God, I wanted to believe him. I wanted to wrap my arms around his torso and let him comfort me. More than anything, I wanted a place to put my trust. Someone to have faith in. Someone to believe me.
But I’d learned that lesson a long time ago. “If you’re not here for my books, what do you want?”
“To talk to you. Ask how you feel about all this.”
I hiked my books up again, still not trusting I could release them. “I don’t feel anything about it. My mother can talk to anyone she wants.”
“You don’t want to know what else we discussed?”
“You obviously want to tell me.”
He shrugged like he didn’t care.
“Please get to the point.”
One blink. “Your mother wants to talk to you.”
Fighting my mother was like standing in the ocean and trying not to get knocked down. Also, she didn’t call. Not ever. There were no calls at Christmas, none on New Year’s, not even on my birthday. So if she called now things were fucked…presidentially. I nodded once.
“When?” he asked.
“Now?” Better to rip off the Band-Aid quickly.
He rubbed the back of his neck and fidgeted. It would be cute if he weren’t marching me toward the plank. “Well…I mean, she might not be available right this second.” Yep. Flustered, he looked absolutely adorable.
I sighed and began to relax my shoulders, try to shake out some of the tension coiled tight. “Don’t worry. Just call her office back and make an appointment. I don’t have anywhere to be.”
He scanned me quick from head to toe. “Are you okay?”
I nodded and sat on the bed. The fight leeched out of me now, reminding me how often I fizzled on nothing. How often I let myself linger on the far scale of fight or flight. The one they don’t talk about…hide.
Of course, he didn’t take a weak head shake for an answer. But he surprised me when he crossed the room and sat beside me on the bed.
I met his eyes. “Aren’t you worried about your reputation?” I asked, deadpan.
His plush lops curled into a soft smile. “I don’t think you’re about to ravish me and ruin my chances for an advantageous marriage.”
I couldn’t help but smile back. “I’ll keep my hands to myself, for now.”
His eyes widened, and his lips parted a fraction. I rejoiced in still being alive enough to feel pure feminine pleasure in that look. Like he suffered with his control. And for it.
“I’ll let you get back to your lunch,” he whispered.
He walked out with a wave, and I didn’t want him to go. Besides, once my mother’s name had been invoked, it was impossible to eat. Plus, the super fun looming conversation with my mother I had to look forward to.
Ash didn’t return until early evening. He opened my door to find me suspended inSirsasana.I inhaled and dropped my legs. The weight of his gaze soothed me and irritated me at the same time. I wanted his eyes on me, but not in the very clinical way he tried to maintain.
“Ready?” he asked.
Upright now, I wiped the sweat from my brown and stood. “Let’s get this over with. Hopefully, it will be our only conversation this year.”
He led me toward his office. “You only talk to your mother once a year?”
“How often do you speak to yours?”
He shrugged. “Almost every day. At least a text a day. She likes to send me pictures of recipes she’s working on.”
Damn. He just got cuter. I never had a sister, brother, hell not even a father. No one in my life I could develop that kind of relationship with.
