This is Asher. Don’t rear-end anyone else on the way there.
I laugh. “I’ll try my best.”
“See you in twenty minutes, Julie Nelson.”
CHAPTER
TWO
JULIE
Asherand I find parking spots fairly close together. After locking our cars, we walk into the bookstore, heading straight for the Starbucks tucked near the entrance.
The barista greets us with a smile. "What can I get started for you?"
"Vanilla latte, please," I answer.
"What size?"
"Tall."
"Make it a venti," Asher says, cutting right across me.
She nods and turns to make the drink before I can tell her not to. I look at him. "You're upgrading my coffee order?"
"It's a dollar more." He says it like that settles the matter entirely.
The dismissiveness in his tone tightens something in my chest. I fold my arms. "It wasn't about the price. I ordered a tall because that's what I'll drink."
He studies me for a beat, something shifting behind his eyes. "I'll make a note of that."
"A note," I repeat, laughing a little. "Like you're opening a file on me."
"I am. A mental one," he says, and the smile that follows is slow and deliberate. "My father says the details are where people show you who they really are. He means it as a business principle, mostly. But I've found it applies to nearly everything."
"Even coffee orders?"
The corner of his mouth lifts. "Maybe especially those. You can't read a situation accurately if you're skipping over the small things."
"You make people sound like puzzles to be solved."
"Sometimes they are."
"Am I?"
His eyes meet mine. "I haven't decided what you are just yet."
I don't know why that gives me butterflies. We find a corner booth, and then three hours disappear. I forget about the books I came here to buy, the plans I had later, and basically everything except the way he looks at me. Like I'm the most interesting person he's ever met and as if every word matters.
"So you own a bath and body store with your sister," he says, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.
"Yeah." I suddenly feel weirdly self-conscious. "I know it's not, like, impressive or anything."
"It's impressive as hell."
The firmness in his voice catches me off guard. "You built something," he says. "Created something. Most people just talk about doing that."
I smile, because okay. Damn. That was the exact right thing to say. "What about you?" I ask. "What do you do?"
