Asher doesn't move. Doesn't need to. The absence of reaction is louder than any threat.
My composure holds, but barely. I’m as frail as my weakest opponent. This is not good.
“Use your imagination, honey. I'm sure you can figure something out.” Parker's words land on me, but he winks at the twins before heading for the yard. “Oh!” He spins back. “Bill andJames are flying in tonight. I'm just not sure where we'll put them.”
The names hit my stomach wrong. I force my mouth into something resembling pleasant. “We can put them in one of the bedrooms.”
He shakes his head, hands sliding into his pockets. “No. I'd rather the pool house.”
The pool house where Asher, Atlas and Punk currently stay. He knows this. We all know this.
Parker shifts his attention to the twins. “How's your house coming along?”
Asher answers first, voice flat. “Not nearly ready. It's not a new build, but a—” he pauses, “renovation.”
My coffee turns to acid in my throat.
Parker weighs his next words. I already know where this goes. He'll suggest they find somewhere else so his worthless friends can stay. Friends I've never met but Parker has spoken about on numerous occasions.
Lucinda’s thigh grazes mine.
“Oh, I have an idea!” She pipes up, attempting to save the scene.
“Nah, it’s cool. We can stay at one of the hotels in town,” Asher answers coolly, and the calm assertiveness in his tone only makes him more attractive.
Parker chokes on his laugh. Jesus, what the fuck is his problem? Mine and Asher’s friendship has never gotten to him before, and if he’d figured out I was fucking his friend behind his back, it would only upset him because of what it makes him look like to everyone else.
“You can’t.” Parker’s chuckle dies in his throat, his eyes landing on Asher with a hatred I’d never seen from him before. “There’s only one hotel here, and it’s booked out. That’s why theguys have to stay here.” The guys. Egh. I hate that term.The guys. Such a fucking douchebag term.
Lucinda’s thigh taps mine again. Once. Twice. Three times. When I turn to ask what’s the matter with her, she’s looking pointedly at Asher. When I turn back to him, my heart slows in my chest and something that feels like electricity touching water prickles down my spine.
Asher matches his chuckle, the corner of his mouth curling up only enough that you can’t call it a smirk, but you can’t call it a frown. “I’m sure they’ll make space.”
What the hell is happening? How did everything go from cordial and timid, to tension and testosterone?
Parker’s shoulders square and his mouth sets in a hard line. Every warning in my body sets off.
Still.
Unmovable.
“Sorry. No one cares about how Instagram famous you are, son.” He takes a step forward, grass crunching beneath his shoe.
I don’t know who Parker thinks he’s talking to, since last I checked, he himself wouldn’t be allowed to step foot on this land if it wasn’t for his being married to me.
Speaking of fragile masculinity…
“Hold.” I push to my feet. “No one’s leaving, and if it came down to it, I’d call Château le voile to prepare you a room, Asher.”
It wasn’t supposed to come out as carelessly as it did, and as soon as it does, I want to shove it back down because now Parker’s attention is on me with narrowed eyes.
I meet his gaze head on. “I just mean that, like Parker said, they don’t care for fame and all that here, but apparently my family who owned this place has been around for generations, so…” Why the fuck am I making excuses for caring for a friend?
“—so nothing,” Parker snaps through gritted teeth.
Atlas whistles, chuckling and rounding the fire pit. He’s trying to ease the tension, but it won’t work around here the same way it does at a frat house.
Breathe.
