Chapter 35
Claire
Asher and I have been like ships passing in the night for the last couple of weeks.
He programs his fancy espresso machine to spit out coffee for me when I wake up, but he and Bea are out the door before I’ve come out of my bedroom.
In the evenings, Bea monopolizes his time, as she should.
After he puts her to bed, he’s back to working on who knows what until well after I’ve gone to sleep.
I’ve offered to help, but he refuses to let me, relying on Jack and Natalie instead, especially when it involves Bea. He’s been keeping her so busy with camp activities that I’ve barely seen her.
He’s pulling away. This whole situation we’ve gotten ourselves into has become more complex than I ever anticipated. If I had to guess, he’s noticed that too.
I’m deep in thought and cleaning the kitchen counters when the front door slams shut. When I spin around, Asher is standing in front of me, intense energy radiating from him.
I suck in a breath. “Ash.”
“I need you.”
I step forward, noting the desperation behind his eyes. “Is everything okay?”
“I need you,” he repeats.
He’s a man on a mission and I’m his call of duty.
I loop my arms around his neck, and the second I nod, he lifts me up and onto the kitchen counter.
The granite is cool against my bare thighs, forcing me to inhale sharply.
“Where’d you find this shirt, Doc?” he commands, fisting the soft cotton fabric.
“In the laundry room.”
“Liar.” He bites down lightly on my shoulder.
I wish he’d do it harder, leave his mark on me.
“I put away all the laundry this morning. Try again.”
Without responding, I tilt my head, giving him better access to my neck.
His lips brush over my skin as he murmurs, “Did you go through my drawers?”
I groan, having been caught red-handed.
“Oh, you naughty, naughty girl, Claire.”
Leaning back slightly, I glare at him. “Excuse me, sir, but I seem to remember someone sabotaging my bikini tops for his pleasure. I think we’re even, Greer.”
He lets out a pitiful laugh. “What can I say, I…”
When he doesn’t finish that sentiment, I angle back and quirk a brow.
“Yeah, I’ve got nothing.” He laughs, hanging his head in the most adorable way.
Threading my fingers through his hair, which has grown since the beginning of the summer, I push back and catch his gaze. The lust burning in his hooded eyes makes my thighs clench around his waist.
He presses his hand between my breasts, signaling for me to lie back, and when I do, he grips my ankles and rests my feet on the counter.
“Do I have your consent?”
“Always” leaves my lips before I have a chance to contemplate the weight of that one word.
He runs his nose up and down my covered slit, then sucks on my cotton-covered clit.
Head back, I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing my panties would evaporate. Instead, he hooks his finger under the elastic and tugs the fabric to the side. Once I’m exposed, he blows against my pussy, sending shivers up my spine.
I squirm, impatient for him to devour me.
Eyes widening, he says, “This pussy is a masterpiece.”
He kisses either side of my clit, and just as he laps up my center and I melt into the counter, my work radio goes off.
“Fuck.” Asher growls, pressing his face to my thigh.
“Up.” I push his head away, even as I wish I could pull him closer. “Can you get that, please?”
With a groan, he reaches behind and retrieves the radio.
After clearing my throat, I ping back. “Hello? This is Claire.”
“Hi, Claire,” Brenner says, his words carrying over a faint sobbing in the background. “We have a guest here who took a nasty fall. Nothing appears to be broken, but they have a pretty gnarly gash. Are you nearby?”
“Of course. I’ll be right there.” I set the radio down and hop off the counter.
“Ugh,” Asher whines, swiping a hand down his face.
Straightening my panties, I poke him in the chest. “This is all your fault.”
“Mine? How?” He feigns offense.
“You’re the one who hired me. If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t have been interrupted.”
“If I hadn’t hired you, we also wouldn’t be having sex.”
“Touché.”
And what a tragedy that would be.
When I return from the clinic, I fully anticipate to pick up where Asher and I left off, so I’m caught off guard when I find the kitchen lights off and the man sitting solemnly on the sofa, one ankle crossed over his knee, the house eerily quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the refrigerator.
My heart drops. Less than an hour ago, his head was buried between my thighs. What happened between then and now that has him so distressed?
My knees wobble as I approach him, but I don’t sit down. “Is everything okay?”
He looks up at me, his green eyes dull. “I think we should talk.”
My throat tightens. “Oh?”
“Actually. Can I show you something?” he asks, his tone somber.
I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat, then follow him out the back door.
We walk in silence side by side, down the porch steps, across the lawn and sandy beach, and onto the dock.
He extends his arm to help me onto the boat, but still no words are spoken.
He revs the engine and slowly putters across the water until we pass the markers and can pick up speed.
The wind whips my hair into my face, but I don’t have a hair tie, so I secure the unruly strands with my fist at my nape at the same time that Asher spins his ball cap around so it doesn’t fly off his head.
We glide across the water for several minutes before he slows and guides the boat into a small cove and up to a short dock. I help him tie the ropes to the posts and accept the hand he offers as we climb out of the boat.
When I’m steady on my feet, he lets go and drops his hand by his side.
Disappointment washes over me, but I choke it down.
When we hit the sand, we kick off our shoes.
The cove is barely big enough for a large family to spread out comfortably and could easily be missed from the water if not for the bright yellow flag attached to a ten- or twelve-foot pole.
To one side, a wooden bench sits, surrounded by daisies and painted river rocks.
Asher guides me to the bench, and only when I’m a foot or two away do I realize where he’s brought me. In the middle of the back of the bench is a gold plaque that reads: In honor of Daisy Greer. Beloved daughter, wife, mother, and friend. May her memory be a blessing.
Tears prick my eyes, but I quickly wipe them away with my sleeve.
Shoulders rolled in, Asher picks a white-and-yellow flower from the bunch. “She really was the friendliest. Just like the flower.”
“It’s so nice here,” I say, my voice cracking.
He sits on the bench and I follow suit.
“I haven’t been out to visit in a while,” he murmurs, his head down.
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“Been busy.” He lifts a brow in my direction.
Realization hits like a slap to the face. “I hope I… It’s not because of me, is it?”
He shrugs, which absolutely makes me feel like a terrible person. “Ash, I never meant to keep you—”
“Stop,” he grits out. “Whatever you’re thinking right now, don’t.”
That tightness in my chest returns. “But—”
“I mean it, Claire.” His words are sharp but not cruel. “I used to come out here so often because I felt like it was the only place I could be alone with her. Where I could talk to her in private.”
As a doctor, I often become a sounding board for people who need to spill their vulnerable thoughts.
But digging into such deep emotions is new for us.
He hasn’t been all that forthcoming about his wife, and I haven’t wanted to pry.
After all, we’re not in a relationship. Sure, we’re hooking up and have found ourselves in a bit of a situationship, but we’re not a couple.
I brush my toes over the river rocks, then bend to pick one up, finding a faded flower painted on it.
“What are these?”
He takes the rock from me and rubs his thumb over it, showing me where “Daisy,” has been painted on it. The word is barely visible due to sun damage.
“The year after she died, when we reopened the camp, guests painted these.” He picks up another one. This time a bumblebee.
“That’s really sweet.”
Two people on jet skis cruise across the water, their squeals snagging our attention as they race by.
He gently drops the rocks onto the ground and they clank together. “We had big plans, you know.”
“Hmm?”
“What Daisy’s family built out here is incredible, but she always envisioned more. Bigger too. She wanted inclusivity for children. I drafted blueprints for a state-of-the-art children’s center with every accessibility design I could get my hands on. We were going to call it The Hive.”
I tilt my head, studying his expression. “Why The Hive?”
“Because Daisy wanted a ton of kids. We used to joke that she wanted a whole hive since bees are attracted to—”
“Daisies,” I say with a genuine smile. “That’s really sweet. Is that what you still want?” I ask, a dose of bravery pushing me along.
“Of course. The blueprints are still in my drawer.”
“No,” I say, my stomach flipping. “More kids, I mean.”
We’re both looking out at the horizon, but the way his body locks up beside me is palpable. I asked him about kids once, the night he first fucked me bare, but he quickly changed the subject. My heart thumps heavily with the hope that he’ll give me more this time.
“I don’t want Bea to be alone.”
That doesn’t exactly answer my question, but I don’t prod any further. It’s none of my business anyway.
Sailboats, paddleboards, and jet skis float by as we sit in silence. Though I’m desperate for him to let me in, to tell me his thoughts, I remain quiet, giving him the space to speak if he wishes to.
Before long, a giant cloud eats up the sun, and the temperature drops. Just as a shiver rolls through me, he says, “Ready to head back?”