“He’s not ready yet—” Polly began, but Mr. Richardson cut her off.
“I’ve been more than generous with the time allotted,” he said. “I need you to have the bungalow completely cleared out in two weeks. Anything that’s not moved, I’ll have disposed of at your expense.”
Eliana hadn’t realized how bright Asher’s light had shined through him all evening, until Mr. Richardson reached out with his two fingers and snuffed it out. She wanted to set an alligator on him—and not one whose mouth was bound by a leather strap like Sweetie.
“But my sister’s wedding is in two weeks,” Eliana said. “And Asher is playing a huge role.” That might be overstating things, but being her fake, fake-boyfriend was serious business.
Mr. Richardson peered at her as if trying to place who she was. “Fine. I’ll give you until the following Monday. Does that suit?” he asked sarcastically.
“Yes,” Asher said. “I’ll make sure everything is out by then.”
“If you need to take a few days off of work to make it happen, I’m sure we can arrange for that.”
Asher’s jaw clenched. She gripped his hand as Mr. Richardson walked away with a spring to his step.
Chapter 24
AsherdidnottakeMr. Richardson up on his offer to let him take a few days off of work, and instead did the opposite—worked nonstop.
His charting had never been more thorough.
His schedule never fuller.
And he offered to take every single new patient who called.
Busy was good. Busy meant he didn’t have time or energy to think about the house or what he was going to do in two weeks when he couldn’t live there anymore.
The only bright spot was Eliana Peters. Since their salsa lesson a few nights before, things had shifted between them. Some of their easy camaraderie was gone, and Eliana seemed more tentative around him. But she hadn’t bolted, and Asher was taking that as a good sign.
Alondro’s advice when he’d pulled Asher aside in the ballroom still ran through his mind. “She is a strong woman, and I love a strong woman. But you are letting her do all the leading, and it is making you both stumble. In dance, it is give and take. Small signals that direct where you go as a partnership. Be confident. Be bold. And see what happens.”
What happened was that they’d almost kissed—and that moment had been hotter than any actual kiss he’d ever had in his life. Despite Alondro’s presence. Despite Mr. Richardson soaking them with his rain cloud.
Even now, Asher pulled at the back collar of his scrubs to allow some airflow. What he wouldn’t give to go back to that moment again. It was easy to be confident on the dance floor, with Alondro lending him a boost, when they were caught in the moment. It was quite another when they were surrounded by boxes that provided a constant reminder that he’d be without a home soon.
All morning, people had complimented him on his hair cut and beard trim. He should have done this a long time ago. He’d never let it grow so long and messy before, but after Grandpa died, he’d stopped caring. The fog that had descended over Asher was finally lifting.
He’d regretted the trim the moment he’d done it though. He’d stared in the mirror at the barber, and realized he was laying most of his cards down on the table. Eliana was going to know he’d done this for her.
But the stunned expression on her face took away every doubt he’d had. And the way her lips had so willingly parted as he’d leaned toward her after their dance …
Why was it so dang hot in here?
He sat at his desk, playing around with some new software for augmentative communication devices, when someone knocked on his office door.
“Come in.”
Eliana opened the door. Tote bags hung from each of her shoulders, and she gripped a bulging paper bag. “Are you busy?”
He motioned her in. “Not for you.”
She appeared almost flustered as she closed the door behind her and set everything on his desk. Her gaze caught on the shelf beside his desk, and she walked over to it to study the books and knick-knacks he had there. She must have walked to his office from the bungalow, because her hair was stuck to her neck in sweaty tendrils and her cheeks were a bright, glistening pink. The sight of her was like getting slammed by a massive wave—both breathtaking and exhilarating.
It felt strangely intimate to have her studying the items he kept close to him.
“Are these your grandparents’?” She pointed to the salt-and-pepper shaker set Harry had helped him complete.
“Yep. Grandma loved those as much as she loved my grandpa.” Which was why it had been so devastating when he’d shattered one of them. He loved seeing the set back together. It might not have been the exact one she’d used, but it still made him happy to see.
