Page 51 of Addiction

“Pete was the best. I’m grateful I had him in my life, even if it was only for a few months. He sure made me face some home truths when it came to my father.”

He frowns. “You don’t talk about your dad.”

“Because there’s nothing to talk about. I haven’t spoken to him for years and nothing is going to change that.” I give him a knowing look letting him know that the conversation about my father is very much finished.

“Mark said he saw you yesterday.”

“He did.”

I push myself off the desk and pack away the small equipment that is on the floor. I don’t need to elaborate on Mark’s visit: Asher knows already and it’s why he’s here, to tell me how he feels about it. I’d jumped with excitement on the inside when Mark had offered me the position because it’s everything this place isn’t, but I want to hear what Asher’s thoughts are because if it’s not what he wants then I’ll decline. He’s rapidly become an important part of my life. His presence has the ability to knock me off kilter. His fragrance is enough to have my stomach knot in the most pleasurable way, and the thoughts that run through my head when I’m with or without him takes us over the friend zone.

I want him.

I need him.

But at the same time, I will not jeopardize what we have.

If working with him isn’t what he wants, I will walk away. He means too much to me.

“I hear he mentioned a job opportunity at Resilience.”

“He did.”

“And?”

I turn back to look at him. “And what?”

“How do you feel about it?”

“How do you feel about it?”

He grins. “Don’t answer my question with a question.”

“Then answer the question.”

“Oh my God.” He chuckles, throwing the stress ball at me. “Look. We need a physical therapist to run the department, and you want out of this place.”

“I know. But that still doesn’t answer the question.” He looks confused. “I said I wanted to know how you feel about it. So tell me. It’s your gym after all.”

“I’m fine with it. Honestly. I want you there.” He holds my stare and I swear something shifts between us. I want to say there’s a yearning in his eyes—a longing—but as quick as I see it, it’s replaced with something else that I can’t work out. This man is nothing more than a beautiful contradiction.

“How long have I got to decide?”

He shrugs. “Thirty seconds and not a second more.”

“Thirty seconds?”

“Twenty.”

“Jesus,” Those ten seconds went fast.”

“Fifteen.”

“Are you always this demanding?”

“I can be a lot worse.”

“Looking forward to it.” I grin.