I reluctantly release Asher’s hand to pick up a pink and white orchid. Usually, I buy as many as I can, but I can always come back in a few days. I don’t want Asher to have to carry them all.
Maybe he’d flex his biceps as he did it, though.
“Orchids?”
I nod. “My mom’s favorite. And mine.” I scan the other flowers and touch some roses, smoothing the soft petal between my forefinger and thumb. When I look over at Asher, he’s watching me quietly. I tilt my head. “What?”
He smiles. “Nothing.”
I try to pay but Asher insists, and we walk back to the apartment building, and sadly the momentary stop means our hands are no longer connected—but it’s probably a good thing, because my dad is outside our building.
“Hey, Daddio,” I say as he gets out the car. He’s in full uniform, and I hope to God it doesn’t scare Asher off.
“My child.” He hugs me. “More flowers?”
“You can never have too many,” I say. “Dad, this is Asher, the new neighbor.”
Guy Gibson’s gaze cuts to Asher, and I brace myself for the fear, the intimidation, the excuses to haul ass and leave. But none of that happens. In fact, Asher smiles confidently, balances the orchid in one arm, and shakes my dad’s hand.
“You on a date?” my dad asks.
“Dad.”
“What? I’m taking an interest.”
“Take an interest in something else. Why are you here?”
“You see how she speaks to me?” my dad asks Asher, and Asher laughs. “You left your driver’s license in mycar.” He taps it against my forehead. “This is why I take an interest. You’d forget your head if it wasn’t screwed on.” He glances back at Asher. “What happened to your arm?”
“Dropped a glass,” he says, shrugging a shoulder.
My dad frowns. “On your forearm?”
“Dad,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Ignore him, Asher. He’ll be asking for your fingerprints next.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” My dad continues eyeing Asher’s arm.
The doors to the building open, and Gable appears, Motor at his side. Messy dark hair, dark jeans, and a black T-shirt stretched over biceps are paired with a furious expression, and a pink lollipop that he pulls out when he spots us.
“Hello, Motor,” I croon, and the dog wiggles over to me happily. I scratch his chin, and his tail hits hyperspeed.
My dad stares at Gable. I know the look. He doesn’t like him already, but that’s fair, because neither do I.
“This is my brother, Gable,” Asher says.
“Brother?” Guy asks. “You don’t look like brothers.”
I sigh. “Dad.”
“It’s fine,” Asher says. “Foster brothers.”
My dad eyes Gable. “Do you talk?”
This is going to be tense. Once my dad doesn’t like someone, there’s no changing that, and that’s usually because, nine times out of ten, he’s right. He has good instincts, it’s his job to have them, but I wish he would just stop being so transparent about it.
Gable puts the lollipop back into his mouth. “Sometimes.”
“And what do you two do?” Guy asks, waving his hand between the Flynn brothers.
