CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Ledger
“Did you ever think you’d go back to college?
” I run a finger up and down the length of Asher’s spine.
She’s lying face down on my bed, her cheek on the pillow, and turned toward me.
The early morning sun coming in through the blinds makes a halo around her hair.
Her eyes are sleepy, her cheeks are flushed, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her more beautiful. At peace.
She shrugs. “For a long time, I did. Of course, I’d love to, but I simply don’t think it’s in the cards for me. I mean, what would I go back for? It’s not like I still sketch, so I don’t have a portfolio to get admitted with and . . . there’s The Fields.”
“Business? Marketing? I don’t know. There are a lot of degrees that would be beneficial in running The Fields.”
“But in the end, does it really matter if I have a degree to run it? I mean, unless I apply for a job in the future that is. If that’s the case, then that means I’ve run The Fields into the ground.”
“I know. But it was always something you wanted so badly. Maybe just simply doing it for yourself is more than enough of a reason to go back.”
“Pipe dreams are for kids without responsibilities, Ledger. That’s not me anymore.”
We stare at each other for a beat before she suddenly shifts in bed so that she’s seated and the sheet is pulled around her chest.
There she goes again. Changing the subject off of her. I can’t help but feel like she’s trying to distance herself from me. I’ve felt like this for the past week or so. She’s suddenly busy when before she made time.
But it’s more than that.
And I can’t quite put my finger on what it is.
“What about you?” she asks, breaking through my thoughts. “What’s on that ten-year plan of yours?”
Shit. I’d forgotten I’d mentioned that to her a while back. I shrug. “It’s just goals, timelines, things I want to accomplish.”
She nods. “Like . . .”
“Like moving into the Asian market, which we’re currently in contract on a new project.
Like getting a write-up in Forbes.” I twist my lips and then chuckle.
“It’s stupid really, but it’s a goal . .
.” my dad mentioned it, and I have always felt like I needed to live up to it.
“It’s just one I’ve had since I was in grad school.
To be noticed for my work and not just for being Maxton Sharpe’s son. ”
“I can understand that. What else is on there?” she asks, her fingers plucking at the sheet, her lips twisting.
Why won’t you look at me?
“I don’t know. I haven’t looked at it in a long time to remember,” I lie and don’t know why.
Because you don’t want to talk about the personal side of it. The married at forty part.
And why is that, Ledger?
“Huh.”
“Asher?”
“What?” Her fingers don’t stop with the sheets.
“Look at me.”
“Hmm?” Her eyebrows are lifted and her smile is in place when she faces me. She leans down and presses her lips to mine. “I’ve got to get going. Work’s calling.”
“Don’t go.” I reach out and grab her hand. “Let’s play hooky today. We can drive . . . I don’t know where, but we can drive somewhere and eat ice cream cones while sitting on the hood of the car and just be together.”
Who am I right now? When have I ever cut out from work to play hooky? When have I ever wanted to do something without a set purpose?
Her eyes darken. “I’m sorry.” Another press of her lips to mine. “I can’t.”
“Tell me why not?” I ask, my hand on her neck, pulling her back toward me.
“Because . . . I can’t.” She looks at me, and I’d give anything to know what she’s thinking. There’s something she’s just not telling me.
“Asher?”
And this time when she meets my lips, she doesn’t stop. She silences my question as she straddles my hips and then slowly kisses her way down my body until her lips wrap around my cock and suck me into forgetting.
Each lick of her tongue, every suck of her lips, each scratch of her fingernails against my balls, all drug me with desire and push the worry to the back of my mind.
But forgetting only lasts for so long.
I’m not about to complain about the incredible blow job she just gave me, but as she walks along the path to her car in nothing but my T-shirt down to her mid-thighs, my mind won’t stop.
Not because I have to go to work.
Not because I have meetings.
Not because I have to meet with Hillary or any other person on the face of the earth, but rather, because I can’t.
Asher was always generous with affection. With kissing. With touching.
It’s everything else she guards like a fortress.
And right now, she’s building walls faster than I can knock them down.
She starts her car and gives me a little wave before driving off. I watch till I can’t see her anymore and then jump when I see Tootie standing at the edge of my driveway. Her arms are across her chest and a lone eyebrow is raised in dismay.
“Jesus, kid. You scared the hell out of me.”
“I thought you weren’t the type to have a woman who comes over and then sneaks out about the time that school starts.”
“I never said that.” I run a hand through my hair, not really ready for Tootie. I haven’t had my coffee yet.
“Momma calls that the walk of shame.”
“It’s not a walk of shame when you plan on seeing the woman again.”
She makes a mock puking sound in her hand. “Oh, please.”
“Please what?”
“People only say that when they’re in love. Gag. Gross. I’m gonna puke.” She coughs. “Are you in love with Asher?”
I stare at her for a beat, my heart pounding, my eyes darting, and then begin laughing. “You should be in the theater. You’re a great actress.”
She straightens up and smiles. “I know. I’m a real Bette Davis. At least according to my grandma, but I have no idea who that is so I just smile and pretend I do.”
Whew. Subject changed. Topic over.
Why does that bug you so much, Sharpe?
She shrugs. “So, you plan on seeing her again then? The lavender lady?”
“Yes. Not that I have to give you an answer to that question.”
“Did you not get enough sleep?” she asks, cocking her head to the side. “You seem a little grumpy.”
I scrub a hand over my stubble. “I’m fine. Just need coffee.” And more Asher.
“Momma’s a dragon before her coffee too.”
“Most adults are,” I say to make conversation and lift a hand to wave to her mother who’s watching the two of us from their kitchen window.
“But not Asher, right? Because she didn’t look grumpy.” She holds something out to me. “Here.”
“What’s this?” I ask taking the thumb drive from her.
“This is a thumb drive,” Tootie says very slowly and loudly as if I’m senile and can’t hear her.
Little brat. I give her a sarcastic glare. “What’s on the thumb drive, silly? Remember, no coffee yet. I’m still in the dragon stage.”
She giggles. “It’s the links to all of the library items. I didn’t know your email, so I couldn’t shoot it over to you that way.”
Shoot it over to me?
I smile and nod. “Thank you. You’re awesome. You did a great job.”
“How do you know that when you haven’t opened it yet? It could be nothing, and I could be incompetent.”
“I highly doubt that, kiddo.”
“So, there. You have it. And I’m thinking naming it after me could be my payment for all my hard work.”
This time I laugh. “Do you now?”
“Yep.” She puts her hands on her hips and offers me a huge grin as a selling point.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good.” She takes a few steps away and then turns back to face me. “Do you know who Jason is?”
“Jason?” I shrug. “No clue. That’s a pretty common name. Why?”
“No reason.”
“What are you not telling me, Tootie?”
“He was bragging at the café the other day about finally getting you back or something like that. I thought it was weird.” She looks back to her house. “I gotta go before Momma gets mad. She’s burning toast for breakfast again. Pray for me. Later, Sharpe.”
“Later, Tootie.”
Jason?
Who the hell is that?