“Ready?” he asks, as if I’d ever say no.
I nod and hold up a finger. “Gimme one sec?”
“’Course,” he says, saluting Lucy goodbye, who is smiling at Asher adoringly as he heads for the door.
“Holy shit,” she whispers. “He called the shop this morning before you got here and asked what you had on the go. I didnotexpect him to look like he just walked off the pages of fuckingGQ!”
Asher clears his throat. “Aye, the store’s not that big.”
Lucy blushes beat red as she looks from me to him. “You better go with him before I do.”
“Can still hear ya,” Asher quips as second-hand embarrassment washes over me for Lucy. But she doesn’t seem fazed as Asher just shakes his head and I turn to follow him.
“Have fun!” Lucy calls to us.
Asher slides his hand over mine to lead me out of the store, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever get tired of how it feels when he holds my hand. I’d know his anywhere with the scars that line his palms. The feeling is wholly and uniquely him.
“What are we doing?”
“Well, we’re gonna see if we can help you with that stress the doctor talked about avoiding.”
His presence is warm and safe and makes me want to crawlinto his arms and breathe him in until the pact we put in place is completely nonexistent.
“Oh, and I got us lunch from the Sage and Salt.” He gives my hand a little squeeze. “I knew you’d be hungry, little mama.”
Fuck. What pact?
Twenty minutes later I’m finishing the sandwich he brought me, still trying to guess what we’re doing as we pull down the driveway of his property.
“This is just a stop. So you can change.”
I sip my lemonade as the sun streams through the trees, marking the gravel drive with dappled light. We slow down as the smell of lavender hits me, and I turn to watch the bees buzzing in the swaying purple field.
“Spa?” I continue my guessing.
“Nope.”
“Hmm.” I tap my chin as I look out the window. “We can’t go trail riding.” I gesture to my low belly. “And my days of riding on the back of your motorcycle are over.”
“For now,” he says with a promise that rushes through me.
“We aren’t day drinking.”
He chuckles. “Pregnancy really is just a long list of fucking passes, isn’t it?”
“Yup. I can’t do shit anymore.” I laugh with him. “You can still do it all, though. I could live vicariously through you.”
“I’ll be riding bareback just trashed through Silver Pines holdin’ my half-empty bottle of JD while you watch on the sidelines in your bubble wrap, Livi.”
Asher is really laughing now—it’s such a beautiful sound—and he leans over to pinch my thigh.
“You wouldn’t dare,” I say as that familiar sizzle runs up thetop of my leg.
“No, I wouldn’t,” he gives. “Sadly, it wouldn’t be any fun without you.”
We grow silent as I let those words sink in, because lately that’s exactly how I’ve felt, and knowing he could be feeling the same is both scary and exhilarating.
When Asher parks the truck I look around, still none the wiser as to what his full plan is as he comes around to open my door.
