“I bet you do.”
Asher had kissed her last night to derail her. Both of them knew it, and neither of them had stopped it. There was a time that kiss never would have flown. A time when she wouldn’t have spent the rest of the evening thinking about how amazing Asher’s lips felt and how tempting he was to every female part of her.
After Ash had gone, Brice had asked her point-blank if she always made out in public and she’d laughed it off, saying, “He’s crazy.” When Brice drove her back to her apartment’s parking lot, he leaned over for a kiss, and Glo had given him her cheek instead.
She’d lain in bed, wide awake thanks to the whiskey buzz jittering her system, and wondered if she would have kissed Brice if Asher hadn’t kissed her first. Maybe. Brice was attractive enough, and she admired his business savvy. But if she was considering partnering with him, she shouldn’t entertain that line of thought.
Asher had mentioned he thought Brice was using her to get to him. She didn’t know if there was something to that or if that was Asher being jealous. Then there was the issue of her thinking about how he’d set his lips to hers on purpose and how she knew as a strong, independent woman she should not like that kind of display of caveman claiming, but she had. Just a little.
Asher needed ground rules.
“It was fine, thanks for asking.” She sent him a glance and he narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t getting any more out of her today, so he would just have to deal. “I didn’t know you were back to drinking coffee.”
“I’m on a bender. I like things that are bad for me too much to give them up for good.”
She wondered if he placed her into that category, then considered it was she who had given him up. Once bitten and all that.
“You look hot today, Sarge,” he said, walking beside her at an easy gait.
She should. She’d dressed in a white dress, red belt looped at her middle and bright red shoes. Sunglasses, black. Lipstick, red. She flipped her hair off her shoulder, and before she’d thought about it, pulled her shoulders back with pride. Damn. He could get to her like no one else. Asher had invaded her space by moving here, then with his nearness at Evan and Charlie’s house, and then by kissing her last night. Now he was in her head, complimenting her and making her feel beautiful and like she was the center of his world.
But that was fleeting, wasn’t it? He’d leave the Cove and then she’d get her head back. She just needed to hold out until then. But she felt as if she was already losing that battle. If he kept showing up, she’d never regain control.
She stopped halfway to her office, in front of a sandwich shop. Reggie’s Subs wasn’t open yet, being that it was only nine in the morning, which made it a fine hangout for this conversation.
“Asher, you can’t keep behaving like there is some contest between you and Brice,” she said.
“Oh, I know there’s no contest.” He lifted one eyebrow and Gloria felt her lips purse.
“What do you call that kiss, then?”
With a slight shake of his head, he replied, “I call it an appetizer to the bigger main course I didn’t get to have.” He took her coffee cup and put it and his on the bench in front of the restaurant, then reached out to brush her jaw with his fingertip. “Like to make up for that.”
Gloria swallowed, her throat thick. Resist, resist.
But she didn’t want to resist, because she’d like to make up for it, too. She could easily make out with him right here. Right now. She opened her mouth to say the opposite—if there was any hope of surviving him she had to listen to her brain, not her female anatomy—but didn’t get a word out. Instead, a haughty, exasperated woman’s voice cut through the air.
“There he is.”
Asher took his hand from Gloria’s face and scowled over her shoulder. She turned around to find an older woman coming toward them on the sidewalk, reddish-brown hair coiffed above a summery yellow suit.
“Emily,” Asher said, his tone flat.
Emily?
Tank let out two quick yips.
“We said nine in front of the flower shop,” Emily said.
“Jordan told me ten,” Asher replied.
“I said nine,” came a higher, sharper voice. If hearing Asher say Jordan’s name didn’t shoot a dart of pain through Gloria’s heart, seeing her did. The brunette carried a very little boy on her hip. A boy with big dark eyes, hair a shade lighter than Asher’s, and wearing the cutest ensemble of a blue shirt with a sailboat on it and cargo shorts.
The whole family was here. Gloria’s knees went weak.
“There he is!” Asher’s face split into a smile. He looked to Gloria. “Sarge, hang on to Tank.” The sheer happiness on his face made her heart pick up speed. She accepted the leash and Asher rushed to lift his son out of Jordan’s arms. The dart of pain in Gloria’s chest dulled. Seeing him hold his son and seeing him so happy to see Hawk caused conflicting feelings: a dab of admiration and a dab of envy.