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“What’s going on with you?” Grayson asks.
I can hardly admit the truth. “I need to get the hell out of that house with Dad.”
“Dude, come stay with Ava and me a while…if you don’t mind middle of the day cookie eating on my kitchen counter.” He shrugs and offers another of those wolfish grins.
I grimace. “Things you don’t need to know about your big brother,” I mutter, and he laughs.
“I’m mostly joking. We’re usually at the bakery in the middle of the day.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Do you fuck on the counters at the bakery?”
“Only after hours, and I swear we sanitize.” He shrugs.
“Remind me to go to that other bakery around the corner.”
He chuckles, and then he tilts his head at me. “You sure everything’s okay? It’s just Dad?”
I nod. “Just Dad. But you know how it is. In season, it’s hard finding a new place to live when you have so much other shit to focus on. So I’ll probably tough it out for now.”
“Yeah, but if it’s that bad…”
I nod. “I’ve gotten a hotel a few nights, to be honest.”
“So you’re covering his rentandpaying for a hotel? Dude, that’s not right. What if the four of us chip in on new a place for him so you don’t feel like you need to take the brunt of it?” he suggests. “And I can take the lead on finding it since you three are busy.”
Relief filters through me. “You’d do that?”
He nods, and he mock slugs me in the shoulder again. “Of course I would, man. As long as you promise never to wear the purple velour tracksuit again.”
I twist my lips and shake my head. “Damn. We wereso closeto having a deal, but no can do, brochacho. It’s my favorite.”
He laughs, and that’s when I see a vision with red hair walk through the doorway.
She brushes right past me on her way to the bar without so much as a second glance, and it feels a little worse than it should.
But in twenty-four hours, she’ll be all mine.
Chapter 34: Asher Nash
What the Hell is Goat Yoga
The next twenty-four hours getting to our date are brutal.
Practice is intense, and after some locker room drama involving a very focused veteran player and a rookie who was mouthing off combined with one of our linebackers working his ass off to take me down during practice, I know I should spend the night resting and recuperating—at least, that’s what Coach Dixon told me to do during our heart-to-heart.
But I can’t because I have a plan. One that involves the daughter of the very man who told me that, and guilt racks me because of it.
I push that guilt away. I don’t have a choice, not when I’m addicted to her.
As much as I want to take her to a hotel somewhere and spend the night worshiping her body, I also want to take her on a real date. I think the last time I took a girl on what I’d consider an actualdate, I was eighteen and showing up to her house with a wrist corsage before I took her to prom.
Is that right? It’s beenten yearssince I’ve taken a woman on a date?
I’ve been with plenty of women, some more than once or twice, but none that I felt like I needed todate. So what makes this one different?
I guess that’s the million-dollar question that I don’t have the answer to.
When the Lyft carrying her pulls into the parking lot of the grocery store I told her to meet me at, my chest thumps like it always does when I’m around her.
