She raised a brow. “Even when I called you to bail me out of jail and you not only had to drive two hours to get me but also had to put up the money—which I’m pretty sure I never paid you back?”
Asher gave a definitive nod. He’d spent that car ride vacillating between anger and worry—only the latter directed at her. The former, not so much, considering she’d gotten locked up for assault—as in, some asshole had gotten handsy with her in a bar in Bumfuck, Georgia, and she’d punched him square in the nose. Broke it, too. “Even then. And, yeah, you still owe me for that one.”
“Not after this, I don’t.” Nat shot him a smirk. “How about when I ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere at three in the mornin’ and called continually until you finally picked up?”
“Then, too.”
“And what about when—”
He rested his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs brushing along her collarbone as he bent his knees to stare directly into her eyes. “More than all of them, Nat.”
She met his gaze for long moments, something passing between them until she cleared her throat. “We should set some ground rules.”
“Like what?”
“Like…how long are we doin’ this for?”
He blew out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how long this will last. How long can you stay?”
“I opened up my schedule, but I’ve got a shoot at the end of the month.”
“Okay. That shouldn’t be a problem—even if we haven’t had the final hearing, that doesn’t mean you can’t go. What about not havin’ any shoots on the calendar for the time being?”
“I’ll be all right. I’ve got some money set away.”
“Okay, that’s good. Any other ground rules we need to establish?”
“Um…yeah? What do we do about other people?”
“Well, they’ll definitely have to know. Sort of defeats the purpose if they don’t.”
Nat rolled her eyes. “I mean other people we’d like to date. Doesn’t make a whole lotta sense to go to all this trouble if we’re just gonna end up caught with our pants down.”
That ember of jealousy flickered again in his stomach, and he brushed it away. “I think it’s probably best if it’s just you and me till this is all done.”
She bit her lip and nodded. “Are we really doin’ this?”
“Looks like…”
She reached out and rested her hands on his hips, her fingertips slipping just under the hem of his T-shirt and sending shock waves against his skin. They stood only inches apart, puffs of Nat’s sweet chocolate breath whispering across his jaw. And though they’d certainly been closer than this at other points during their friendship, he could say, without a doubt, he’d never felt this invisible force between them. Drawing them closer. Making his eyes drop to her lips before snapping them up to connect with her gaze. Making him lean nearer to her, as if their mouths were tethered together, a string tightening with each breath.
Nat, for her part, didn’t shove him away. Didn’t laugh or punch him in the stomach, or any of the hundred other responses he’d assumed would happen. Instead, she stood there, her face tipped up toward his, lips parted as if she felt it, too.
“Uncle Asher.” June’s voice sounded from outside, and he whipped his head toward the pathetic noise, just as she opened the screen door, stepped inside, and proceeded to throw up all over herself and the floor. Once she was done, she looked up at them, her hands on her stomach. “I don’t feel good.”
Asher and Nat stood frozen for probably longer than a mom or dad would have, but to be fair, he’d never encountered projectile vomit from a kid—and he could say with absolute certainty Nat hadn’t either.
Lowly, Nat said, “I might have agreed to marriage, but I didnotagree to cleanin’ up puke. That’s all you.” She squeezed Asher’s hips before sidestepping him and striding straight toward June, careful to avoid the mess on the floor.
“Wow, that’s a lot of brown, little girl. This is an important life lesson I’ve been on the receivin’ end of many times—just because youcanhave that many cupcakes doesn’t mean you should.”
“Okay…” June said, her voice little more than a wobbly croak.
With a wrinkled nose, Nat pulled the soiled shirt off June and tossed it behind her toward Asher, who caught it on reflex. “C’mon, greedy girl. Let’s get you cleaned up while Uncle Asher deals with all this.”
Asher laughed out a groan before snapping into action. First order of business—making sure Owen was doing okay outside on his own. The baby was bouncing, babbling away as he sucked on his fingers and glanced around at the wonder that was outside. Thank God for small miracles, because the last thing he needed was Owen—who was wilier than a fox and would no doubt paint the walls and himself in this vomit if Asher weren’t careful—near while he handled cleanup.
He didn’t know what he’d do if Nat weren’t here to help. If he had to do this by himself. How he could possibly manage cleaning up June, while at the same time watching Owen, while at the same time doing laundry and mopping the floor.
