His suit is different shades of coffee, as if he mix-and-matched two to make them fit, just like I do with my bathing suits. Big ass, thick thighs, and small boobs will do that to a girl. He’s wearing glasses, and while most women might not find that alluring, I do. He’s giving me smart and sexy vibes.
Asher clears his throat, tilting his head to the side and giving me a once over. So I just got caught shamelessly ogling him.
Again.
Cool, cool.
“Well, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to do something about it?” I ask, and when his mahogany eyes open wide, I shake my head. “Get your head out of the gutter. That’s not what I mean.” So I guess this is a do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do situation now. Got it.
“Come.” His voice is clipped, not apologetic like it was before. Either he was pretending back there, or he’s uncomfortable now.
Which one is it, Asher? Are you sweet and kind and a little bit of a clutz, or are you an asshole who just wanted to get me into the bathroom alone?
I step forward, following his command until he leads me under the silver dryer on the wall.
“What do you expect me to do? Get on my knees under that?”
“Um, that was my plan, yes, but if that’s too uncomfortable, you can always take it off.” There is zero hesitation in his voice but no flirtation either. His voice is not laced with excitement and or sultriness like I would expect from a man who’s trying to get into my pants.
“Wouldn’t you like that?” I sass.
“Listen.” He shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “If I was trying to get laid tonight, throwing a drink on a beautiful girl’s dress wasn’t the way to do it. So trust me when I say, I don’t want to be here just as much as you don’t. I’m trying, but I need you to meet me halfway.”
“Woman."
“What?” he asks, stumped.
“I’m not a girl, I’m a woman. Turn around, and I’ll give you the dress.”
“What?”
“Am I not speaking English?” He flinches.
This—this is what people mean when they categorize me as mean. It’s the way I say things, not just what I say. I thought this man was hard to read, but he’s not, because that bothered him. He’s either completely unfazed by this whole thing, or he’s just showing me what he wants me to see.
Except that might have been triggering, because his jaw grows tight.
He lets out a sigh. “You know what? I don’t need to do this. It was an accident. I was trying to help. You clearly are not happy for whatever reason, but I don’t deserve for you to be condescending about it.”
I obviously hurt his feelings, but what’s done is done. Nothing I can do about it now, but it doesn’t hurt to try to fix it. “I don’t have a bra.”
“At the risk of you snapping at me again, what?” he asks with effortless charm.
Oh, I’m in trouble if I’m finding this man endearing after he just asked the same question a bazillion times.
“Do you know any other question words? Or maybe how to expand on it?” I smile so he knows I’m teasing, but he doesn’t react.
Damn, Hailey, you’re losing your touch.
“That was a joke.”
As serious as he can be, he says, “It wasn’t funny.”
“Yeah, I got that.”
I wait for him to say something or to leave, but he doesn’t do either.
“I asked you to turn around so I could take my dress off and give it to you because I’m not wearing a bra. So go ahead.” I twirl my finger around in the air. He chuckles, his hand raking over his mouth and stubble, hiding a soft smile.
