Mera was the last woman I cared about and the last one who ever hurt me. “Yeah.”
Her face falls. Does she actually think I’m going to convince her to give love a chance with some nobody who lacks the intelligence to realize when the best thing for him has lain herself out in front of him like the buffet at the Mandarin?
“Yeah,” she echoes.
What am I doing? I’m supposed to be making sure Sophie falls for me, and here I am badmouthing the idea of love?
“I never met the right girl.” Lame. It’s a lame excuse, but at least it’s something.
“You sound like an old-fashioned bachelor.” Sophie laughs.
“That’s what I am, then.”
“Did you want to be the next Suitor?”
“Absolutely not.” I give a shiver. “No, my father would’ve killed me.”
“Do you need hisapproval?”
I think about that for a minute. And then a longer one. And then I shake it off.
“What’s happening in your book?” I ask instead of answering her.
“Do you know anything about the Stand?”
“I think I saw the movie.”
“It was a miniseries, and it was long.”
“Tell me what’s going on. You can read a little if you want.” I stretch on the couch, feeling like a cat sitting in a warm patch of sun. I pull in my legs, close to her thigh, but not close enough to touch her.
If she reached out, she could touch my foot. She could put her hand on my foot, maybe touch a toe.
I have an urge for Sophie to touch me.
She doesn’t.
She does start to read aloud, and for a few moments there, I’m taken with her sweet voice telling the story of Gary and Stu and Franny and Mother Abigail. I’m intrigued. I might want to know more.
But unfortunately, before I find out more, the late night mixed with the heat from the fire works its magic, and I drift off while listening to her voice.
21
Sophie
Ashtonfallsasleep.
I’ve never seen a more beautiful man in real life, at least not sitting beside me on the couch, lounging with his mouth half open and his face relaxed so that he looks almost childishly young. The cheekbones that bring in the modelling contracts are still there, but the eyes are closed, so I can’t see the skeptical expression that he often wears. The one where he looks almost annoyed with the world.
His resting grump face.
I never thought I could be attracted to someone like Ashton.
Am I attracted to Ashton?
I watch as his mouth twitches but doesn’t open his eyes. I hope he’s really asleep and not somehow looking at me under those eyelids. Those mascara-thick, unfair-for-a-man eyelashes.
Ashton has amazing eyelashes.
