“That’s enough of that," I say, throwing a glare over my shoulder at Josephine, who smirks at my back. I point up the stairs to the bedrooms, then point out the bathroom, home office, laundry, and back patio.
“Nice place.” Asher comments as we walk back into the kitchen and my dad looks up from the stove.
“Can I help you cook, Mr. Merritt?” Asher asks.
My stomach flutters and I bite my lip at how cute he is, especially since I know he has next to no clue how to cook.
“You cook?” my dad asks with obvious surprise while waving him over.
“Not at all,” Asher replies with a wince, “but I’d love to learn. You mind teaching me?”
“Let’s see what you’ve got.” Dad slaps him on the back and hands him a knife. “We’re making fajitas. Slice the bell peppers into half inch strips. You know how to sauté veggies?”
“Honestly? I have no idea what you just said.” Asher grins sheepishly as my father lets out a deep belly laugh.
“You’re not half bad, are you, son?”
I sit at the table as I watch them work together, a smilestuck on my face. My stocky dad is a good head shorter than Asher, but he’s clearly the one in charge as he shows Asher what to do and watches closely as he follows directions.
I jump in my seat when Jo plops onto the chair next me.
“Stars, Josephine. You need to chill," I say, hand on my chest.
“Uh, I was not being stealthy. You’re just so lovesick you have no idea what else is happening around you.”
Is that true? It very well could be. Regardless, the dopey-feeling smile is already back on my face at the thought of how well things are going so far. Jo watches me for a few moments until I self-consciously smooth my hair behind my ear and tuck my lips into my teeth.
“What?” I say.
“You really like this guy, don’t you?” Jo asks after another moment of staring straight into my soul, her voice thoughtful.
My eyes drift across the kitchen again, watching Ash’s muscles ripple when he attempts to flip the veggies and chicken in the pan like my dad does.
“I think I really do," I say.
When we settle around the table to eat, I nudge my knee up against Asher’s, seeking contact. He nudges mine in return, and a couple minutes later places his hand on my leg under the table. Soon enough, as I knew it would, the conversation turns to us.
25
ANSWERS LEADING TO MORE QUESTIONS IS THE WORST
RAYA
“So tellus about your family, Asher," Mom says, eyebrows politely lifted as she steps directly into the pile of shit I had been most hoping to avoid. My face pales, and Jo notices immediately, eyes shifting between the two of us as I clench my hand onto his.
He clears his throat and takes a sip of water before answering.
“Truthfully, I’d rather not talk about them," he says. His voice is slow and careful as he attempts to navigate a topic full of landmines. “We don’t exactly see eye to eye.”
It’s clear no one in my family likes this answer, and my sister has no qualms about poking the beast.
“Why not?” she demands.
Asher clears his throat, and I interrupt.
“Jo, don’t.” I turn to Asher, “You don’t have to talk about them if you don’t want to.”
“Are they dangerous?” my dad asks, and when I avert my eyes, Jo pounces.
