CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Ledger
“Napa’s a crapshoot,” Ford mutters. “You think there’s red tape in Cedar Falls? It’s got nothing on Napa.”
“Great. Then maybe we abort that project and just focus on the ones we have for a while,” I say. The three of us are on one of our weekly conference calls to make sure the right hand knows what the left hand is doing.
“Did I just hear Ledger say he’s taking a break from his quest for world domination?” Callahan teases. “Is the air too fresh there? Is it messing with your brain cells? Abort the project?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard those words fall from his mouth before,” Ford says.
“It must be all the sex,” Callahan says. “It’s rotting his brain.”
“Either that or he’s getting none, and it’s all the jacking off that’s causing his lapse in judgment.”
“Are you two done?” I ask, glancing toward my office door, expecting Asher any second. “I have shit to do. Clearly, you’re both in dereliction of your duties while I’m gone if this is the shit you’re worried about.”
“Oh. Are you puffing your chest right now? Trying to show us you’re the boss?” Callahan chides as if we were twelve. “One hundred bucks Asher just walked in.”
“One thousand,” Ford says and, sure enough, when I glance back to the door, Asher’s standing in its opening.
All thoughts leave my head. Instead of her usual jeans and tank top, she’s standing there in a pale-yellow sundress. It hugs her chest and then flows to above her knees, showcasing one shapely pair of legs. White strappy sandals only add to the sexiness of the look.
“Earth to Ledger,” Ford says.
“He’s too busy picturing how he’s going to fuck her on the desk after everyone leaves.” Callahan laughs.
“Fuck off. I’m going now.”
I end the call to their dramatic protests and kissing sounds.
Such assholes.
Assholes, though, with a really good idea.
I glance at the desk, then up to Asher, and smile.
Definitely a good idea, but one that will have to wait.
Who knew when I asked her if she wanted to come see the resort’s work in progress, I’d be preoccupied during the entire tour by the swing of her ass? By her cleavage on display? And by the feedback she is giving?
Who knew that could be sexy? Intelligent suggestions, realistic questions about how things will work, and thought-provoking inquiries I don’t know the answers to just yet.
“So this really is going to be finished in a month? That feels like not enough time with so much left to do.” Asher turns to look at me, and there is something about her question that has my feet faltering.
Finished in a month.
“What?” she asks when I just stand there and stare at her.
“Nothing. I just lost my train of thought,” I say and shake the thought away. “The last month is always chaotic. The big stuff is typically done by then, but it’s the many tiny odds and ends that need to be tied up all at once.”
She runs a hand over the quartz countertop in the spa as she walks through it. “Do you ever miss your end date?”
“Sometimes. Not often. I’m not a fan of opening if it’s not perfect.” I shrug, enjoying seeing her here in something so luxurious. It suits her. “Sometimes we have to, though. The guests would never know . . . but I would.”
“A perfectionist.”
“To a fault.” Just like my father.
A month ago, that would have filled me with a sense of pride. Now? I’m still struggling with how it makes me feel.
But I have the best distraction I can think of. Asher.
We move through the resort. I show her the gift shops with empty racks because the merchandise is en route.
We go through each wing with me spouting more information that I’m not sure she even cares about, but she lets me without looking bored.
She sighs when she sees each of the four pools.
She sinks down onto a couch in front of a soon-to-be working firepit, which has been placed in a dome-shaped room made completely of glass.
“It’ll be incredible when it’s snowing outside and you can sit here by the fire. You’ll be warm but feel like you’re outside.”
“That was the hope,” I murmur, my eyes never leaving her while she looks at everything else.
Finished in a month.
When that month passes, what then, Sharpe? What happens to whatever this is? How do you hold on to something that isn’t yours and who has a life of her own here?
It’s not part of the ten-year plan.
She’s never even been on the plan and yet . . . I don’t know. I just don’t know.
What if I don’t want to move that goalpost just yet?
Confusion swirls in my head. Things I want. Those I thought I wanted. And then her—the unexpected.
I shake my head as I study her. She’s snuggled into the chair, her neck resting on its back, her eyes closed.
Asher.
She makes me feel things.
Want things.
This was supposed to be a fun way to pass the time while I’m stuck here. A relationship rooted in physicality.
Who the fuck was I kidding?
And how can a connection that began over seventeen years ago still feel just as strong?
I run a hand through my hair, about to give in to the need to go over and kiss her to quiet my head, but luckily find my senses because seconds later, there are footsteps nearing.
“Excuse me, Mr. Sharpe?” I turn to find Nate, Hillary’s right-hand, standing at the entrance to what we at S.I.N. have dubbed the Snow Globe room.
“I told you, Nate, it’s Ledger.”
“Okay, Mr. Sharpe,” he says and smiles.
“What can I do for you?”
“I know this is Hillary’s realm, but I wanted to keep you up-to-date on where we stand with the list of items from our morning meeting.” He holds up a clipboard with a list on it.
“I’d appreciate it.”
“The plants have been delivered, and our landscape architect will be here tomorrow to start his process with his crew. All of the fixtures and furniture for the spa will be delivered on Friday. I have a crew ready to start the install on Saturday. I have the local electricians we hired from town almost done with the finish electrical.” He looks up to meet my eyes.
“The only things we have left—well, left on today’s list at least—are getting the fire marshal out here to test and sign off on the fire alarms. Oh, and also scheduling the painter to come back for touch-ups in a few weeks. ”
I run over my mental checklist to see if he’s missing anything. He’s not. “Thank you, Nate. That’s all great.”
His smile is full of pride as it should be. This is his first project with us and even though I clearly scare the shit out of him, he’s doing a great job.
“Cool. Thanks. Are you okay if I work on the rest of this tomorrow, or—”
“Sure. On one condition . . .”
“Promise you’ll be there? At the tree?” Her gray eyes search mine.
“On one condition.”
“What’s that?” She angles her head to the side, her bottom lip between her teeth as she waits for an answer.
I hold my hands out to my sides. “That you’ll love me forever,” I yell, hoping this incredible high she gives me lasts forever.
The memory flashes through my head the minute the words are out of my mouth. A scene I’ve replayed numerous times in my teenage years but didn’t remember the words to until right now. On one condition . . .
I glance over to Asher, but her back is to me.
“Mr. Sharpe?” Nate asks, pulling me back to the here and now. “You were saying? The condition?”
I smile. “All I was going to say is sure, go home, so long as you have a good night.”
“That’s the condition?” Confusion blankets his face.
“Yes. That’s the condition.”
A grin breaks out on his always-too-serious face. “Yes, sir. I will.”
I watch him as he walks down the foyer toward the lobby, other staff and construction members milling about.
This time when I look over at Asher, her eyes meet mine, and there is a wistful smile on her lips.
She remembers it too.
There’s nothing I can say at the moment. Even if I knew the right thing to say, I don’t think it would help.
And just as soon as the moment is there, it’s gone when more voices are heard down the hall. But our eyes hold for a brief second more. Another moment where we acknowledge what once was while trying to figure out what exactly this is.
“You want to see more, or am I boring you to tears and you want to be done?” I ask in an attempt to get us back to whatever we were before those three little words.
Her smile is genuine as she holds out her hand to me. “Show me everything.”
And I do. I spend the next thirty minutes trying to impress her. It’s ridiculous that I want to, and yet it’s true.
I want her to be impressed with this. More importantly, with me.
I’ve never cared what people think. I’m a Sharpe. That’s impressive enough for most people in and of itself.
But she doesn’t care about that.
She never has.
So I’m hoping I can impress her by just being me.
Jesus. I sound like a sap. A whipped fucking sap when in reality we never really defined whatever this is between us so does it even fucking matter?
“That was impressive. You, Ledger Sharpe, are impressive,” Asher says as she quickly glances around the outside of my office before grabbing my shirt and pulling me into her. Her lips meet mine in the most tender of kisses. She tastes like spearmint and smells like sunshine.
This woman.
Christ.
That yellow sundress.
Those sexy lips.
Her body rubbing up against mine.
Her praise.
I glance at the clock, and then reach back and grab the phone off my desk while Asher’s hands are still on my hips.
“Yes, Mr. Sharpe?”
“Hey, Bernie. Are there any protesters at the front gates?” I ask, counting on the fact that he’ll give me the rundown like normal.
“Right now? None, sir. According to my log, you and a . . . Miss Wells, are the only ones left on the premises.”
“Great. Thanks. I wasn’t aware. I guess we’ve been so wrapped up in our discussion that I lost track of time.”
“It must be serious.”
“It is.” I glance at Asher. It’s about to be real serious. “Can you inform me if anyone else arrives?”
“Are you expecting someone in particular?”
“Not at this time, but you never know.”
“Agreed. Not a problem, sir.”
And if Bernie has any inkling that I’m asking to be alone so I can fuck Asher on my desk, he doesn’t let on. But he’s a smart man. I wouldn’t put it past him.
I hang up the phone and when I turn to Asher, she has one eyebrow raised and a mischievous smile on her lips.
“Can you inform me if anyone else arrives?” she asks coyly, running a fingernail down the middle of my chest. “Why is that, Mr. Sharpe? Do you have plans?”
My lips are on hers in a second, my hands sliding up the bare skin of her thighs to grab her ass beneath her dress. “I have a lot of plans.”
“Is that so?” she asks between kisses.
“Fucking you on the desk.” I nip her lip. “You riding me in the chair.” I delve my tongue between her lips. “So many fucking plans.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Sharpe.”