“That sounds like a question for your dad,” she answered.
“He told me to ask you!” Lyon argued, mouth twisted into a frown of disgust.
“I’ll be back,” Gloria said to her friends. She made sure to slap a big smile on her face and pray they didn’t see how she was really feeling. Half mortified, halfway to an anxiety attack.
Her fear of permanence and future and the idea of being a—gulp—mom all came to a head in an instant. Everyone around her had accepted this was a logical next step, but what if Gloria didn’t know how to take that step? She had no idea what it was like to stick by someone. Everyone sticking by her made her realize how bad she was at returning the favor. She was better at walking away. Walking was easy. Walking was less painful.
Walking was what she was good at.
“Whiskey,” she ordered from a bartender who looked to be about twelve years old.
“Shot or rocks?”
“Shot,” she told him, biting her tongue so she didn’t order a double. She needed to calm down, not start dancing on the tables. And she needed to think through the rather rash decision she’d made this morning.
This morning when Brice McGuire called her cell phone.
“Good morning, Heels,” he’d said when she answered. She knew what he wanted. He wanted her answer about Chicago. And he didn’t hesitate to let her know if she didn’t accept, he would begin the hunt for her replacement.
Gloria, feeling smug, hadn’t hesitated when she turned him down. The prospect of Chicago had dangled in front of her, tempting, for several weeks. In a way, Chicago had become her escape hatch. If she couldn’t hack the Cove and Asher and life in general, she had options.
But then last night, Asher had kissed her in the bar in front of all their friends, and afterward, those same friends rallied around her on her grandmother’s couch with hugs and laughter and for the first time in her life, she no longer felt like having a plan B.
The Cove had finally opened its arms, and her three girlfriends who lived here and had hunks of their own had opened theirs. And Asher not only loved her, but also needed her. And he was staying.
Gloria was home.
At least that’s where her head was this morning. But she hadn’t looked farther into the future than a few days…a few months. Now that she’d sealed her escape hatch, she felt…trapped.
The kid put the shot glass on the bar top. Gloria fished a dollar out of her clutch, plunked it in his tip jar, and threw the liquor back in one burning swallow.
“Hey, now it’s a party,” Asher approached, hands in his pants pockets. Then he caught her expression, which must have been dismayed because next, his smile fell. He pulled a hand from his pocket to touch her lower back. “Sarge, you okay?”
“Brice called,” she blurted.
Asher’s face scrunched.
“He offered me Chicago.”
Asher’s eyes went to the empty shot glass, then back to her.
“I told him no,” she said, tucking her clutch under her arm.
“Good.” He still looked confused and it was no wonder. She wasn’t making much sense. “I want you here. With us.”
Us.
God. She could puke. She blinked a few times, feeling the burn of tears again—but this time not because she was emotional over the wedding. No, this time, it was because she was overwhelmed by how many things—how many people—she would need to make room for in her life. Gloria could barely handle herself. This was not good.
She sucked in a breath. “Can we leave?” They drove together. She knew that’d been a mistake. Now she was stranded.
Asher’s eyebrows dropped so low, his eyes were barely visible through narrowed lashes. He girded his anger with a deep breath and tipped his head toward the side yard. “Over there.”
“No,” she said, then pointed to the valet waiting nearby. “Over there.”
“Sarge.”
“Asher.”
He crowded her, putting his lips on her ear. “I will absolutely throw you over my shoulder in front of every one of these people.”
“You would not,” she breathed, angry and slightly exhilarated at the thought—a reaction that confused her as much as everything else about how she reacted to him.
His warm palm splayed over her hip. “Try me,” he said into her ear, then drew away to peg her with a scarily serious glare.
She decided not to try him. Her dress was really short.
Turning, she made her way around the side of the mansion, through the yard, and across the cobblestone. On the other side of the garage, a huge oak tree offered privacy and shade.
“Let’s hear it,” Asher said, calmly advancing, hands in his pockets.
“Hear what? I’m just ready to go.”
“That’s one.”
“One what?” She was fuming now.
“One slap on the ass for every lie you tell me.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You can’t threaten me, Asher Knight. I—”
“Now that I have you good and pissed off, care to tell me what you’re running from?”
“I’m not running!”