Chapter 23 Rosalie #2
“Tell us about him,” Bernadette muses, and when Maeve turns to meet her gaze, she continues. “What? If Rosalie doesn’t want him, maybe I will.”
“So, he’s a great guy.” Maeve is way too excited. “He just joined the fire department.”
“Wait, are you talking about Clint?” Sarah interrupts.
“Yep.” Maeve nods, turning her attention back on me. “And he owns his own construction business. Single dad to a boy just a little younger than Edward.” She lifts her brows. “He has all his hair, too.”
“Now, that’s impressive.” Asher nods.
“I haven’t dated since Edward’s father,” I admit.
Maeve’s stare is filled with sincerity. “You deserve to find happiness in a partner again.”
“And to get laid,” Asher deadpans. Maeve shoots him a glare. “What? That’s important, too.”
“I get it.” Sarah joins Maeve’s side, a plate of food in one hand. “I didn’t think I’d ever want to look at another man after my ex and I split.”
Maeve continues. “Listen, normally, I wouldn’t be so pushy, but he’s an actual catch. I talked you up big time and he’s excited to meet you.”
My jaw falls open. “You already told him about me?”
“Yeah, last night. He and his son joined us for dinner. They just finished a day of house hunting. Did I tell you he’s relocating, and Wilder Valley is at the top of his list?”
Maeve is insistent when she wants something, and I can tell she’s not going to let this go.
“I don’t know.” The idea of dating causes a rush of anxiety. But if Jackson can move on so easily, maybe I should, too. Am I really going to go my entire life without another relationship? “I’ll have to arrange for a sitter.”
Maeve rolls her eyes. “Are you kidding? Drop him by anytime. Besides, Ari’s been bugging me for a playdate.”
I hesitate, because there really is no rational reason to refuse.
“One date. That’s all.” Maeve steeples her hands.
“If you don’t take it, I will,” Bernadette says.
“One date?” I swallow the bad taste in my mouth.
“One teensy little date. And if you don’t have fun, you never have to see him again.”
“Didn’t you say he’s moving here?” Jamie eyes Maeve with suspicion.
I’m not ready. I don’t know if I’ll ever be. But knowing Jackson is already hooking up with other people is enough to push me out of my comfort zone.
“Okay.” I nod. “Fine.”
“Okay! Thank God,” Maeve gushes. “I’m glad you said yes because I already set it up. Tomorrow at three. Wear something cute and casual. I’ll send you the details.”
“Maeve!” Val scolds. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I need a drink.” I can’t believe I just agreed to a blind date. “Anyone else?”
“Yes, please!” Jamie raises her hand.
“I’ll take another.” Sarah lifts her glass.
“I’ll help you.”
Asher takes my hand and drags me into Val’s kitchen. He and I work together to mix another round of prickly pear martinis as the chatter from our friends carries through the screen door. My pulse slowly returns to its normal rate and I think I might just survive this night.
“You hooked up with him,” Asher says under his breath. “Didn’t you?”
My body stills, but I school my face.
“Who?”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. But good for you. It’s okay to put your own needs first sometimes. Take all the time you need to figure it out before telling Maeve. Your secret’s safe with me.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” I press my lips together and make a decision.
I trust Asher with my hair—so basically, my life.
He bailed me out the other night without question.
He won’t shame me or tell anyone. And I can’t hold this secret in any longer.
I need to tell someone. “It’s over. It never really started. It couldn’t.”
“I’m sorry, babe.”
“Don’t be. It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“Tell your face,” he teases.
I take a deep breath and ignore the sour feeling in my stomach. “We agreed ahead of time that it was casual. And temporary.”
“You set rules for your fling.” He groans, pouring the mixed alcohol into an empty glass. “God, that’s so on brand.”
I roll my eyes. “Boundaries. I set boundaries.”
He hands me another drink to add to the tray we’re filling.
“That’s all well and good, but sometimes feelings get involved. You can’t control everything, even if you want to.”
Ain’t that the damn truth.
“I’m aware.”
“It’s okay to want more.”
“No. It’s not. Not for me. Not with him.” I shake my head as I add a garnish to each drink. “We should probably get back out there.”
“Okay, but tell me one thing first.” He rinses the shaker and sets it on the drying rack.
“What?”
“He was big, right?”
“Asher!” I chide.
“Rumors are true. Fuck, I knew it.” He places his palms together and slowly pulls them apart. “Tell me when to stop.”
“Stop.” I laugh and shake my head. “I’m not telling you the size of his dick.”
“At least tell me he knows how to use it.”
“Oh, he knows.” I sigh, remembering. “He knows.”
“Fuck. You’re so lucky.”
But I don’t feel lucky. I feel like I’ve had a taste of something that will make me thirsty the rest of my life. It doesn’t matter how many margaritas I drink, or how much time passes. I fear I’ll never get over Jackson Wilder, and that scares me most of all.