He looks at himself and flicks away an invisible speck near his belly button. “Why?”
“Put some clothes on.”
He lifts a brow. “Youput some clothes on.”
I glance at my tie-dye bikini and shake my head. “I don’t need to. No one is staring at me.”
He sits up and spins so he’s facing my chair. “No one is staring at me, either. No one except you.”
“That entire table of residents is ogling you.”
A mixture of confusion and suspicion wrinkles his brow. “Is something wrong, sunshine?”
I try to snort, but it sounds more like a painful cough. The sun’s blistering rays strangle me. “No.”
“You sure? Because it sounds like you’re jealous, and we both know that can’t be true.”
An awkward laugh erupts from my chest. What is even happening right now? The residents always look at him. Always want him. That’s not new, and I’m not jealous. At least... I don’t think I am.
I’m uncomfortable. Because he is excruciatingly hot.
I’ve known this as fact for years. His hotness hasn’tchanged, so I definitely have. Why is this weird desire rearing its head now? My blood shimmers. Simmers. Fire concentrates deep in places Asher doesn’t belong.
This isAsher!
He sprinkles whey protein on his breakfast. He has a tiny tattoo of a stick figure jumping on a trampoline on his shoulder becauseI thought it would be hilarious!
He’s my best friend.
Why have I forgotten this?
It’s just empathy. It has to be. My body is urging me to give comfort to this man who so desperately needs it. Yes. Definitely. Let’s go with that.
Meanwhile, something tugs in my chest. Something not altogether comfortable.
I clear my throat. “I don’t like them looking at you like you’re... an object.”
A slow, lopsided smile turns his face into some sort of masterpiece that’s hard to look at straight on. “Are you feelingprotective, Jossy Poo?”
“Ugh. What do you expect after you opened up to me the other day? Don’t make this a thing, Asher, or I will embarrass the shit out of you.”
“I don’t think you will.” He grins wide and points at my chest. “I think you’re growing a heart three sizes too small in there.”
I narrow my eyes, hoping I shoot off danger vibes like sparks, then make my voice just a shade too loud. “You’re the one who was in tears at work the other day, pouting that you’re all al—”
He attacks me, half landing on my lounger to smother his hand over my mouth. “Okay, I believe you’ll embarrass me. I’ll stop if you stop.”
I gaze up into his eyes as he leans over me. His leg pressesinto mine, and the hand that isn’t clamped over my mouth is braced next to my head. Pool water clings to his eyelashes, making them knot together and darken like pen strokes. The green in his eyes is darker today, and that sexy forest scent lurches toward me in a forbidden miasma.
My heart thumps hard, robbing me of breath. I can’t be sexually attracted to this man. Throwing sex into the mix might uproot all the sticky feelings I’m not willing to feel. I already love him too hard as a friend. Any further attachment is not allowed.
In the space of one second, I imagine the pain of losing him, of getting that call that he’d been in an accident and didn’t make it. My skin goes cold. Would I survive that? It’salreadyoverwhelming. How would I cope if we were more?
And besides, to him, I’m just his emotionally challenged best friend, anti-relationship because I haven’t discovered the healing power of love. Who says he’d even be interested in anything more?
So I nod under his hand, and he backs off, settling once again on his lounger.
“Truce,” he says.
