“Did they break your heart?” I ask, amazed at my directness.
“It’s widely believed that I don’t have a heart,” he deflects.
“I don’t believe that.”
“Then I must be doing something wrong.” He smiles, and my heart gives an extra thump. “Why don’t you believe that?” he asks.
“You stuck around Battle Harbour to make sure I’m okay,” I tell him.
10
Ashton
ThewaySophiesaysthat, such a simple statement makes me feel like she’s peeling me open. Like I’m one of those sweet little oranges and she wants to take a bite of the juiciness inside.
I don’t think Sophie would actually bite me, but it makes me nervous all the same.
It’s day three of Sophie being at the castle, but the first time I’ve visited her.
Basher may be afraid of Mabel, but the bar manager has nothing on Sophie’s sister. Stella basically chased me out of Sophie’s room, and then the castle. I only came back because Gunnar gave me the all clear and told me Stella was at her animal shelter today.
Chances are she won’t make it back here any time soon, because it’s a miserable day in Laandia. But inside the castle, here with Sophie, the fireplace is warm, and this couch is comfortable.
I’m working on the flirting thing with her.
I might do better if Sophie took me seriously. It’s like she’s convinced herself I’m harmless and we’re simply talking, with nothing flirtatious between us. It’s as if she’s put me firmly in the friend zone.
If she does that to all the guys, it’s no wonder she doesn’t have a boyfriend.
We have that in common. Not that I want a boyfriend, but a significant other. I haven’t dated a woman seriously since Mera.
There’s beendates; I am Ashton Carrington, and multitudes of women clearly find me irresistible. But there’s never been anyone I gave my heart to like Mera Michelle. And it’s not because I was afraid I’d lose it again—my heart, not my temper in some jealous snit—I can’t be bothered.
I’m not saying Sophie makes me think it might be worth it.
She’s best described as cute. Shiny brown hair caught up in a ponytail, warm brown eyes, a smile that keeps smiling even when I can tell she doesn’t want to. She’s nice. Friendly. Caring and considerate—all of those words that you’d want in a girlfriend, but I’d never thought to look for.
I’m not looking at Sophie as girlfriend material.
That’s not what I want at all.
But when I’m with her, I’m just not sure exactly what Idowant.
“There must be someone you’ve got your eye on,” I press. I’m rewarded with pink in her cheeks. “Aha. Spill the tea.”
She looks down at the cup in her hands. “Maybe.”
Sophie is open about so many things, but she’s not giving a lot with this. But I sense I’m getting somewhere. I’m pulling it out like hair in a drain.
I don’t normally pull things out like that because you never know what you’re going to find at the end of it, but with Sophie it’s natural. Almost easy.
I don’t understand it.
I motioncome onwith my hand. “I help out at the high school sometimes in the art program,” she admits reluctantly. “There’s a teacher…”
“Like an old teacher?”
“He’s not that old.
