Page 61 of On One Condition

Ledger’s grin widens. “So, is this making you uncomfortable? Me standing here, drinking your coffee, making small talk?”

“Not uncomfortable, no.” I try to take a step back, but Ledger holds me in place, raising his eyebrows as if to tell me he’s not satisfied with my response. “I just . . . I just don’t know what that means or how this ends, or . . . whatever.”

He reaches out and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “Well, it—or whatever—means we had a good night. The fact that I’m not rushing out is a good sign. One that means I want to see you again.”

“There was a question?” I tease despite the ridiculous amount of relief I feel from his words.

“Not at all.” He presses a chaste kiss to my lips. “And how it ends is I finish my cup of coffee and then head into work because I have to figure out new and clever ways to kiss Mayor Grossman’s ass—”

“I warned you.”

“You did.” He nods. “And when I walk out that red door over there, we’ll both spend our day thinking about the incredible night we had, all while trying to wipe the goofy smiles off our faces—that people will question what they are there for. Then, we’ll touch base later and see how we feel about seeing each other again. It’s as simple as that.”

“What? You mean there’s no three-day rule about calling?”

“I think fifteen years covered that for us.”

I laugh. “Should I worry that this is something you have down to a science because you do it a lot?”

“Not a lot. No.”

My eyes stay locked on his, and I hate that the thought of him standing in someone else’s kitchen, having morning coffee irritates me. It’s ridiculous. Of course, he’s done that before. He’s extraordinarily handsome, wealthy, and educated. “The perfect catch,” I murmur out loud before I realize I have.

“The perfect catch?”

“Yep. I bet you’re the perfect catch for all those high-society, Park Avenue regulars in Manhattan.”

Like I once aspired to be.

“Hey. Don’t. That look on your face is saying too much.” That I’m not good enough for him. That I don’t fit in his world. That his dad was right. He brushes the most tender kiss to my lips and rests his forehead against mine. “I don’t care about the high-society ladies in Manhattan, Asher. Those women are perfect on the outside and boring on the inside. I prefer things a bit more complicated. A bit more real. And with more history to them.” He sighs and leans back, searching my face to make sure I’ve heard him. When he’s satisfied, he rubs his thumb back and forth over my lower lip. “I do have to get to work, though.”

“So is this the part where you kiss me goodbye?”

“It’s a hard job, but somebody has to do it,” he murmurs seconds before his lips slant over mine. The kiss is the perfect amount of soft yet demanding. He’s definitely in control—of the angle, the intensity, the length—and he’s somehow perfect at all of them.

When the kiss ends, he walks toward the door and then stops to look back at me. There is a lopsided smile on his lips. “This is the part where you start thinking about me all day.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Asher

“Meet me in Bear Valley? That’s it? After you leave the whole of Cedar Falls talking after last night, that’s the text you’re going to send me?” Nita says as she meets me on the sidewalk in Bear Valley, where I’ve been waiting for her to meet me.

“It worked, right?” I give her a quick hug. “You’re here.”

“I am here. You’re just lucky my babysitter was available today or else you’d be standing here with that smug grin on your face waiting forever.”

“Remind me to thank her.”

“Noted.”

“And screw the town for talking.” I shrug as we begin to walk slowly down the sidewalk. And I mean that, sincerely. I refuse to let their stupid gossip affect anything about what happened last night in a negative way. “At least I’ve actually earned the gossip they’re dishing on me this time around.”

“True,” she says and then nudges me. “So . . .”

“So . . .” I toy with her. “Dare I even ask what the gossip is about?”

Nita laughs. “Wayne’s curious how a man can last that long.”