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“Did he freak out?”
“A little at first because he thought you were still an employee. I told him you quit.”
“That’s all?”
“Mostly,” Ian said, shrugging, which she was impressed he could do while lying on his side on a hardwood floor.
“So it wasn’t all?”
“He said he had concerns about us dating. The usual dad stuff. No big deal.”
“What are the usual concerns?”
“Flash, they’re no big deal.”
“Tell me what he said.”
“Nothing important. He has concerns you’ll be uncomfortable with the Asher family when we’re being all...” Ian put his finger on the tip of his nose and lifted it.
“Being all important? Being all rich and important? Being all rich and important and doing important people things?”
“Right. But still, this is Portland, not LA or New York. I wanted to remind him we’re Ashers, not Rockefellers. We’re not even Kardashians. I refrained from saying all that out loud. Barely.”
“Your dad has a point.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“He does. I will be uncomfortable. I am already uncomfortable.”
“That’s because you’re lying on the floor. Get up. We’re going to the hot tub. If we’re going to have a serious relationship talk we’re going to do it naked and in one hundred degree water. Up.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes. I’m the boss. When I say jump you say—”
“Who?”
“Close enough.” He rolled over into the push-up position, and with an impressive show of both grace and muscle he jumped to his feet. He reached down and held out his hand. She groaned and let him take her by the arm and drag her to her feet.
“Can you take your clothes off or do I have to undress you, too?” he asked.
“I can undress myself.”
“Too bad. I’m going to do it, anyway. Arms up.”
“I can’t move them.”
Ian shook his head. “Pathetic.” He took her by the wrists and lifted her arms over her head. Once they were up, he grasped her sweatshirt by the bottom and yanked it up and over her head. Then he unzipped and yanked her jeans down, which was when Flash reminded him that it’s usually necessary to take off someone’s shoes before you took off that person’s jeans. He suggested in the future she invest in skirts preferably with nothing on underneath. She said she’d give that some thought, but considering he lived on top of a fucking mountain with twenty fucking inches of snow on the ground, she’d probably stick to wearing both jeans and underwear. He conceded defeat.
Finally she stood naked—completely—in the middle of Ian’s living room.
“You’re right,” she said, running her bare foot along the hardwood. “This floor is very smooth.”
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you over the sight of your nipples.”
She looked at him through narrowed eyes.
“Ian, stop staring at my tits and take your clothes off.”
