Asher’s cell rang, bringing Glo back to the present.
“Yeah?” he answered, then smiled at Gloria. “Fantastic news. Send it my way. I’ll look it over.” He ended the call and pocketed the cell. Then he dragged Gloria by the hand to her office and instructed, “Open up.”
“Okay, okay…” She pulled her keys from her purse and unlocked the door. The moment they stepped foot inside, Asher flipped that same lock and moved around the room, shutting the blinds.
“What’s happening?” she asked with a laugh. Since the Pate wedding two months ago, she and Asher had been adhered to each other’s sides. Glo had even flown to LA with him to help him decide which pieces of furniture to keep or sell. They’d gone round and round about a red couch in the shape of a giant pair of lips. Asher said he didn’t need it; Glo insisted it reminded her of the Rolling Stones and that it would break every rule in the rock star handbook if he didn’t feature the piece prominently in his cabin.
She won that argument.
Last week, she’d convinced him and Evan to write another series. The Adventures of Mad Cow and Swine Flu may have come to an end, but there was a definite fan favorite in Chicken Pox. Glo had plans for that hen. Old girl needed her own spin-off series where she could get into hijinks with some other animal…Cat Scratch Fever, maybe? Evan and Asher hadn’t figured out the details yet, but they would. They were the dynamic duo when it came to this stuff.
Developing a routine with Asher and Hawk had been something of a revelation for her. She hadn’t ever imagined herself playing with a three-year-old, and further, could never have imagined herself exclusively dating anyone—let alone Asher Knight.
He returned to her when the last of the blinds were closed. The entire room was muted gray, blocking out the late autumn sunlight. He kissed her, moving his hands to her back to hold her tight.
“Mmm,” she hummed when he pulled away. “Are you intending to have sex with me on my desk?”
“Duh,” he answered.
She laughed. It was fun to be in love. She’d decided not to miss the good stuff. Donovan was right.
“That must have been some good-news phone call,” she said, raking her fingers through Asher’s hair.
“That was my Realtor. She has an offer for my house in LA.”
“Good one?”
He shrugged. “Don’t care. I want it sold.”
“You need to talk to your accountant, Ash.” She arched a scolding eyebrow.
“I only need to talk to you.”
She blinked. He looked so serious. Why wasn’t he mauling her? Shouldn’t they be having celebratory desk sex?
“Gloria Shields.” His hands traveled down her back and he hugged her close.
Oh no. Her heart tripled in speed. This felt big…and scary. Asher grinned. A bad sign.
“Sarge.” He lifted her and plopped her ass on her desk.
“You’re going to get mushy, aren’t you?” she asked as he cupped her face in his hands. “I can’t handle it.”
“Yeah, you can.” He brushed his nose over hers.
“Let’s just—”
“I wrote you a song. I moved to the Cove. I pushed my way into your apartment, your life, your heart.” This was starting to sound like a speech. A confession. Goose bumps broke out on her skin.
“You did,” she admitted. He was taking up so much residence in her life right now, she would feel lost without him.
“What do you want?” He moved his hands to her shoulders.
She felt her eyebrows close in. “What do you mean?”
“From me. What do you want?”
“I…Nothing.”
“Not true. There’s something you need. Something you want. You’re gonna tell me what it is and I’m gonna stand here until you do.”
She didn’t doubt it. He looked comfortable standing there. Waiting. Looming.
“Aside from coffee in the morning and great sex at night, there’s nothing else I need,” she said, attempting to lighten the thick air between them.
He shook his head. “Try again.”
“Okay.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “I guess…staying with you is nice.”
“You mean in the dream house you once fantasized of buying and growing old in?”
“I never said growing old!” she argued, her lips pulling into a pout.
He stayed silent, waiting for her to continue.
She fiddled with the cross around his neck. “I like having an automatic date for things like weddings and summer concerts…”
He nodded again.
“What about your office?” he asked of the very room they stood in.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Not ideal.”
“What’s ideal?”
She stopped playing with his necklace and rested a palm on his chest. His firm, delicious chest covered by a thin gray T-shirt. “A better view.”
“Woods?” His hands slid from her arms to her hips.
She nodded, feeling suddenly shy. Exposed.
“Water?” He moved his hands to her thighs.
She nodded again.
“Beach?” he asked, his expression going serious, his voice low and intimate. “Dock?” With a smile added, “Giant lips-shaped couch in the living room?”
“Yes to all,” she whispered.