Page 35 of Checking Mr. Wrong
“Oh no!” I yelp, grabbing for napkins. The spell is broken as Asher jumps up to help, a tiny cry escaping his lips as he does. The chaos is enough to make my heart race for entirely different reasons now.
“Smooth,” he says with a smirk, dabbing at the spill.
“I’m known for my grace,” I mutter, willing the blush on my face to disappear as I frantically wipe up the mess. Maybe if I’m lucky, he’ll think the color in my cheeks is from embarrassment and not…whateverthatwas.
I look up, and his eyes are already on me again, softer this time, like he’s seeing something new. My heart does a little flip—not quite sure what it means yet—but it’s different from before, like something inside me is starting to stir.
His hand moves, slow and casual, brushing against mine as he reaches for a napkin. The small contact sends a surprising jolt through me, the kind that makes you sit up straighter and notice everything.
For a beat, we stay as we are. No questions, no words, no distractions.
Then laughter bursts from the front of the shop while Carson’s voice cuts through.
“Hey, man, sorry to break it up, but we’ve gotta go. Team dinner’s waiting!”
Asher glances toward the noise, a smirk tugging at his lips, then back at me.
“Duty calls,” he says, standing up and offering me his hand. “I’ll see you at Drench for Defense in a few days?”
“You will,” I say, a little bit too cheerful for me as I take his hand before I can stop myself. My mind swirls with thoughts I haven’t quite figured out yet, reluctantly letting go once I’m on my feet. Interesting in that I’m distracted by how soft his hands are for someone who is so physical every day of their life.
As he heads for the door, I watch him walk away and realize that maybe—just maybe—I don’t want him to go.
CHAPTER 12
ASHER
The autumn aircarries a crisp edge, making me wish I still had my comfy sweatshirt on and not this insanely thin white T-shirt Cade’s asked me to wear. Yet here I am, standing in line at the farmers’ market under a sign reading “Drench for Defense” in big bold letters. When I look around at the crowd forming, it’s safe to say the town has turned out to “Drench Your Favorite Ice Breaker to Save Maple Falls” which the subheading on the banner promises. The premise is as simple as it is humiliating: get drenched, raise money, and try not to freeze.
“It’s starting soon,” Cade says as he swings at me playfully.
“So,” Carson says pointing to my T-shirt, “your new name is Snuggle Muffin?”
I look over at Cade, who is laughing. He’d promised us a surprise and boy, did he deliver; the T-shirts he’s asked us to wear all have some sort of nickname on them. Not the manly kind either, no way. Cade made sure to give all of us cute little nicknames that make us sound like a forgotten lot of My Little Ponies.
“Look, Cupcake,” I say to Cade, who at least had the decency to give himself a good and cutesy nickname, “keep it up and I’ll buy a firetruck to drench you.”
“I can’t believe Lennox managed to turn this into a wet T-shirt contest by putting us in these white shirts.” Carson sighs. “At least they aren’t babydoll tees.”
Carson continues to rattle off all the reasons he’s not one hundred percent about today’s shenanigans, while I scan the crowd. It’s not hard to find Mabel; she’s parked herself near a table at the back of the crowd with her mother, arms crossed and…huh. Look at that, she’s watching me.
Okay, maybe she isn’t, so I’m gonna test things. I stop and wink, just to make sure, and when she shakes her head, I know for sure that yes, Mabel McCluskey is looking at me.
I’m about to mouth something I’m sure is witty, when the sound of a woman’s voice over the loudspeakers interrupts my thoughts. The mayor’s daughter, Ashlyn, kicks things off and calls Carson up to the stage first.
The guy is hilarious, standing on the platform like he’s posing for a magazine cover. But when former Ice Breaker and local hockey legend Dan Roberts steps up solo with a bucket, things get interesting. The cascade of water he chucks over Carson’s head drenches him but good. The crowd erupts in cheers, though a few people wince in sympathy when they see him shiver. He flashes a grin, shaking his head like a wet dog, and the laughter gets louder.
Then I hear my name called. Steeling myself for a very chilly wake-up call, I head to the stage, doing a little tap dance when I get there for the crowd. Seriously, this little town doesn’t seem so little when you have them all gathered here for a good cause, like today. The community spirit in this place is amazing when it needs to be.
As I stand in front of everyone, I do a little taunting dance move. “So, who’s gonna drench me?”
The crowd erupts in cheers, their collective energy buzzing with anticipation. I squint against the glare of the midday sun, scanning for my impending executioner when a commotion ripples through the crowd near the edge of the field, a mix oflaughter and mock protests. It’s like the parting of the sea as the townsfolk make way, stepping aside with wide grins and wagging fingers, all eyes trained on the determined figure slicing through them.
Oh. I see how it is.
Mabel.
“Mabel from Maple Falls,” I shout, throwing my hands in the air as laughter bubbles up from the crowd.
