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“Jesus Christ, you two are as bad as each other.” Asher scrubbed his hand down his face in frustration, already looking like he was ready for bed. “I meant the apartment above my shop.”
Jax’s eyes widened. “Oh.” He paused, seeming to think about it. “Actually, that’s a good idea.”
I was already shaking my head. It was a handout. “No.” I stood and pushed the chair back. “I don’t need a handout. I can survive on my own—”
“Not a handout,” Asher interrupted. “It’s sitting empty. Has been for a couple years.” He stared at me, drumming the point home. “You’d be helping me out, actually.” I didn’t believe him, not at all, but I couldn’t deny it being a good idea. It was closer to the dance studio and the club.
“How much?” I asked, my stomach dipping. Was I really entertaining this?
“Five hundred a month including bills.” He was trying to sound like he’d thought about the price, but I couldn’t help think he’d pulled the figure off the top of his head. It was one hundred less than the trailer, and I’d been paying that on and off for the last year. If I made sure to portion my money out and pick up an extra shift a couple of times a month, I could afford it along with my dance lessons.
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Jax murmured. “It’s a good deal, El. And you’ll be safe there.”
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to think without either of them looking at me. But in reality, I didn’t need to think about it. It made sense, it really did. And even though I knew deep down he was only offering me the place because of my situation, I couldn’t turn it down. “Okay,” I whispered, opening my eyes back up. “I’ll take it.”
Asher’s lips spread into a grin and my stomach dipped again, but for a different reason this time. And as I stared at him, I remembered the way his hand had felt as he cupped my face last night, and I couldn’t deny wishing he would kiss me again. But this time with me as Elodie. Would he even want to kiss the true version of me? Jax was in his early thirties, which meant so was Asher, but the age gap didn’t faze me one bit, and if the way his eyes lit up was anything to go by, it didn’t bother him either.
“When can she move in?” Jax asked, breaking our stare-off, and I shook my head and backed away a couple of steps. He was a web I couldn’t get out of, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to. There was something about Asher. It wasn’t only his handsome face and tattooed arms. But it was the way he looked at me, the way he made me feel safe and secure, the way I trusted him with things I hadn’t anyone else.
“Today after school. I just need to clear a few things out of there first.”
“I can help with that,” Jax said, standing up. “I’ve got a club meeting at ten, but I can come over straight after.”
“Okay,” Asher replied, but I wouldn’t look at him. I couldn’t look at him.
Jax stepped closer to me, and I turned my attention onto him. “I wish you would have told me how bad things were,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and pulling me against his chest. I returned the hug and breathed in his leather and engine oil smell.
“I’m sorry.” I tried to swallow past the building lump in my throat. “I just…I was trying to fix it all myself.”
Jax pulled back and gripped my shoulders in his hands as he looked down at me. “You’re not alone, El. You should know that by now.” He glanced behind me, then back to me and lowered his voice. “And now you have Asher in your corner. Trust me when I say there ain’t anyone else like him in this world. I trust him more than anyone else.” I heard what he was saying loud and clear, so I nodded in understanding. “I’ll see you after school, yeah?”
“Yeah.” I smiled gently as he backed away, and a minute later, the front door closed, and the roar of his motorcycle rang out. I cringed and wondered how I hadn’t heard it arriving when he’d first gotten here. “Your neighbors won’t be happy with that noise.”
“They’re used to it,” Asher replied, his voice rough. “Are you ready for school?”
I turned to face him, and swallowed at the intense look in his eyes. Goose bumps broke out all over my skin and my breaths became shallow. How could him simply looking at me make me feel cold and hot all at the same time?
“Yeah, I only need to put my tennis shoes on.” My nostrils flared as he stepped forward and I craved for him to keep coming. To not halt until he was right in front of me. My gaze flicked down to his hands, and his fingers twitched in response. Did he want to touch me as much as I wanted him to touch me? Or was it all in my head?
“We can get breakfast on the way,” he said, his voice deeper and rougher. He was feeling the tension too, there was no denying it. The air swirled around us, and he took another step toward me. I hadn’t felt like this since the last time he’d kissed me. I glanced at his lips and licked mine in response, and I swore I heard him growl.
“Put your shoes on,” he gritted out. “I gotta get changed.” He was saying the words, but he wasn’t making the movement to leave the room. He didn’t stop staring at me, and I didn’t want him to. I’d never felt so safe and so turned on all at the same time.
“Okay,” I replied, my own voice hoarse.
He halted a couple of feet in front of me, his chest heaving on each breath, and I begged him silently to reach out to me. To touch my face like he did last night. To press his lips against mine like he did all those weeks ago. But he didn’t. He stood there, staring at me, until finally he turned away and left the room.
My body sagged as he went up the stairs and I gasped for breath. How did he make me feel that way? How did he make me want to feel like that again?
I didn’t move from the position I was in, not until I heard his footsteps come back down the stairs ten minutes later, then I rushed to push my feet into my tennis shoes and grabbed my backpack. He stopped in the doorway to the living room, tilted his head at me to follow him, and that was exactly what I did. I didn’t want to admit I would follow him anywhere. I may put up a fight, but deep down I knew I wanted to be around him.
Neither of us spoke or even looked at each other as we got into his truck and headed toward a drive-through. He ordered some food, paid for it, and handed me the bag. “Take whatever you want. We can eat it on the way to school.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, desperately wanting to reach into my pocket and give him money for the food, but I refrained. He was trying to help me, and I was trying to let him help me. It felt like a battle—one we were both winning.
I pulled out a hash brown and nearly moaned as the potato goodness hit my tongue. There was nothing better than a hash brown—it was a fact. I was so consumed with eating that I didn’t even notice we were close to the school until Asher pulled up at a set of lights and told me, “Leave your keys and I can move the stuff from your car into the apartment.”
“I can do that later,” I said, closing up the bag and leaving the rest of the food for him. I placed it into the center console and wiped my hands on a napkin. “Thank you for letting me stay there.”
