“Work with me.”
I set my jaw stubbornly. “I’ve always worked with you, Dr. Stayner. This time I’m saying no. It’s a bad idea.”
“Good. One month.”
“You can’t make me.”
“Oh no?”
I purse my lips as I inhale deeply. “I could lie to you.”
“And I could show up at your dorm with a straitjacket and your name painted on it.”
I gasp, feeling my eyes widen. “You wouldn’t . . .” He totally might.
“Let’s not find out, shall we? One month, Livie. Get to know him.”
“What about Connor?”
“I didn’t say jump Ashton’s bones as part of the ‘getting to know him’ process.”
I cringe. “Ohmigod.”
“Sorry, that’s what my boys say. Is that not cool?”
“Nothing about this conversation is cool, Stayner,” I moan. “I should go. Connor will be here any minute.”
“Just trust me on this one, Livie. Just one more time. It’s a good idea.”
“Uh-huh.” With goodbyes, we hang up our phones. My face falls into my palms as I wonder how I got myself into this. I’m not doing it. I refuse. He can come with a straitjacket. It’ll fit me flawlessly by then. The ironic thing is that I blurt out things I shouldn’t half the time I’m with Ashton but it’s never intentional. If I said everything . . .
A horn honks.
I look up, expecting to see the white Audi. But there’s a sleek black four-door with shiny silver rims instead. The driver side opens and a tall, dark figure in a trendy fall leather jacket and aviator sunglasses steps out and stalks around the car to open the passenger door. “Irish! Get in.”
And I decide that Dr. Stayner is an evil wizard with a crystal ball and puppet strings attached to his fingers. He has somehow masterminded this entire situation. He’s definitely cackling in his office right now.
Cars are honking behind Ashton’s car. “Come on.” There’s a touch of irritation in his tone.
“Dammit,” I mutter, making my way to the waiting car, keeping my gaze on the tan leather interior as I hand my crutches to him. His fingers graze mine as he takes them, sending an electric current through my arm. By the time I’ve eased into my seat and secured my seat belt, Ashton is sliding into the driver side and my pulse is racing.
“How’s your ankle?” he asks as he pulls into traffic, his eyes shifting to my legs. I’d decided to wear a short pleated skirt because nylons are easier on my ankle than socks and pants. Now, as a flash of me straddling Ashton and a skirt around my waist hits me, I’m wishing I were in a one-piece snowsuit.
“Better. I’ve started to walk on it a bit.” The car is a sauna compared to the crisp air outside, I note, shimmying out of my jacket. “Mild sprain. Like I thought.”
“Connor said you went to the hospital?”
Oh, yeah. Connor. “What are you doing here?” I blurt out and then take a breath. “I mean, what happened to Connor?”
He shrugs. “He has a paper due on Tuesday, so I told him I’d drive you. Are you okay with that?”
“Oh. Of course. Thanks.” And I’m a big fat jerk now. I would have missed another week with the twins if it weren’t for Ashton. He’s being nice. He’d already proven that he’s capable of that by carrying me half a mile in the rain. Now he’s driving me all the way into Manhattan.
“No big deal, Irish,” he murmurs, following the signs to the highway.
I quietly play with my coat zipper as I wonder what Dana would say about all of this. Would it bother her? Are they even still together? He never did confirm or deny it. Should I ask him?
I glance over at Ashton to find him staring at my chest.
“Watch the road!” I snap with a start as heat crawls up my neck, folding my arms over myself.
With a smile of amusement, he says, “So you’re allowed to stare at me but I can’t even look at you?”
“That’s different. I’m not naked.”
“I wasn’t naked when you did a nosedive on the sidewalk, either.”
I shift my body away from him to stare out the window, shaking my head. I can hear you laughing from here, Dr. Stayner.
“Hey.” Ashton’s hand rests on my forearm. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m just . . . I haven’t seen you in a while.”
I realize how good that simple gesture feels and how much I’ve missed him. I nod, and look up to see sincere brown eyes on me. “Watch the road,” I warn again, softer this time and much less irritated.
I get the trademark crooked smirk that I’m finding less arrogant and more playful now. He gives my arm a tiny squeeze before letting go.
“Thanks for giving up your Saturday for me.”
“It’s nothing,” he murmurs, checking his side-view mirror as he changes lanes. “I know it’s important to you.” He adds with a hint of hesitation, “I have an appointment later, so I was going to be in Manhattan anyway.”
“An appointment?”
A crease furrows Ashton’s brow. “You looked upset back there, before I picked you up. Why?”