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“But anyway, advertising,” he said after a minute. “How did you come to it?”
“Well, my parents are richer than God. East Coast blue bloods on both sides, old money, yadda yadda. They sent me to all the ‘right’ boarding schools that prepped me for an Ivy League university. Didn’t matter which one. As far as my parents were concerned, I had no choice. Not that I’m complaining,” I added hastily. “Debt-free, world-class college is nothing to sneeze at and I’m grateful for it. But it would’ve been nice if they’d been as concerned about who I was as much as they were about who they wanted me to be.”
Asher nodded. “Yeah, I get that.”
“Despite being on disciplinary probation for basically the entire length of my formative years, I kept my grades up and got into Brown.” I shot him a look. “My parents didn’t buy my way in, is what I’m saying.”
“That doesn’t surprise me in the least.”
I smiled at that and sipped my wine. “I graduated with a degree in Quantitative Economics…” I laughed as he coughed over his drink. “Now you’re surprised.”
He wiped the spill of wine off his lower lip. “No, I just…I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“You thought it’d be fashion design or maybe marketing? Me too. But I was also pretty good at math, and I liked the puzzles of economics. Figuring out what was going to happen next based on what’s happened before, reading trends… But once I graduated, I had no idea what to do. I never stuck with anything for long but bounced around, trying on careers like shoes. Most didn’t fit until I found advertising. Each account is like a puzzle, too, figuring out what’s going to be the key to making something pop. Turns out I have a knack and it doesn’t bore me to death, so…?” I shrugged. “It stuck.”
“How long have you been at your agency?”
“Forever! Almost three years. Longest I’ve ever been anywhere.”
He choked out another laugh. “Wait, let me get this straight. You’ve been at your job for less than three years and already they want to make you partner?”
I didn’t want to need the admiration in his brown eyes, but it felt nice. More than nice. Asher Mackey was a goddamn saint compared to me, but my own competence wasn’t something I normally contemplated. I spent too much time partying with Viv and letting men take care of me to consider I was actually capable of taking care of myself.
“You good?” he asked, studying my frown.
I gave my head a shake and offered a weak smile. “Yeah. Sure.”
“So…how’re things going back in Seattle?” he asked, almost reluctantly.
“They’re great,” I said. “I’ve checked in a few times—just today, actually. Turns out I care about my accounts and clients. Who knew?”
He smiled mildly. “I knew.”
That frustratingwantof Asher flared at his simple declaration. And the way he looked darkly handsome in the dim light. And how he looked atme. Emotions stirred and roiled to see myself reflected in his brown eyes. I took a long pull of wine, feeling more naked than I ever had, and it had nothing to do with my skimpy dress.
Our food arrived—scampi for him and pasta primavera for me. I pushed the vegetables around with my fork.
Asher looked up from his food. “Talk to me, Faith. You’ve been a little up and down all night. What’s going on?”
A loaded question. I answered with a safe reply that wasn’t:I want you to take me on this table right now…
“I was just thinking about how I came here to break my bad habits with men, and yet I’ve been letting you take care of me, twenty-four seven.”
The furrow between Asher’s brows arrived right on schedule.
“Not this again.” He shook his head. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. Despite my best efforts, you pay for more than half of our activities. And it’s not about money anyway.”
“Then what’s it about?”
“Give and take,” he said. “I don’t want to put words in your mouth, but it sounds like when you were with those other guys, you did more of the taking.”
“Allofthe taking.”
“That’s not the case here.”
“It’s not? We’re not even sleeping together. What are you getting out of this deal?”
“You.”
