CHAPTER TWELVE
Kaia
It was the first Sunday morning I hadn’t worked at Grill&Go.
I needed to get out of bed. I couldn’t spend the whole day wrapped in a blanket, scribbling in my diary. Besides, once Dad and Sharon came back from the mall, he’d call me lazy and yell at me for not studying.
Sighing, I pushed up. Maybe a cup of something hot would help.
As soon as I stepped into the hallway, my heart picked up speed. Spanish lyrics drifted from Asher’s room. He must’ve returned from his run while I was writing about the showcase—and him.
We were alone. I stalled, twisting my hands. Would it be awkward to stop and say hi? I couldn’t punish him forever for not slow dancing with me last night. Still, him holding my hand, calling himself my friend, then leaving me for the rest of the party had felt… off.
Not that I was alone. He wanted me to have fun with my friends. I’d only wanted to spend time with him.
With each step toward his room, my resolve hardened. We were stuck living together. Avoiding him would only make my feelings obvious.
The music grew louder as I reached his door. Before I could overthink, I crossed the threshold.
One step, and my pulse skyrocketed.
Asher stood by the window, drying his hair with a small white towel. Naked.
Six feet of golden skin.
Droplets slid down his back, tracing the lines of muscle, leaving shimmering trails.
My eyes followed lower. Perfectly shaped ass.
My mouth went dry. I knew I should look away, but I couldn’t. His hair was still damp, and he hummed along with the song, unaware.
The music cut off. Asher sighed and tossed the towel onto his bed.
My heel squeaked against the floorboard.
He spun. Dark eyes widened, mouth parting. “Peque.”
Shit.
Heat flared up my neck. I shouldn’t keep looking—but my gaze dipped over his chest, his abs.
Oh God. I jerked my eyes away, too late.
I’d seen all of him. Nothing could erase it.
My face burned so hot there was no way he’d miss it.
Damn him for being so beautiful.
“I saw nothing,” I blurted, stumbling back. “Not a thing.”
He snatched up the damp towel, covering himself as he stepped closer. “Kaia.”
I edged backward, gaze glued to his face.
Then his lips. Chin. Neck. Back to his lips.
They moved, forming words I didn’t hear, and I stumbled back down the hallway. One step. Another. Faster.
“Peque!”
Asher reached for me just as the ground slipped away. My arms flailed, pain searing my ankle.
“Fucking hell, Kaia!” He caught my arm, yanking me against him before I could tumble down the stairs. I blew out a shaky breath as his hand clamped my waist. “?Estás bien?”
He panted, running callused fingertips over my face like he was checking for injuries.
I giggled.
Nerves. His body. His closeness. The careful, tender way he held me to his chest.
“Not funny.” His brow furrowed. “Did you hurt yourself? I told you to stop. Why the hell didn’t you listen?”
Would he listen if I had no clothes on? Probably. I didn’t have that effect on him.
“I’m okay, I think. But my ankle hurts.”
Sighing, he smoothed a hand down my hair. “No te muevas, ?vale?” Don’t move, okay?
Fine. Like I planned to move.
Asher darted back to his room. A minute later, he returned in black boxer briefs. “Arms around my neck.”
He scooped me up and carried me into his bedroom. As he set me on the bed, I let out another nervous giggle at the wet towel lying there.
Asher grabbed it, tossed it onto a chair, then opened his desk drawer and pulled out a tube.
“Arnica cream,” he said, kneeling in front of me. “Let me see your ankle.”
I lifted my leg slightly. “You must be used to knocking girls off their feet.”
He frowned as he uncapped the ointment. “Sometimes I really don’t know what to do with you.”
I tried flexing my foot but hissed at the sharp pang.
“Don’t.” He pressed a palm to my sole while his other hand traced slow circles over my ankle, spreading the cream.
A moan escaped me before I could stop it. It hurt, but his touch felt too good.
“Like this? Still hurt?”
I shook my head.
He kept massaging, eyes flicking to mine every time I gasped. Eventually he’d stop—I didn’t want him to. Moments like this never lasted. Not between two people this complicated.
“I didn’t mean to see you like that,” I whispered, breath unsteady as his fingers drifted higher. It didn’t hurt there, but I’d lie if it meant he’d keep going.
A smile tugged at his lips. “Hope what you saw didn’t disappoint.”
No way it could have—and he knew it.
His fingertips stilled just above my ankle. “Your skin’s so smooth.”
The words were a whisper, but they sent a tremor through me. His palm slid higher, warm against my bare knee.
Then his lips brushed the skin there—a soft graze that stole my breath.
“Ash…”
His eyes locked on mine.
The front door creaked open. Our parents’ voices drifted upstairs, shattering the moment into fragments.
With a groan, Asher rose. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your room.”
***
By dinner, the pain in my ankle had faded to a dull throb. Maybe the ointment helped, but so had Asher’s gentle touch.
He looked at me over the rim of his glass like we shared a secret. I couldn’t handle the weight of his gaze—or the memory of his naked body and that small, burning kiss—so I pretended to be fascinated by the takeout pasta on my plate.
“Kaia,” Dad said after we finished the main course. “How’s studying for the PSAT?”
Of course. Not a word about the showcase. Ignoring what didn’t matter to him was his signature move.
“Fine.” I shrugged. “There’s still time.”
“Not as much as you think.”
What did he want me to do—excuse myself and start cramming right then?
I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “There’s plenty. It’s in April. I study almost every day.”
He hummed. “Then I can count on you to stay home and study next weekend. Sharon and I will be away.”
“We’re going to a concert in Ellingworth,” Sharon chimed in. “Spending the weekend there. We’ll be back Sunday night. Hope that’s okay with you two.”
Next weekend.
I bit my tongue hard enough to taste blood.
He’d been married to Mom for fifteen years, yet acted like she’d never mattered. And if she hadn’t, then neither did I. I was just a reminder of the past he’d erased. We’d both lost her in December five years ago, but I was the only one still keeping her memory alive.
My chair screeched against the hardwood as I shoved it back and stood. Dad glared, and for once, I wished he’d ask why. But he never did. Never would.
I fled upstairs, eyes stinging, and dropped onto my bed with my head in my hands.
Five years. Therapy sessions that hadn’t done shit. I should’ve been over losing her, but Dad’s indifference only made me miss her more.
“Kaia.”
Ash leaned against the doorframe. “What’s wrong? You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
I trusted him, but I couldn’t talk while holding back tears.
He stepped inside. “Listen. About next weekend—don’t worry about your father. Go out, go to a party, whatever. I just need one thing from you.”
“The name of the club so you can show up and drag me home?”
He snorted. “Didn’t plan to make a habit of it, peque, but if you insist…”
I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. “Then what do you need, Ash?”
He held out his phone. “Your number. I’ll give you mine. I want you to have someone you can call.”
I took it. “Fine.”
When I passed it back, his fingers closed over mine.
A touch that long couldn’t be accidental.