Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
“Hey, honey.”
His voice slides up my spine like warm fingertips gently tracing the lines of me. I turn to see my husband heading in our direction. With eyes only for me. With an intensity in his gaze. A purpose in his step.
When he reaches me, he loops an arm around my waist, then drops one of his signature possessive kisses to my lips. My head goes hazy even from the quick kiss.
But when he lets go, and I catch Eleanor watching us, looking thrilled, I want to whisper, Good job to Asher. Every day this week, he’s driven me here to the arena, he’s made sure to meet me at the end of work—except when I went to the studio—and he’s kissed me in public. He hasn’t forgotten the brunch lesson from that day at their house.
Maybe he hasn’t forgotten that Holmes has a crush on me, too, since he turns to the dog and says, “Sorry, bud. She’s all mine.”
Eleanor cracks up. “I guess you heard.”
“I did. But I get it. She’s pretty irresistible,” he says, tugging me closer.
Eleanor smiles at us approvingly, like all is right in the world.
And really, in this moment, it is. Even though I know this affection, though real, is also all for show. It’s for her benefit. But who am I to complain? I’m enjoying the benefits, too, of Asher’s performance.
After I pack up, Asher walks me to his car in the players’ lot. “Pole class now? With the troublemakers?”
I pat my pink duffel bag I’m carrying. It has my clothes but also a gift for Asher. Something I’ve been holding onto for a few days. I’ve been looking for the right moment to give it to him. “I’m ready for it.”
He looks me over with hungry eyes as we reach the car. “You should show me sometime.”
“My pole moves?” I ask.
“Yes.”
My mind is racing ahead to what he might like. I think I know, so I smile as I slide into the car. “Consider it done.”
On the way to class, he cruises through early evening traffic, slowing at a light. His expression is a little serious and a little hopeful when he says, “Would you want to come to the game next Sunday with my dads?”
My heart warms, heating my whole chest it seems. I’ve always loved watching him play. “Of course.”
As we wait at the red light, he gives a small smile. “Good. I want you there again. Been thinking about it since the other week when you and Vivian came. I like you there as my wife,” he says with confidence but a trace of vulnerability too.
That warmth spreads, heating me up from the possession in his tone. “Then I’ll be there as your wife. I mean, that’ll look good, right?”
The light changes and he hits the gas. “Yes, but that’s not why I want you there. It’s not for show.”
“It’s because I’m your good luck charm,” I add lightly.
He shakes his head. “I thought we cleared that up. You’re an instigator, you’re an agent, you’re a force to be reckoned with.”
“Clearly that’s all true. But I also like the idea that I can bring you luck.”
A small laugh seems to escape his lips, but he says nothing, just shakes his head slightly, like he can’t quite win on this count. I’m not sure what to make of the moment, but there’s no time to dissect meanings since he pulls up to Upside Down a minute later. “I bet you’ll be hungry when you’re done. I’ll handle dinner for us,” he says.
“Damn. I love it when you order food,” I say with a low whistle, touching his chest because I can. “I like these marital benefits too.”
“Good. I want you to.” He grabs my hand, making my stomach flip. He drops a quick, hot kiss to my lips and nods to the studio door. “Go do your thing, Maeve…Callahan.”
A tingle slides down my spine from the way he says his last name. But before I exit the car, I stop, my fingers curled around the door handle. “Do you have a no-trade clause?”
He smiles. “I do.” He pauses, his lips curving up, almost like he’s amused. “I’ve told you that before though.”
Hmm. He probably has. I’m sure it came up at some point—when bowling, while exploring the weird new offerings at the local farmers market, while playing party games at Josie and Wesley’s some night. Yet this time feels different. Because I’m asking for me.
42
LONG LIVE MESSES
Maeve
It’s open studio night at Upside Down, so we’re all working on our own moves, some basic, some advanced, getting one-on-one instruction as we go. I’ve been flirting with inverts, but I’m not there yet. Mostly since, well, I don’t want to break my hands. Or my neck. I like both body parts.
The studio is lit with soft, ambient light that highlights the sleek poles, mirrors lining one side of the room.