8. Charleigh
EIGHT
CHARLEIGH
Hiring Cyrus Temper was a mistake. Asher was right to say he is a shark in the real estate world. What I don’t understand is how he’s so successful when it’s clear he’s trying to squeeze every dime possible out of me. Every single listing he has sent has been nearly twenty percent over my budget. Cyrus is circling me like I am his prey while I just try to keep my head above water.
Knowing Asher was right has my stomach sinking to new depths. It’s not that I expected to find a new building in time for the dozen events I have planned over the next two months, but I needed to at least start the process. The longer I waste time on spaces like the ones Cyrus is suggesting, the longer it will take. Time is ticking.
“No,” I grumble, even though I’m alone. The shop has been quiet these last thirty minutes since it’s still early in the morning. I’m resting my chin on my hand, scrolling through the listings again, hoping my eyes are deceiving me. “Nope, not that one.” I groan again, picking up my coffee and feeling more hopeless by the second. I tip the cup back, sucking out any last drops sitting at the bottom—the perfect metaphor for my life. I swallow and slam my cup down, preparing to go back over Cyrus’s options.
“Having a bad day?”
I look up from the laptop to find Asher standing on the other side of the counter. I must have been too focused to hear the bell jingle above the front door.
“What are you doing here?” I sigh, my attention falling back to the screen. The last thing I need is to let Asher know he was right about Cyrus. I’m still angry with him about what happened at the beer garden. He always finds a way to get under my skin.
He grins and waves his arm around my store. “I came to see all of this.”
“Right.” I snort, eyeing him across the counter. “Like you care,” I mumble sarcastically against the rim of my cup. Mumbling and groaning seems to be the tone of the day.
“I do care.” He rests his elbows on the edge of the counter.
I instinctively pull back, but not before shutting off my computer screen.
Ever since the other night at the beer garden, I’ve realized the hold he still has on me. In a way, as much as I hate to admit it, Asher’s had a hold on me since that day in the elevator, when we were both leaving Cyrus’s office. It’s been ten years since I’ve felt his body so close to mine. His scent, the way his tall, sculpted body pressed against me—all of it was risky and reckless. I itched to pull away from the elevator wall and press against him. The muscles of my thighs tingled, remembering the way it felt to have Asher between them. It was a dangerous place to be. Even more so when he sat next to me the other night. From now on, I’m not taking any chances. I’m still standing behind the counter, in awe of Asher stepping foot in my store. He looks out of place, much like the way a square peg would fit into a round hole.
Silence has settled between us. I’m silently cursing the fact I gave Selene the day off. She would have made a great buffer.
Asher steps back and begins making his way around my store. On the other side of the full glass window , a shiny black Mercedes is parked along the curb. A man in a black suit and valet style hat is leaning against it, scrolling through his phone, every few seconds looking up into the store. He must be Asher’s driver or bodyguard. Maybe both.
I watch Asher carefully while he explores the space, stopping every few feet to inspect several bouquets. I bite my bottom lip as he removes his hand from his pocket and runs his thumb across the petal of a white lily. He’s wearing a smooth, black suit, with a white collared shirt underneath. His polished shoes stand out against the dull white floor. He runs his hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead. My mind wanders, remembering that he’s the same person who used to wear the same clothes three days in a row.
He glances at me from across the room, catching me staring. His face remains still, but his eyes are swimming with thoughts. A piece of me aches, wanting to know what thoughts are swirling inside that gorgeous head of his. He stares at me for several seconds before finally moving on. He makes it to the other side of the room and picks up a bag of dried rose petals before bringing them to his nose. He makes a face then puts it down.
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I move out from behind the counter.
“So, really… what are you doing here?”
I’ve always wanted to trust Asher, and at one point in time, I did. Now though, I don’t. History has taught me to think twice before handing it back to him.
“I’m serious, Charleigh.” He laughs. “I came down here to see your shop. ”
“Forgive me if I have my doubts. You’re different than before, so it’s a little hard to trust.”
He nods, and I can see the twinge of hurt flicker in his eyes.
I don’t trust him. At least not yet.
The flicker of hurt vanishes quickly. I can’t tell if he’s trying to avoid examining my statement deeper or if he simply doesn’t care enough to.
His eyes wander across the glass windows, then back to the flowers. “You were always obsessed with flowers,” he says. “I used to find them wedged and pressed between the pages of your books. Do you still do that, or did you stop once you opened this place?”
I walk over to the small table of empty vases I have set out and straighten one that’s out of place, with Asher only few feet away from me. “No, I still do it. But wildflowers are kind of hard to find in the city, so I really only pick them when I go to visit my parents.”
“Right.” Asher nods, pressing his mouth into a straight line. His jaw ticks. Bringing up my parents has clearly triggered something inside him, like striking a match in a pitch-black room.
The mention of my parents even catches me off guard. Though they live only two hours away, I haven’t seen them for a few months. I like to keep it that way.
He walks closer to me, reaching out to touch another bouquet. This time, his fingers grasp the paper heart tag tied to the ribbon. He holds his breath, then quickly drops his hand and turns to me.
“How’s it going with Cyrus?”
“I knew it.” I point at him and spin on my heel, shaking my head. “I knew that was the real reason for you coming down here.”
“Look,” Asher says defensively. “I know you think I suddenly have this dark, cold heart made of ice, but I don’t. Yes, I want to know how it’s going with Cyrus, but I also wanted to check out your store, see how all of this is doing, and understand why you need a bigger place.”
“Is my store what you expected?”
“It’s pretty good, but I can see why you need a new location. This place is small and clearly unequipped to handle your level of inventory.” He twists his mouth in thought. “Back to my original question. How is it going with Cyrus?”
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to contain the frustration boiling over. I don’t want Asher to see how desperate I am for his help. I don’t want him to know that Cyrus has hardly put any effort into finding me the perfect place. I don’t want him to know that I refuse to ask my father for any help. I straighten my back and cross my arms.
“It’s working out great.” Lie. “Cyrus is sending me plenty of great listings.” Another lie.
Asher stands on the other side of the counter and grips the edge, leaning forward. Again, he’s invaded my space, but this time I don’t pull back.
“Remember that bullshit you spouted off the other day about me being a terrible liar?” he asks, tilting his head.
“Yes, and it wasn’t bullshit. It’s true.”
“Hate to break it to you, Charleigh Keeler”—he clicks his tongue—“but you’re a terrible liar, too. Always have been.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Listen, I figured it might not be going well with Cyrus. Yes, he’s successful and has a great reputation in the city, but I also know he plays hardball with his clients. You give him a budget, and he sends you listings thousands of dollars over what you originally told him. Trust me, after you call him out on it, he’s going to tell you there aren’t any locations in your price range. ”
“I don’t get it. How is he successful if he’s lying to all his clients?”
“He counts on clients not questioning him. He knows New York is a tough place to sell unless it’s to the super wealthy.”
I allow my eyes to wander around my store. Part of me wants to believe Asher—a very tiny part—and at some point, I may have to consider the possibility that he’s telling the truth. I can’t allow my pride to stand in the way of my business. Asher isn’t worth it. Every possible scenario runs through my mind. I figure I have three options: continue working with Cyrus, hoping he’ll show me a listing within reason, work with Asher and see if he lives up to the hype Fortune put out about him, or give up on the idea of expanding and scale back on clients. I already know the last option isn’t an option at all. I’ve already lost one dream before. I’m not about to lose another one.
I’m starting to consider my worst-case scenario when Asher cuts into my thoughts. “What if I offered you a deal?”
“What kind of deal?” I narrow my eyes with suspicion.
“You don’t officially have to take me on as your realtor, and you don’t need to fire Cyrus just yet. I’ll send you plenty of options within your budget, and if you don’t find a better offer with me, you can go right ahead with what Cyrus has to offer you.”
I twist my mouth with uncertainty. “You must be pretty confident if you think you can find me a better place than Cyrus.”
“I am confident, and that’s because I know I can do better than him.” This time, he doesn’t grin. He pulls his shoulders back, and slides his hands into his pockets. “What do you say? Do we have a deal?”
The idea of Asher finding me a better place than Cyrus is intriguing. Half of my heart wants to jump on his offer. The other half is still battered and bruised from losing faith in him when he left me ten years ago, then again the other day when he said he didn’t want to lose to Cyrus. Hiring Asher on a trial basis would require me to be around him for more than a matter of five minutes, and I’ve already struggled with the few times I’ve seen him since that night at the bar.
I inhale a deep breath, knowing just how to keep myself in check with Asher while still working toward doing what is right for my business. “Okay.”
His dark eyebrows rise. “Okay?”
“Yes.” I cross my arms. “I’ll work with you on this trial basis.”
“Great.” His grin of satisfaction makes my heart perform jumping jacks.
“On one condition…”
His grin drops. “What condition?”
“My store is important to me, Asher. Don’t make me regret trusting you again.”
Suddenly, the confidence he walked in here with is gone, and I see the boy I met at seventeen standing in front of me. Maybe the old Asher still exists.
I lean forward on the counter and cross my arms on the cool, hard top. I cock my head to the side and stare up into Asher’s golden eyes. His movement is subtle, but nonetheless, I do notice him shifting closer to me, slow and deliberate. Calculated, much like the way he runs business. Asher is a bad habit I need to drop quickly.
“Do we have a deal?” I whisper, refusing to listen to the tiny voice in my head screaming for me not to do this. I’ve never listened to her, despite what the consequences were.
He spreads his arms out and grips the edge of the counter, lowering his head until it’s level with mine. “We have a deal.”
Asher’s lips part as he sucks in a sharp breath .
My heart races in my chest, and for a moment, I wonder what mess I’ve gotten myself into.
He doesn’t give me time to think on it for too long before he pulls away, snapping us out of the vacuum we’ve found ourselves in. He holds out his hand. “Give me your phone.”
“What? No,” I say quickly, knowing why he wants it. I’m already heading down a dangerous path. Giving him my phone to put his number in would be a bad idea. It opens us up to talking to each other more than during business hours.
“This is ridiculous, Charleigh.” He sighs. “You’re my client now. I kind of need to have your phone number.”
“Can’t you just email me the listings?”
His eyes narrow. “No. I check my phone more than I do my emails. This will be more convenient.”
My thighs tingle again with his heated stare, the same way they did in the elevator. I need to figure out how I’m going to work with Asher without finding myself wishing he’d satisfy the need my body clearly wants him to rectify.
“Fine.” I grab a blank paper heart tag from behind my desk and scribble my phone number down before handing it to Asher.
He eyes it for several seconds before slipping it into the front pocket of his suit. “I’ll send you a text with what time we’re meeting tomorrow.”
“Meeting?” I ask, already regretting my decision to let Asher back into my life. I should have taken baby steps, not giant-sized ones. “I thought you were just going to send me the listings.”
“Is that what Cyrus did? Just send you listings?”
“Yeah.” I point to my laptop. “He just had me look over them and go scope them out for myself.”
“See, this is another reason why you should hire me instead of Cyrus. We’re going sightseeing.”
He’s already to the door, making his way out. Three lines crease each of his cheeks when he grins. “See you tomorrow.”
I watch in stunned silence as his driver holds the car door open for him, and Asher slips inside.
Once the car pulls away, I’m questioning the deal I’ve just made with him.
Because when it comes to Asher, I’m always left playing with fire.