Page 50 of Worth the Scandal
The kind of love making you don’t forget.
The kind of night that ruins you for anyone else.
I can only compare it to one other night in my life. Two years ago, after a party, withMr mysterious.
The Next Morning—6:12 AM
I wake to the sound of Asher yanking on his Ridgebacks hoodie and stumbling around the granny flat like a bad robber, but with an impressive six-pack. I watch as he carefully and quietly picks up his fresh underwear and his training shorts from an overnight bag he conveniently had stashed away in the boot of his mustang—suss if you ask me. He was either very prepared for where this night was headed or he’s always prepared for his night to head this way, with possibly anyone. I shake the thought from my mind, obviously a man like that can pull some serious pussy, but it’s the last thing I need to be thinking about right now and sending myself into a downward spiral. Besides, we aren’t exclusive, we aren’t dating—in fact, I’m his manager now.
“You’re sneaking out?” I’ve popped my head up out from under the blanket, leaning up on my right arm so I can see all of him more clearly now. It’s a view I could get used to in the morning, his sleepy face and messy hair is divine.
He turns, grinning. “Practice.”
“You always keep a bag of gear in your car?”So much for letting it go Scar.
He shrugs. “Yeah, all the boys do in case we need spares.”
“Oh, because you’re such a player, right? Always staying at random houses?” The jealous taste in my mouth has translated into words, and I’m not happy I’ve now said them out loud.
Asher smirks, not the least bit ruffled by my jealous snap. In fact, I think he quite enjoys seeing this side of me.
He leans over and presses a kiss to my lips shutting me up.
“Only the ones with pretty girls who boss me around.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I murmur, reaching up and grazing my fingertips over the kiss, hoping I can savour it until the next one, whenever that may be.
“I’ll text you after practice, and don’t frown like that. I don’t sleep around…well when I’m seeing someone,” He stares into my eyes and it lays an air of seriousness over us like a blanket “and a smile as pretty as yours Scar should always come before a frown, how’s that for flattery?”
He laughs and tiptoes out like a man on a covert mission.
“Watch out for Te—” I whisper yell as he quietly shuts the door behind him. Well, that’s now out of my hands, and I tried—not very hard but I tried.
Now I’m laying here staring at the ceiling in disbelief of who just walked out of my granny flat. If you told Scarlett a year ago that she would not only run into Mr Mysterious but would be reliving the best night of her life and sign him to her own agency, she’d laugh in your face. Regardless of the night I’ve had, what Asher said does lingers in the front of my mind.
I’ll text you later…I don’t sleep around.Asher what does that mean. I get up early too deciding today is a good day and I’m going to spend the morning doing one of those Pilates classes Shell keeps raving about. After all I’m on a high. I grab the blanket smiling like an idiot and flop back down to just lay in this dream for 5 more minutes though.
Chapter Twenty - Asher
6:26 AM—The Great Escape (AKA the stupidest thing I’ve ever attempted)
I’m creeping around the side of Coach Walker’s house like I’m in a heist movie. Hoodie up. Dress shoes in hand. Duffle bag slung over one shoulder like I’m heading off to footy practice but also possibly committing a felony or coming from the scene of a homicide. Wait is it a walk of shame, nah nothing shameful about anything that went on inside those four walls last night. But right now, anyone watching would think I’ve just buried Scarlett Walker in the back garden and the way she screamed my name last night, they’d know exactly who the number one suspect would be. Damn this house is beautiful. I take in the vast gardens and the white wrap around veranda—that I’m currently stuck to like glue to shimmy my way up the side path and out the little gated entrance to Scarlett’s side. A big house like this is proving to be a real pain in the ass when I’m trying to sneak around like I’m not twenty nine years old and like I haven’t gone back in a time loop to my high school days. Okay you caught me, it’s not my first rodeo when it comes to hiding from a girl’s dad, but it is my first rodeo when it comes to hiding from a grown woman’s dad because well he’s my coach, and he had a very stern chat to the whole team the week before she was coming to live here about how she is strictly off limits—but technicallyit was a rule I’d already broken long ago without even knowing. The practice he gave us the ‘no Scarlett lecture’ the boys were speculating about what coach’s daughter would be like, and if his lecture was just protocol or if she really was a smoke show, definitely the latter. Poor coach he probably would’ve been better off saying nothing at all.
The grass is wet adding to the struggle of my stealth mode, my sneakers are squelching with each step connecting with the morning dew, and I’m head down trying to catch a glimpse out my peripheral vision to any danger in the vicinity—AKA Coach. My dignity is hanging by a thread—because I’m fucking shitting bricks, but I’m still riding the high of the night I just had.
Scarlett freaking Walker.
Scarlett Walker in my hoodie.
Scarlett Walker in my arms.
Scarlett Walker, asleep like a goddess in the granny flat that technically belongs to her father, my coach, and possibly the most terrifying man in a 500-km radius.
My car’s parked a few houses down the street, because apparently past me thought I was being smart. Past me is an idiot. That’s extraextrastealth mode, longer to act casual be all nonchalant and less running away from the scene of a crime. A crime I’d take 25 to life for in a court of a law just to do all over again.
But now, present me?
Present me thinks I’ve made it.
