Page 26 of From Asher, With Love

Asher stares at me with a blank expression, lifting his chin. “Hiring him will be a mistake.”

“No, Asher. Hiringyouwould be the mistake.” I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes. “Good night.”

I keep my firm gaze on him, waiting until he finally decides to turn around and head back to the table full of my friends.

After he disappears around the corner, I finally release a breath. The same breath I’ve been holding since he shattered my heart, leaving the broken pieces behind without another look back.

EIGHT

CHARLEIGH

Hiring Cyrus Temper was a mistake. Asher was right to say he is a shark in the real estate world. What I don’t understand is how he’s so successful when it’s clear he’s trying to squeeze every dime possible out of me. Every single listing he has sent has been nearly twenty percent over my budget. Cyrus is circling me like I am his prey while I just try to keep my head above water.

Knowing Asher was right has my stomach sinking to new depths. It’s not that I expected to find a new building in time for the dozen events I have planned over the next two months, but I needed to at least start the process. The longer I waste time on spaces like the ones Cyrus is suggesting, the longer it will take. Time is ticking.

“No,” I grumble, even though I’m alone. The shop has been quiet these last thirty minutes since it’s still early in the morning. I’m resting my chin on my hand, scrolling through the listings again, hoping my eyes are deceiving me. “Nope, not that one.” I groan again, picking up my coffee and feeling more hopeless by the second. I tip the cup back, sucking out any last drops sitting at the bottom—the perfect metaphor for my life. Iswallow and slam my cup down, preparing to go back over Cyrus’s options.

“Having a bad day?”

I look up from the laptop to find Asher standing on the other side of the counter. I must have been too focused to hear the bell jingle above the front door.

“What are you doing here?” I sigh, my attention falling back to the screen. The last thing I need is to let Asher know he was right about Cyrus. I’m still angry with him about what happened at the beer garden. He always finds a way to get under my skin.

He grins and waves his arm around my store. “I came to see all of this.”

“Right.” I snort, eyeing him across the counter. “Like you care,” I mumble sarcastically against the rim of my cup. Mumbling and groaning seems to be the tone of the day.

“I do care.” He rests his elbows on the edge of the counter.

I instinctively pull back, but not before shutting off my computer screen.

Ever since the other night at the beer garden, I’ve realized the hold he still has on me. In a way, as much as I hate to admit it, Asher’s had a hold on me since that day in the elevator, when we were both leaving Cyrus’s office. It’s been ten years since I’ve felt his body so close to mine. His scent, the way his tall, sculpted body pressed against me—all of it was risky and reckless. I itched to pull away from the elevator wall and press against him. The muscles of my thighs tingled, remembering the way it felt to have Asher between them. It was a dangerous place to be. Even more so when he sat next to me the other night. From now on, I’m not taking any chances. I’m still standing behind the counter, in awe of Asher stepping foot in my store. He looks out of place, much like the way a square peg would fit intoa round hole.

Silence has settled between us. I’m silently cursing the fact I gave Selene the day off. She would have made a great buffer.

Asher steps back and begins making his way around my store. On the other side of the full glass window , a shiny black Mercedes is parked along the curb. A man in a black suit and valet style hat is leaning against it, scrolling through his phone, every few seconds looking up into the store. He must be Asher’s driver or bodyguard. Maybe both.

I watch Asher carefully while he explores the space, stopping every few feet to inspect several bouquets. I bite my bottom lip as he removes his hand from his pocket and runs his thumb across the petal of a white lily. He’s wearing a smooth, black suit, with a white collared shirt underneath. His polished shoes stand out against the dull white floor. He runs his hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead. My mind wanders, remembering that he’s the same person who used to wear the same clothes three days in a row.

He glances at me from across the room, catching me staring. His face remains still, but his eyes are swimming with thoughts. A piece of me aches, wanting to know what thoughts are swirling inside that gorgeous head of his. He stares at me for several seconds before finally moving on. He makes it to the other side of the room and picks up a bag of dried rose petals before bringing them to his nose. He makes a face then puts it down.

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I move out from behind the counter.

“So, really… what are you doing here?”

I’ve always wanted to trust Asher, and at one point in time, I did. Now though, I don’t. History has taught me to think twice before handing it back to him.

“I’m serious, Charleigh.” He laughs. “I came down here to see your shop.”

“Forgive me if I have my doubts. You’re different than before, so it’s a little hard to trust.”

He nods, and I can see the twinge of hurt flicker in his eyes.

I don’t trust him. At least not yet.

The flicker of hurt vanishes quickly. I can’t tell if he’s trying to avoid examining my statement deeper or if he simply doesn’t care enough to.

His eyes wander across the glass windows, then back to the flowers. “You were always obsessed with flowers,” he says. “I used to find them wedged and pressed between the pages of your books. Do you still do that, or did you stop once you opened this place?”

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