chapter TEN
Wrapped in a large towel, I swaddle myself and settle onto the sun pad at the bow of the boat. With the sun at its peak, our clothes will be dry in no time.
Asher’s may dry faster than mine. His shirt will, at least, because it is hanging from the railing of the boat, drying in the breeze and mid-day heat. In return he is wearing his shorts and nothing else.
Well-defined pecks with the perfect sprinkle of chest hair . . . Yeah.
A lean, taut stomach with two, four, six . . . Yeah.
Gorgeous thighs whose definition are made out by the wet shorts currently sticking to him. Oh yeah.
A loud sound from deep inside Asher’s throat catches my attention and I immediately avert my eyes north of the border. When I look back at him, he shakes his head and smiles, liking that he caught me gawking.
He kneels down to the sun pad, then lays his body next to mine, facing me. “Its ninety degrees out here. Lose the towel.” His hand grabs the lining and pulls the towel away from my body,
I grab hold of it. “No way. I’m wet and cold and have all kinds of lady parts that aren’t acting very ladylike.” Not only is my shirt getting increasingly tight, but when I put on white shorts this morning I wasn’t planning on taking a swim in them.
He rolls his beautiful blond head back and laughs out loud. “It’s okay for you to check out my man parts but I can’t see yours?”
“My parts are more . . . sacred.”
“That they are. But you’ll dry off faster without the towel.” He peels the towel off my shoulder and lets it fall to the side. “I promise. I won’t check out your—okay, I lied. I just checked them out.”
My arms jerks up and hit him in the arm. “You’re such a fool.”
“Watch it, woman. You have a serious hook. Nice to see that hand of yours is still useful for something.”
I look down at my hand and notice it didn’t hurt. That doesn’t mean it will ever heal. It just means it may not be as fragile as I have been treating it.
Asher leans down and grabs my injured hand in his, rubbing his fingers along the scar. “I’d like to know more about the accident.”
“I’d like to know more about your grandfather,” I counter.
His brows curve in. “There isn’t much to tell. He’s dead.”
“When did he die?”
“Last summer. He had a massive heart attack. Died before I made it to the hospital.”
His voice void of the emotion one would expect to bear when losing a loved one. Even though he seems to have no feeling toward the man, it still seems important to share my condolences.
“I’m very sorry for your loss.”
The jaw on his chiseled face tightens as he works out a thought in his head. Asher closes his eyes tight and holds it for a few beats. A heavy sigh releases and when those eyes open, they’re honey.
“Are you for real, Emma Paige? Can I trust you? I’ve searched for a reason to believe otherwise. I’ve done my research, and I can’t find anything that leads me to believe you aren’t anything but perfect.”
A red flag goes up in my head. He did research on me? What kind of research? I know in the age of Facebook and Google, you can pretty much find out anything about anyone, but I’ve never done that. Never needed to. And in this case, I didn’t even have an urge to.
But with the red flag is a white flag waiving so dramatically my body does a double take as I try to contain my excitement.
This man thinks I’m perfect. Yes, me. The broken mess with a broken hand and a broken dream and a broken soul.
I lean up on my knees. “If you knew the half of it you wouldn’t think I’m perfect.
You want to know if I’m real? Well, I need you to tell me something real.
And don’t say that you’re impulsive and you’re drawn to me.
Because right now I can’t believe how someone as amazing as you is here with me.
It doesn’t make sense and it makes me feel so insecure you won’t believe. ”
Asher rises to his knees as well and meets me eye to eye. “I make you feel insecure?”
I nod my head slowly. He looks to the side, clenching his jaw. I think he’s going to tell me he wants to head back but he opens his mouth and says, “My mother’s name was Juliette Asher and my father was Alejandro Gutierrez. I haven’t said those names out loud in twenty-two years.”
My mouth falls open slightly. I haven’t said Luke’s name in six months but I’d hope twenty-years from now I’d be able to tell stories about him.
Asher looks back to me and continues. “My father was a mechanic with no family to speak of or two cents to rub together. Not to mention Latin, something my Scottish grandfather would never have allowed. But my mom, she was in love with my dad. She gave up her family and everything that came along with it. We lived in a poor section of Pittsburgh while my parents tried to figure out how to make ends meet. My mother was educated, but she didn’t know how to do anything other than play music.
She was bred to be a rich man’s wife, not a money-maker.
“And my dad, he was a hardworking man. He had a criminal record so work was hard to come by. We didn’t have much, but I never went without.”
Asher’s hand takes mine and skims over the scar again, keeping his focus on the imperfection while he tells his story.
“When they died, I didn’t have any other family.
My grandfather took me in under one condition: I was never to speak of my parents again.
It was the first time I ever met him. He didn’t show love the way my parents did.
I learned early on that if I pleased him, his pride in me was as good as love.
I let him breed me into who he was. Work consumed me.
Family was not an option. According to him, who can have one when they are going to leave you anyway. ”
My own jaw tightens as I try to control the burn in my throat that comes before a good cry.
I breathe in calming breaths. “Asher, you know that’s not true.
Family is what you lean on when times get hard.
I know you don’t remember that but your parents seemed like the kind of people who would be there for you no matter what. ”
His cheeks hollow. With a deep rumble, he lets out a puff of air and shakes his head. “I know. I just have a hard time remembering sometimes.”
Is that what he’s doing out here? Working for Devon? Trying to figure out who he is?
He must think I’m such an ass. I’ve been complaining about my overbearing parents, yet here he is trying to remember his own for the caring people they were. Probably exactly like mine are.
And to not have spoken about them, said their names out loud in so long. Well, that’s just sad. It’s a sadness I am swimming in myself, and if I don’t fight the current I’ll drown. I can’t let that happen.
“Luke.” I whisper the name.
Asher’s eyes pop open not understanding why I am whispering another man’s name. I mentioned my brother vaguely yesterday but not his name. Just the casual mention of having a brother.
My heart is beating a million miles a minute. My lip trembles slightly. I try to keep it together. “Luke. I had a brother named Luke. Today is his birthday. At least, today would have been his birthday.”
Understanding crosses Asher’s face. His posture straightens as he leans forward and takes my face in his hands. “Emma, you don’t have to—”
“He was impulsive like you. Always down to go to the next party or jump off a cliff or drive across country with his friends just because he had a free week from school. Luke was really smart too. He wanted to be an engineer. I like to think he would have made a great one.”
I take a deep, cleansing breath and continue. “Last winter, he was home for the holidays. Just after the New Year, my boyfriend, Parker, broke up with me. Luke was pissed. He said he never liked the douchebag anyway. His cure for a broken heart was to go out. So I let him take me.”
My eyes flutter closed at the memory. “I had ten too many shots of Fireball. Luke didn’t drink. When it was time to leave, I didn’t want to go home so we went for a drive.”
Images of snow covered roads and the inside of Luke’s car as he blared Kings of Leon from his radio flash in my mind.
I didn’t comprehend how fast we were going and I certainly didn’t do anything to make him stop.
I’ll never forget the look of his face as he tried to regain control of the car.
Clawing, grabbing, desperate for control. He was frightened.
“When I woke up in a hospital room the next day, they told me my brother died at the scene. Said it was a miracle I was alive. I had major injuries but most healed. My hand, unfortunately, was crushed. The next day the doctors told me it would never work again. They said I was lucky they were able to salvage it at all. I told them they might as well have severed it.”
Asher’s thumbs rub the spot just under my eyes, catching the tears that are falling. I lift my gaze to his and see they are slightly red-rimmed as well.
I look into his eyes and say the thing that has been driving a knife through my heart for six months. “I killed my brother. If I hadn’t asked him to go for a drive he would be alive. Don’t you see I’m broken? I’m not perfect.”
Asher’s mouth finds my forehead and gives me a gentle kiss before pulling me into his chest. I like the way my body fits against his, but I can’t go daydreaming about what could be. I am damaged and he can’t fix me.
“You are, by far, the most amazing person I have ever known,” he says into my hair.
I lean back and blink at him. Hasn’t he heard a word I said?
“How can you say that?”
He pushes my shoulders back and leans down slightly, putting me face-to-face with him.
“Emma, in three days you had your heart broken, lost your brother, and your ability to play music. And you’re still here to tell the tale.
I don’t know many people who would make it through a month, let alone six. ”
He is giving me far too much credit. He doesn’t know what my family had to endure all this time. The doctors, the meds, the anxiety and worry over what I might do. The truth is, I barely made it through.
I look down at my hand and see that awful scar that takes up half my hand. “I hate this stupid scar. Not for how it looks. I hate how it reminds me of everything I lost. Everything I’ll never get back.”
Asher takes my hand and raises it to his lips, placing delicate kisses along every inch of the scar. My body pulsates at the feeling of his mouth on my most vulnerable piece of flesh.
“I want to try something with you, but I need you to trust me. Do you trust me, Emma?” he asks and I look back at him, unsure of the truthful answer. I’ve already told him my darkest secret. Why not go further into the rabbit hole with him?
I nod my head yes. Numb to the fact I just bared my soul, and he still wants to spend time with me.
I seem to have a problem saying no to Asher Gutierrez.