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Probably.
“Uh-oh,” Asher said, as he put the bag of groceries on the table in their room. “You’ve got your thinking face on.”
“The fuck is my thinking face?”
“The face you make when you’re thinking about bad things or something you don’t like.”
“I do not make a face.”
“You absolutely do.”
He groaned. “Whatever.”
“What were you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
“My God, you cannot lie. For someone in our line of work, that’s a skill you should have mastered by now.”
“I can lie just fine.” Then Harry reconsidered. “Just not to you, apparently. Which, again, is your fucking fault.”
Grinning, Asher threw a breakfast bar to Harry. “Aww, that’s so sweet.”
“Can you lie to me?” As soon as he’d asked that question, Harry regretted it. “You know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”
Asher sat on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard, his legs outstretched, crossed at the ankles. He studied Harry for a long few moments, apparently amused. He bit into his breakfast bar. “I probably could. But I haven’t.”
“Well, that’s a lie, so yes you can.”
He shook his head. “Okay, so maybe in the beginning. When I didn’t give a fuck if you lived or died. Back then, I could have. Sure. But not anymore.”
“Since when?” Harry asked. “What changed?”
Asher shrugged and chewed thoughtfully, and he took so long to answer, Harry was beginning to think he wouldn’t. “Morocco. About day four.”
Morocco?
“What happened on day four?”
“Nothing. I don’t know. You’d hurt your ankle, even though you pretended you hadn’t, and you were grumpy. Always grumbling about something. But I knew you were really a nice guy under the scowl and the glare. And all the scars.”
“Nice guy?”
“Yep.” He shrugged. “And I saw the size of your dick. That sealed the deal.”
Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. He wasn’t going to dignify that with a response, but in the end, it got the better of him. “You think I’m nice?”
Asher nodded. “I do.” He ate more of his breakfast bar, and then he added, “You’re nice to me. You’ve even been a little protective of me, once or twice, and no one’s ever done that for me before.”
Harry stared at him, unsure of how to take that.
Asher was being honest with him now. He was looking at his legs, picking at a thread at his knee, a slight blush on his cheek. There was no faking that.
“And you found more of my favourite mints,” Asher said, looking at him now. “Sugar free, but still. It’s the thought that counts.”
Harry couldn’t help but smile, but his mind went back to his original thoughts. “What’s the plan, Asher?”
“I told you. We need to dump the car. We can drive to a shopping mall and leave the car in the parking lot. We need to buy new clothes. Shirts, at least. People might notice us too much if we look like hitmen on the run.”
