“Sarge, I love that you don’t give me easy. I can be lazy. I can be careless. I can be self-focused. You force me to be other things. You force me to care too much about everything. About everyone. You challenge me and you don’t even mean to. I didn’t feel bad about taking a groupie backstage between sets until I met you. Then I only thought of you and what I was missing—what you gave me when we were together. What you gave me, baby…I can’t get that anywhere else.”
Her eyes were trained on his, and she was struck completely dumb by his speech. And he still had more to say. He stepped closer and brushed her smooth, porcelain cheek with his knuckles.
“No one makes me want like I want when I’m with you. You make me crazy in the best way possible. Never planned on getting married or settling down. When I was hit with the news about Hawk, the first thing I thought after the initial shock of having a kid wore off was that I’d lose you. I knew it’d hurt too much for you to have to see him knowing that Jordan and I made him. And I also knew I wouldn’t walk out on my son. That I had to make up for lost time and that I had a long road ahead. That put me at your mercy. The big test of keeping you or not was outta my hands. You’d either stay with me in spite of how hurt you were, or you’d bail.”
“A test I just failed,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
“Nine,” he whispered back, then smiled. “I underestimated you yet again. Should’ve known you were tough enough to handle Hawk. To handle Jordan. Hell, you showed up and put a dent in her ass the second you thought she was doing us wrong.”
A tiny smile tipped the corners of her lips. She was trying.
“You won’t take me down, Sarge. You’re too busy standing up for me.” He moved his palm to the side of her neck, sliding his hand through her hair and pressing his fingertips into her nape. “You have changed my entire world, do you know that? And I get that you’re scared. Hell, I’m scared. I’ve never done this before. I’ve never been a dad. I’ve never tried to have a relationship that was remotely normal. And you…Your mom bailed, your grandma died, and you’re so terrified to trust anyone—to trust yourself, that you figure you should get out while the gettin’s good. And the shit of it is, every foster family, every guy you’ve pulled this crap on in the past, has let you go.” He nodded and added on another painful truth, “Me included.”
Her delicate throat worked as she swallowed. He ran his fingers down to her necklace—a thin gold chain with a heart on the end. Then along the low-cut neck of her fire-engine-red dress. He loved her in red.
He just loved her, period.
“I’m not letting you go again,” he said.
“You can’t know I won’t screw everything up.”
He wedged two fingers into her cleavage, grabbed hold of the center of her bra, and dragged her close.
“I know,” he said. His lips were almost touching hers and he smelled the slightest hint of whiskey on her breath.
“I can’t know that,” she whispered.
“You have to try.” Before he could breach the minute distance between them and kiss her, Connor’s voice came from behind him.
“Ash! You’re on, man!”
He held a thumb overhead to let Connor know he heard him.
“Time to play famous, Sarge,” he told her, leaving her tempting mouth in favor of stepping back. He extracted his fingers from her dress without sliding to the left or right to tweak a nipple, and for that show of self-control, he deserved a medal. “Do me a favor.”
“What?” She adjusted her low neckline, then tucked her purse beneath her arm.
“Love me.”
Her lips dropped open with a sharp intake of breath.
He took another step back. Toward the stage, toward their friends. Toward their future, if she chose to accept it.
“That’s it,” he said. “Everything will work out, but you have to commit to that one thing.”
He turned and walked away when what he wanted to do was grab her hand and drag her with him. But Gloria didn’t need to be dragged. He may be good at pushing her, but if they were going to make this work, the next step she took would have to be toward him.
*
Asher tuned his guitar, pausing to grin and say, “Dodgy F,” into the microphone. The slightly boozed up crowd snickered.
Gloria stood among them, equally rapt with the man onstage. The man who had made the simplest of requests. Love me. She watched him walk away from her, from the lawn to the cobblestone, until he vanished around the back of the house.
And then she followed.
Chairs were scattered on the patio and now people sat, cocktails in hand. The sun had just tucked behind the trees and bulbs on strings were laced overhead, giving the entire outside patio a relaxed feel. Almost everyone who attended the wedding had stayed to hear Asher, her included.
Asher Knight: resident rock god, children’s book author, and man who had just committed to never leave her. She didn’t know what to do with that. What to do with him. Yet here she was.
“Ah, there we go,” he said when the chord struck true. A few soft chuckles sounded from the crowd. Asher, the entertainer.
He turned to the jazz band behind him and gave a few instructions and then started to play “Unchained.”