Page 92 of On One Condition

His smile is full of pride as it should be. This is his first project with us and even though I clearly scare the shit out of him, he’s doing a great job.

“Cool. Thanks. Are you okay if I work on the rest of this tomorrow, or—”

“Sure. On one condition . . .”

“Promise you’ll be there? At the tree?” Her gray eyes search mine.

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?” She angles her head to the side, her bottom lip between her teeth as she waits for an answer.

I hold my hands out to my sides. “That you’ll love me forever,” I yell, hoping this incredible high she gives me lasts forever.

The memory flashes through my head the minute the words are out of my mouth. A scene I’ve replayed numerous times in my teenage years but didn’t remember the words to until right now. On one condition . . .

I glance over to Asher, but her back is to me.

“Mr. Sharpe?” Nate asks, pulling me back to the here and now. “You were saying? The condition?”

I smile. “All I was going to say is sure, go home, so long as you have a good night.”

“That’s the condition?” Confusion blankets his face.

“Yes. That’s the condition.”

A grin breaks out on his always-too-serious face. “Yes, sir. I will.”

I watch him as he walks down the foyer toward the lobby, other staff and construction members milling about.

This time when I look over at Asher, her eyes meet mine, and there is a wistful smile on her lips.

She remembers it too.

There’s nothing I can say at the moment. Even if I knew the right thing to say, I don’t think it would help.

And just as soon as the moment is there, it’s gone when more voices are heard down the hall. But our eyes hold for a brief second more. Another moment where we acknowledge what once was while trying to figure out what exactly this is.

“You want to see more, or am I boring you to tears and you want to be done?” I ask in an attempt to get us back to whatever we were before those three little words.

Her smile is genuine as she holds out her hand to me. “Show me everything.”

And I do. I spend the next thirty minutes trying to impress her. It’s ridiculous that I want to, and yet it’s true.

I want her to be impressed with this. More importantly, with me.

I’ve never cared what people think. I’m a Sharpe. That’s impressive enough for most people in and of itself.

But she doesn’t care about that.

She never has.

So I’m hoping I can impress her by just being me.

Jesus. I sound like a sap. A whipped fucking sap when in reality we never really defined whatever this is between us so does it even fucking matter?

“That was impressive. You, Ledger Sharpe, are impressive,” Asher says as she quickly glances around the outside of my office before grabbing my shirt and pulling me into her. Her lips meet mine in the most tender of kisses. She tastes like spearmint and smells like sunshine.

This woman.