Chapter 4
Ella
“He’s an ass,” Dad says, pointing his fork at me.
“I love that you take care of yourself, but he was standing right there and did nothing! Pathetic. I should take his fucking badge away.” He cuts into his steak with more vigor than necessary, given that it’s his second one.
My dad is a big guy and, according to my best friend Matilda, “is a total DILF”.
I’ve lost count how many times I’ve begged her not to call him that.
He played football in college and is probably in better shape than most men half his age, which is his go-to point when I point out that eating so much red meat can’t be good for him.
“Although he is a damn sight better than the last guy. What was his name? Something Buttercup?”
“Reece,” I say. “He even had the gall to lecture me about it. My pen was in that purse! My pen, Dad. I think I’m just gonna break up with him.”
It isn’t until I say it out loud that I realize I’m definitely going to break up with Deacon. The words don’t even stick in my throat.
“If that’s what you want, baby,” he says. “I’ve heard living at home with your dad is very popular these days.”
“Dad, I’m twenty-five. I can’t move home. Maybe in another ten years.”
My dad’s been lonely since divorcing my stepmom (ding-dong, that witch is dead), and he doesn’t like me living in the city. I can’t blame him for that, but I also can’t imagine living anywhere else.
Besides, I live there for free. Matilda owns the place and is eye-wateringly rich.
She left to live in Europe a year ago and has no plans to come home yet.
She was more than happy for me to stay there because she’s owned the apartment for years and doesn’t want it empty.
Who would give up a luxury apartment to move home?
Not us!
“So, what are the new neighbors like?” my dad asks.
This is his casual way of learning their names for background checks.
Guy Gibson is not subtle, never has been, but I like that he’s protective.
When I told him I was dating Deacon, he’d gone through his cases to see if he’d made any mistakes because, according to my dad, ‘a sloppy cop is a sloppy boyfriend.’
But I don’t want my dad to scare Asher off. Maybe Gable, he’s a total ass, but Asher is nice. And good-looking. And I like how he looks at me. He has nice hands, too. Rough, like he works hard for a living. I wonder what he does. Probably something sexy, like construction.
Yeah, I’m definitely breaking up with Deacon.
I have more butterflies between my legs from looking at Asher for ten minutes than I had for the last month of dating Deacon.
I’d even take Gable. A hate-fuck is preferable over a tepid one.
“He seems nice,” I say. “And at least it gets Barnaby out of the building.”
“They’re in Barnaby’s apartment?”
“Yeah, his mom is sick.”
“He better be out of the state,” Guy says. “I wish you’d told me about his antics earlier.”
If I had told my dad about the drone incident, Barnaby would be bone fragments somewhere. Not literally. My dad is a law abiding to a T.
“Well, what’s done is done,” I sing. “No more Barnaby, no more Deacon, all work, all the time. Just the way I like it.”
My dad beams. “I’m so proud of you. How’s the first draft looking?”
I dance in my seat. It’s almost perfect. Once I fix the final chapter, it’ll freakin’ glow. Every time I read it, I buzz with excitement because it’s just what I want it to be. The words flow, the characters are great, the murders are gruesome, and the sex is hot. A perfect book.
Thank God my dad never reads them.
“It’s great,” I say. “Just gotta read it five hundred more times and I’ll be ready to send it.”
My dad drops me off at home after dinner, and as the elevator climbs to my floor, I smile. I really should go out more. I like wearing heels and nice dresses and ordering food. As much as sweats and takeout are comfortable, I felt alive tonight, and that’s exactly what I needed.
The elevator stops a floor below mine, and my stomach flutters as Asher steps in.
“Hi.” He grins. “It’s my nurse.”
I wish.
“Hey.”
“You look nice,” he says, his gaze drifting down my outfit. “Hot date with RoboCop?”
“Dinner with my dad,” I say. “RoboCop is done.”
He raises his eyebrows and presses for the lobby. “Oh yeah?”
Oh yeah.
The elevator, for some reason, goes down instead of to my floor, but I take that as a sign.
“Where are you off to?” I ask, silently praying he isn’t going on a date. “You look nice, too.”
“Oh.” He shrugs. “Just a walk. I want to get a feel for the neighborhood.”
This is what he wears on a walk? He’s in a shirt and pants again, his shirt white instead of black, looking casually sexy. I go for walks in my pajamas.
“Is your dad meeting you downstairs?”
“No, I’ve just actually come back.” I look at the elevator numbers. “But for some reason, the elevator doesn’t want me to go home.”
“That makes two of us,” he says, and my stomach explodes into a thousand goddamn butterflies. “So … if RoboCop is done, I can ask you out, right?”
YES! Ride him, Ella.
I tap my temple as subtly as I can. “I mean …” I laugh and twist the skirt of my dress between my fingers. “I haven’t even told him yet.”
“He’s a cop. He’ll figure it out. Come for a walk with me.”
This is new. No “what should we do?”, no “I’ll let you decide!” A firm but polite request: Come for a walk with me.
I shrug a shoulder. “Okay. But you might have to help me.” I point at my heels.
He holds out his arm. “Happily.”
Well, hot damn. Goodbye, RoboCop. Hello, Asher.
We must look at least a little strange, both dressed up, sitting on a park bench eating ice cream. Especially when I take my shoes off and tuck my legs underneath me. And especially when I laugh so loud, I snort.
Sexy.
But I’m having a great time. Asher is even better looking than I remember, and his smile … fuck, that smile. It makes my toes curl, and my teeth clamp down on my bottom lip so hard that I’m fairly sure there’s blood on my ice cream cone.
And the way he looks at me …
It’s disarming. He isn’t just looking; he’s admiring.
His eyes move across my face or my hands as I gesture while telling stories.
It’s like he’s trying to memorize everything about me and doesn’t care how obvious he’s being.
His cheeks flush when I touch his arm mid-story.
He keeps forgetting about his ice cream and twice he has cream running down his hand that he has to lick up.
That’ll be in the wank bank for a while.
And now he’s asking about my books. He’s heaven.
“I need to read one,” Asher says. “They sound fun.”
“No!” I cry. “They’re not supposed to be fun. They’re supposed to either gross you out or turn you on.” I think for a second. “Or both.”
“Both? That’s an interesting target audience.”
“And much larger than you’d think.” I wink and lick my ice cream.
“Which do they do for you?” he asks.
“I don’t get grossed out,” I say. “I love all the blood and gore and guts. It’s exciting.”
“People say that, but when it comes down to it, it’s different. I’m guessing.”
“Nope.” I shrug. “I used to do crime scene cleanup for cash when I was younger. It doesn’t bother me at all. I even used to sneak my dad’s cases when he brought them home and look at the photos.” I grin. “It was so fun.”
Asher looks at me like I’m the most amusing thing he's ever seen in his life.
Cool. When are you gonna ride him?
I tap my temple.
“What is that?” he asks, smiling.
“What?”
He taps his temple. “You do that a lot.”
I flush.
Heh, I’m ruining your date.
“It’s …” I breathe out a laugh. “Nothing.”
There’s a time and a place to tell someone about your inner voice, and a first date isn’t it.
“So, what do you do?” I ask.
“I’m freelance.”
I wait, but he doesn’t elaborate. “Freelance what?”
“Computers. Fixing, upgrading … boring stuff, really.”
“That explains how you know Barnaby, then. It scares me the kind of shit he can do. A man that creepy should never have that much power.”
He rests his arm on the back of the bench. “You knew him quite well, then?”
“I guess. I always take in his damn deliveries, which is annoying as hell.”
“Deliveries?”
“Yeah, he has countless things turning up at his door. And even though he’s always home, I somehow end up with the majority of them.” I tut. “Sometimes I keep stuff just to piss him off.”
He smiles. “What’s it like having a chief for a dad, then?”
An abrupt subject change, but I’m used to it, especially when it comes to dates. My dad's job intimidates men—but then, a guy who has endless resources and access to guns would probably scare anyone.
“Buckets of fun,” I say dryly, and he laughs. I bite my lip and look across the park. “Nah, it’s pretty great. He’s a great dad, and he’s a cop second, which I like. Mom’s gone, so it’s just the two of us.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine; it was a long time ago. He remarried, but it didn’t work out because she was a she-demon.”
Asher laughs again. “A real stepmom stereotype?”
“Big time. How about you? You got any family in the city?”
“Just Gable.”
“He’s family?”
“As close as family can get. We were in the same foster home together for a while, decided to stick together once we both turned eighteen. He’s my brother in every way that counts.”
Damn, that’s sweet. This guy is almost perfect.
There has to be a catch.
“Well, he seems …” I pause. “Nice.”
Asher chuckles. “He can take some warming up to, but he isn’t a bad guy. He’s always looked out for me.”
“I guess he can’t be too bad if he has a dog. I have a theory that if a dog likes you, you’re a good person. Dogs are never wrong.”
“I agree. Motor likes you.”
“Motor?” I guffaw. “Why would he call his dog that?”
“I said the same thing. I wanted to call him Mittens.”
A laugh bursts out of me, and I just about manage to not snort again. God, this guy is cute. My heart is doing something it hasn’t in a long time, and I don’t want it to stop.
“I like your laugh,” he says, his smile wide. “It’s nice.”
Oh damn. That mouth. Ride it, Ella!
I tap my temple, and he points his ice cream at me. “You did it again! Is it a secret code? Are we being watched?”
“Yes, I’m an assassin, Asher,” I whisper, slipping my shoes back on. “Don’t tell anyone. Wanna keep walking?”
We walk back to the apartment building, and I don’t want the night to end, but I also have a lot of work to do, and the time with Asher has inspired me. To write a graphic sex scene, but still. Inspiration.
He takes the elevator to my floor with me, and I step out.
“It was nice to see you again, Ella.”
His smile touches every part of me, and I hope I’m not blushing as much as I think I am.
“It was nice to see you too, Asher. Say hello to Mittens for me.”
He laughs. “I will.”
The doors close, and I start dancing.