Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I turn around and find Asher right behind us, pulling the front door behind him. He looks at me, to Hope, and then back to me again. He tips his head in Hope’s direction and asks me, “Do you mind?”
Do I mind you talking to my daughter before you say a word to me? I am intrigued enough not to.
“Sure,” I say magnanimously.
Asher smiles at Hope, who is staring at him with wide eyes. He squats down in front of my daughter to get eye level with her, and I try not to notice how well his muscular legs fill out the denim he’s wearing. No matter how mad or upset I am with him, I’ll always be ridiculously attracted to his ass.
Asher gives a little cough to clear his throat, and then just lays it on the line to my daughter. “Hope… I hurt your mommy pretty bad. Honestly, I was a jerk to her, and there’s no excuse for it. I’m here to apologize to her and ask her to give me another chance, but first I need to ask you if that’s okay with you. Because without your approval, I know I’ll never stand a chance with her because you’re the most important thing in her life.”
I have no clue if those words have any effect on my kid, but damn if they don’t hit me deep and true, right in the center of my chest.
I wait anxiously as I watch Hope, because if she says “no,” then it’s absolutely over. No matter if I love this man or not, Hope has to accept him.
Of course, I’m not sure she really understands anything. She had asked me one day last week if we were still going to Disneyland with Asher. If she’d noticed I’d been in a funk over him, she never said. She’s five years old and focused on Mickey Mouse.
I apologized and told her it wasn’t going to happen.
She asked, “Why?”
And I couldn’t exactly tell her. All I could say is, “I don’t know, honey. But I’m not seeing him anymore.”
Hope glances up at me as if seeking permission to even give Asher the time of day. I don’t give her any encouragement, just a soft smile that I hope conveys she should do what’s in her heart.
She turns to Asher, her voice earnest and deliberate. “I want my Mommy to be happy.”
I’m amazed by my kid’s savvy understanding of something that should be beyond her grasp. She doesn’t answer him directly. Doesn’t say she’s giving him another chance, but rather telling him the standard he must meet to gain her approval.
And then amazingly, she puts the ball in his court. “I’m hungry and going to go eat now.”
Asher is speechless. He just watches her walk inside, an awed expression on his face. When the door closes, he stands up.
I take a few steps back to lean against the post that connects the porch railing. Pushing my hands down into my pockets, I stare at him and wait.
He throws a thumb toward the door where Hope just disappeared. “Your kid is pretty amazing.”
“I know,” I say with a smug smile. She’s the best.
Asher stares out across the field that’s barren now but usually filled with tobacco in the summers. My mom’s house is in the “country” surrounded by farmland on three sides and forest on the other.
He then moves to the post opposite of me and leans back against it. He mimics me by shoving his hands down into his pockets.
This tells me several things. First, he’s being cautious with me because the Asher I know would just demand I take him back and would probably kiss me to put me under his thrall. That also shows respect for me, since he’s putting distance between us so I can think for myself.
“Are you really thinking of moving back here and going to school?” he asks.
I blink at him in surprise, somewhat impressed and offended at the same time. “How do you know that?”
“Kyla Wroth saw the pamphlet and application on your printer. I didn’t know you were interested in college.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Asher. We haven’t really spent a lot of quality time talking.”
Fucking definitely. The man knows my body better than I do.
My mind, my ambitions… not so much.
“I figured out why you want to leave. You have no security in Vegas.” His expression is apologetic. “I took that away from you, I realize that. You’ve probably been wondering when the rug might get pulled out from under you, working for my company and me just cutting things off. Wondering every night if you’d still have that job the next morning. I get it.”
Okay… maybe he knows me a little better than I give him credit for.
“But you’re also running away from me and a broken heart,” he says, his voice now gritty with determination. “I’m here to fix that if you let me.”