Page 10 of On One Condition

We were teenagers.

It was a lifetime ago.

I’ve moved on with my life and so has he.

I rearrange more glasses before grabbing one and moving toward the tap. “What are you in town for? A trip with your family again? Is it your first time back since . . . before?” I ramble, my concentration on the beer and its foam head instead of Ledger. “The town has changed. The old hotel was bought and is being built into a resort. The whole town is up in arms over it.” I pour some foam out. “The ski resort is even fancier than before, if you can believe that. The rich ladies and their outfits even more outrageous than the ones we used to make fun of.”

Ledger sits in silence as I rattle off comments, avoiding eye contact with him. But when I set the glass down in front of him, he closes his hand over my wrist.

His touch.

At one time it was everything my teenage heart yearned for.

My eyes flash to his, but I don’t pull my hand away. I’m sure he can see it in the look I give him—a tinge of nostalgia, a bit of what could have been—but he doesn’t say a word. Rather, he just nods ever so slightly as if he understands, and offers a soft smile.

“You look good, Asher. More than good,” he murmurs. “I hope you’ve been happy.”

The kindness in his words almost unravels me. Vulnerability I don’t want to feel wells up as tears threaten, which I successfully fight back. It’s been a tough few months. Moving Gran to an assisted living facility. Losing Pop so unexpectedly. Then learning to shoulder the responsibilities to keep The Fields afloat when Pop guarded everything. Combined, it’s all but drowned me. So much in such a short span that his sympathy, his sincerity, get to me.

“Trudging along,” I say as I pull my hand from his grip. “And you? You’re good?”

He nods again as he studies me in that silent, disarming way of his. “Are you still sketching those insanely beautiful landscapes? I always figured I’d stumble upon one somewhere and know right away it was yours.”

“No. Not anymore.”

“I thought you were going to art school. To—”

“Plans changed.”

“That was your dream though.”

“Dreams change.” I look at the door as another customer walks in and welcome the distraction. “You never answered my questions.”

“Because I wanted to know about you more.” He takes a sip of his beer, his eyes never leaving mine until he gives a roll of his eyes. “Fine. What are your questions, Ash?”

He says my nickname like no time has passed, and we’re still familiar with each other. I can’t bring myself to correct him.

Maybe I don’t want to.

“Why are you here?”

“I was driving to Cedar Falls from the airport. After a day full of traveling delays, I thought a beer was in order. I saw the sign for Hank’s, the busy parking lot in front of it, and . . . here I am.”

I cross my arms and huff at his response. He smiles.

“I didn’t mean in Hank’s, and you know it. Stop mocking me and answer the question.”

“You always were bossy,” he murmurs, showing me he does remember me. The old me, anyway. “That big resort that the whole town is up in arms over?” He raises his hand. “That would be mine.”

Realization slams into me. “You’re S.I.N.?”

“Guilty as charged.” He glances around as if he’s waiting to encounter animosity if anyone overhears him. “Sharpe International Network, otherwise known as S.I.N.”

Talk about being blindsided. I knew his father was big in the hospitality industry and ridiculously wealthy. That was clear by where they stayed, by the outrageously expensive everything Ledger and his brothers had, and by the cars they drove while here. But I had no idea S.I.N. was that company.

“How did I not know this?”

He shrugs. “We rebranded a while back and since we’ve added on so many international properties in the past ten years, we became S.I.N.”