That was worse. He smelled like sandalwood and fresh air, an intoxicating combination. She swiveled toward Bruno and focused on his rapid cutting skills.
It’s just Asher. Your grumpy roomie.
Who was also an amazing chef. Who swam every day and had the arms and chest to prove it. Who was a study in contradictions with his octopus tattoo and resistance to loving all animals. Who ordered flowers for old women, but helped Eliana beat out everyone on an obstacle course no matter their age.
Who might be hard and gruff on the surface, but had an irresistible soft side.
“I got caught up at the barber, but I should have called,” he continued, and she realized she hadn’t said anything. But what could she say? Her throat was tight.
Shake it off, Elly.
She swallowed and faced him head on, like the brave social media influencer she was. Looking at Asher was like diving into a cold pool. At first, it was shocking to the entire system—hard to breathe, hard to think even. But after a short amount of time, you got used to the temperature and your body went back to baseline.
“It’s fine,” she thought she said. But instead, somehow, the breathy words that came out of her mouth were, “You lookreallygood.”
Okay, so not back to baseline yet.
He looked away almost bashfully.Stop it, Asher! Stop being so dang cute.
“Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “It’s been too long since my last haircut. I never intended for it to grow so long in the first place, but after … everything, I stopped caring for a while.”
“I’m glad you didn’t cut it too short,” she blurted. Why not just spill out every thought in her mind? “And that you kept the beard. Women dig a beard.”
He lifted a brow. “All women?”
“All women,” she said firmly, even though she knew that couldn’t possibly be true. But safety in numbers, right? “I have it on good authority that Miss Havisham is particularly hot for men with beards.”
Asher barked out a laugh. Bruno pretended not to hear them, though both of his brows winged upward.
Asher’s shoulder bumped into hers as they watched Bruno make the salsa. “I’m mostly occupied by what Louisa May Alcott thinks.”
The temperature in Eliana’s body shot up. Forget a cold pool. She was in a sauna.
“My turtle?” she said, a squeak to her voice.
Before Asher could respond, Bruno turned on the food processor and drowned out anything he might have said anyway.
By the time Bruno stopped pulsing the salsa, Eliana had wrangled her body’s temp back to normal, and everything was good again.
Bruno unceremoniously plopped a bowl of warm chips in front of them, and then dumped the salsa into a gorgeous yellow serving dish. “Here. We’re only doing one salsa. Your dance instructor will be here soon.” With that, he turned on his heel and marched out.
“A friendly guy,” she commented.
“The president of our outreach committee.”
“Makes sense.”
They dug into the chips and salsa, and Eliana was grateful for something to keep their mouths occupied. Every second that ticked by, the more she relaxed into being with Asher.
“So my grandma approached me with an interesting idea.”
“What’s that?” He scooped salsa onto his chip and put the entire thing in his mouth.
“You should be my fake boyfriend at Julia’s wedding.”
Asher’s eyes flew wide, and he choked on his chip. His face turned red as she filled a glass of water for him from the pitcher Bruno had left, and he guzzled it down between coughs.
“What?” he croaked out.
