My cheeks flush hot as I dart toward the stairs, his low chuckle following me all the way up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ASHA
"You're alive," Hollis says when I step outside, dressed and ready for a day full of finding the perfect shot for our website.
The morning sun is already brutal, and Hollis is standing by the barn entrance, barefoot, an empty coffee mug dangling from one hand.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"All that screaming..." He gestures inside with his mug. "I genuinely thought someone was dying."
My face ignites. "Do shut up."
"'Oh god, yes'—'right there'—'don't stop,'" he mimics in a high-pitched voice, grinning like an asshole. "Very convincing death throes."
"I hate you."
"Oh, now you're shy." He sets his mug on the windowsill, clearly enjoying himself. "Didn't seem shy twenty minutes ago when I was trying to drink my coffee in peace."
"Are we really having this conversation? You want to give me a play-by-play of my sex life?"
"Not a play-by-play. Just wanted to return the awkwardness." He gestures at his bare feet. I didn't realize he wasn't wearing shoes when he grabbed his coffee. "Standing out here like some kind of creeper, waiting for the main event to wrap up." He runs a hand through his hair. "Not how I saw my morning starting."
A laugh escapes before I can stop it.
He grins wider. "For sanitary purposes, is it the kitchen table or the makeshift island I need to avoid touching later? Because I heard furniture moving."
"We're newlyweds… If you're worried about surfaces, you might want to avoid all of them."
"Seriously." He drags a hand down his face. "I'm bringing someone home tonight. Just to traumatize you right back."
"You are not bringing some floozy back to my house."
"You're right, I'm not." He leans against the barn door. "But Sydney and I are going out tonight, so...fair's fair."
I freeze. "Sydney? Like a date?"
"Yeah." His expression shifts. "That a problem?"
Is it?Dating one of my best friends shouldn't be a problem. But I hate the thought of anything coming between us when—not if—things don't work out. And Sydney's idea of long-term is making it to a second date.
"Just be careful," I finally say.
"Is there something I should know about Sydney? Does she have some crazy, stalker ex?"
His question goes unanswered as we both turn toward the truck racing down the road my father blocked off.
"Is that your dad?" he questions, eyes wide, as a car kicks up dust coming down the gravel road that he blocked off.
"Yep," I say as we both cross the driveway to meet him.
He slams his door and pulls a large sign out of his backseat before marching toward us. "Asha, what the hell is this?"
"It's a sign."
"Don't be smart with me."
