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Tears threatened to spill over. “Onestupid shave ice—”
“Is not the measure of your competence, Faith,” he said in a low voice. “Come on. You gotta put that foot up.”
He searched the immediate vicinity, glaring at our audience. His dark eyes found the picnic tables with their benches across the street. He nodded to himself, then wheeled on a young guy sitting at the nearest shave ice table with his girlfriend.
Asher jabbed a finger. “You. Up.”
Mortification washed over me and yet I couldn’t help the little thrill that shot down my spine at how fast the guy and his girlfriend scampered out of their seats with muttered apologies.
Asher guided me to sit, then took my crutches.
I wiped my nose. “I sort of need those.”
“Be right back.”
I watched him cross the street and claim a table with the crutches. Then he came back for me. He held out his hand. “Come on.”
My emotions had drained, leaving me exhausted. Or maybe it was the failed exertion of the day, but I still had a shred of pride left.
“I’m not going to let you carry me across town in front of all these people,” I whispered.
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
He pulled me to standing, then took both my hands in his, engulfing them in his large, strong grip. In one smooth motion, like some sort of dance move, he turned his back to me while lifting my arms up and then lacing them around his neck. He hunched down a little and hoisted me onto his broad back. My face was right over his shoulder, my cheek touching his.
“Hold on.”
I did as he commanded, and he let go of my hands to hook his arms under my knees, then started across the street. I felt every move of his muscles, the power and heat in him. His cologne became my atmosphere, and I inhaled and let out a deep sigh. My body melted against his and I could’ve taken a nap right there.
“I was right.”
“About what?” His deep voice was a rumble against my chest.
“You could’ve carried me out of the Falls like this.”
He made a sound I couldn’t identify, and then—too soon—the journey was over.
Asher set me down on the bench where he’d left my crutches, and I put up my throbbing ankle. “Cherry, right?” He jogged back across the street without waiting for an answer, and despite the line, he returned quickly with two shave ices—one cherry, one coffee. Because he knew everyone. Because this was his town and it had been reckless to come up here.
Reckless or exactly what you hoped for?
Asher set the red bowl down in front of me and dug in to his without a word. I had a full-on Bridgerton-Duke-of-Hastings moment, lust balling in my stomach, as I watched him lick his spoon.
Damn him.
I grabbed my bowl and turned as far away from him as my outstretched leg would allow and dug into my shave ice. I ate too fast and—because that’s how this day was going—promptly gave myself brain freeze. I set down my bowl with a curse to find Asher watching me, eyebrows raised.
“Better?”
“No.”
He snorted a laugh. “What gives, Faith?”
I rubbed my temples. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I thought leaving was giving up but staying is stupid.”
“Pushing yourself too hard is stupid. You could wind up hurting yourself worse.”
“Given this trip so far, I’m pretty sure I’m about to be struck by lightning.” I poked my spoon into cherry slush. “What are you doing here? Staking out the shave ice stand, waiting for me?”
