Chapter 9
nine
ASHER
“You okay, man?” West asks me the next day. I’m camped out in Hudson’s office, trying to deal with a crisis because the minute I try to take a damn day off work everything goes to shit.
“Uhuh.” I nod, deleting the swear words out of the email I’m writing to my lawyer.
“It doesn’t look like it,” West murmurs. “And by the way, you look like shit.”
I finally look up from my laptop and meet his gaze. I haven’t seen him all day. Haven’t seen anybody, even though I specifically promised to spend more time with my family once this damn lawsuit was settled.
“Nathan’s pulling out of the agreement,” I say tightly. “Wants a cut of any future licensing deals.”
“I thought you had that locked down,” West says, dropping into the leather chair in the corner.
“We did. Until someone told him a major tech conglomerate’s been asking about the software.”
West frowns. “You have a mole?”
“Looks like it.” My jaw tightens. “I’m working on finding out who.”
He smirks. “Poor bastard.”
I shrug, but the fury’s simmering. Nathan might’ve coasted through the business, but people liked him. Trusted him. And now one of them is feeding him intel.
The idea of a traitor on the inside makes my blood boil.
If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a liar.
Before I can tell him I’m too busy to talk anymore, Parker walks in with three glasses of whiskey. He passes one to West, then holds one out to me.
“Hudson check in yet?” he asks. Hudson left for the mainland with Ayda this morning.
“Nope.” I shake my head.
“So I guess he hasn’t mentioned the security upgrade?”
I let out a breath. “The system’s a year old. It’s solid.”
“Tell that to Hudson,” Parker says, lifting a brow.
“I will when I get a minute.” My voice is sharper than I intend, and Parker exchanges a look with West.
“He’s pissed because the asshole he tried to pay off wants more,” West explains.
“He didn’t sign?” Parker asks, frowning.
“Nope.” I take a sip of the whiskey. “He’s heard someone big is sniffing around the software and suddenly wants back in.”
Parker takes the seat across from me, eyes narrowing. “And you’re going to tell him to fuck off, right?”
“That’s the plan.”
From somewhere down the hall, music starts playing with a low beat and a steady pulse. It matches the one in my skull, the headache I’ve had since this morning.
Or since last night, really. Since Francie showed up in that goddamn dress.
I don’t have a thing for Disney Princesses, but fuck, my body didn’t seem to get the memo.
West offered to drive her home, thank goodness. I didn’t trust myself to be alone with her. And yeah, maybe that makes me a coward, but I’m trying to keep this all together.
Then she asked me about my work and… something shifted. I still wanted her, but I also wanted her to get me. Understand me.
And that way lies madness.
But the thing that’s been looping in my head since she left is what she said…
I like sex. Very much. It would also be nice if every man I know wasn’t desperately trying to stop me from having any.
Twenty hours later, I’m still stuck on it. The flush in her cheeks. The way her lashes dipped. Those lips I can’t decide whether I want on my mouth or my cock.
I tried to shake it off. Touched myself to the memory of her. Twice. The way she looked at me, full of heat and defiance. The sway of her hips as she walked away.
All it did was make me want more.
I wanted to pin her to the wall, slide my hand between her thighs, and show her exactly how much I like sex too.
I could make her come in seconds. I know that.
But it would ruin me. I know that, too.
West walks over to Hudson’s perfectly ordered bookshelf, pulling out a copy of The Art of War by Sun Tzu. He holds it up to show Parker, who smirks.
“Is Hudson planning to start his own army now?” West asks, shaking his head as he puts the book back. Haphazardly, which I know will piss Hudson off. He likes everything in his life perfectly ordered.
“Probably,” Parker says. He looks at me. “Seriously, just talk to him about this security stuff. And your problems, too.”
“I’m not burdening him with my problems,” I tell them. “And as you said, it’s easily dealt with.”
“What’s easily dealt with?” Autumn asks, walking in. She’s wearing a silver dress that’s pretty much molded to her body, the tiny sequins sparkling as she walks. Parker lifts a brow and lets out a low whistle at the same time.
“I thought you were going out for drinks with the girls?” I say, because she and Francie are heading out tonight – celebrating Francie’s last night here on Liberty before she heads home tomorrow. But this outfit doesn’t scream drinks with the girls, it screams party like it’s 1999.
“I like to look pretty.” Her eyes lock with Parker’s and she smiles. West shakes his head. “What are you guys talking about anyway?”
“Nothing important,” I say. And it’s the truth, yes I’m pissed that I have to deal with business problems, but I try not to bring that to the family.
“That’s good. Because I need to talk to Asher alone.” Autumn looks pointedly at West, because Parker will pretty much do anything she asks of him when she’s wearing a dress like that and she knows it.
“Uh oh,” West murmurs, giving me a grin. “Somebody’s in trouble.”
I shake my head as he and Parker walk out, and Autumn shuts the door and turns to look at me.
“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it,” I tell her.
She has that same expression on her face that she used to get as a child.
Determination mixed with annoyance. I remember trying to teach her how to tell the time when she was five and I was a teenager.
Every time she got it wrong she’d wrinkle her nose and pout.
“Why are you being such an ass to Francie?” she asks.
“What makes you say that?”
“The fact that you can’t look at her without frowning. I saw you yesterday, glaring at her at the party.” Autumn sighs, plopping down in the seat West just vacated. “She’s my best friend, Ash. And yeah, she used to have a crush on you. Emphasis on used to.”
I blink. “No she didn’t.”
“Don’t worry, I think you’ve pretty much assholed any crush out of her. But she’s having a hard time and I hate that you’re making it worse.”
“What kind of hard time?” I bark out, because this is news. She didn’t mention anything last night. There’s a weird twist in my chest that I try to ignore.
I hate that I didn’t know. That she didn’t tell me. That I can’t be the one she turns to when things get hard.
“Just stuff.” She shrugs. “But anyway…”
“Stuff? What’s that supposed to mean?” I glare at her. “Seriously, Autumn, you can’t tell me she’s having a hard time and not tell me what it’s about. How am I supposed to help?”
My sister rolls her eyes like I’m an idiot. “Why are men so stupid?” she asks. “I’m not asking you to solve anything. Women aren’t puzzles to be easily put together you know? We can work our own problems out, thank you very much. I’m asking you not to make things worse.”
I open my mouth then shut it again, because I have no idea what she’s talking about. “Does she have a stalker?” I ask, my voice low. Because if that asshole is harassing her…
“What?” Autumn’s mouth drops open. “Why would you say that? Of course she doesn’t. Not everything is a security issue, Ash. Even if you wish it would be.”
“Why would I wish that?” I frown.
“Because you like solving problems. And if you can’t solve them, you feel like you’ve somehow failed. Which is completely stupid if you ask me. Anyway, I’m not here to talk about your deficiencies.”
“My deficiencies?” I repeat, my eyes wide.
“Shut up. Stop making everything about you.” She tips her head back, like she’s losing her patience. “Just promise me you’ll stop being an ass to my best friend. If I didn’t have her…”
I rein my annoyance in. I know how important Francie is to my sister.
“What kind of problems is she having?” I ask, my voice gentler this time.
“Just work stuff.” She shakes her head. “I told you, it doesn’t matter.”
“What work stuff?” I ask.
Autumn shifts in her seat. “Nothing.” For some reason she won’t meet my eye.
“Autumn?” I frown. She’s hiding something. And I hate when people hide things.
“It doesn’t matter. Just be nice.” She stands up, shaking her hair out. “Now let’s go grab another drink and listen to some good music. This house is way too quiet for my liking.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Autumn wails four hours later, as I lift her into my arms and carry her to my car parked beside The Salty Dog – Liberty’s best (and only) beach bar.
Her breath is sweet from cocktails, and the hair she probably spent hours styling is a tumbling mess that frames her smeared makeup.
“Let’s just get you home,” I murmur, shifting her weight in my arms so I can open the backdoor of my car. Francie reaches for the handle, and our fingers brush.
One soft touch and a jolt shoots through me. I ignore it, concentrating on getting Autumn into my backseat. She flops over twice before I can get the belt around her.
“What the hell was in those cocktails?” I ask, mostly to myself.
“It was the speed of drinking them rather than the ingredients,” Francie says wryly. I turn to look at her. Unlike Autumn, she’s still put together, gold top slashed across her neck, one tan shoulder bare.
She brushes past me. Accidental or not, it works. My body reacts before my brain can stop it. I grit my teeth. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. But the moment Francie called, I stepped in like an idiot.
I stride around her, opening the passenger door.
“I was going to sit in the back seat with Autumn,” Francie says, giving me a glare.
“I’m not a taxi driver.” I flourish my hand at the passenger seat and she gives a huff before she slides inside and I close the door behind her.
I start up the engine. “Did you have a nice evening?” I ask Francie, wanting to cut the silence between us.
“So we’re making small talk now?” she asks me.