“So, to your aunt’s, then? Which way is that?”
She shook her head. “She lives outside of the city. I’ll have to take a cab.” She slapped her hand onto her forehead as soon as she’d said it. “Crap. No. I’ll have to call her and see if she can come pick me up. No purse. Dammit. Welcome to New York, right?”
He smirked, running a hand through his hair. “That guy was a part of our welcoming committee, now that you mention it.” He paused. “Hey, why don’t you come back to my place for the night? I don’t mean that how it sounds,” he said, though she’d never said she didn’t want him to mean it exactly how it sounded—she was a trollop, after all. “I just assume that your aunt probably won’t want to drive into the city so late. She doesn’t exactly seem to like the nightlife crowd. You can call her and tell her where to pick you up tomorrow.”
“Oh, no, honestly, I couldn’t put you out like that,” she said, trying to be polite, though she desperately wanted to say yes.
“It’s fine,” he said simply. “It makes the most sense, anyway. If you trust me.”
She nodded, surprising herself as the truth slipped from her tongue. “I trust you.”
* * *
Back at his place once again, he offered to let her sleep in his bed, which she promptly declined.
“I’m honestly not being…chivalrous or whatever. I’ll sleep on the couch. It’s just…I don’t have extra bed stuff. Pillows or whatever. And I’m not going to make you sleep out here with nothing. I’ll be fine. I usually crash on the couch, anyway.”
She bit her lip. “Are you sure?” she asked.
He raised his eyebrows. “You aren’t gonna steal from me, are ya?”
“What, and become a part of New York’s welcoming committee? Honestly, the job didn’t seem all that glamorous.”
He laughed—she loved the way he laughed at her jokes—and rubbed a thumb over his lip, walking past her toward the bedroom. He pulled open a drawer and handed her a T-shirt and sweatpants. “Don’t worry, they’re clean.”
She held them tightly to her chest, staring at the man who’d saved her life in more ways than one that day. “Thank you, Finn. For…everything.”
“I didn’t do much,” he said simply. “Bathroom’s there.” He pointed to a door to his right. “You can wake me up if you need anything.”
She nodded in agreement, watching as he walked out the door. Before it had closed completely, he turned back to glance at her one last time. “Good night, Blythe.”
“Good night, Finn.” With that, he shut the door and she heard his heavy footsteps as he walked away from her.
She slipped out of her clothes carefully, pulling his shirt over her head. It smelled like him. This entire room smelled just like his metallic cologne. She laid down in his bed, enjoying the scent surrounding every inch of her. She wasn’t sure what it was about this man that had her so enraptured—perhaps the mystery, perhaps that he’d been so kind on a day that she’d really needed kindness—either way, the thoughts she was having about him would’ve had Aunt Patty clutching her pearls.
She turned off the lamp on his bedside table, listening to the fan above her whirling around, and tried to fall asleep. Outside, she could hear sirens, horns, and people laughing. The sounds of New York City. It was incredibly noisy. She rolled over, wrapping her head in a pillow. She’d certainly have to get used to this.
Then again, Aunt Patty’s home wasn’t going to be this noisy…was it? And she’d only be at Finn’s for the night. So, this noise was only temporary.
After a few minutes of tossing and turning and wishing desperately for her phone and earphones to drown out the thoughts of the mile-long to-do list she now had to complete—a trip to the nearest DMV at the top of that list—she threw the covers off her legs and walked from the room. She didn’t want to think of all the misfortune the robber had cost her: the bank card she’d need to replace, the only family photos she owned now in the hands of a stranger; she just wanted to sleep.
He was sitting on the couch, staring at a blank TV. He looked up, surprised to see her. “Need something?” he asked.
“I…I can’t sleep,” she said, bumping one knee into the other awkwardly.
He seemed to understand, patting the seat next to him. It was an invitation. She took him up on his offer without much coaxing, sliding onto the couch next to him and watching as he picked up the remote. “Any preferences?” he asked.
She shook her head, leaning over onto his chest without hesitation. He was right, without pillows this couch certainly wasn’t comfortable. He didn’t seem to mind her weight, scooting further down into the couch in what seemed like an attempt to make her more relaxed. She could hear his heart racing in his chest, and she wondered if he could hear hers. His hand stroked her arm carefully, causing the hair on her arms to raise.
It had been so long since she’d touched anyone else…as painful as that was to admit. A year. A year since her parents died and she dumped her high school boyfriend. A year since her life effectively stopped.
He flipped through the channels casually, though she was pretty sure he wasn’t actually paying attention to what was on. She closed her eyes for a split second, focusing on his heartbeat and finally allowing herself to succumb to her exhaustion.
Next thing she knew, she woke up.
Chapter Three
She opened her eyes in a strange place. It took awhile for her vision to adjust to the light streaming into the window and then for her brain to catch up.
“Sorry,” a voice whispered from underneath her. They were lying on a couch in an apartment she didn’t immediately recognize. She looked over, staring at Finn with what she was sure was a strange expression. “I didn’t mean to wake you…I just really need to pee.” He lifted her head from his chest, darting across the apartment in a hurry.
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, the past day’s events coming back to her. She hadn’t slept so well in over a year. Apparently, the city’s sounds grew on her faster than she’d ever imagined.
When he reappeared, his messy hair was combed and his lips were red. He’d brushed his teeth—something she desperately needed to do.
She escaped from the room, staring at his toothbrush for a moment and considering the insane possibility of using it, before she held out her finger under the tube and ran it quickly through her mouth. She pinched her cheeks—something she’d seen her mother do when she wanted to impress someone, ran a hand through her dark brown hair, and shrugged. It was the best it was going to get, she supposed.
When she walked from the room, Finn had started making coffee. He had a mug sitting out for her but didn’t say anything as she walked past it. She had never liked coffee, but if he offered, she would accept the cup. It was the polite thing to do. Besides, load it up with cream and sugar and it was practically dessert.
She slid onto the barstool. “So,” she said, clearing her throat. “Good morning, I guess.”
He smiled from behind his mug. “Good morning.” She looked away, but when she looked back, his eyes were still locked on her as if in awe. As he noticed her meeting his stare, he looked down.
Heat rose to her cheeks. “What do you have planned for the day?” she asked.
He glanced at the clock. “I have to be at work soon,” he said, his eyes studying hers.
I’ve overstayed my welcome. It hit her quickly, and she stood even quicker, nearly knocking over the stool. “I’m so sorry. I should be going.”
He placed the mug down. “I didn’t mean you had to leave.”
“No, honestly, you’ve done way too much for me as it is. I’ll call my aunt from the…”
He slid his phone across the counter. “You can use my phone. But you’re welcome to stay. Honestly, you are. I’ll be home later tonight, but you can make yourself at home. Or head out and take care of whatever you need to. As long as you need it, the bed…or couch, since that seems to be your preference, is yours. Trust me, I’ve been at the point of
crashing on couches and staying with people who truly don’t want me there.”
She nodded. “Thank you, but I couldn’t.”
He shrugged, pushing the phone further toward her until she took it. “Well, the offer stands either way. I need to get a shower.” He stared at her for a moment, and she was sure he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned to walk down the hallway and she watched him disappear, her throat dry and heart strangely empty.
She dialed her aunt’s number, listening as it rang and rang. When she didn’t answer, Blythe left a message, explaining to her exactly where she’d be and that she didn’t have a phone so she wouldn’t be able to reach her. She laid the phone back on the counter, watching the blank screen as she hoped her aunt would call her back.
After a few minutes, Blythe heard the water from his shower shut off, and as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t move. The bathroom door opened, and she watched a cloud of steam waft down the hallway. After a few moments, she heard his padded footsteps coming her way.
When she saw him she gasped without meaning to. His black towel was wrapped tightly around his tan waist, revealing a soaking wet six-pack of abs she hadn’t been expecting. His messy, brown hair was wet and hanging down around his chin, and his eyes widened when he saw her.
“Sorry, I didn’t think you’d still be here,” he said simply.
“I…shouldn’t be,” she said honestly. “My…I was…waiting for my aunt to call back.” Suddenly, her words were taking forever to form and her eyes couldn’t be pulled from his skin.
He nodded but didn’t say anything.
“Anyway, I really should be going. I left her a message about where to find me.” She turned, bumping into the stool and sending it flying this time. They both moved to grab it, and their skin touched, lightning shooting through her. He tucked a piece of his dark hair behind his ear as she spun around to face him. “S-sorry,” she said.
“Blythe,” he said, her name on his tongue sending shivers down her spine. “You’re fine. Stop apologizing.”
She nodded, her eyes studying his hauntingly dark stare. “O-okay. Sorry.”
He closed his eyes for a half-second, a small smile on his lips. When he opened them, he asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”
She shook her head, though every fiber of her being was screaming yes, and spit out the word, “No.” She bit her lip. “I shouldn’t. I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve already done for me.”
He touched her arm, and a squeal nearly escaped her chest but she managed to rein it in. Did she do to him what he did to her? It wasn’t possible. This was the product of a small-town, sheltered girl finally meeting someone, anyone, new. That had to be it. “Like I said, the offer stands. I get off at seven. I’ll be here. Anytime.”
She smiled nervously. “Thank you, Finn.”
Was it her imagination, or had she seen his eyes grow dark with desire as she spoke his name? She closed her eyes, literally shaking away the thought and stepping back. She couldn’t be here, or she was going to end up making a fool of herself. He didn’t come after her as she grabbed her clothes from the floor and hurried out of the apartment, calling out a quick, “Thank you again,” over her shoulder.
Chapter Four
ONE MONTH LATER
Blythe hurried back into the kitchen, trying to catch her breath in between trays of food. She was surprised to see a guest with his head in the large, double-doored, stainless steel fridge.
“Looking for something in particular?” she asked. It was unusual to find a guest in the kitchen during a catered event. In fact, it was her entire job to make sure guests never had to step foot in the kitchen, so as she watched him turn around with a mouthful of food, his pale skin turning pink, she wasn’t sure whether to feel disappointment or pleasure. At least it looked like he was enjoying the food.
“Oh, hey,” he said, trying to cover his still-full mouth and swallow quickly. Once his mouth was empty, he let out a sigh. “You caught me.”
She smirked. “It’s okay…can I get something for you?”
“Honestly, if you can just forget that you saw me, that’d be great,” he said, leaning across the marble island with a cocky grin.
“Right,” she said, unsure of how to take his request. “Okay, sure.” She picked up a tray of food, turning to walk back out into the study where a swarm of guests would be waiting for the next round. “Consider yourself forgotten.”
“Wait,” he said, pausing for her to turn around before he spoke again, “what’s your name?”
She shook her head, caught off guard by the question. “Um, I’m Blythe.”
“Blythe,” he said, smiling as he said the word. “I like that.”
She nodded. “My mother would’ve been happy to hear that.” There was that pang of grief again at the mere mention of her mother.
He laughed. “I’m Asher.” His hand extended out for hers, and she balanced the tray with one hand to reach back. He held onto her for longer than necessary, but the pounding in her chest told her that didn’t matter. “Do…uh, do you want to get out of here?”
She furrowed her brow, motioning toward the tray of food. “I’m kind of working.”
He scowled. “Oh, come on, I’ll pay you double whatever they’re paying you. Let’s slip out and go grab a drink. This party is…stuffy, isn’t it?”
She bit her lip, contemplating it only for a moment. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
He looked disappointed, though he recovered quickly. “Okay, fine. I guess I can stick around until you’re done. Just…if anyone asks, you haven’t seen me.”
“You’re just going to stay in here?” she asked.
He tossed a torte in his mouth from her tray. “Yep,” he said, popping the p.
“But why? If you hate this party so much, why are you even here?”
“It’s…well, this is an old-friend-of-the-family thing. And I’m supposed to be here because of family obligations, yada yada yada. Truth be told, I’m bored to tears.” He fidgeted with his tie as if it were suddenly choking him. “This isn’t typically my scene.”
“What is your scene, then?” she asked.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he said cockily. “So, anyway, you down to be my lookout?”
She smiled, easily charmed by his warm smile and dark eyes. “Sure, I’ll do what I can.”
“Thanks,” he said. “And remember,” he said as she opened the door, “you never saw me.”
“You who?” she asked, closing the door behind her as she re-entered the study, greeted quickly by hungry guests.
* * *
Two hours later, the party was over and Blythe was exhausted and wanted to get home to her aunt’s. After the dishes had been washed and she collected her check and loaded up the company van, she was surprised to see Asher appear behind her in the alley where she’d parked. He hadn’t been in the kitchen when she returned, so she assumed he’d gotten bored with the party and ditched, but she was relieved to see that wasn’t the case.
“Well, glad that’s over,” he said, leaning one arm against her van as she leaned back against it. She jingled the keys in her hand.
“It must’ve been so exhausting for you,” she teased.
He chuckled, patting his stomach. “It was a lot of work. So, where to next?”
She shrugged. “I have to take the van back to the shop, but after that, I guess we can hang out for a little while.”
His eyes were suddenly filled with heat, and she felt flushed. “Well, I like the sound of that,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Come on,” he cleared his throat, “the night is young.”
She climbed into the car, watching as he sank into the passenger’s seat. She wasn’t technically allowed to have non-employees in the van with her, but what was she going to do?
She pulled out of the alley and headed into traffic. The small, downtown shop that housed her employer’s catering business
was just a few blocks away, and within minutes she was dropping off the empty dishes and the check. She was thankful no one was in the building, one of the perks of working most of the late shifts.
She walked back out of the building, staring at him as he stood by a parking meter. He’d loosened his tie and rolled up his shirt sleeves, looking entirely more comfortable than before.
He grinned at her, his smile sending blood to her cheeks. “You ready?”
“Where to?”
He pointed straight ahead at a dimly lit restaurant with a valet standing out front. “I thought you could use some food. You must be exhausted. Have you ever tried Evan’s?”
“I haven’t,” she answered, shaking her head. “Is it any good?”
A scoff escaped his throat, as if that were an absurd question. “It’s only the best seafood on the East Coast.”
She stared at the large entranceway. “It…looks busy. Are you sure we can even get in?”
“The owner’s a friend,” he said, waving her toward him as they hurried across the street. He walked past the valet without a word, one arm around her, and led her into the restaurant. “Table for two. Asher Grace,” he said, holding up two fingers.
The maître d’ nodded, stepping away from the stand for a moment and reappearing with two menus. He held out an arm, allowing them past the open door and further into the restaurant. Their table was near the back, and though the restaurant was lit with lights above their tables, there was a candle in the middle to add to the ambiance.
When the waiter approached the table, Asher asked if they could have a minute to look over the menu.
He opened hers for her, handing it over. “What do you like?”
“Oh,” she said, looking over the menu with an overwhelming sense of choices. “Um, maybe salmon? I’ve not eaten a lot of seafood.”
“Salmon’s a great choice,” he said, smiling at her. “Do you like fish? I guess I should’ve asked that first. We can go somewhere else if you prefer…or they have chicken—”
The Better Choice Page 2
