Page 47 of Poinsettia Lane

“I suppose showers are in order," she says, glancing in his direction.

“I do need to water the upper plants, so they getsettled in," Asim says. “Why don’t you go shower while I finish up out here.”

Everly doesn’t mind that arrangement at all, though part of her does wish he would join her. She starts to turn away when he snares her wrist and tugs her back into his chest for a quick peck on the lips, then the tip of her nose, before spinning her around again toward the house.

Smiling, Everly steps inside and shivers as the cool air hits her wet skin. Peeking out the window to ensure Asim can’t see her from this angle, she strips off her wet and dirty clothes, leaving them in a pile by the hallway to the laundry room, then streaks up the stairs to her bathroom for a quick, lukewarm shower.

She puts on a clean pair of fuzzy socks, fresh panties and opts to skip the bra, instead donning a comfy, casual dress with a built-in shelf that she likes to lounge around in.

When she gets back downstairs, Asim has finished watering the newly planted garden and is coiling the hose up by the house. After sending him toward the guest bathroom with a fresh towel, Everly mixes a Manhattan with bourbon, wanting a slightly sweeter taste for herself than normal, and settles down on the couch in the living room to relax, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.

CHAPTER TWENTY

ANOTHER THING EVERLY hadn’t accounted for was Asim not having any dry clothes to wear. He steps into the kitchen with a towel precariously wrapped around his waist, looking as though one quick turn would drop it to the floor. Everly’s breath stutters and she pauses, having just been walking into the kitchen herself from the other direction, and eyes it with anticipation, brain screaming for the towel to do it.Just let go. Fall to the floor, it’ll be more comfy there anyways. That towel doesn’t even know what it has; it certainly can’t appreciate it the way Everly could.

A throat clears above her, interrupting her silent argument with the towel, and Everly’s eyes flash up to Asim’s, her face already burning. He keeps catching her staring at him, and although it’s embarrassing, she obviously doesn't care enough to learn a lesson from it. His mouth captures her attention next as it curves into a playful grin, and she licks her lip, remembering what it felt like to kiss him just a few minutes ago.

They snap out of it when a wet plop splits the air. Everly forgot she had her soaked clothes in her hands; she was on her way to put them in the washing machine when Asim walked in and her fingers ceased functioning. He looks down at the muddy mess and his smile grows wider. Bending down, he scoops them up and adds them to his pile, not at all bothered to be touching her wet, very dirty, clothing. Everly blinks in consternation; no one she knows would ever do anything that has happened to either of them so far today, except maybeFrankie who can be unpredictable at the best of times, and she’s not sure what that means about her life.

“Washer?” he asks.

“Yeah," Everly’s voice croaks, sounding more like a frog than a word, and she swallows hard. Waving him to follow her and taking the excuse to compose herself with some steady breathing, they walk to the laundry room and toss the whole wet mess in, then start a quick wash cycle.

Everly turns and eyes Asim up and down, he cocks one eyebrow at her.

“I don’t think I have anything that will fit you," she says. “Except maybe my robe…” She trails off, imagining for a second him wearing her robe, which results in a very unladylike snort emanating from her nose as she tucks her lips into her teeth.

Now both of his brows go up. “What, you don’t think I could pull it off?” he jokes.

“I mean...” Everly lets the sentence hang, silently challenging him.

“Let’s see it then," Asim says, crossing his arms over his chest and jutting his chin back the way they came, indicating for her to lead the way.

Everly laughs, telling him to wait in the kitchen while she runs back upstairs to grab it. As she brings it back down, she schools her face into what she hopes is an innocent expression and passes it over to him.

“Turn around," he says, voice rumbling as one hand waits, resting on the towel.

Everly really doesn’t want to, but she gives him the privacy he asks for. A moment later, she hears his “okay” letting her know he’s changed. She takes in a breath as she slowly twists, intending to be a mature adult about this, but as soon as she gets an eyeful of him wearing her fluffy pink robe, she absolutely loses it. Everly’s lips pinch shut for a split second before she snaps and howls her laughter, and Asim cracks up too.

“Yeah, I’m not sure this covers more than the towel," he says.

At six feet tall, he’s got eight inches on her and at least a hundred pounds. He’s taller, wider, and significantly thicker than she is. As a result, the long-sleeved pinkrobe that hits her just above the knees looks absolutely ludicrous on him. The shoulders don’t fit, the sleeves only make it to the middle of his forearms, it barely ties closed around his hips, and it definitely hits above mid-thigh, hardly covering that ass she would so very much like to see.

Everly covers her mouth with both hands, attempting to stifle her laughter. Asim waves his hands in a circle at her, signaling she should get it all out now. He rolls his eyes, but his expression is all amusement. When she’s able to compose herself, Everly wipes the tears from her eyes and beckons him over to the counter.

“Wow, sorry," she says. “I knew what I was getting into, but I didn’t really know—” She flings her hand out at him, eyes jumping from one ridiculous view to the next, but she manages to stop the laughter before it can begin again.

“Luckily, my masculinity isn’t threatened by a beautiful woman laughing at me for wearing a very pink robe.” Asim jokes and Everly bites her lip while smiling back, silently agreeing with him. Too many men would have been offended by that reaction.

Everly offers him a drink, making her signature Manhattan for him as well and snagging hers from earlier. They meander into the living room while they wait for their clothes to finish in the wash, setting their drinks on the coffee table by the couch. Everly lights a candle and brown sugar, coconut and soft vanilla emanate through the room with a hint of charred wood. She inhales, letting the calming scents wash over her.

Asim lounges on the couch, and Everly makes to sit on the cushion next to his, intending to leave a polite amount of space between them on account of his awkward clothing situation, when he leans over and captures her hips, pulling her close and snuggling her in right next to him. Everly sighs, happy and content, warm and comfortable as she tucks her legs up underneath her and leans into his solid strength.

“Ever,” he says, capturing her attention. “I really like you.” Asim pauses, eyes searching hers. Everly swallows hard, but doesn’t look away. “I haven’t had a serious relationship in a while, but I want that with you.Whatever you want to call it—dating, boyfriend, I’ll be anything you want me to be, but I want to be yours.”

Everly stares. She forgets to blink, forgets to breathe, forgets to think.

“Everly," he says her name again, stern this time as he tips her head so he can look at her more directly. She remembers how to blink, but the rest doesn’t come back quite yet. “Don’t panic. Take a breath. I think you feel the same way, but even if you don’t, whatever you’re feeling is okay. I don’t want to put any pressure or expectations on you, but I do want you to know how I feel.”

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