Asher and Ava spoke at the same time.
Ava said, “No. I don’t need a ride.”
While Asher responded, “Of course.”
“Great!” Viv only acknowledged Asher’s reply. “See you later, Sissy.”
Viv gave Ava a quick hug and then she was gone. Out the door. As she watched her sister leave, Ava knew that this was not the last visit she’d be making to the police station, because she was going to murder her sister.
Her cheeks were warm with embarrassment as she looked back at Asher who didn’t seem at all fazed by the soap opera level performance Vivien had just put on. His expression was entirely unreadable. And sexy. He was unreadable and sexy.
Not knowing what else to do, Ava lifted her hand awkwardly, “Hi.”
She felt like an idiot for the late greeting, but it was the first thing she managed to say to the man.
“Hi.” Asher’s sonorous voice vibrated through her as his lips spread in a wide smile that had her hormones partying like they were on spring break. It was that damn dimple on his left cheek that popped out. Apparently, it was her sexual Achilles’ heel.
Was that even a thing?
He lifted his arm to check his watch and she couldn’t help but notice the tattoos on his forearm. She remembered thinking they were sexy when she’d seen him in the chip aisle, too. Tattoos had never really been her thing, but on Asher they worked. Big time.
“The lab closes at four and we need to get your samples as soon as possible before all traces leave your system. Since I’m giving you a ride, we can head over now and I can do the interview on the ride over, if that’s okay.”
“Sure!” Ava responded a little too enthusiastically.
They walked to the door that Viv had just flown out of and Asher held it open for her. When she walked past him, she couldn’t help but notice the fresh scent of masculinity. He smelled like a man. Woodsy but clean. The swooshing was back in her head and her mouth was watering as they made their way across the parking lot.
Asher guided her to a black SUV and opened the passenger door. He held out his hand to assist her as she stepped on the running board. She placed her hand in his and felt a zipping thrill race up her arm. The same thing had happened in front of the coffee shop when they’d shaken hands. She remembered that Viv used to drag her sock covered feet in the carpet to try and build up an electrical charge to shock Ava, Grace, and Audrey.
Asher didn’t need socks or carpet. He was supercharged.
As Ava rode beside Asher in his SUV, she couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at her sister’s not-so-subtle exit. She also couldn’t help but notice the way Asher’s large hands gripped his steering wheel, or the masculine scent that wafted through the small space, or how sexy the tattoos that ran up his forearm were, or the way it felt to be in such close proximity to him.
She was barely holding it together. She felt like she was either going to hyperventilate, throw up, or pass out. Maybe all three.
It hit her then that maybe she wasn’t attracted to him, maybe she was allergic to him. If she broke out in hives she wouldn’t be surprised.
Or maybe this was what real attraction felt like and she’d just been missing out. The only man that she’d ever had any romantic feelings for had been Ian and the man in the driver’s seat.
Being raised by a hopelessly romantic mom, who believed in fate, happily-ever-afters, and who worshipped at the church of rom coms and angsty romantic dramas had affected all four sisters very differently.
When it came to men Vivien had the opposite sex wrapped around her little finger and she enjoyed toying with them. Grace kept men at arm’s length, never letting anyone get close enough to hurt her. Audrey avoided men at all costs. And Ava had committed to the first man she ever dated and was going to walk down the aisle to said man, who she wasn’t in love with.
With Ian her feelings had been...well, tame compared to what she felt for Asher. What she’d felt for Asher from the moment they’d locked eyes, before he’d saved her life, before she’d spent seven years fantasizing about him, and before she’d even known his name.
And now she was seated beside him with no make-up on, her hair pulled up in a ponytail, wearing a camp T-shirt and jeans.
This isn’t a date; she replayed the words that she’d told her sister.
Isn’t it? she heard Viv’s reply.
No. It’s not, she insisted.
Her internal dialog was making her feel like she might be losing it.
“Thank you for coming down and doing this,” Asher said again.
“Of course. Anything I can do to help.”
