t keep one in-house. I’ll think about your offer. But I’m going to stick with the job search in the meantime.”
“Okay. My lunch break is over and I’m standing outside my building. I’m going to let you go, but please keep me posted on everything.”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I ended the call and tossed the phone onto the couch. I tried a few more online classified pages before calling it quits. I had a file of resumes and portfolio samples ready for the following day. I decided to take a long, hot shower. Before I made it to my bathroom, my phone rang again.
Kennedy must have forgotten to tell me something.
I was surprised to see Asher’s number on the screen. It was the middle of the day and he’d warned me he’d be in meetings until early that evening.
“Hey, Ash. Is everything okay?”
“Mostly,” he replied, his tone heavy with apology. “I have good news and bad news. Which would you like to hear first?”
“Tell me the bad news first, so the good news will make me feel better.”
“It looks like I’m going to be stuck in the office until midnight or so. I finally got in contact with some foreign distribution channels and they want to do some conference calls during their business hours.”
I’d expected to hear something along those lines, but I was still disappointed.
I guess that shower can wait.
“I completely understand. But I’m disappointed, so tell me the good news.”
“The good news is that a position has opened up in my graphics department. I know what you’re going to say, but I wouldn’t be your boss. My office is in a completely different part of the building. The pay is good, the benefits are good, and we’ll only see each other during work hours if you want to. I know we haven’t known each other very long and this may seem the opposite of moving slowly. But I had to fire someone today, so I thought I’d make the offer.”
“What exactly would I be doing? And shouldn’t I at least interview with whoever my boss would be?”
“You’ll be designing the graphic art for our virtual reality scenarios. And yes, typically I’d have you interview with Rachel, the head of the art department. But we’re in the middle of a big project and I can’t afford to be understaffed any longer than I have to be.”
“You’ve never even seen my portfolio, Asher,” I reminded him. “For all you know, I could suck.”
“I very seriously doubt that,” he insisted.
“I know you need to fill the position asap, but…”
“But you need some time to think?” he finished. “I completely understand. I don’t want you to feel pressured into accepting the offer. I just wanted to put it on the table.”
“I really do appreciate it,” I told him.
“Why don’t you go ahead and email me your resume and portfolio?” he suggested. “The original artwork files, if possible. I have a little idea that might help you make up your mind.”
“An idea, huh? You’ve got me intrigued.”
“Just send the files and answer two questions for me. Do you think you’ll be up late tonight? And do you know how to get to my office?”
“I have no idea how to get to your office, but I have navigation on my phone. And how late of a night are you talking?”
“Could you be here at eleven? I should have all of my work wrapped up around then.”
“I can do that,” I agreed. “I can’t wait to see what you have up your sleeve.”
“I can’t wait to see your face. I need to get to a meeting. Don’t forget to email me, the sooner the better. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Okay… and Asher? Thank you. I really do appreciate the offer.”
His voice was soft. Low. And the rumble of it went straight to my center. “It’s my pleasure.”
I ended the call and collapsed onto my bed.
I’ve had two friends offer me work in the last half hour. I guess technically, Kennedy offered me money. But I like her idea of freelancing, if I stick to graphics design. But if that’s what I’m going to focus on, why would I turn down the job with Asher? I’m sure he pays more than I’d make on my own. And his company has health benefits. But isn’t it a terrible idea to become his employee?
I didn’t want to work at EnvisionTech if it would have a negative effect on my relationship with Asher. I’d heard horror stories from people who’d dated coworkers, bosses, and employees, and lived to regret it.
I’ll go to his office tonight and let him show me his idea. Maybe he’ll give me a tour of the building. If we’re going to be far away from each other like he said, me working there might not cause any problems.
I moved back to the couch and emailed Asher. Then, with nothing else to do, I stretched out and took a long, satisfying nap.