I groaned. “I was hoping you’d overlook that.”
“Me? Overlook a potentially juicy carrot of information? I’m not even going to dignify that insult with a response.”
“Okay.” I took a deep breath. I might as well spill the beans. She was going to find out eventually (I was convinced Carina had some secret mind-reading capability she didn’t tell me about), and I was desperate to talk to someone about what happened. “If I tell you, will you promise not to read too much into it?”
She held up her right hand. “Cross my heart.”
I told her.
“Wait. You did what in the guest room?” She covered her mouth with one hand, but it wasn’t enough to hide her grin. “Babe, I am so fucking proud of you right now.”
“It’s not something to be proud of,” I grumbled, my face hot. “It was inappropriate.”
“Most fun things are.” Carina’s eyes sparkled. “Does this mean you’re rethinking your anti-footballer stance?”
“No. There’s a difference between fantasy and reality.” My response came off less resolute than I would’ve liked.
I’d promised myself I’d never fall for another footballer, but I hadn’t been this consumed by a guy since Rafe, and it terrified me. Asher wasn’t my ex; he was smarter, funnier, more thoughtful.
It was awful.
Because smart, funny, thoughtful men were my weakness, and I didn’t have the option of avoiding him until my attraction petered out. I was literally forced to see him multiple times a week.
If only Vincent were here. He would’ve acted as our buffer, and we wouldn’t be in this situation.
The chimes over the door jingled. A gust of warm air swept over me, and the pub noticeably quieted as every head swiveled toward the entrance, mine included.
My entire body tensed. Oh, you have got to be kidding me.
Whichever evil fate was responsible for throwing us together this summer struck again as Asher walked in. Even with his wind-tousled hair and worn white T-shirt, he was breathtaking enough to cause several audible sighs.
“Speak of the devil.” A mischievous glint entered Carina’s eyes as she raised her arm.
“Don’t you dare,” I hissed, but it was too late.
“Asher!” She waved, her bangles gleaming beneath the lights. His gaze slid across the room and rested on us. “Over here.”
That traitor. I was putting Carina on my shit list next to my hormones, the UK weather, and the inventor of horror films.
I prayed Asher was meeting someone else here, but no, that would be too easy.
Instead of declining Carina’s invitation or acknowledging my strong stay-away vibes, he pivoted in our direction and slid onto the empty stool across from me with infuriating ease.
“Two run-ins in five weeks,” he drawled, flashing a smile that left my ex-best friend starry-eyed. “This must be my lucky spot.”
He addressed Carina, but his eyes were locked onto mine.
I lifted my chin and met them head-on. I hoped he couldn’t hear the sudden roar of my pulse.
“Must be,” Carina echoed. Her eyes ping-ponged between us before she stood and cleared her throat. “Excuse me. I have to, uh, use the loo. I’ll be right back.”
Oh, I was going to kill her. Forget the penguins; she’d be lucky if she lived long enough to see the inside of her flat tonight.
A beat of awkward silence passed.
“Are you meeting someone here?” I asked, hoping a miracle would call him away from this table, in this corner, this close to me.
“Nah. I was in the area and decided to drop by.” Asher’s smile could’ve melted the knickers off a nun. “Good thing I did, or I wouldn’t have run into you.”
Those were absolutely not butterflies winging through my chest. They were something far less appealing, like…flying cockroaches. Or angry wasps.
Luckily, I was saved from answering when someone bumped into Asher with his shoulder. Hard.
The guy’s mouth moved. I couldn’t hear what he said, but judging by the way Asher’s smile vanished, it wasn’t an apology.
I wasn’t a confrontational person. The prospect of making a scene in public made me want to crawl under the table, but there was something about their interaction—the smug smirk on the guy’s face as he turned away, the angry yet resigned set of Asher’s jaw—that raised my hackles.
“Hey!” The rebuke slipped out before I knew what I was doing. “You bumped into him, and you’re just going to walk away? Apologize.”
Asher’s shocked gaze snapped toward me while the guy’s eyes narrowed. He looked like he was in his mid-to-late-forties, with graying hair and a blue shirt that stretched over his paunch.
“Whatcha gonna do if I don’t, little girl?”
“Well.” I offered a sweet smile. “While I can’t physically make you apologize because I’m such a dainty little girl, I can call your employer and tell them one of their officers has been harassing a civilian.” I nodded at the Holchester Police logo on his shirt. “I’m sure they won’t be too thrilled about that, especially when they find out the civilian is Asher Donovan.”
“Bumping into someone ain’t harassment,” he growled.
“Maybe not outside this pub, but premeditated physical aggression is strictly prohibited at the Angry Boar.” I tipped my head toward the bar, where Mac was slinging drinks with his signature scowl. “If you don’t believe me, we can call Mac over and see if he agrees.”
