“He's been avoiding me.” I admit.
She pours a glass for me, and then one for herself.
Holding her glass tightly, she says, “Has he stopped following you home?”
I shake my head and she smiles. “He likes you. Knowing Asher, he got an order that he’s obsessing over. He can get some serious tunnel vision. If he's taking breaks to still follow you home he is way into you.”
“You think?” I ask, picking up a cookie.
“Yep, I'm sure of it.” She grins, no trace of concern showing.
Even though the cookie is without a doubt the best thing I've ever had in my life, I still frown. “I even asked if he wanted to do something for his birthday and he said no. I don’t like feeling brushed off.”
“From what Noah’s said, he isn’t into birthday’s so that doesn’t surprise me, but I don't blame you being confused,” she replies, picking up the plate and tilting her head back toward the den.
To avoid making a mess with any crumbs, I shove the rest of the cookie into my mouth before I follow her.
“What would you do? In my place.”
She sits, reaching forward to set the plate on a cool steamer trunk that serves as their coffee table, and I take the spot next to her.
“I’d call him out on it,” she replies.
Hmmm, interesting.
“You mean drive over there and give him a piece of my mind?”
“Absolutely,” she says, reaching for another cookie.
“Do you think I should go right now?”
She shakes her head and points for me to take another cookie. “Don't make a special trip. Besides, you're hanging out with me and I don't want you to run off. When are you supposed to go back?”
“Saturday,” I reply, grabbing a cookie.
She drinks some wine. “When you see him, give him hell.”
“I’m not going to chase him,” I say.
Nodding, she says, “Be up front with him but absolutely do not chase him. I was married to a man who didn't love me, but only tried to shape me into what he really wanted. True love is nothing like that. Noah taught me it’s both giving and meeting halfway. It's appreciating the other person for who they are without trying to change them.”
“My mom’s cast came off yesterday,” I admit.
Finley's mouth drops. “Does that mean you'll stop going to Asher’s?”
I take a bite of my cookie and shrug. Three weeks ago I was ready to change my future plans for Asher. Now, I'm not so sure.
“You're right. I need to talk to him. I need to understand why he would push me away whether he knows he's doing it or not. But, even if he tells me, it's no guarantee it'll be good enough for me. Hitting rock bottom has changed what I want out of life. I want what you talked about, and I'm willing to be alone forever before I'd settle for anything less.”
She sets her wine glass down and wipes at her eyes. “I will kick his ass if he doesn't figure his shit out.”
“Enough about him, I want to see these pictures.”
She stands, just as happy as I am to change the subject. “Let me grab my album.”
“My leg is fine now. I can go,” my mom says.
I pin her with a glare. “You know I'm not only going there to deliver his groceries and mail. You can get your Asher fix next week.”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” she sniffs, in an attempt to act offended.
I'm still surprised she didn't use her free time learning to knit or quilt or some other craft to make things for him.
“Be nice to him,” she adds.
“Sure,” I grumble.
“Paige.”
“Got to go mom.”
I leave before she can annoy me further. Be nice to him? He’ll be lucky if I don't run him over with her Explorer.
Once I have all of his stuff, I make the drive from town to his place. As I go, I make a point to memorize everything I can. Depending on how this conversation goes, this might be my last trip out here.
Finley tried to convince me I needed to stay in New Hampshire to help her plan the wedding. Thanks to the magic of the World Wide Web, that isn't true.
I know the layout of Asher’s place by heart. Places that rent out canopies and party supplies are also online. All I need to plan the wedding of her dreams is a phone, Wi-Fi, and a computer.
She had assumed I'd stay no matter what. She was wrong.
The gravel crunches beneath my tires once I turn onto his drive. There's no sign of him when I park, or as I unload the SUV.
Every sound has me looking over my shoulder in anticipation of him, only to be rewarded with nothing.
When I finish, I go in search of him. The first place I look is his workshop. When I find it empty, I can't resist looking around. Every time I cleaned, this space was off limits in case Asher was working so he wouldn't be distracted.
The smell of sawdust clings to the air in here. My eyes roam over the space, taking in the tools, the seemingly endless pile of wood, and the dresser sitting proudly in the center of the room.
I recognize it at once. Its twin lives in Asher’s bedroom.
Is he adding to his set? It's not like he has a ton of clothes, even though the former mess of dirty clothes he'd leave all over his floor would suggest otherwise.
And, more importantly, if he isn't in here, where is he?
Pausing only long enough to drag my fingertips across its smooth surface, I continue my search. From the workshop, I go to the dock. Walking across its wooden planks, I think back to the day I watched him swim across his lake.
Man, it's crazy how much has changed since that day.
Reaching the end of the dock, I scan the water for the telltale splash of him swimming and find none.
“Paige.”
I jump at his shout, having to pinwheel my arms to keep from falling in. Once I'm safe from any chance of toppling into the lake, I turn toward the sound of his shout. Asher’s up the hill by the small guest cabin. He's on the move though, and heading my way.
“You're a day early.”
He's far enough away that he still needs to shout. He doesn't sound angry but his words aren't comforting either.
“Well hello to you too,” I shout back.
There's no point for me to stay where I am, so even with his less than warm welcome, I move toward him.
Once I'm close he says, “I was expecting you tomorrow.”
“So I gathered,” I reply, and then I remember what Finley said about letting him have it. “Well, I'm here now so if you want to keep blowing me off you're going to need to grow a pair and say it to my face.”
He blinks. “Blow you off?”
“I'm not stupid Asher. You've been pushing me away.”
“That's not true.”
I throw my hands out. “What is it then?”
Moving quickly he grabs my hand and turns, pulling me up the hill.
“Asher, what the hell?”
“I need you to see something.”
With a frown, I willingly follow him.
It’s not to his house, or even his workshop that he takes me. It's to the cabin.
Furrowing my brow, I try to understand what he could possibly need to show me here.
When we reach the door, he holds it open for me, letting go of my hand. This is the one place of his property I haven't explored. I know my mom would freshen it up before he had guests here but that's something he never asked of me.
“What do you think?” he asks.
My brows come together in confusion as I look around the room, not sure what he wants me to say.
It's a small cabin with one main room. The space is split between a kitchen and living room with a large picture window overlooking the lake. Above the kitchen, with stairs to it hugging the far wall, is a loft.
“I don't understand,” I say.
“Three weeks ago, the loft wasn't there.”
Spinning, I face him. “What does that have to do with me?”
/>
“Stay.”
I gasp. “What?”
He takes a step toward me, framing my face with his hands. “Stay.”
“I don't understand.”
His chocolate brown eyes soften. “This cabin is yours, if you want it.”
My mouth drops open. “Asher.”
His lips tip up. “Yes.”
“You're crazy,” I breathe.
“Maybe.”
I push against his chest, turning my head as I pull away. “I can't move here.”
His hand closes around mine before I can get far. “Why not?”
“You know why.”
He shakes his head. “Tell me.”
Shaking my hand I tug it free. None of this is going the way I expected. I thought he was pushing me away but the opposite is true.
“This is your home, it can't be mine.”
“My house is over there,” he says, pointing toward the workshop and his home beyond it. “You'd be my neighbor.”
“You don't want neighbors, that's why you have all this land.”
“I want you.”
His words stop me, rooting me where I stand.
My voice wavers. “You want me?”
He moves in front of me, his arms circling me and I have to tip my face way back to look up at him.
He answers me by pressing his lips to mine. Wrapping my arms around his neck, my body reacts instinctively out of my own returned desire for him. While I still don't know what to make of his offer, it's a relief to know he wasn't pushing me away.
Still, once we’re done kissing I need to talk him out of this crazy idea, but for now I'll focus on the kissing.
He moves, walking me backward until my back hits the wall, never breaking our kiss. I kiss him back, sucking his full lower lip between mine. His hand tightens on my hip and I groan. It's been so long since I've been this turned on. Will Asher think I'm too forward if I strip off all my clothes and throw myself at him?
“Will you?” he asks, his lips still pressed to mine.
I blink open my eyes, kind of surprised he decided now was a good time to talk. “Huh?”
He doesn't let the fact that we’re making out stop him from speaking. “Move here.”
My lips part to answer him and he slips his tongue into my mouth. His taste overwhelms me, my eyes fluttering closed and I forget about our conversation entirely.
When he lifts his head, there's a good chance I'm still kissing the space he left for a second or two.
“Paige?”
“What?” I pout.
He presses a hard kiss to my lips before again pulling back.
“Why do you keep doing that?” I ask.
“Doing what?”
“Stop kissing me.”
He smirks and heaven help me, I want to kiss it right off of him.
“You haven't given me your answer.”
“Kissing first, answers later,” I say, fisting his shirt and tugging him toward me.
He relents and presses his mouth to mine again. I release his shirt and thread my fingers into his hair. He tastes like cinnamon and smells like freshly cut cedar.
If I ever stop kissing him, it will be to shove my face into the crook of his neck and inhale. That is, if I ever stop kissing him which isn't likely. Besides, my ovaries are currently needlepointing Paige and Asher. That sounds innocent, but the needlepoint image beneath it most definitely is not.
“We can start moving your stuff today,” he says, still mid kiss.
It's my turn to break our kiss. “I never said I'd move here.”
“I look forward to talking you into it,” he grins.
His grin rattles my senses enough to make me ease past him to where a comfy looking sofa sits. Sinking down onto it, I glare at him.
“Do you like it, the sofa?” he asks.
I frown, surprised by the subject change and look down at it. “It's nice.”
He further rocks my world by replying, “I got it for you.”
“What?”
“If you don't like the color we can change it.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“Asher.”
He walks over and sits next to me, taking both of my hands in his. “Please think about it.”
I stare at him. “I still don't understand why.”
His thumbs move across the backs of my hands and I can't help but wonder what his hands would feel like on the rest of my body.
“You aren't happy crashing on your mom’s sofa. Her cast is off. She doesn't need you to take care of her anymore. You need your own space and the stuff that's available in town right now is either crap or too big.”
“But I can't move in with you,” I argue.
“I'll be over there, and you'll be over here. Remember, just neighbors.”
I snort. “Just neighbors my ass, or, do you kiss all your neighbors like that?”
“You're my first,” he replies.
I look around, my gaze catching on the picture window overlooking the lake. “If I move here, I might never want to leave.”
He follows my gaze, before leaning back to drape his arm across the back of the sofa. “That's what I'm hoping.”
I swallow hard. “Asher…”
He cuts me off. “Before you decide. At least let me give you a tour of the place.”
“You don't have to,” I reply. “What's the rent?”
He shakes his head.
I frown. “Asher, I'm not going to live here for free.”
“Why not?” He asks. “I do.”
“You don't have a mortgage?”
He shakes his head again.
“Well what about utilities or power?”
“You know I have solar panels. It's been years since I've had a bill over twenty bucks and I have a well for water.”
Crap I forgot.
“How about I cover your groceries?” I try.
He shakes his head again, lines forming across his forehead.
“I need to contribute. It's the only way I'll consider it.”
My ovaries suggest sexual favors.
“Everything you're already doing to help Noah and Finley with their wedding should cover it.”
“I wasn't charging her anything,” I argue.
“So it's okay for you to do something for free but not for me?” he asks.
I stare into his warm eyes. “Shut up and kiss me.”
Thirteen
Asher
“She's over there right now?” Abby asks, craning her head in the direction of Paige’s cabin.
I prop my elbow on the table and rest my cheek on my palm after I nod. Abby is a real estate agent and had an open house not far from here. Since she was in the area, and nosy as hell, she popped in for a visit.
“Maybe I'll go say hi,” she says, starting to stand.
“Don't even think about it,” I warn her.
She slumps back into her seat and pouts. “You're no fun.”
“She's still getting settled,” I explain.
I've been trying to give her privacy, no matter how badly I'd like to see her. She wasn't sure about moving here. The last thing I want to do is annoy her into leaving.
“Why’s Gideon's old truck here?” She asks once she sees I won't give in.
“Like you didn't already know Paige bought it.” I roll my eyes.
I know my little sister too well. She might act like she’s shocked, but if there's one person who knows everything that's going on in our family, it's her.
She shrugs. “Didn't you say she used to be snobby?”
I nod.
“No snob would ever be caught dead in that thing.”
She's right. Gideon's truck is close to a decade old and was used as a work truck each of those years. When she mentioned she needed a car and told me how much she had saved up, she didn't even bat an eyelash when I mentioned Gideon's truck.
“I was an idiot when I said that.”
Abby smiles at me. “So when are you going to
talk her into moving over here?”
Pushing away from the table, I stand. Days like this one have me reconsidering my decision against installing central air conditioning. Nine to ten months out of the year I don't need it. Now, towards the end of August, I do.
“Want a refill?” I ask, ignoring her question and tipping my head toward her empty glass.
She nods, lifting her glass to me.
“Did I thank you for my birthday present?” she asks, as I pass her now full glass back to her.
“You did. Does she use it?” I ask.
“She does, and you'd know that if you ever logged into Facebook. I post pictures of her playing on her little kitty gym all the time.”
I shift back into my seat, now with a cold drink in my hand to help cut the heat. “Did you name her Imogen like you threatened mom?”
She shakes her head. “Imogen is a long name, but I think it will work if I call her Emo because she's a black cat. She can be like my Goth kitty.”
“What have you been calling her?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Cat.”
I shake my head.
There's a knock at my front door and we both turn our heads at the sound of it.
“Were you expecting anyone?” she asks.
I stand. “No.”
She jumps from her seat and dashes toward the door. “It must be Paige.”
Abby pulls open the door and it's no surprise she's right.
“Hey Abby,” Paige says. “I saw your SUV and thought I'd walk over to say hey.”
Abby grabs her hand and starts off away from my house. “Asher wouldn't let me go to your cabin because he didn't want me to intrude, but now that you're here I can finally see the updates he made.”
Paige gives me a wide-eyed look of surprise over Abby’s shoulder before she lets Abby pull her away. I follow them, pulling my door closed behind me.
“I offered to show you pictures,” I say to Abby’s back.
She glances over her shoulder. “I'm here so I might as well see it in person.”
“Paige, if you don't want to show her, just say no,” I reply.
This time, it's Paige who looks over her shoulder at me. “No, it's okay.”
Two weeks ago I had her pressed up against the wall of that cabin, other than a few rushed kisses here and there, I have not seen her as much as I've wanted. She works too much. I still feel guilty for ever thinking she was spoiled or lazy.
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