His lips twitched. “Your father would have a few things to say if I did.”
I shrugged. “He’s not here.”
Asher’s smirk faded into a frown. He stuck the candle in the center and lit it. “He’s still too close for my liking. Make a wish, peque.”
He held out the cake, and I grinned like a kid. This was starting to feel like a real birthday.
“A wish.” I shifted my weight. “Okay. I’ve got a few.”
“However many you’ve got,” Asher said softly. “I’ll wait.”
The flame flickered, shadows moving across his face. Ever since Mom died, I’d wished for the same thing—make her proud, since having another day with her was impossible.
I also wanted to score high on the PSAT. Go to college. Travel. Be happy. Mandy’s earlier words crept in, and I shook my head, inhaled deeply, tried to press everything into one clear wish.
Then I blew. The flame trembled before curling into a thread of silver smoke.
“Feliz cumpleaños, peque.”Happy Birthday, little one.Ash stepped closer and slipped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in.
My nose brushed his jaw, and his clean, fresh scent wrapped around me, clouding my judgment. I wanted other things—wrong things. Him holding me tighter. Me burying my face in his neck.
“Still not the big party you deserve, but hopefully better than nothing,” he whispered against my forehead. Then he let go, stepping back.
“Much better,” I agreed. Better than anything that had happened to me lately.
Asher groaned. “Fuck, a knife. I promise I’m less of a mess when I sleep.”
Giggling, I picked up a fork and started cutting into the cake while he winced like it physically pained him. “That’s slaughter.”
“For you.” I set the piece on a plate.
Ash shook his head. “You first.”
“So you can cut a better one for yourself?”
His smile slipped loose, easy. “What do you take me for? I want you to eat your cake first because it’s your birthday, not mine. Sit. I’ll cut mine after.”
I took my plate and sat on the bed, watching him. It was strange seeing him here, surrounded by my things—strange, but in a good way. For a second, the boy from the past flickered through my mind, but Asher wasn’t that fifteen-year-old anymore.
He’d grown into a gorgeous man who remembered my birthday when no one else did, and who handed me cake rich enough to make my mouth water.
Asher shrugged out of his jacket, and my eyes slid down his strong forearms, over the hard lines of his stomach, up to his broad, sculpted shoulders.
He caught me looking, one dark brow lifting.
I shoved a forkful of decadent cake into my mouth.
Shit. I was in trouble.
CHAPTER FOUR
Asher
Five days later
“What are you most looking forward to this season?”
The question came from a curly-haired guy in round glasses who couldn’t have been much older than me.
