“No,” he laughs. “She was in the wrong class. The wrong building, actually. She was lost, and I was the lucky schmuck who showed her the way. She was a business major.”
I take another long sip, waiting to see if he’ll share more. He tensed up a little when I asked about her, but he looks a little more relaxed now, his posture easy and his face relaxed. Maybe it’s the alcohol.
“Back then, her parents were only running this place as a retreat center,” he says, making me grateful for the patience I dug up. “But it was Daisy’s dream to add a family summer camp. Eventually it became my dream too.”
“That’s really admirable.”
His finger brushes mine over the back of the couch. I expect him to pull back and maybe even apologize for the accidental contact. But he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he rests the tips of his fingers against mine.
We down the rest of our drinks in silence, and the air hangs thick between us. My cheeks grow warm, whether from the fireplace or the wine or something else—like the piercing green eyes locked on me—I’m not sure.
He leans in closer, close enough for me to notice a tiny fleck of gold in one iris.
His eyes rove over my face, his jaw ticking when his gaze lands on my mouth. Heat radiates between us, tension growing by the millisecond, but I don’t dare pull away.
“The yoga classes are really nice here,” I say, feebly attempting to inch the conversation along.
His eyes flicker to mine and he licks his lips. “Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm.” Now I’m the one fixated on his mouth. With a deep breath in, I force myself to refocus. “I really worked up a sweat.”
His voice is hushed when he says, “That’s good.”
I nod. “The adults-only spa looks nice too.”
“It is.”
“Do you ever go?” I ask, goose bumps prickling up my arm from where his hand is still touching mine.
“Not as often as I’d like.”
“Why not?”
He scrunches his nose. “I’d prefer if the guests don’t see me naked.”
And now I’m imagining Asher naked.
Does he have a lower back dimple to complement the two on his face?
If the wicked glint in his eyes is any indication, I’d bet damn good money he’s imagining the same about me. Especially when he inches even closer. When his breath hits my lips.
“I feel like I might kiss you.”
“What?” I retract my hand, and Asher’s eyes widen like he’s seen a ghost.
13
Asher
Shit.Shit. Shit. One minute I’m telling Claire about my dead wife, and then the next, I’m telling her I might kiss her. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Sorry. I—” Quick as lightning, I dart to my feet and rush to my room, beer bottle still glued to my hand.
The door swings closed too quickly, but I catch it with my foot so it doesn’t slam and disturb Bea.
I stride into the bathroom, splash water on my face, and pick up my phone, searching for a distraction.
There’s a new text in the group chat with Ezra and Cam. Millie named it “The Good Guys” after claiming we were the three remaining good men on the planet.
