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He kissed her fingertips. “You aren’t, though, Blythe. You aren’t.”
She took a sip of the wine that was waiting in her glass, impressed that he remembered her preference of red over white.With so many girls to keep track of, anyway.She dismissed the thought from her mind. “So, in your text you said you had something you wanted to talk to me about?”
He took a drink, as if trying to gain a bit of liquid courage, and rubbed his hands together, adjusting in his seat. “I do.” He paused. “I know we are still in a weird place, and I know you don’t trust me yet, but I really like you, Blythe. Like, really, really like you. I didn’t realize it until you walked away from me. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I’m not dating anyone else. I’m all-in with you.”
It seemed fast for someone who hadn’t wanted anything serious just a few days before. Blythe stared at him. “Are you saying that because you think it’s what I want to hear?”
“I’m saying it because it’s true. Now, it doesn’t mean I’m ready for major commitment. I’m still young, and I don’t plan to settle down for a few years.”
“I’m not looking for a marriage, Asher. That’s not what—”
“I know,” he interrupted, holding up a hand. “Just…let me finish. I’ve never really been in a serious relationship. I like to keep my options open. I always have. My parents didn’t always have a great relationship—it’s not an excuse, I’m just trying to explain—so, when you said you wanted to be exclusive, I panicked. No girl has ever expected that from me. But, then you walked away and the thought of being without you…even with the possibility of being with thirty other women…it was terrifying. I don’t want to be with anyone else if it means I can’t be with you.” He ran a thumb over her knuckles, taking a deep breath. She was losing herself in his eyes, the candlelight on their tabletop dancing in the black irises. “So, to prove to you just how serious I am…I wanted to ask if you’d consider going to a cabin with me Upstate this weekend. I know it’s last minute, but if you can get off work, I promise to make it worth your while.”
She was completely thrown off by the proposition, expecting literally anything else to have come from his mouth. “W-what?”
“My parents are hosting a party for my grandmother’s eightieth birthday. I’ve never brought a girl home to meet my family. But…I want you to come.”
She smiled, the idea filling her belly with a weird mix of excitement and nerves. “I don’t know…”
“Come on,” he coaxed. “You’ll love it. We own a few vacation cabins all there together. It’s really beautiful. And if you hate it, you don’t have to stay. I’ll bring you home or call you a car. But you won’t hate it.”
She thought for a moment, trying to picture herself ‘Upstate,’ as he called it. It seemed like something she’d hear in a movie. A cabin in the mountains? It may as well have been a screensaver.
“You’re smiling…” he whispered, brushing her cheek with his outstretched fingertips. “Is that a good sign?” He was right, she realized, as her hand went to her lips. She nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm,” she confirmed. “I’ll go.”
He leaned across the table, bumping into it noisily as his mouth searched for hers. She pressed her lips into his kiss, welcoming it as her heart thudded in her chest.
“What are you doing to me, woman?” Asher asked as they pulled away, his awestruck gaze locked on her.
She smirked, taking a sip of her wine as the waiter approached their table. “Teaching you to bend.”
* * *
The car ridenorth was filled with laughter. Despite her worries about Finn, she was trying hard to focus on the man whodidseem to want her. Luckily, he hadn’t made it too difficult. On top of keeping her entertained, Asher had packed enough food to feed a kindergarten class on a week-long fieldtrip. And he’d shopped like one, too. Bags of Twizzlers, M&Ms, Skittles, Bugles, Doritos, and Reese’s Minis lined the floor of the rented BMW.
Blythe sat with her legs crossed in the seat, chewing on an orange Twizzler.
“I can’t believe you like those,” he said with a laugh. “I thought you were joking when you asked for ’em.”
She wiggled the candy in the air. “They’re my favorite. Orange cream anything…mmmmm.” She snorted as she took another bite.
“Your favorite snack? Or your favorite food in general?” he asked.
“My favorite snack,” she told him, and when he feigned a sigh of relief, she went on, “my second favorite food.”
“Do I want to know your first?”
“French fries, of course!” she said, appearing appalled.
He laughed. “Of course. I forgot I was dating a toddler.”
“What about you? What’s your favorite food? Caviar?”
