Page 21 of In Case You Didn't Know
She hugs me tightly. We’re still Belle and Cinderella, but it’s like the Disney luster has worn off us both. We look like princesses well after the happily ever after and the long, unsatisfying marriage, the threat of divorce hanging in the air. Autumn’s hair is falling out of her elaborate updo and my makeup is smeared from rubbing my face with panic at almost losing Mylene.
Who, I’m happy to say, made it through the party without ever coming face to face with her twin sister. I feel victorious.
After Autumn rushes out, I make myself a cup of tea and carry it into Hudson’s pristine-looking library.
Autumn was responsible for creating this room and as soon as I walk inside I feel my heart get full. It’s not quite on the level of the one that the Beast gave to Belle, but it’s still full of thousands of leather bound books, the aroma of the binding filling my senses. Then I spot the ladder on wheels, attached to the tall shelves, and my heart tightens.
We have a similar ladder in the library at my dad’s house in Virginia, a sprawling mansion in an estate called Misty Lakes, but I’ve never gotten to climb it while dressed as Belle.
It’s an opportunity too good to miss. I feel as giddy as a child as I walk over and kick my shoes off, putting my hands on the higher rung and placing one bare sole on the bottom, using the other to push myself off the floor so the ladder moves.
I let go with one hand as the ladder glides across the shelves, leaning my head back and closing my eyes. I start singing of dreaming of more than this small town life as I ride, and it makes me laugh, because this is so much fun.
It’s only as I come to a stop that I hear a throat clearing. And I recognize that low, gruff sound all too well.
Asher Fitzgerald is standing in the doorway. At some point in the evening he’s taken off his jacket and tie, and rolled up his sleeves in response to the sultry weather. His hair is mussed, but the rest of him still looks annoyingly put together. His shirt is still crisp, his dress pants unwrinkled.
“Why is it that every time I see you today you’re either saying weird shit or flying around a library?” he murmurs.
“I’m not talking to you,” I tell him, climbing down. “You almost lost Mylene.”
He glances down at my bare legs, visible because I’m holding up the skirt. It takes him a moment too long before he lifts his eyes to look at my face.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, not meanly. Just like he’s curious.
“Here in Hudson’s house, or life in general? I’m only seeking clarification because I don’t have an answer for the latter.”
“Here. At the house.” At least he sounds amused for once.
“I’m babysitting Ayda. She’s asleep in her room.”
His jaw twitches. “Well, I’m back so you can go now.”
Not gonna lie, his dismissal stings. “I don’t have a car. Autumn and Parker are going to pick me up when the party’s over.”
“I’ll take you.”
“You can’t, we can’t leave Ayda.” I have no idea why he wants to get me out of this house. It’s pretty rude, actually. “It’s okay, I’ll stay in here and read a book. I won’t disturb you.”
“You always disturb me.”
The way he says it, so low and matter-of-factly shocks me. “That’s a horrible thing to say,” I tell him. And yes, it’s probably the exhaustion and the buzz of the day, but my throat feels tight, like I’m about to well up.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” He lets out a breath. “I’m going to go before I make things any worse. I’ll go change out of these clothes then give you a ride home when Hudson or West gets back.”
Before I can ask him how hedidmean it, he turns on his heel and strides into the hallway. A moment later I hear the sound of his shoes against the polished wooden staircase that leads to the second floor.
I stand there, fuming for a moment, before deciding that either I go talk to him or I’m going to have another sleepless night.
I hate the way things have been between us this weekend. Picking up my skirt once more, I pad up the stairs to the room onthe third floor that was always Asher’s when we were growing up and where he sleeps when he comes to visit.
The door is closed, so I tap lightly on it, the wood so thick that I can barely hear his reply telling me to come in. Pushing the handle down, I stride inside only to be greeted by his very bare, very muscled back.
Holy shit.
My mouth turns as dry as the Sahara. His back is absurd. Lean, muscled, and unfairly gorgeous. He could rival the fae warriors in my books for sheer buffness.
Honestly, a shirtless Asher could bring about world peace. We’d all be too busy ogling to argue.
