by Ward, Alice
“So if Eric is no longer an issue, why can’t you and Asher be more than friends?” she pressed.
I sighed, finished my wine, and held out my empty glass. She refilled it while I tried to find the right words to explain my feelings.
“I really like Asher, Claire,” I confessed. “In fact, how much I like him is the strangest thing that’s ever happened to me. I barely know the man. But when he looks at me, I feel… I feel like…”
“You’re home?” she asked with a quiet, knowing grin.
“Yes! How did you know?”
“Because that’s how I still feel when Royce looks at me. And I bet if you call Kennedy right now, she’ll say the same thing about Jackson. Asher could be the one for you, Lauren.”
“I don’t want to get my hopes up. I’m not even sure if I’m ready to find ‘the one’. But I am sure that I don’t want to repeat the mistakes I made in the past.”
“You don’t want to fall too soon, like you did with Rory. You don’t want to get hurt again.”
“I don’t want to get hurt again,” I agreed. “I want to take the time to do this the right way. I know he’s interested in me. But if I jump into a relationship and jump into bed with him, I’m going to develop serious feelings for him way too soon.”
“Well if that’s what you want to do, that’s what you should do. What are you going to wear tomorrow?”
“I thought I’d wear my olive pants, flowy white tank top, and some flats.”
“You should leave your hair down,” she advised. “And call me as soon as you get home. I want to hear all about it, date or not.”
“I can do that. So how are things with you?” I was anxious to talk about anything other than my firing and my love life.
“Pretty good. Royce and I are leaving early tomorrow for the wedding. We rented a great room in Ojai. We’re bracing ourselves for the onslaught of marriage questions.”
I studied her face for a moment. “Are you really happy, not being married?”
“God Lauren, not you too,” she said with a sigh.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve talked about this. I just wanted to check in and make sure your feelings haven’t changed. I’m not judging you, I swear.”
“I know.” She softened and took another sip of wine. “Yes, I’m still happy the way things are. I didn’t mean to bite your head off. But you don’t need to check in with me. If I change my mind about it, you’ll be one of the first to know.”
“I’ll never bring it up again,” I promised. “But if you change your mind, I’m always here to listen.”
“I know you are. I need to head home and start packing. You’re sure you’re okay with everything that’s going on?”
“I’m fine,” I promised. “But I may need a pep talk sometime tomorrow.”
“The wedding starts at two, but I’ll keep my phone on me before and after.”
I stood and walked her to the door. “Thanks for checking on me. Will you text when you get home and let me know you got there all right?”
“I’m only walking three blocks,” she teased. “But yes, I’ll text you. Good luck tomorrow, Lauren. Just be yourself and try to have a good time. If you and Asher are supposed to be together, it’ll happen on its own.”
CHAPTER 3
The following morning, I arrived at Golden Gate Park at eleven a.m. sharp. I paid to park in the underground garage and made my way to the music concourse. As he’d promised, Asher was waiting for me near the first fountain.
“I’m so glad you came,” he greeted me with a friendly side hug. “I just arrived myself. Here’s a map of the booths. Are you hungry?”
I folded the map in my hand and took in our surroundings. Easels, portable wall panels, and small tables had been arranged in large, rectangle sections. Food trucks were parked off the far lawn and small groups of street musicians dotted the landscape. I could smell funnel cakes, marijuana, and Nag Champa wafting through the air.
This may not be my type of festival.
“I haven’t had lunch. But let’s take a quick walk through before we get food,” I suggested.
“Sounds good to me,” he agreed.
We started at the far right side of the park and wove our way through the makeshift aisles. We didn’t slow down to get closer looks at anything, but I spotted several pieces that deserved more attention. We reached the left side of the park and I turned toward the food trucks.
“Okay, now that I’m sure this isn’t the wrong type of festival, I’m ready to eat something,” I explained.
Asher smiled and pushed a rogue curl behind his ear. “I smelled the pot too. For the record, that’s not my thing. But I don’t care if other people do it.”
“I smoked once in college and turned into a paranoid lunatic,” I confessed. “I know it doesn’t affect most people that way. My boyfriend told me it was probably a fluke and I should try again. But I didn’t want to take the risk.”
“This is a different boyfriend than the current boyfriend, I take it?”
I didn’t miss a beat. “There is no current boyfriend. What kind of food do you feel like?”
Asher stopped dead in his tracks and took my arm. “No current boyfriend? You’re single?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t change anything Asher,” I insisted. “I want to be your friend. And at the moment, I’m your hungry friend. So what kind of food do you want? Looks like our choices are Korean barbecue, tacos, Indian food, and the corndog funnel cake truck.”
“I’m down for corndogs and funnel cakes,” he replied. “But there’s no law that says we have to eat from the same truck.”
I grinned. “That’s actually what I wanted too. I was worried your palate might be a little more refined than mine.”
“Corndogs and funnel cakes it is. And I was joking back at my house. I wouldn’t feel right letting you pay. That doesn’t have to mean this is a date.”
“I’ll let you do that,” I agreed, thinking of my shrinking bank balance and lack of paycheck for the foreseeable future.
“So tell me something about yourself. Where did you grow up?” he asked as we made our way to the truck.
“Not far from here, in Sonoma Valley.”
“Ah, wine country. Is your family in the industry?”
I shook my head. “No, not directly. Before I was born, my parents bought a small farm and turned it into a bed and breakfast. They have huge gardens and a few dozen animals. My mother loves to cook, so they offer lunches and dinners to compete with their competitors and justify their slightly higher prices.”
We reached the front of the line and studied the small menu posted in the window.
“Are you brave enough to try a funnel dog?” he asked with a laugh.
I shook my head and smiled. “Nope. I think I want one of the corn brats and an order of fries. Let’s come back for the funnel cake so we can eat it when it’s hot.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed.
A flustered looking teenager appeared in the window to take our order.
“We’ll have a corndog, a corn brat, a large order of fries and two… what do you want to drink?” he asked me.
“Coca Cola is fine.”
“Two large cokes,” he finished.
“Twenty-seven fifty,” the boy replied.
Asher gave him a ten and a twenty and told him to keep the change. He handed Asher a ticket and directed us to the pickup area. We joined the small group of people still waiting for their food.
“So where did you grow up?” I asked, eager to learn some personal information about this private man.
“I had a pretty normal, middle class childhood in Seattle. My father was a musician and my mom was a nurse.”
“Was? Are they retired?”
He shook his head. “They passed away in a car accident during my first year at MIT.”
My heart sank and I felt horrible for asking the question. “I’m so sorry, Ash, I didn’t know.”
“Of c
ourse you didn’t,” he said with a shrug. “It took a long time, but I’ve made peace with it. They were both only children and so am I, so it’s just me now. Holidays are a little lonely, but I manage okay.”
“Order four-ninety-seven.”
We stepped up to the pickup window, took our food, and made our way to the condiments table.
“Okay if I cover these in ketchup?” he asked, lifting the cardboard boat of thick cut fries.
“It’s fine by me.” I covered my corndog with mustard, grabbed a handful of napkins, and turned toward the group of picnic tables. Asher followed me and we settled in under a large oak tree.
I took a huge bite of my corndog and the bratwurst filled my mouth with cheese and spice. I chased it with a drink of coke and wiped my mouth with a napkin.
“This is delicious.”
“Try a French fry,” he suggested, swallowing a bite of potato. “The seasoning is unique.”
I took a bite of a fry and Asher studied me as I chewed. “So I know you have to be educated if you work at the museum. Where did you go to school?”
“Harvard. For my undergrad degree, I majored in art and minored in business. My master’s is in modern and contemporary art,” I explained.
He raised an eyebrow. “Ever think about going for your doctorate?”
I shook my head. “What I really want to do is paint. Deacon’s been my mentor since I was in junior high. He’s really the main reason I went to school. And he was right. The more I learned, the more I studied other artists, the better I became. And I’ll always have the degree to fall back on if becoming an artist doesn’t work out.”
“Do you get much time to paint? I expect the museum keeps you pretty busy.”
I swallowed another bite of my food and shook my head again. “The museum doesn’t keep me busy. Not anymore, at least. I was fired yesterday morning.”
His mouth dropped open and he reached for my hand. He stopped himself before we actually touched and stared down at the table with an adorable blush.
“I’m sorry. What happened?”
I decided not to tell him my visit to his house had caused problems. David would have fired me one way or another, and I didn’t want Asher to feel guilty.
“I’ve never really gotten along with the man who took Deacon’s job,” I explained. “He filed some trumped up complaints about me as soon as he took over. I’m fine with it, really. I didn’t relish the idea of working with him. I’m going to start the job hunt first thing Monday.”
“I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”
“I appreciate that. But honestly, I’m okay. I’m actually looking forward to starting something new. I spent my days in a cubicle doing busy work for the curators. I’d rather be a part of creating something.”
“I can understand that,” he agreed with a nod. “That’s what I do. I create whole worlds for people to escape into. And let me tell you, people have some pretty diverse tastes. You’d be surprised by some of the custom scenarios we’ve had requested.”
“You do that, customize the games for people?”
“For the right price. Most people can’t afford the service, but it’s one of the things we offer.”
Asher finished his corndog and dropped the stick into the empty fry boat. “Do you feel like that funnel cake, or would you like to take a closer look at some of the booths?”
“Let’s walk around again and work up our appetites for the funnel cake,” I suggested with a lift of my brow.
Asher stacked our trash, carried it to a nearby can, and returned to the table. We grabbed our drinks and turned back to the lawn. When he reached for my hand, I let him take it.
***
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Asher asked as he maneuvered my car up the mountain road. “We can hang out at your place, if you’d be more comfortable.”
It was early Saturday evening; we’d spent the entire day together and neither of us was ready to go our separate ways. After the arts festival, we’d gone for a long walk on the Baker Beach. We followed that with three hours at a small local coffee shop. After the baristas started giving us impatient eyes, we agreed to find a change of scenery. Asher suggested we go back to his place for dinner, and I quickly agreed.
“My place could probably fit in the bathroom of your place,” I told him. “And I’m comfortable with you, Ash. I’m not afraid to be alone with you at your house.”
“That’s good to know,” he replied with a wink. “I picked up some fresh tuna at the market this morning. But if that doesn’t sound good, we can stop and pick up something else. We can’t really order delivery, so speak soon or forever hold your peace.”
“Tuna’s fine with me. But I have to warn you, I’m not much of a cook.”
“You don’t have to be. I am,” he assured me. “Besides, I’d never invite you over and then put you to work.”
“That’s good to know,” I replied, mimicking his wink. Asher laughed and moved his thumb against my palm in soft circles. We hadn’t moved past holding hands, but we’d barely released each other all day. Neither of us had mentioned it.
“The fish won’t take long to cook,” he continued. He turned onto the narrow road that led to his house.
“You can peruse the movie selection while I get everything ready for the grill. And if you’d like to have a few drinks, you’re welcome to sleep in the guestroom,” he offered.
“The guestroom?” I asked, stroking his hand with mine.
Asher blushed a little, but kept his eyes on the road. “Obviously, you’re welcome to sleep wherever you’d like. I didn’t want to come across as forward.”
“I appreciate that,” I replied, my tone genuine. “And I’ll probably take you up on your offer.”
“Perfect. After I wow you with my barbecue skills tonight, I can show you how versatile I am when I cook you pancakes tomorrow morning.”
“Are you this charming with all of your friends, Mr. Reynolds?” I teased.
“No, Ms. Matthews. No, I’m not.”
He slowed to a stop beside the security box and lowered the window. The camera turned and a few moments later, the gate sprung open.
“If you don’t have live-in help, who opens the gate?” I asked.
“A rotating staff of paid security guards,” he explained. “Their stationed a few hundred feet into the woods so I can pretend they aren’t here.”
“I have to say, I’m surprised you don’t at least have a housekeeper,” I observed.
“Lauren, I’m wealthy. But I’m not Montgomery wealthy,” he pointed out.
Asher hadn’t been at all surprised when I told him about my best friends. He said I came across as someone who knew how to behave around money. He assured me it was a compliment, but I wasn’t sure how to take it. I hoped he didn’t think I was interested in him as a means to have Kennedy’s lifestyle. I’d thought about telling him that, but decided to let my future actions speak for me instead.
“My house is my sanctuary,” he continued. “I come here so I don’t have to deal with people.”
“I completely understand. I was just teasing you. I’m not sure I could get used to having staff like Jackson’s family.”
“Well, that definitely adds a point in your favor,” he replied. He slowed near the garage and pulled out the opener he’d grabbed from Gabe’s car. The door slowly lifted and he eased in next to a black Ford Explorer. I pulled my purse over my shoulder and followed him through the garage door, which opened to an underwhelming laundry room. From there, we moved into the kitchen.
“Sit your stuff down wherever you’d like,” he said, moving to the sink. He washed his hands and moved for the refrigerator while I continued on into the living area. I dropped my purse on the couch and surveyed the liquor bottles arranged on the bar cart.
“Do you have any tonic water?” I called to Asher.
“I’ve got tonic, soda, limes. Just bring the bottle in here,” he called back.
I grabbed
a bottle of gin and returned to the island. Asher filled two glass tumblers with ice, passed them to me, and pulled a lime and two cans of tonic water from the refrigerator. I mixed our drinks while he covered the fish in citrus and herbs.
“Do you like squash?” he asked, sealing the tuna in aluminum foil.
“I do.”
“Perfect. We can grill that up too. We’ll be eating twenty minutes after the food hits the grill. Are you hungry now?”
“I’m starved,” I confessed. We’d never gone back for the funnel cake and the pastry selection at the coffee shop had been less than enticing.
“Then I’ll cut the squash, wrap the bread, and we’ll take this party to the deck.”
“I can help,” I offered, sliding from the stool. I took another drink and reached for the aluminum foil. “Where’s the bread?”
“The freezer,” he directed. He sprayed two pieces of yellow squash off in the kitchen sink and then tossed them onto his cutting board. I retrieved the bread, wrapped it in foil, and then passed the roll to Asher. He made a boat for the squash, covered it in olive oil and spices, and sealed it shut. He pulled a cookie sheet from a cabinet and arranged the food on it.
“I’ll get all of this and the door, if you can get our drinks,” he offered.
I took our glasses from the island and followed him onto the deck. He moved to the side opposite the lounge chairs, where a simple patio table sat near one of the largest grills I’d ever seen.
“You take this pretty seriously.”
Asher sat the tray on the table and lifted the door of the grill. “This was an impulse buy,” he explained. “Don’t get me wrong, I love it. But it’s three times bigger than I actually need.”
He removed the grates, stacked charcoal, and lit the fire. Flames rose high in the air and Asher picked up a chair and moved it directly beside mine. He sat down and pulled my hand into his lap.
“I’m having a really good time with you, Lauren.”
“I’m having a good time with you too,” I replied. I squeezed his hand and stared into his content eyes.
