Page 40 of From Asher, With Love

His eyes roam over me, searching for answers. There’s a battle raging inside him. He dips his face closer, his mouth barely brushing mine.

“Charleigh, I?—”

“What?” I whisper, the word squeezing from my chest.

“I don’t know,” he whispers back, his fingers slipping deeper, pulling me closer. “I can’t explain it.”

I want to laugh, but I don’t. I’ve heard this before. It’s as if I’m living in a dream state. Déjà vu.

History repeating itself.

“You still aren’t the best with words, huh?” My smile brushes his mouth, anticipation bubbling inside me. I roll onto the balls of my feet, standing on my toes. He pops the button of my jeans and slips his hand into the front of my lace thong. I hold my breath, gasping at his touch near my aching clit.

I close my eyes, ready for him to close the last remaining gap between our mouths… but disappointment washes over me when the sound of his breath forces me to open my eyes. He sighs, his eyebrows knitting as he pulls away from me. He drops his thumb from my mouth, pulls his hand out from my jeans, and steps back. He runs a quick hand down the length of his face, blowing out a heavy breath.

Cold air fills the empty space settled between us, and when I try to catch Asher’s eyes, he avoids looking in my direction. He quickly moves past me, headed for the front door.

“We should go,” he mutters over his shoulder, refusing to make eye contact with me.

My cheeks bloom with heat and embarrassment. I quickly rebutton my jeans and stand in front of my fireplace, confused. Two seconds ago, I could have sworn he was goingto kiss me. Every nerve in my body reacted to him, as if Asher had brought them back to life after ten years. I wring my hands, forcing the tension in my body to unfurl.

I open my mouth, ready to stop him from walking out the door, ready to demand he finish the sentence he started. Instead, I grab my phone and purse, and I follow him down the hall.

Asher and I don’t speak another word to each other until we’re stepping out of his car again. We’re now in a different neighborhood than before, farther from the place Asher took me to before we headed to my apartment.

“I thought we were going back to the place we were at earlier?” I stand on the sidewalk, peering up at the sign above the front door.

Meme Celine’s French Patisserie

“This place is better.” Asher moves past me, heading straight for the front door.

I can’t help but scrunch my nose. Confusion settles in. The outside is nearly falling apart, paint is peeling off the brick exterior, and the windows are covered in dust. The door is painted a faded yellow, and the sign painted across it is practically illegible.

“I think I liked the last place better,” I tell him. “I’m not sure about this end of the district.”

Asher glances over his shoulder as he punches in the code to unlock the door. “There’s potential with this one. Trust me.”

“Fine.” I sigh, taking one more look at the outside before stepping in.

I follow Asher inside, stopping a few feet from the door. The space is quite a bit larger than my current shop, but every surface would need to be touched up. Other than an increase of square footage, I’m not sure this place would work. I’d probably end up putting more money into renovations than I would at the first locationhe showed me.

“What do you think?” He’s standing near the back, in front of a set of double doors.

“I don’t know.” I survey the room, examining every inch, trying to imagine my business here, but my mind draws a blank, deterred by the location.

Asher turns around, but his eyes still don’t meet mine. He hasn’t been able to truly look at me ever since we left my apartment. He looks past my shoulder at the empty wall, absentmindedly running his hand over the countertop.

“This space was once used as a bakery. There was a row of refrigerators over there.” He points to an empty space along the wall, then points toward the back. Metal swinging doors divide the storefront from what used to be the kitchen. “There’s ample space for you to work and arrange any orders or events you might have. You can easily replace the ovens with more storage or coolers.”

I press my lips together, absorbing Asher’s sudden change. This time it isn’t solely his mood. It’s in the way his body is tense, his stare cold. It’s as if he’s become a corporate robot, much like the version I saw the first time we ran into each other. Asher is in selling mode, completely shutting the rest of himself off from me, even the glimpses he gave me earlier today in the stairwell: carrying me over his shoulder, carrying on a conversation as easily as swimming through water, the near kiss in my apartment, his finger grazing my mouth… all of it has evaporated, and now we’re back to square one.

“I’m not completely against this place. I guess I could envision it. Maybe.” I frown, considering the possibilities. At this point, I’m willing to keep an open mind. “How much is it?”

“It’s only four hundred thousand over your budget.” Asher shrugs. He still won’t look in my direction, unwilling to cross the line he’s clearly drawn since leaving my apartment.

“What?” My mouth falls open as I stare at Asher, wide-eyed. I look around the space again, trying to understand how on earth this place could be priced as high as it is.

Sensing my tone, Asher finally looks at me, allowing his eyes to meet mine. “What’s wrong with it?”

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