Page 63 of The Desperate Warrior

“I’ll take that as a win,” he said with a smile that lingered just a little too long.

Their eyes met again—closer now, the kind of proximity that made the air feel charged. Jules was starting to see why Asher Winslow had the women swooning. He was fun to be around with his casual manner. Also, he wielded a quiet confidence, something women were drawn to. Other women, but not her. She preferred the rough-and-tumble G.I. Joe types. She grinned inwardly at the thought.

Slowly and with an almost playful deliberation, Asher scooped a small dollop of the hummus onto a wedge of pita bread and held it out to her. “Here. Try it like this,” he said, his voice low and inviting.

Uh, oh. She didn’t want to give Asher the wrong idea. Jules leaned in and took the bite from his hand. The intimacy of thegesture wasn’t lost on her—neither was the way he watched her mouth or the pleased smile that tugged at his lips when she murmured, “Mmm. That’s even better.” As she glanced across the room, she caught Brock staring again. Jaw rigid. Eyes piercing. When she caught his gaze, he turned away quickly, stabbing something in his bowl with more force than necessary.

The pulse in Jules’s throat quickened. She couldn’t deny the awareness curling low in her belly from Brock’s reaction. The two of them were connected in a way she couldn’t deny. And that, in itself, was disturbing. She braved another look in his direction. His brazen eyes burned into hers. He was watching her and didn’t care a whit if she knew it. Good grief, he was a force to be reckoned with. Everything in her wanted to march over and have a shouting match with Brock. She wanted to slap his rugged face and then kiss him long and hard until this ridiculous longing for him subsided.

But she couldn’t do any of those things. So, she turned her attention back to Asher instead. And yes, she might’ve amped up the charm just to spite Brock Ellis.

Asher was a good conversationalist, which made the task of getting to know more about him surprisingly pleasant. He told her about growing up in Fort Worth with his younger sister. Medicine was the family business. Asher’s sister was a pediatrician; his father was an orthopedic surgeon. Asher’s mother was the only one who didn’t work in the medical field. Rather, she oversaw a couple of charities.

Jules told him about the family ranch. “My dad owns a working cattle operation just outside of Weatherford. Growing up, my sister and I got to do all the glamorous stuff. You know, mucking out stalls, hauling hay bales, bottle-feeding calves at three in the morning.”

Asher laughed. “Seriously?”

“Oh yeah. And it didn’t stop there. I’ve chased more than one runaway cow through a mesquite field. Don’t even get me started on branding season. That’s a whole other level of fun.”

“Ranch life sounds ... intense.”

“It can be at times, but it can also be mundane.” A grin tugged at Jules’s lips. “Once, my dad made my sister and me haul away old shingles from one of the barns in wheelbarrows. We kept arguing, ‘but we’re girls.’”

“That sounds rough.”

“It was. I used to think my dad was the meanest man on the planet.” She chuckled. “Now I realize what a blessing it was that I grew up learning how to work. And how to dodge manure like a pro.”

His eyes popped open wide, and then he laughed. She found herself laughing also. It was a welcome relief from all the stress. She glanced over at Nikki, who was sniggering at something Luke had said. Those two were getting tight quickly. A pang went through her. That’s how it had been with her and Brock. She couldn’t help but look over at him. It was unsettling to think that someone who’d only been in her life a relatively short period of time could have such a profound effect. She supposed that love didn’t have a timeframe. She was in love with him—hopelessly and completely. And she had no idea what to do about it. Feeling her gaze, he caught eyes with her. Then he gave her a slight smile that sent her heart tumbling. She grinned back, enjoying the swift connection that ran through them like an electrical current.

Asher pulled her out of the moment. “What got you into nursing?”

She blinked, trying to get her bearings. “When I was eleven, I was climbing a tree.”

He grinned. “A tomboy, huh?”

“To the nth degree. Anyway, I was climbing, and I fell and broke my arm. Of course, I was bawling and in terrible pain.”

“I’m sure.”

“One of the nurses at the ER helped calm me down by showing a picture of her dog and telling me funny stories about him. Something about that experience stuck. I decided that I wanted to be like that kind woman and help people.” She shrugged and offered a smile, not overly comfortable talking so openly about herself. “That started my fascination with nursing.”

“You know,” he mused. “it’s interesting that an injury is what set you on the path of nursing. The same thing happened to me in a roundabout way.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “The expectation was always for me to follow in my dad’s footsteps and become a doctor of some sort, but I was resistant to the idea.” A wry grin touched his mouth. “I had aspirations of becoming a rodeo star. I was pretty good at it, actually.”

Her eyes widened. “Wow.” He didn’t strike her as the rodeo type. “What event did you do?”

“Bronc riding.”

“Impressive,” she drawled.

“Well, it was until I got thrown off a horse and did some major damage to my left ankle.”

“Ouch,” she grimaced.

“Ouch is right. Five surgeries later, and I decided that I should probably take another look at going into medicine.” He shrugged. “The rest is history. Oh, and one more thing we have in common—my dad’s old school. I also grew up learning to work. Not manual labor like you did on the ranch. When I was in high school, I took a job installing home security systems.”

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