Page 11 of Hidden
The storm had slowed to little more than cotton-ball puffs of snow drifting to the ground. But enough had fallen overnight that a good six or seven inches coated Asher’s truck. When it was time for him to go, she’d help him scrape it clean. It was the least she could do.
The coffee machine beside her beeped, drawing her attention. Well, scraping snow from Asher’s truck wasn’t theleastshe could do. She’d already had two cups of coffee herself, but he hadn’t been downstairs yet. She should take him a cup. After his drive last night, then the rescue, followed by checking in on her, he probably needed it.
Taking a gamble that he drank it black, she filled a mug then headed upstairs. Knocking softly on the door, she waited until he called for her to enter.
The door swung open and like a young, green girl, she froze. Asher stood with his back to her wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. He had his feet planted shoulder-width apart, his arms crossed, and was staring through the sliding door toward the snow-dotted lake. In a flash, her gaze took in his broad shoulders, tapered waist, strong thighs, and a backside that all but itched to be grabbed. Not that she would. She wasn’t down with groping people without their consent. But if she ever got his consent, all bets were off.
She cleared her throat, and he whipped around.
“Coffee,” she said, holding the cup out. Her gaze dropped to his now-visible chest before jerking back up again. Hopefully he hadn’t caught her brief, but very satisfying, ogle.
“Sorry,” he said, striding toward the bed and picking up a shirt. She wanted to tell him he didn’t need to bother on her account. But she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. The breezy tease she’d intend the comment to be would come out sounding more like a request. Or a plea.
“I thought it was Josh,” he explained, walking toward her with his hand out. “You didn’t need to bring me coffee, but thank you.”
She smiled and handed it over. “I don’t know how you like it, but I figured if I brought it to you black, you could always add cream or sugar. Easier that way than bringing it to you with cream and sugar already added then having to dump it if you didn’t like it.”
He took a sip and closed his eyes. Apparently, the man appreciated coffee. “Honestly, after all these years working in the hospital, I take coffee any way I can get it,” he said, highlighting a difference between their lives. She drank hers the exact same way almost every day. Not because shehadto have it that way, though. Like Asher, coffee was coffee to her. But she’d long ago learned that it made it easier on the people who worked for or with her if they didn’t have to ask her how she wanted it every time she had a cup. So now, fifteen years into her career, very rarely did she drink coffee that had anything other than just a dash of cream.
“But do you have a preference?” she asked, suddenly wanting to know. She’d take it any way it came, too. But she did have a preference. And it wasn’t with a dash of cream.
He gave her a funny look. Maybe he’d never been asked, or maybe the fact that she asked caught him off guard. His brow furrowed a pinch, but to her surprise, he answered. A real answer. Not some vague nonanswer.
“It depends,” he said, setting the mug down on the trunk at the end of the bed. Reaching for his jeans, he continued. “Most of the time, I do like it black. But if it’s the holidays, or if the night before was a long one, or…” He paused and pulled on his pants. She got the sense he was debating what to say next, and she held her tongue. She tried to hold his gaze too as he buttoned his jeans. But she might have let it slip south for a second.
“Or?” she pressed, bringing her gaze back to his face.
He gave her a rueful smile as he picked the mug back up. “If I’m feeling sentimental,” he answered. “My mom and dad both take cream and sugar in their coffee. Even though I’m well into adulthood, every now and then, it’s nice to be reminded of what it was like as a kid and I’d steal a sip.”
She smiled back. “I know what you mean. I didn’t grow up with a mom, but my dad and I are close. He used to make horchata and carnitas tacos every Friday night when I was growing up. Whenever I want to feel like that little girl again—not the kid part, but the love and security and sense of wonder that I felt back then—I make the same thing.”
His lips lifted into a real smile. One that made his eyes shine almost a gold color. “Exactly,” he said. “It feels weird at the age of thirty-seven to admit to wanting to feel like I did as a kid. Especially since I like the life I have—”
She shook her head. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to ground yourself in your roots.Especiallywhen you have a life you like. It’s those roots—that love and security you grew up with—that helped get you where you are today. I think of it more as honoring the gift I was given as a child than wanting to revert to my childhood.”
He held his mug in one hand and had his other tucked into a front pocket. His eyes searched hers then he smiled again. This time, a soft one.
“I like that. I hadn’t thought of it that way. But I like the idea that we reach back to those times because we’re grateful we had them. Because theymeantsomething to us.”
“And still mean something to us,” she said.
“Ellie!” Sofia called from downstairs.
She held Asher’s gaze then gestured toward the door with a wry smile. “I’m being summoned.”
He nodded but said nothing. After a beat, she turned to leave him to his packing.
“Thanks for the coffee, Ellie,” Asher said.
She paused and looked at him over her shoulder, her hand on the door. He hadn’t moved, but something in the room shifted.
Or maybe she was being fanciful. Imagining things that weren’t there.
The reminder that she couldn’t quite trust her own mind—or her emotions—drained the smile from her eyes.
“You’re welcome. And if you need help getting your car out, Sofia and I can scrape the snow.” She turned and fled down the stairs. Mostly to get away from Asher’s perceptive gaze, but also to keep Sofia from bellowing again. She loved the woman to death, but she was Italian to her core. She felt no compunction about raising her voice if she deemed it necessary. And it was way too early in the morning for that.
“Are you okay?” Sofia asked as Ellie jogged down the stairs.
