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“I don’t know, seems like it’d be only your second worst idea, right behind moving in with yours truly,” I added, seeing just how much I could rile him up.
“Oh yeah, that would go over well,” he considered with droll amusement. “Tom would be so happy to hear about it, don’t you think?”
“He’d be rolling out the red carpet.”
Ashton snorted at my comment, pulling his hand away from me again as we approached the truck.
“Well, if you didn’t like that place, then what are you looking for?”
“Something furnished, maybe. Something without too many stairs, ‘cause Goddamn those ones sucked.”
“The stairs I get, but why the hell are we looking at apartments if you’re looking for something furnished? You know these places won’t be furnished!”
“Uh, because I didn’t want to go to a baseball game in this ball-shriveling heat?”
I cracked up, holding my belly as I climbed into the truck.
“Sure, yep, me too.”
He climbed into his seat then sent me a wan look.
“Well, we can’t beat Tom home, and I’m out of apartments to look at. What now?”
“Have you been to Fat Burger yet?”
He shook his head.
“It’s a damn Las Vegas institution, Ashton. How haven’t you gone yet?”
“Because the assholes I live with never told me about it,” he bit back with a grin on his face.
“Buckle up, buttercup. We’re getting some of the best burgers in the west. Hope you’re hungry.”
“I’m alway hungry,” he all but growled.
All the lady hormones in my body started acting up and getting excited while the bits between my legs practically wept for him. God, how embarrassing. What I’d do to experience his appetite.
As it was, I’d have to settle for watching him devour a burger, watching the rich juices sliding down his chin while I craved everything about him.
Ugh…
Fuck me.
Chapter 7
Freya
Moving[1] Day.
Honestly, all that meant was Ashton found a little place to sublet for a few months while he figured out what he wanted to do with his life.
All Ashton had to pack were his duffels, and he stuffed them into the truck he’d been borrowing since he arrived.
“Are you sure you want to leave so soon?” Dad asked for the millionth time, following Ashton out while Mom hurried after them with a couple casseroles in her hands, ready for his fridge.
Don’t you fucking judge me for following them all out, too.
“Tommy Gun, I’m fine,” Ashton drawled, eyeing those casseroles. “Shit, you’re acting like I’m dying or something. I’m a grown man. I should be living on my own.”
