Chapter 6
SIX
Penny
“What if this is a mistake?” I pace across my bedroom, double-guessing my dress choice for the third time.
Shae watches from the couch, her attention split between me and her phone, her red hair pulled into a messy bun. She’s still wearing the matching athleisure set from her Pilates class earlier.
I can’t believe she’s on call this weekend, it will never cease to amaze me how she’s tethered to the office, but they’re soft launching a new product next week. I’ve never seen her this stressed, but oddly calm.
“You’re a little too far down the rabbit hole.”
I shoot her a glare, and she smiles back at me.
“Figure of speech, Pen. What I mean is you’ve already been talking to Asher for what, four days?” Her fingers tap against the screen, and she places the phone on her lap. “Your mom is probably already shopping for venues.”
“Don’t remind me.” I grab a navy blue dress from the closet, it’d probably look better than the emerald green dress with the black leggings I’m wearing right now.
Shae shakes her head, “Stick with the green. It makes your eyes glow.”
The blue dress is back in my closet, and I rummage through my jewelry box, grabbing the small gold crescent moon necklace.
“You have to admit, the whole thing is ridiculous.” I chuckle to myself.
“I don’t think so.”
I lean against the door frame, “What do you mean?”
“From what you told me, Asher practically fell over himself to help you out. You didn’t twist his arm into doing this.”
She’s right, though the whole thing is a blur. One moment Asher is over at the bar sorting through our tea reserve, which he did an amazing job of , and the next he’s talking to my mom like he’s one of the family. Claiming me as his.
I’m surprised at how quickly a familiar warmth spreads across my chest at the thought. He claimed me. I never imagined I actually had a chance with Asher. It was a crush; the fantasy was safe from a distance. He hadn’t rejected me. At least not yet. The world was filled with possibilities.
Now, everything can fall apart around me. After the Christmas Party he might want nothing to do with me.
“Don’t.” Shae crosses the room and stares down at me with bright brown eyes. “Get out of your head. Asher wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t want to. He’s a grown man.”
Why does she have to be so tall?
“A grown man with questionable judgement.” I mutter under my breath.
“Penny, you’re going to have to take the first step one of these days.” She tucks my hair behind my ear, playing with the ends like she usually does. “You should see where this leads. Do it for the plot.”
Shae knows exactly what she’s talking about. She’s got the same spark Hazel does, which is probably why we’ve all been so close.
Most of Shae’s life has been spent running towards the problem instead of away from it. Similar to the New Year’s singles mixer a couple of years back when she met her now boyfriend, Harry.
I remember the night for the sheer shock value of her taking a shot of tequila and then walking up to the nearest stranger and introducing herself and then asking him for a kiss at midnight. There’s no way to sway her when she has her mind set on something.
Why does she have to be so tall and smart?
My experience with the other rabbit shifters has turned me kind of gun-shy. Asher was safe for me to crush on and imagine a future with. Now, the opportunity to at least pretend we have a future has fallen right smack on my doorstep, and I’m getting in my way.
The best-case scenario is I make a new friend and finally have a wacky story to tell at parties. Gods know I’m way past due for some adventure. I would have to be foolish to pass up the opportunity to have a smoking-hot dragon demon on my arm for the Christmas Eve party.
A moment my mother will immortalize in our family albums and might finally get me a small space on her mantel, finally retiring my high school prom photo.
“You’re right. The plot.” I nod, “We don’t even know if this is a date. He called it some tabletop thing.”
The doorbell buzzes, causing us both to jump.
I grab Shae’s arm. “He’s here.”
“I’ll let him in.” She looks down, “You get your shoes on. Wear the Converse; we don’t want you to roll your ankle in heels.”
“It only happened once. Or twice. Three times max.”
She disappears into the other room, and the sound of distant conversation filters in as I’m putting on my shoes and smoothing my dress.
Asher looks up at me immediately, his gaze doing a slow drag over my body which makes me wonder if he’s taken some issue with me wearing sensible shoes, but then his eyes find mine again and I swear I can see an extra glint.
“Where are you two going?” Shae asks, folding her arms across her chest, looking very much like my protector.
“I was thinking we’d get some coffee and walk through Harrington Park, unless.” He looks between us, his attention settling back on me.
“Sounds great to me.” I cross the room, tipping my head back to take Asher in.
He’s as gorgeous as ever with his long-sleeved shirt and dark jeans.
Seriously, does this man ever get cold? I’m half tempted to ask him if this is some sort of dragon ability to keep him warm.
From here I can see Shae’s intimidation is working, I wish I could muster a fraction of the power she holds, maybe things would be different for me.
“Are you ready?” He asks, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Yeah.” I smile, getting a bright one in return.
Shae grabs my arm as Asher turns and makes his way back to the door.
“Purse.” She says loud enough for him to hear, then leans close, putting my bag into my hand. “It’s totally a date. You should see the way he was staring at you.”
“What?” I squeak out, before she shoves me towards the door, muttering her approval like a proud parent.
It’s like a dream to be walking through Harrington Park beside Asher with a cup of coffee from Moon Sugar Bakery, warming my hands against the slight chill in the air. Asher is so close, his body heat is my own personal furnace.
It must be a perk of his being a dragon. I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed it before. The man hasn’t worn a coat or much more than a thin long-sleeved shirt in the entire time I’ve known him.
He slows to match my speed, which must be a struggle with his long legs.
“What did you think of the cookie?” He asks, taking another drink from his coffee.
We haven’t gotten past the awkward part of our ‘session zero’.
So far we’ve covered all of our favorite things.
Asher is partial to the color green, while I like blue.
He’s not big on watching sports, but he played hockey in high school.
I told him I played softball for a while but hated how the pants fit my hips.
We dance around the subject of the Christmas Eve party and this fake relationship without looking straight at it.
“It was good. I can see why they’re so popular.” I hold up my drink, “The coffee is good too.”
Asher hums to himself, smiling, “A medium French Vanilla latte with oat milk and extra whipped cream.”
“What are you insinuating, plain with two sugars?” I toss back.
He slams his palm into his chest, feigning a direct hit. “Nothing.” He lifts his cup, “I guess it feels like something I should commit to memory. Since I’m your boyfriend and all.”
Oh.
I’m suddenly grateful for the weather and the ability to hide the blush on my cheeks. There it is. Hearing Asher refer to himself as my boyfriend is different from reading it in a text. This is really happening.
“You’re right.” I stumble over my words, lifting the cup to my lips and finishing the dregs of my latte while trying not to let my feet follow suit. “That is something you would know as my boyfriend.”
Asher shakes his cup, signaling its empty, then holds out his hand, taking mine. “Are you finished?”
I nod and hand him mine.
It’s a marvel to see him jog up the dirt path, tossing our drinks into the trash before returning to me and holding out an open palm.
“Here.” He mutters, barely audible, squeezing his hand. “I figured we’d practice.”
“Are you asking to hold my hand?” I tease, trying to keep my heart from beating clean out of my chest.
“Unless you don’t feel comfortable.” Asher begins to pull his hand back.
“No, I want to.”
I clasp it, his skin warm against my palm. There’s the furnace again. He moves to my side, threading our fingers together and giving my hand a squeeze. I’m not sure if the gesture is for my benefit or if it’s some signal I’m not picking up on, but I give him one in response, which earns me a smile.
“Holding hands in public. Check. What about other forms of PDA?”
The question makes me blush. “I think gentle consensual touches are alright.” I lower my voice a little, “I’m also okay with kissing in front of the family. Not a full-on makeout session, but you know, PG or PG-13 kisses.”
Asher flexes his hand, “Kissing is fine with me too.” He lets our hands swing between us. “Okay, we have boundaries. What is our backstory?”
“Right. Boyfriend,” I repeat mostly to myself. “How far do your tabletop backstories usually go?”
Asher’s attention snags on something off in the distance and he quirks his brow, “How much time do you have?”
“My schedule is pretty much clear for the day, why?”
“I would say ice skating in Harrington Park would be pretty solid for a first date.” He smiles, nodding towards the large seasonal installation.