“Is that your list?” she asks, nodding to the piece of paper in my hand.
Reaching over, I give her the sheet of paper and she lays it on her lap, studying it.
She is sitting in her leather chair a few feet away and she looks sexy as hell. Even though she’s dressed like a fucking nun. The blouse she’s wearing is not nearly as revealing as the one she wore Saturday night. This one is buttoned all the way up, sans the one near her throat, offering me a peek at the hollow of skin there.
Skin I’m dying to taste.
She’s also wearing slacks instead of a skirt, which really irritates me. She should never cover up those sexy legs. Ever. I know she’s doing it for my benefit. Or perhaps it’s for her own. Maybe she thinks the more clothes she wears the more she can protect herself from me.
If that’s the case she’s in for a rude awakening.
“Reading, working out, and”—she looks up at me with a grin tugging her lips—“spending time with family?”
“That surprises you?”
“A little.”
“Why is that?”
“I thought I was the one who was supposed to be asking the questions here,” she says, setting aside the paper.
“Then by all means, Doc. Fire away.”
“Let’s talk about your family.”
Now it’s my turn to grin. “What do you want to know?”
“What’s the relationship like between your mother and father?”
I don’t have to contemplate my answer long. “They have a great relationship. They’ve had their ups and downs but they’ve been married over forty years so I guess they have it figured out. Raising seven kids wasn’t easy either, especially six boys, but they are a strong unit.”
“What’s your relationship like with your parents?”
“Great, for the most part. Besides them being constantly worried about me but I figure that’s normal for any parent.”
“And your siblings?”
“I get along with them most of the time. I’m kind of the outcast of the bunch.”
She tilts her head, folding her hands in her lap. “How so?”
“I wasn’t as outgoing as they were when we were younger. My brothers were pretty popular. They all played sports and excelled at any and everything. They had no problems talking to girls. Me...not so much.”
“And why is that?”
“I wasn’t athletic like my brothers and I was painfully shy. Girls never really paid attention to me at all. No one did.”
More writing.
I hate the writing.
It drives me mad.
My hand tugs at the back of my neck, trying to alleviate the tension there.
Her eyes return to mine as she tilts her head in curiosity. “What’s bothering you right now, Asher?”
“I hate it when you write. It makes me feel like I’m being dissected.”
