His smile is wry. "I'm not. But that doesn't mean I don't respect it."
It would be so easy to believe him. But my mother didn't raise a fool. She raised my sister and I to understand that charming men can be expensive in ways that have nothing to do with money. So I'm going to be cautious.
"I had a good time tonight," I say. "A really good time. But we’re not there yet."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay. Yes. I'll slow down."
I almost laugh. "You don't do slow."
"I can learn," he assures me.
I wonder if this is just a thing he’s saying. Because objectively, it makes zero sense. "But… why?"
"For you."
"Okay."
Honestly, I don't believe him. I think a man like Asher Stevens is used to getting what he wants without having to work for it.
"I'll call you tomorrow," he says.
I guess we'll see.
CHAPTER
THREE
JULIE
HadI made a bet on whether he'd call, I'd have lost. He's both called and texted, which I file under pleasantly surprised.
"You're late," I say when Asher finally appears at the entrance to Pike Place Market, slightly out of breath.
"Eight minutes." He checks his watch. "Traffic was insane."
"Eight minutes is still late."
"Never." He steps closer, and the way he looks at me makes my stomach flip. "You look beautiful."
I'm wearing jeans and a sweater. Nothing special. But the way he looks me over makes me feel like I'm wearing something extraordinary. "You're forgiven," I say. "But only because you're cute when you're flustered."
"I'm not flustered."
"You ran here, didn't you?"
He laughs. "I may have briskly walked."
I gesture toward the entrance. "Come on. You owe me coffee."
The market is busy because it’s a Saturday morning with the usual mix of tourists and locals wandering between stallsselling flowers, fresh produce, and handmade crafts. We stop at the original Starbucks because it feels like something you're supposed to do, even though the line is ridiculous.
We wait. We talk. He tells me more about his job. I tell him about the customer part of owning a store by sharing a story about an order that went sideways because for some reason a woman bought lavender soap but somehow expected it to smell like rose. Nothing about the soap said rose. Not the color, the label, nothing. But she was pressed.
"How does that even happen?" he asks.
