Then another.
I frown, tug it out, and see a text from a number I don’t recognize.
Unknown:
Hey. It’s Ash. Got your number from Liam. Mind if I swing by later tonight? Want to talk to you and your brother about something.
I freeze.
My heart actually skips like it’s trying to catch up to what my brain already knows.
Ash.Ash.
Just his name on my screen makes the air feel heavier, sharper. The memory of his mouth on mine flashes like it’s imprinted in my nerve endings. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it—about him. And now he’s texting me?
My thumb hovers over the screen for a solid ten seconds.
This could be anything.
It couldbe nothing.
But the way he said “you and your brother”makes something twist in my chest. Professional. Detached. Like he’s already categorizing what happened between us as a blip. A thing to gloss over.
Still... the idea of seeing him again sends a little thrill through me. Something electric and dangerous.
I type back quickly, before I can second-guess myself:
Olive:
Sure. What time?
A moment later, his reply buzzes back:
Ash:
Around eight?
I swallow hard and reply:
Olive:
That works. See you then.
I slide my phone face-down on the table beside me and sit back on my heels, trying to look calm. Chill. Entirely unbothered.
***
I amnoneof those things and by the time Ash knocks on the apartment door, I’ve changed outfits twice and yelled at my hair in the mirror like it personally betrayed me. I finally settled on leggings and a sweater—comfortable, neutral, impossible to read into. Hopefully.
Liam opens the door with his usual one-hand wave. “Hey, man. Come in.”
Ash steps inside like he owns the air in the room. Calm. Collected. Dressed in black and smelling faintly of leather and something rich I can’t name.
I forgot how hot this man is. Tall enough to make rooms feel smaller, shoulders filling doorways, the line of his throat doing scandalous things to a T-shirt. Veins map his forearms, tattoos curling between them. And his eyes—cobalt blue, impossible to look away from.
I tell myself not to look at his mouth. I fail. Full, sensual lips I can’t stop imagining back on mine.
His gaze catches mine, pulling me out of my head. “Hey, Hart.”
