Chapter 6
six
ASHER
I’m already regretting this.
Not coming to Liberty. Autumn would’ve found a way to drag me here regardless. No, what I regret is walking into the Captain’s House thinking I could survive the weekend without throwing something. Preferably my ex-business partner through a window.
The bastard has the nerve to demand more money before he’s willing to sign his half of the company over, after he was the one who got caught trying to steal from it, and trying to screw me over.
My lawyer is working on it, but the entire thing feels like I’m trying to wrestle a rattlesnake into a gift box.
I rub a hand over my face and step inside the house. It smells like old wood, lemon oil, and some kind of citrus cleaner Hudson’s housekeeper has probably bulk-bought. The floors shine. Everything’s pristine, a far cry from how it looked when our father lost it in a poker game.
Hudson bought it back years ago. Restored every inch. And now it feels like home again, even if that home comes with chaos.
“You’re wearing a damn costume and that’s final!” Autumn’s voice echoes down the hallway.
I walk into the living room to find her brandishing a red velvet robe like it’s a saber, a furious expression on her face.
Hudson stands across from her, arms folded like a he’s a human wall.
Parker’s watching from the sofa with a grin, clearly enjoying the show.
And West – because Hudson’s west coast lawyer best friend always shows up for good drama – is sipping whiskey like it’s popcorn as he watches my siblings go head to head.
“It’s not happening,” Hudson says, his voice low.
“It is.” Autumn turns and sees me. “Perfect timing. You’re wearing one too.”
I lift a brow at her welcome. It’s completely in character for our family. “Absolutely not.”
“Yes you are. For Ayda.”
“Still no.”
Autumn growls and throws a gold-trimmed crown at me. I catch it easily, turning it over in my hands like it might explode. “You’re not getting out of this,” she says.
“I’m thirty-six, not six,” I point out, keeping my voice even. “The dress-up phase is behind me.”
West looks over at Autumn, giving her a wink. “Let the cranky old men wear only the crowns. Parker and I will go full royal. Right?”
Parker shrugs, because he knows which side his bread is buttered. “I’ll even curtsy if that helps,” he promises her.
Autumn presses her lips together but accepts her partial victory. “Fine. But I get to pick the crowns.”
Hudson and I exchange a glance. His says kill me now. Mine probably says only if you go first. Oh, and I really need some damn sleep.
I’m about to slip out of this drama and take my suitcase upstairs before she starts measuring us for sceptres when the air shifts.
Or maybe it’s just me that changes.
Because that’s when I see her.
Francie Salinger is standing in the doorway looking like sin in sneakers and a ponytail. Her cheeks are flushed, and she’s holding a half-empty iced coffee like it’s a weapon.
Our eyes meet, and for a second, the room goes quiet. Or maybe it just feels that way.
She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t look away.
And damn it, neither do I.
She’s the last person I need to see right now.
And she’s definitely a complication I don’t have the bandwidth for. Especially not this week. Especially not when every time I close my eyes, I see her mouth on the security feed, whispering my name.
I shift my weight and run a hand along the back of my neck.
Get it together. It’s just Francie.
She’s here for the weekend. You’re here for your niece. Nothing else.
Hudson’s phone buzzes on the table, vibrating against the wood with a low, insistent hum. He snatches it up like a drowning man grabbing a life preserver. “Sorry,” he says to Autumn, who’s holding a crown out to him. “I have to take this.”
She narrows her eyes. “Oh no, you don’t get out of this that easily.” Still gripping the crown, she charges after him. The door swings shut behind them with a thud.
West raises his empty glass, inspecting it like he’s just discovered the tragedy. “I need a refill before she comes back with tiaras.”
Parker chuckles. “I’m coming with you.”
Their footsteps fade down the hall, silence settling in their wake.
I glance toward the door, then back at Francie, who’s turned her back to me, suddenly fascinated by Hudson’s bookshelf like it holds the secrets of the universe.
I clear my throat, but she doesn’t move.
“You know Hudson hasn’t read a single one of those books, right?” I say, just to cut the silence.
She glances over her shoulder, arching a brow. “Let me guess. He bought them in bulk to make himself look intellectual.”
I shrug. “Something like that. Pretty sure he thinks Moby Dick is a seafood restaurant.”
She smiles, and damn if it doesn’t knock the air out of my chest for a second. That smile lights up the room like the first morning rays of sun. It makes my chest tighten.
She turns back to the shelves, running her fingers over the spines like she’s trying to buy time. Or steady herself. I get it. Because every cell in my body is aware of her. Her scent. Her shape. The way she’s studiously avoiding me while also not leaving the room.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be here,” she says finally, her voice softer than before.
“I didn’t plan to be.” I pause. “Work blew up.” She doesn’t need to know about the shitshow that’s been my negotiations with Nathan.
She nods, still not facing me. “That seems to happen to you a lot.”
I don’t argue. She’s not wrong.
A beat passes. I’m not sure if she’s going to say anything else. Or if I should. But then she slowly turns around, arms folded across her chest, like she’s bracing herself.
Her eyes meet mine. They’re calm. Maybe too calm.
Because then she drops it. The killer line.
“So,” she says, one brow lifting, “been to any good sex clubs recently?”
For a second, all I can do is blink at her.
She just stands there, cool as hell, like she didn’t light a fuse and toss it in my lap.
And I hate how much I want to laugh.
How fixated I am on her lips, her smile, the way her hair curls down her back. How often I’ve watched her on that security feed, taking in every inch of those curves in that tight dress.
I push off the wall and head for the door without looking back, before I do something I know we’ll both regret.
Let her think I’m pissed. Let her think I’m cold.
It’s safer for both of us that way.