Chapter 2 #2
As he lifts his hand to call for the waitress, I break and let out a laugh. "Stop. I'm just messing with you, which you deserve. You're a heavy-handed orderer. First at Starbucks, then here. I, like most people, like to make my own decisions."
He's smart enough to look properly chastened. "Understood. I'm sorry."
I nod. At least he listens and doesn't lash out when he's corrected. That would've been a massive red flag.
"So," I say, deciding to move past it. "Cyber security. What does that actually mean day-to-day?"
He leans back, clearly relieved by the subject change. “I feel like I’ve spent half my career explaining to executives why their passwords are so weak that a kindergartener with basic skills could crack them.”
I laugh. "That can't be real."
"Maybe not half my life, but close." He grins.
"Part of my job is building profiles. You'd be amazed what you can learn about someone from public records.
Last month, there was a high-level hack of a CFO's computer.
Turns out, he had his dog's name as his password.
The dog's name was on his LinkedIn profile. He may as well have given the hackers a roadmap.”
"That's horrifying."
"That's job security." He takes a sip of water. "What about you? How'd you and Jamie end up with a bath and body store?"
"We started making stuff in our kitchen," I say.
"Soaps, lotions, scrubs. Just for fun at first. Then neighbors wanted some.
Followed by friends and then friends of friends.
We were making enough money that it was obvious we were on to something.
Eventually it felt stupid not to try making it a real thing. "
"That's impressive."
I shrug. "It's small. We're not exactly an empire."
"Yet," he says, but there's something in his voice that makes it sound like it could be. That's nice, but maybe a bit presumptuous. But maybe it’s just how wealthy people view the world. Everything is like the game of Monopoly.
Small talk with Asher isn't small at all. He asks a ton of questions and the wait for the food passes in a blink. When it comes, we dig in. I can tell by the smell it’s going to be amazing, and I’m proven right.
The pad thai is perfect. The curry is exactly the right amount of spicy.
The Thai iced tea is sweet and cold and exactly what I didn't know I wanted.
"Okay," I admit. "You were right."
His smile is smug. "I usually am."
"Wow. What a very humble thing to say," I tease.
"I'm working on it."
I laugh despite myself, and we fall into easier conversation. His favorite books. My favorite movies. The weirdest thing either of us has ever eaten. It's light. Fun. The kind of first-date talk that doesn't require vulnerability.
But I notice how he leans forward when I talk, like every word matters, and how he touches my hand across the table, casual and constant. Like he's trying to form a connection. And I think I like it.
The night air is cool as he helps me from his car in the parking lot of my building. We stand and stare at each other for a moment. "Julie," he says.
That's all. Just my name. Then he kisses me.
And for a moment, I let myself feel it. The warmth of his mouth. The gentle pressure of his hands on my waist. The way he kisses like he's been thinking about it all night. Then reality crashes back in. I pull back, breathless.
"Wait," I say.
His hands drop immediately. "You okay?"
"Yeah. I just—" I take a half step back, needing the space to think. "This is moving really fast."
"Is it?" He asks.
"Um, yes. That's just a fact. We met this morning."
"We did."
I laugh, but it sounds nervous even to my own ears. "And you're already introducing me to your best friend and kissing me in parking lots."
His mouth curves. "When you say it like that, it sounds bad."
"Does it not sound crazy to you?"
He studies me for a moment, then leans back against his car. "It sounds fast. But not crazy."
"Asher—"
"Let me come upstairs," he says quietly.
Everything in me goes still. Oh, warning sign. I see you.
"Absolutely not." The words come out firmer than I expected.
He blinks. "No?"
"No. I had a great time. But I don't know you. And you don't know me. And this—" I gesture between us. "This feels like the part where I ignore every red flag because a hot guy with a Porsche and perfect timing says all the right things."
Something flickers across his face. Surprise mixed with disappointment and something else. "That’s…wise," he says after a moment.
“I can tell you're not the kind of guy who hears 'no' very often."
His smile is wry. "I'm not. But that doesn't mean I don't respect it."
It would be so easy to believe him. But my mother didn't raise a fool. She raised my sister and I to understand that charming men can be expensive in ways that have nothing to do with money. So I'm going to be cautious.
"I had a good time tonight," I say. "A really good time. But we’re not there yet."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay. Yes. I'll slow down."
I almost laugh. "You don't do slow."
"I can learn," he assures me.
I wonder if this is just a thing he’s saying. Because objectively, it makes zero sense. "But… why?"
"For you."
"Okay."
Honestly, I don't believe him. I think a man like Asher Stevens is used to getting what he wants without having to work for it.
"I'll call you tomorrow," he says.
I guess we'll see.