CHAPTER 24
Olivia
My store is so busy all afternoon with the nicer weather that I don’t even have a chance to be nervous about dinner with Asher before the front door dings precisely at five o’clock and my gaze lifts to meet a six-foot-five firefighter still in his khaki-colored workpants and a fresh LCFD T-shirt. Heavy work boots cover Asher’s feet, and his black hair haphazardly touches his forehead. It looks damp, like he showered at the firehall before he came here.Stop staring, Liv.
“Ready to eat?” he asks, reaching the counter, turning the full force of his gaze on me. “Mama’s choice.”
Close your mouth, Liv.
“You could bribe me to do crazy things with a good cheese-burger and fries right now,” I blurt out, because apparently Asher Reed cancels out the normal filter between my brain and my mouth.
“Noted.” He chuckles deeply, and the sound is like wrapping myself in a soft, warm blanket. “Well, my main goal for the next seven months is keeping you fed. So I’ll start a list.”
I try to push down my dirty, hormone-enhanced thoughtsas Asher waits patiently while I lock up. Once I’m done, he leads me out of the store.
“Where should we go?” I ask.
“Sounds like … the Burger Barn?” He eyes me cautiously. “Then we’re going to my house.”
Laurel Creek is bustling at the dinner hour. Flowerpots hang from every lamppost down Main, brimming with petunias and vibrant green foliage. The patios are full of people chattering while they sip wine and eat their dinner, and the ice cream shop already boasts a lineup that slinks all around the block as we cruise through town. By the time we hit the sprawling fields that dot the Kentucky countryside in Asher’s pickup truck, I’m still talking myself out of any sort of attraction to him. He has zero interest in what I want, which means I have to keep my head straight. We have a long road ahead of us.
The Burger Barn is an old-style diner that offers takeout just at the edge of town, no drive-thru, so we head inside to order, but I’m surprised when Asher doesn’t even ask me what I want and goes to order a bacon burger with cheese, lettuce, tomato, extra pickle, and mustard, sweet potato fries on the side with Cajun mayo.
“Am I that predictable?” I ask as he orders the same thing for himself, but doubles the meat and subs the fries for regular potato.
He glances down at me, always as if he’s assessing me. I say nothing as I let his wheels turn.
“And a strawberry shake. Extra thick,” he adds to the server behind the counter.
I busy myself while he pays, though I can’t help my mind straying to check out how well his uniform pants mold to hisperfect ass.Holy hell. I’m a mess.
“Nope,” he says as he turns back to me. “Just a perk of serving you for two years at the Horse and Barrell. I know exactly what you like.”
“I am always ordering strawberry margs and burgers,” I agree.But the fact that he remembered?
The smell of food makes my stomach growl as I listen to Asher tell me how his guys ran a betting ring today on who could empty their truck fastest after a call to an eighty-year-old’s house for an electrical fire. Sadly, she lost her dog, but they managed to save her.
“You don’t find it hard to make light after such a sad afternoon?” I ask.
“No, we do,” he admits as he stares out at the road. “It’s taken a few years with the same team for me to feel comfortable enough with them to do more than simple small talk, but we have a good group, and if we don’t take moments like that to unwind, to remember that we’re a team, that’s when you get buried under the day-to-day stuff that threatens to pull you under.” I listen intently because it’s rare for him to talk this much. “There’s a lot of injury and sadness and loss in this work. But the one good day, where you save everyone …” He shakes his head. “That makes every second of the bad worth it.”
I don’t notice we’re slowing down until we’re almost at a complete stop just below the base of Sugarland Mountain. Asher turns off the main road and onto a paved, narrow track that disappears under a canopy of trees. The entire property is flat and expansive—fenced in by thick black iron—and we cruise down the driveway for at least half a mile until the house comes into view.
The main building is a two-story white farmhouse, atop of which sits a black metal roof. There is a main porch at the front that continues all the way around, and I can see what looks like a newish wooden deck in the back. Beyond the houseis a barn that appears almost bigger than the house itself. It’s red and rustic—but looks restored—and I can see the double barn doors slightly ajar, with Asher’s Harley parked out front. Asher cuts the engine and hops out before coming around to my side and opening the door. As my feet land on the concrete driveway, I look around and the smell hits me before I see it.
Lavender. So much lavender that it takes up an expansive portion of the yard at the side of the house. My breath catches in my throat as I take in the beauty of the violet field swaying in the gentle evening breeze. It’s so peaceful, the only sounds the spring peepers and crickets.
“Y’okay?” Asher asks.
I look back at him with a nervous smile.
“Yeah. It’s just … lavender is my favorite. You have so much of it.”
“Aye. I figured. Lavender Grove.” He says the name of my store. “This was a farm before I bought it. A woman from town buys bushels of it from me to make soaps now.”
“What a beautiful place to live,” I observe, still taking in the surroundings.
“Mmm,” he gives. “At the base of a mountain.” I smile, remembering what he told me his mother said.
