couldn’t describe the feeling any
other way.
“I’m so screwed,” I said to my reflection.
“Totally screwed.” My mirror-self stared back at
me but didn’t have any advice. Sighing, I turned
toward the door, only to have to dodge sideways
when it suddenly flew inward.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
Asher’s voice died midsentence, and we
stared at each for an eternal, silent moment before
I regained my composure and started to go around
him.
“Wait,” he said, his hand shooting out to
grasp my upper arm. His fingers were gentle, his
grip light enough that I could have broken free if
I’d wanted to.
I couldn’t bring myself to move. In fact, I
barely stopped myself from shuddering at his
touch. It was everything I remembered from the
last time.
“Look,” he murmured, his brown eyes
searching my face. “I know we don’t know each
other at all, but you seem like a sweet guy. If
you’re looking for commitment, you won’t get it
from Archer. My brother, he… he doesn’t do
relationships, okay?”
I blinked up at him. Of all the things I’d
imagined him saying to me, a warning about his
brother was nowhere on the list. I shrugged off his
hand and stepped back. It was obvious that
everything I’d been feeling was entirely one-sided.
He wasn’t looking at me with desire or anything
even close to longing. At best he looked mildly
concerned. It irritated me more than I thought
possible.
“We’re not serious,” I snapped. “I’ve only
been out with him twice. But it’s not like you have
much room to talk, is it? Can’t the same be said
about you?”
Asher’s brows drew together in obvious
confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve heard about your reputation,” I told him.
“Isn’t what you do just as bad?”
For a second, Asher looked startled. Then
something flashed across his face—sadness,
disappointment, I couldn’t say what exactly. All I
knew was it made my stomach hurt to see it.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice a little harder. “Well,
sometimes you do what you have to.”
I didn’t know what to make of that, but before
I could say anything, he reached into his pocket
and withdrew a slim leather wallet. He pulled an
embossed card from inside and pressed it into my
hand. “Here. Just take it… in case you ever need
anything.”
When my fingers curled around the card,
accepting it, he nodded briefly and brushed past
me.
I remembered Lane, who was waiting for me
out in the dining area and probably wondering if
I’d drowned in the toilet or something. I forced my
legs into action and left the restroom, heading back
to my table without really paying attention to
where I was going. My eyes were focused on the
card. There were only three things on it: a phone
number, an e-mail address, and his name, Asher
Kyriakides. No job title, no business information. I
didn’t know what to make of it, or of him, but our
encounter had left me more than a little unsettled. I
had a feeling I’d messed up, hurt him somehow,
though I couldn’t say why. Somehow, deep down, I
knew it was true.
I groaned inwardly and shook my head. Way
to blow it, Dusty. Good job.
Asher
I FELT like shit. I felt judged and dirty and, well,
like shit. There weren’t too many other ways to
describe the way my stomach twisted every time I
thought about it. The most recent encounter with
Dusty hadn’t been sitting well for days. So he
wasn’t really with Archer. As far as I knew they
were only playing around, but somehow Dusty
knew about the porn. Archer’s dumb ass had
probably told him, and that was enough for him not
to want to be with me either—at least if I could
guess by the judgmental look on his face back at
the café. And that kind of annoyed me. Well, it
hurt, because for the few brief moments of our
acquaintance, I thought I could see myself with
him, but hurt had turned into annoyance and had me
gripping the steering
other way.
“I’m so screwed,” I said to my reflection.
“Totally screwed.” My mirror-self stared back at
me but didn’t have any advice. Sighing, I turned
toward the door, only to have to dodge sideways
when it suddenly flew inward.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
Asher’s voice died midsentence, and we
stared at each for an eternal, silent moment before
I regained my composure and started to go around
him.
“Wait,” he said, his hand shooting out to
grasp my upper arm. His fingers were gentle, his
grip light enough that I could have broken free if
I’d wanted to.
I couldn’t bring myself to move. In fact, I
barely stopped myself from shuddering at his
touch. It was everything I remembered from the
last time.
“Look,” he murmured, his brown eyes
searching my face. “I know we don’t know each
other at all, but you seem like a sweet guy. If
you’re looking for commitment, you won’t get it
from Archer. My brother, he… he doesn’t do
relationships, okay?”
I blinked up at him. Of all the things I’d
imagined him saying to me, a warning about his
brother was nowhere on the list. I shrugged off his
hand and stepped back. It was obvious that
everything I’d been feeling was entirely one-sided.
He wasn’t looking at me with desire or anything
even close to longing. At best he looked mildly
concerned. It irritated me more than I thought
possible.
“We’re not serious,” I snapped. “I’ve only
been out with him twice. But it’s not like you have
much room to talk, is it? Can’t the same be said
about you?”
Asher’s brows drew together in obvious
confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve heard about your reputation,” I told him.
“Isn’t what you do just as bad?”
For a second, Asher looked startled. Then
something flashed across his face—sadness,
disappointment, I couldn’t say what exactly. All I
knew was it made my stomach hurt to see it.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice a little harder. “Well,
sometimes you do what you have to.”
I didn’t know what to make of that, but before
I could say anything, he reached into his pocket
and withdrew a slim leather wallet. He pulled an
embossed card from inside and pressed it into my
hand. “Here. Just take it… in case you ever need
anything.”
When my fingers curled around the card,
accepting it, he nodded briefly and brushed past
me.
I remembered Lane, who was waiting for me
out in the dining area and probably wondering if
I’d drowned in the toilet or something. I forced my
legs into action and left the restroom, heading back
to my table without really paying attention to
where I was going. My eyes were focused on the
card. There were only three things on it: a phone
number, an e-mail address, and his name, Asher
Kyriakides. No job title, no business information. I
didn’t know what to make of it, or of him, but our
encounter had left me more than a little unsettled. I
had a feeling I’d messed up, hurt him somehow,
though I couldn’t say why. Somehow, deep down, I
knew it was true.
I groaned inwardly and shook my head. Way
to blow it, Dusty. Good job.
Asher
I FELT like shit. I felt judged and dirty and, well,
like shit. There weren’t too many other ways to
describe the way my stomach twisted every time I
thought about it. The most recent encounter with
Dusty hadn’t been sitting well for days. So he
wasn’t really with Archer. As far as I knew they
were only playing around, but somehow Dusty
knew about the porn. Archer’s dumb ass had
probably told him, and that was enough for him not
to want to be with me either—at least if I could
guess by the judgmental look on his face back at
the café. And that kind of annoyed me. Well, it
hurt, because for the few brief moments of our
acquaintance, I thought I could see myself with
him, but hurt had turned into annoyance and had me
gripping the steering
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