CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Kaia
It was the morning of Asher’s twenty-fourth birthday. He’d gotten back late from the track the night before, and Maricarmen and I decided to let him sleep while we finished preparing for the celebration.
“Where did the time go?” she sighed, sliding the birthday cake we’d just picked up from the bakery into the fridge. “It feels like he was learning to walk only yesterday.”
“What was Asher like as a kid?” I asked. “Restless, I imagine.”
“Oh yes. Curious, too. And really smart. Did you know he graduated with straight A’s? I didn’t think he would, since racing mattered more to him than school, but that’s Ash for you. My son would’ve been proud of the man he’s become.”
I arranged slices of cheese and Serrano ham on the plate. “It’s a shame his mother isn’t proud of him.”
“It is.” Maricarmen’s voice softened. “Their relationship has never been easy, but I hoped she’d try now that he’s grown. He suffered so much when Sergio died.” She sniffled, blinking. “See? Even now I can’t talk about it without crying.”
“It’s okay.” I rubbed her back. “I get the same way when I think about my mom. It’s better now, but…”
“Grief is sneaky, am I right? Always lurking.”
Footsteps thudded down the hallway. A whiff of expensive cologne slipped into the kitchen, then Alejandro appeared with a gift bag and two bouquets of roses.
Maricarmen clasped her hands together, laughing. “Look who’s here. I didn’t expect you so early.”
He kissed her cheek and offered the red roses. “For you. You know I’m an early riser.” Then he turned to me. “And these are for you.”
I accepted the bouquet. “Thank you. They’re gorgeous. I’ll put them in water.”
“Dónde está el cumpleanero?” he asked as I set the flowers in a vase. Where is the birthday boy?
“The birthday boy’s still sleeping,” I said. “He was toast after training yesterday.”
Alejandro shoved his hands into his slacks. “Yeah. Sometimes he pushes himself too hard, but this season matters. He wants to win.”
Last year Asher had come in second. I couldn’t blame him for chasing a champion’s title.
“So, Maricarmen, anything for me to do?” Alejandro asked.
She nodded toward the stack of plates on the counter. “Go set the table. Dawson will be here soon, too.”
I grabbed forks and knives from the drawer.
“I’ll help,” I said, following Alejandro into the courtyard.
The sun warmed the tiles, and the ocean breeze scented the air. Hard to believe it was December.
“How’s everything?” Alejandro asked, arranging plates. “I saw Asher’s latest interview—and the pictures of the two of you.”
I folded a paper napkin into a triangle and slid it under a plate. “They turned out great.”
“They did. I’m happy for you. It’s good to see Asher happy.”
“It is. He’s so much happier at Vortex than he ever was racing for my father. Thank you for that.”
Alejandro set the silverware in place. “I was only doing my job. If he lacked talent, no amount of effort on my part would’ve gotten him that team. The merit is his.”
“Regardless, having you in his corner helped. I’ll go see if he’s awake. It’s unlike him to sleep in.”
“It’s this place,” Alejandro said. “I never sleep as well anywhere else as I do here.”
I smiled and hurried into the house. Upstairs, Asher stirred under the duvet. I climbed onto the bed and pressed a kiss to his stubbled jaw. “Happy birthday.”
He slid an arm around my waist, pulling me close. Eyes still shut, he kissed my neck, holding me tighter. “I want to wake up like this for the rest of my life,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep. “And thank you, peque. What time is it?”
“Noon.” I traced lazy lines over his bare back. “Ale’s here. Dawson must be on the way.”
“Noon? Mierda.” His eyes opened, finding mine. “You look beautiful. You should’ve woken me sooner. I don’t remember the last time I slept this long.”
His hand slipped beneath my sweater, circling my stomach with warm strokes. “Maybe we tell everyone to celebrate without us? I could use a couple more hours like this.”
I shook my head. “I need to give you your gift, and your grandma—”
Asher pressed his lips to the base of my throat and kissed his way up. “My gift is right here.”
Heat coiled low inside me. I arched against him, and he flipped us easily, settling between my legs. His erection pressed against me as his fingers threaded through my hair, his body rocking into mine. Pleasure rippled through me.
“I could make you come fast,” he whispered, working open the button of my jeans. “Or we could take our time and make everyone wait.”
“Asher! Someone’s here to see you!”
Maricarmen’s voice carried through the house. Asher groaned. “I’m not here. She means someone else.”
Footsteps thumped on the stairs.
“You’re very much there.” Her voice rang right outside the bedroom.
Maybe the stone walls weren’t so thick after all. I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh.
Brows lifted, Asher traced his thumb along my jaw. “Enjoying my misery, peque?”
“What m—”
He ground into me again, answering without words.
“I’ll make up for it later,” I whispered, kissing his cheek. “Go on. Everyone’s waiting.”
“Should’ve booked a hotel just for us,” he muttered, sliding back. I watched the ripple of muscle down his torso as he stood, raking a hand through his messy hair.
“And if you keep looking at me like that,” he warned, backing toward the bathroom, “whoever’s waiting will be waiting a long time.”
***
Javi was the one waiting downstairs. He had a match in Seville tomorrow but came to celebrate Asher’s birthday first. At the table, conversation flowed easily. Dawson and Maricarmen kept exchanging tender glances, and Ash shot me a conspiratorial smile.
Ten minutes in, his phone buzzed. “Talk about surprises,” he said, glancing at the screen.
Javi arched a brow. I shrugged as Asher pressed the phone to his ear and stepped away. A few minutes later, he returned with a tall, dark-haired man.
“Everyone, this is Rys,” he said.
Rys and Alejandro clasped hands. “Great to see you,” Alejandro said. “I didn’t know you were in Spain.”
“Came for an audit at the hotel. I’ll be flying back in two days,” Rys said.
Asher tucked an arm around my shoulders. “Rys, this is Kaia.”
His smile lit his striking blue eyes. “I figured. Nice to meet you. Asher’s told me a lot. We met here two summers ago,” he added.
Then it clicked—the hotel where Asher had taken me for our first time belonged to Rys’s company. He was the friend Asher had been with at the club.
I bit into my tortilla while the others exchanged greetings and small talk.
“Speaking of friends,” Javi said, “how’s yours? Alba, right?”
“You met her?”
Javi chuckled. “Yeah. When I took Ash to hand her the books for you. She wasn’t impressed. I almost thought she had a thing against football players, but I didn’t tell her I was one. She must’ve recognized me—she’s Spanish.”
I snorted. “Sorry to crush your ego, but she’s indifferent to football. Which is ironic, considering her dad’s a famous coach.”
“For real?” He set the slice of cheese back on his plate. “What’s her last name?”
“Osorio,” I said. “Her dad is Fernando Osorio.”
Javi let out a low laugh. “No me jodas. Guys, did you hear that? Kaia’s friend is Fernando Osorio’s daughter.”
Asher and Alejandro both turned toward me. “Wow, peque,” Asher said. “How come I didn’t know?”
“I don’t know.” I lifted my wine glass. “You never asked about her dad.”
“Her father should consider signing with Sport Union Madrid,” Alejandro said. “I know it’s not up to Fernando, and the offer has to come from the team, but chico”—he sighed, looking Javi’s way—“what the hell is your coach thinking? He can’t keep the best players benched every match.”
Javi grinned. “Yeah, well, you know I can’t badmouth Mister. As long as I get my minutes, it’s fine.”
They drifted deeper into football talk while Asher’s hand rested warm on my thigh under the table. He leaned toward Rys, speaking low enough I couldn’t catch the words even if I tried.
The doorbell chimed through the courtyard.
“I’ll get it,” Maricarmen said, rising.
I focused on my plate, half-listening to conversations until she returned with a package.
“Mi nino, this is for you.” She handed it to Ash.
He frowned. “Who’s it from?”
His closest friends were already here. Who else would know his grandmother’s address?
The frown stayed fixed as he opened the package. Inside was a Lego construction set. My heart lurched. I hadn’t forgotten what he’d told me in Madrid. What were the odds?
He peeled a note from the box, scanned it, and sank his teeth into his lower lip.
“Ash?” I whispered. “Is this from…”
He nodded, then shot to his feet. “I’ll take this inside. Please, keep enjoying the meal, everyone.”
Maricarmen brushed Dawson’s arm, her gaze flicking toward the gallery. I waited a few minutes, then excused myself and followed.
Ash stood in the bedroom by the window, palms braced on the desk. The gift lay in front of him like a heartbreaking hello from the past.
“Peque,” I whispered, resting my hand on his back. “Did Miguel say something in the note?”
He passed it to me.
“Feliz cumpleanos, Asher,” I read. “Wait, that’s it? No explanation, nothing?”
“Nothing,” Asher whispered. “Fuck, this must be a joke. Nine years, countless attempts to reach him, and all he can say is happy birthday? How about answering a fucking email or opening the door when I show up? He remembers the things I like but can’t even acknowledge me?”
The muscles in his back tightened under my hand. I rubbed gently, trying to soothe him, to keep the gift from spoiling his birthday. He didn’t deserve that. He deserved a meal with his friends, nothing else on his shoulders.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I murmured, kissing between his shoulder blades through the cotton of his shirt.
He turned, exhaling hard. “No, mi amor.” His knuckles skimmed my cheek. “Let’s go back and finish lunch. The guys came all this way for me. This can wait.”