“I’m freelance.”
I wait, but he doesn’t elaborate. “Freelance what?”
“Computers. Fixing, upgrading … boring stuff, really.”
“That explains how you know Barnaby, then. It scares me the kind of shit he can do. A man that creepy should never have that much power.”
He rests his arm on the back of the bench. “You knew him quite well, then?”
“I guess. I always take in his damn deliveries, which is annoying as hell.”
“Deliveries?”
“Yeah, he has countless things turning up at his door. And even though he’s always home, I somehow end up with the majority of them.” I tut. “Sometimes I keep stuff just to piss him off.”
He smiles. “What’s it like having a chief for a dad, then?”
An abrupt subject change, but I’m used to it, especially when it comes to dates. My dad's job intimidates men—but then, a guy who has endless resources and access to guns would probably scare anyone.
“Buckets of fun,” I say dryly, and he laughs. I bite my lip and look across the park. “Nah, it’s pretty great. He’s a great dad, and he’s a cop second, which I like. Mom’s gone, so it’s just the two of us.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine; it was a long time ago. He remarried, but it didn’t work out because she was a she-demon.”
Asher laughs again. “A real stepmom stereotype?”
“Big time. How about you? You got any family in the city?”
“Just Gable.”
“He’s family?”
“As close as family can get. We were in the same foster home together for a while, decided to stick together once we both turned eighteen. He’s my brother in every way that counts.”
Damn, that’s sweet. This guy is almost perfect.
There has to be a catch.
“Well, he seems …” I pause. “Nice.”
Asher chuckles. “He can take some warming up to, but he isn’t a bad guy. He’s always looked out for me.”
“I guess he can’t be too bad if he has a dog. I have a theory that if a dog likes you, you’re a good person. Dogs are never wrong.”
“I agree. Motor likes you.”
“Motor?” I guffaw. “Why would he call his dog that?”
“I said the same thing. I wanted to call him Mittens.”
A laugh bursts out of me, and I just about manage to not snort again. God, this guy is cute. My heart is doing something it hasn’t in a long time, and I don’t want it to stop.
“I like your laugh,” he says, his smile wide. “It’s nice.”
Oh damn. That mouth. Ride it, Ella!
I tap my temple, and he points his ice cream at me. “You did it again! Is it a secret code? Are we being watched?”
