The hum of attraction when he put his arm around me was irritating and unwelcome, and I silently cursed my friends forputting me in this position. I’m already concocting the appropriate punishment and it looks something like the three of them spending next weekend organizing our online client relationship management system. I grin at the thought.
“You look like you’re plotting your friends’ demise.”
I turn and stare at him.
He glances over at me and then back at the road. “You had your evil face on.”
“How do you know it’s my evil face?
He looks at me again, just long enough to have my anxiety spiking that his eyes have been off the road for too long and my fingers drumming a beat on my leg. He looks back at the road and then back at me, smirking as if he can tell exactly what’s going on in my head.
“It’s the same face you had on when you refused to give me your number after we danced at the gala.”
I hate that he can read me so easily. Anxiety over what else he can see has me snapping back, “You could ask for my number every day for the next year and I still wouldn’t give it to you.”
“Blondie, I won’t be asking for your number ever again.”
The tug of disappointment is swift and startling, but I work to school my face into a neutral expression.
Apparently, I don’t do a good enough job because he tosses me a grin, and the smug look on his face makes me want to scream.
“You want me to have your number, don’t you? You just don’t want to give it to me yourself.”
I turn back to the window, gritting my teeth and wondering how badly hurt I’ll get if I open the door and jump.
“Don’t worry, Blondie; your brother saved you the trouble.”
I whip around to face him. “He did what?”
“Ben gave me your number back at the bar. He was underthe impression that I wanted it, and you refused to give it to me.” He gestures to me, one side of his mouth quirking up. “And, well, he’s obviously right.”
A rush of warmth that Ben thought of me when he’s still so deeply in hisHallie and Benbubble wars with my frustration that Asher can now contact me whenever he wants to. Not that he couldn’t before; my law firm number is on the goddamn internet. But having my cell is something else entirely. He can call me whenever he wants. He can text. He can Facetime, Jesus Christ. He’ll see things. He’ll discover things about me. He already sees too much, and this is the first day I’m seeing him since our single dance at the gala five months ago.
He’ll find out you’re a mess and then he won’t want you at all.
My fingers scratch at my wrist as I try to shove down the rising panic. And I remind myself I don’t want him anyway, so why does it even matter?
With one hand still on the wheel, Asher reaches over, laying his other hand over both of mine. I take a deep breath in, fighting the urge to close my eyes, lean my head back on the seat, and let his warm hand calm me.
I’m about to give in when the car glides to a stop. Looking up, I realize we’re parked in front of my house. Needing to get out of this car as fast as possible, I unhook my seatbelt and shove the door open, stepping out into the frigid January night. I’m heading up the front walk when a car door slams behind me. I turn and see Asher following me up to my house.
Oh no. No way. I need distance from this man immediately.
“What are you doing?”
I idly wonder how many pairs of girls’ underwear have melted straight off their bodies at the sight of Asher Hansley’s grin.
“I don’t know how you grew up, but my mom taught me that when you take a girl home, you walk her to the door.”
I open my mouth to tell him I’m a grown woman who can find her own front door, but then I think of my own mom and know it’s futile. I bet Ben has walked every single girl he’s ever taken out in his life to her door. He probably walks Hallie from the bedroom to the fucking living room. Fucking well-raised men and their good manners. In this moment, I want to hurl them all straight into the sun.
“Okay, well, walk fast. It’s cold.”
He does the opposite of that. He saunters up the walk.Fucking saunters.
Climbing the four steps onto my front porch, I dig around in my purse until I find my keys. I unlock the door, but my partner-in-a-law-firm manners won’t let me go in without thanking him for the ride.
Keys in hand, I turn and practically stumble back, sucking in a breath at his proximity. Like earlier at the stadium, he’s just inside my personal space. He reaches out an arm to steady me, and sparks ignite where his hand grasps my arm, even through the thick material of my winter coat. There are only inches between us as our eyes lock and hold. His spicy scent surrounds me, and I am at war with myself, wanting both to run into my house and lock the door to get away from this man who sees far too much, and also burrow into the comfort of his big, warm body and never let go.
