“Together?” Liam asks, blinking like he’s trying to recalibrate. “You’re going away together? Alone? For multiple days?”
I try to speak. I really do. But nothing comes out.
Ash jumps in. “It was supposed to be for PR. Photos. Branding. You know.”
Liam squints at us. “Branding,” he repeats slowly, like he’s chewing the word and trying to decide if it tastes like bullshit.
Ash keeps his expression neutral. “Since Olive got suspended, we decided to lie low and cancel all the upcoming PR.”
Liam glances between us, brows furrowed. “Right… but now you’re still going?”
Ash nods. “It’s too late to back out—and honestly, we realized we don’t mind.”
The silence that follows is thick enough to slice with a plastic spork.
Finally, Liam exhales and gives a reluctant nod. “Okay. Fine. I get it. Vacation. Beach. Massages. Whatever.”
Then he points a finger straight at Ash’s chest. “But PR or not, if you so much as breathe wrong near my sister—”
“Understood,” Ash says, hands raised in surrender.
“I’m serious, man,” Liam adds. “You may be all rockstar-hotshot with your guitar and brooding eyes, but I will end you.”
Ash bites back a grin. “I’m actually terrified.”
“You should be,” Liam says, then gets up from the couch and heads for the door. “Good-night, you two lovebirds.”
“Night, Liam.”
The second the door clicks shut behind Liam, and I whirl around to face Ash with my hands on my hips.
“What was that just now?”
He leans casually against the kitchen counter, entirely too smug for someone who’s been publicly threatened with bodily harm. “You’re going to have to be more specific, sweetheart.”
I narrow my eyes. “The mozzarella. The guitar. Theblanket hand. Theentire evening, Ash.”
He tilts his head, feigning innocence like a cat whodefinitelyknocked the glass off the table on purpose. “I was just being friendly.”
“Friendly?” I echo, crossing my arms. “You sang anerotica balladwith Liam five feet away.”
His lips twitch. “Technically, I never saidwhosephotoshoot I was singing about.”
“Oh my god.” I pace a few steps, cheeks flaming. “You were torturing me. On purpose.”
He shrugs, all lazy confidence and bad-boy charm. “It was kind of fun.”
I blink at him. “You’re impossible.”
Ash pushes off the counter and strolls toward me. “You’re adorable when you’re mad.”
“Don’t,” I warn, even as my pulse kicks up.
“Don’t what?” he murmurs, stepping into my space. “Don’t mention the way you looked when you were squirming under that blanket? Tryingsohard to behave?”
I glare. “I was trying to keep a secret. You were trying to drive me insane.”
He leans in, his voice a low rasp against my ear. “You make it way too easy, Hart.”
