***
The famous Spanishsobremesa—the tradition of lingering over coffee after a meal—stretched into the evening. Rys left first, then Alejandro, Dawson, and Maricarmen.
Now it was Javi’s turn. “I’m happy things worked out between you two,” he said, hugging me tight. “Otherwise, Asher would’ve moped forever.”
I chuckled. “We both would.”
“Okay.” He released me. “Say hi to your friend. Doubt she remembers me, but do it anyway.”
Asher stepped out of the house and pulled Javi into a hug. “Good luck in Seville tomorrow, and thanks for coming, tío.”
“Take care,” Javi said. “Hopefully I’ll see you when you come race here.”
Two of Asher’s races would be in Jerez and Aragón. I tried not to think about the season ahead—weeks, maybe months, apart.
“Count on it.”
We said goodbye, and Javi climbed into his Porsche. The engine rumbled before he rolled out of the yard and disappeared from view.
“Finally alone, peque.” Asher hugged me from behind, nuzzling into my neck. “But it was a great birthday. Thank you.”
“It’s not over yet.” I laced my fingers through his. “But first, dishes. I promised your grandma we’d tidy up.”
In the kitchen, we worked side by side, rinsing dishes and loading the dishwasher. Asher was quieter than usual. I guessed it had to do with Miguel.
“Thinking about his gift?” I asked.
“Nothing to think about. I’m not emailing him. If he wanted to talk, he’d have found a way.”
Asher’s phone buzzed on the table. I handed it to him, and he wiped his hands before unlocking it.
“A text from my mother,” he said. “‘Happy birthday, Asher.’ Thanks, I guess. Both she and Miguel must take word economy seriously.” He set the phone on the counter with a sigh.
She couldn’t even call? “I’m sorry, Ash.” I passed him the last dish. When it was rinsed, we started the dishwasher, and he pulled me into a hug.
“Wait,” I whispered as his kisses trailed down my neck. “I have something for you.”
“Apart from the best birthday party and the best weeks here? Way to spoil me, peque.”
From my pocket, I pulled a small box and revealed a silver chain with a four-leaf clover.
“You’ll need some luck when the season starts,” I said, fastening it around his neck.
He crushed me in another hug. “Thank you. I’m the luckiest because I have you. And you’ve turned me into someone awfully needy,” he murmured, kissing my hair. “I can’t get enough of you.”
Anticipation sent my pulse racing. “Wait five minutes and come to our room.”
He cocked a brow. “Another surprise?”
“A promise I made.” Maybe he’d forgotten, but I hadn’t. Arms crossed, he leaned against the counter, watching as I dashed upstairs. I took the steps two at a time. In our bedroom, I stripped, grinning as I slipped into one of his racing jackets. A shiver ran over my skin at the cool material against heat. I brushed my hair quickly, then sat on the bed, breathless as if I’d just run miles.
The door creaked open. Asher stood in the doorway, staring. “Joder, peque. You’re lucky we’re alone.”
“Why?” My voice caught in a whisper.
He came toward me slowly, gaze roaming every inch of exposed skin as if his eyes alone could touch me. “Because there’s no way I’ll let you be quiet.”
Asher knelt by the bed and gripped my hips, pulling me to the edge. He parted my legs slowly, kissing below my belly button, then dragging his mouth lower until it covered my sex. Hot. Wet. Shameless.
