by Brynne Asher
He doesn’t move a muscle and his eyes are intense. “Yes.”
Well, okay then. I guess that makes the second mortgage and two additional loans David secretly took out on our home right after he emptied our bank and retirement accounts to support his gambling addiction seem … less exciting.
I look away and wonder what’s happened to my life. Four years ago, the man I married moved me from Alexandria to the boonies—against my wishes. I’m a city girl. Living in a brownstone with a patio garden is my idea of being one among nature. But no, just after Saylor’s first birthday, he found this dilapidated farmhouse and insisted we move—even though I didn’t want to—making me promises of rebuilding, refurbishing, clean air, and smaller schools.
I had to revert back to my education degree and take a massive pay cut because both of us couldn’t commute into the District with two small children. I gave up my job as an education lobbyist on Capitol Hill with the largest textbook publisher in the country. I loved that job and was good at it. But in the end, he was a gambling addict, on the verge of losing his job and ended up ruining us financially. Little did I know, he used all the equity we had from our previous home and squandered it with bookies and in closed-room high-dollar tables, leaving me with a jumbo loan on this place. His lies piled up and I still hate myself for being fooled for so long. That was all before he ended up at the bottom of a pileup on the highway, bequeathing me a mountain of loans that were tied to our home. Damn him.
Now I’ve invited a new man into my life who trains men to kill others. What does this say about my choice in men?
He breaks into my thoughts, not at all calming them whatsoever. “And before I trained them, I did what they do.”
I look to him and feel my eyes go big.
“For eight years,” he adds.
I feel my mouth open and then shut before it drops again. I have no words.
“Told you I’d be honest with you, baby.”
I shift in my seat and can’t help myself from crossing my arms protectively. “What does that mean? You know, for now? That sounds dangerous, or, at the very least, as if you’re inviting danger into your life.”
“I’ve taken all the precautions necessary. There’s no danger, Keelie.”
“How do you know that?” I feel my insides tense. I’ve already had one man’s actions ruin my life. It took a long time, but I’m better off on my own. I certainly don’t need some retired contract killer to bring me a whole different kind of drama.
“Because I worked with the CIA and still do. I’m not some thug off the street offing people for cash. I don’t take unnecessary risks. I’d never do that to my family, and I wouldn’t do it to you, either.”
Exhaling a breath, I look back to the fire. I think I must be losing my mind, because I think I believe him and I’m not even sure why.
“Keelie, say something,” he demands.
“That’s…” What do I say? Apparently being an overseas contract killer is a profession. Holy shit. “Really honest. Is that it or is there more honesty?”
“Besides my kids’ mother divorcing me because I was gone for weeks or more at a time leaving her with two little kids—no.”
I look away. Talk about an information dump.
He leans back in his chair. “She used that as an excuse, though. We weren’t good together.”
I look back. “Why?”
“She didn’t trust me because I was gone so much and that pissed me off. I never so much as looked at another woman when I was married to her, never gave her any reason to believe that. Made me not trust her—the whole thing fell apart. She’s remarried and happy now, we have a working relationship for the kids’ sake, but I don’t want to be with anyone who doesn’t trust me.”
“Oh.” I get the trust thing.
“That’s why I told you what I do. And what I did.”
I nod but tell him the truth. “That’s a lot to take in.”
“Baby.” His voice is low and strong. “We take out the scum of the earth—radicals, kingpins, terrorists.”
I nod again. “Okay.”
“You wanted honesty.”
I keep nodding.
“I understand why that’s important to you. I don’t go around sharing my work with everyone. Hardly anyone knows what I do, even my kids only know the general overview. When I read your bio, I knew I couldn’t keep it from you—I couldn’t keep anything from you.”
“Um, about that.” I pull in a breath. “Why exactly couldn’t you just ask me about my life?”
He reaches out, taking my hand in both of his and looks me square in the eye. “Knox told me his dad was dead approximately forty-five seconds after I told you I wanted to fuck you after we ate pizza the other night. It threw me for a loop, made me feel all kinds of an ass, and I couldn’t help myself. I needed to know everything about you and I’m not a patient man.”
I try to pull my hand out of his at the mention of him fucking me, but he holds tight. “Let me guess. This is when you sent me the it’s not you, it’s me text?”
He shakes his head and narrows his eyes. “Won’t lie, trying to figure out what’s going on with Emma is overwhelming. I’m worried about her and it’s all on me. Then after what happened to Levi, I didn’t know if I could be what you need right now.”
I feel sort of bad that this pisses me off, but it does. How the hell does he know what I need? I manage to pull my hand from his and don’t even try to keep the bitch out of my voice. “Tell me, Asa. What is it you think I need?”
He exhales one frustrated breath before he moves. I barely have a chance to react when he plucks me up from under my arms and whips me around. I let out a little yelp, but he ignores me and sits in my patio chair where I end up in his lap with my legs draped over the arm.
I push away as hard as I can, but he wraps me up and holds tight.
“What are you doing?” I exclaim.
He gives me a squeeze. “I know what you need.”
I stop pushing and freeze. “You have no idea.”
He raises a brow accepting my dare. “You need a man to earn your trust, be open with you, and tell you the truth. If he makes it that far, you could use someone to help around your fucking house, because it’s more than a full-time job. Then if he passes that, you need that man to be a man around your kids—be an example for Knox and show Saylor how a man should treat a woman. The list is long, but if you want me to continue, I’ll describe what you really need. It might make you blush and if it doesn’t, I’ll go into even more detail so it will.”
Dammit. He’s right on all counts. Breathing hard, I bite my lip to try to calm myself. If I blush now, I’ll kick my own ass.
“I can tell from your face I got all that right,” he goes on. “I won’t lie. I didn’t know if I could fill those shoes and deal with Emma’s shit. That was my mistake, because all I had to do was look into your blue eyes, with your wet hair falling around your face to know I wanted you and it made me fucking crazy to think some other man might try to be all these things. I gave you the truth. Not much more to know than what I laid out for you tonight—other than I’m not in debt and I don’t gamble. I don’t have to work, but I do. I could live off my investments, but that would bore the shit outta me.”
I shake my head and look away.
“Keelie.” He gives me a squeeze. “Say something.”
“What do you want me to say?” I ask. “You know everything about me. I just learned you used to be a contract killer and now you train others to do the same and you want to show my kids either how to be a man or be treated by one. You bring me cases of wine with promises of all kinds of fun wine activities and a barrel at the end with my name burned on it like a cherry on top. You want to say things that make me blush and I don’t like to blush. It makes me feel like a girl, but if anyone could do it, I bet it would be you. Oh yeah, you also want to help shovel goat and donkey shit. That’s a lot to take in.”
He has the nerve to grin. “I didn’t say I wanted to sh
ovel shit, but I will if that’s what it takes.”
“That’s my life, Asa.”
“Then if this works out, it looks like I’ll be shoveling shit.”
I sigh and lean into him. “How did cornflake chicken turn into this?”
“I’m forty-three,” he states.
I shrug. “I’m thirty-five.”
“You really want me to hang around for months on end before we get this shit out? Because I have no desire to do that.”
I roll my eyes. He has a point.
“You know about me. I know about you. We can skip all that and move on. We’ll figure out if this works, but we can skip the hard getting to know you part and move onto the good stuff.”
“The good stuff?”
He scoots down in his chair, snaking a hand up my back and into my hair. “I know you like wine, but I don’t know what you eat for breakfast. If you eat eggs, I don’t know how you like them. I don’t know how long I’ll have to wait for you to get ready before we go out or what you like to watch on TV.”
“I don’t have time to watch TV,” I admit.
“We’ll have to fix that.” He brings my mouth to his and kisses me as his other hand glides up and down my leg.
I lift my head, but he doesn’t stop and kisses his way down my neck. “Asa?”
“Hmm?” His tongue traces my ear.
I run my fingers over his soft beard for the first time before pulling his face to me. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m messed up. I’m afraid you’ll want out when you learn the little things.”
He gives me a genuine expression telling me he’s not feeding me a line when he says, “That’s why they’re little. They don’t matter. It’s time to move on, Keelie. Don’t be afraid.”
And there in my backyard, with the cool of the early spring night biting at us, I give in.
I just hope Asa Hollingsworth doesn’t regret it.
Chapter 11
Adult Shit
Keelie
I hear nothing on the other end of the phone. Silencing my sister is a feat in and of itself.
It’s Friday, and the week has been so busy, I haven’t had a chance to fill her in on the Hollingsworths—in particular, their leader, Asa.
I just got done telling her how he broke up with me even though we weren’t even together, just for him to change his mind again, how he kissed me in my pantry, bought me a wine membership that comes with a barrel, is totally into his kids, and how he knows all about my past with David. And she knows what a tough subject that is for me.
“Oh, yeah.” I break the silence, assuming she’s still there to listen. “When they came over last night, he even got Saylor to sit and read. She didn’t even throw a fit.”
“How the hell did he do that?” I hear the shock in Stephie’s voice. No one is immune to Saylor Lockhart’s strong will.
“He came in with a huge bag of books for the kids. At first, I balked, but Knox was over the moon and even Saylor showed an interest. Asa noticed how Knox asked all kinds of questions about their trip to the Olympics, so he bought him these enormous books of facts and world records. Saylor ended up with a stack of first readers about farm animals— predominantly goats. But he also bought The Black Stallion and told Saylor if he read to her, she’d have to read to him. It just happened last night and even now, I can’t get over it.” Letting my head fall to my desk, my voice is muffled as I go on. “He wasn’t even sugary sweet with her. He was all matter of fact, like ‘I’ll read to you, but you have to read to me and you can’t do it cryin’ or mopin’. If so, deal’s off and I take ‘em all back.’” I do my best Asa impersonation.
“And she was agreeable?” Steph, like me, is in awe.
I lift my head and swipe the hair out of my face. “Yes. It was a Christmas Miracle in March.”
“Wow. If he manages that again, you’d better lock him up in your creepy basement and not let him get away.”
“I thought for sure Saylor would be the one to scare him off, but I should’ve known better. It’ll be me.”
Stephie’s voice becomes harsh. “You’d better not. Not before I get the chance to vet him. It’s your turn to host Sunday Brunch. If he’s not there, I’ll let Aunt Lillian Rose kick your ass with her cane and I’ll finish you off. I need to meet this man.”
“No!” I exclaim. “I’m not ready to bring anyone to Sunday Brunch. Mom and Dad are worried enough about us as it is. I can’t introduce them to a man—they’ll start looking for wedding venues and Lillian Rose will try to get his phone number. You know how she is about calling people. No way. That is not going to happen.”
She sighs. “I guess that’s true. Aunt Lillian Rose is like a teenager from the 90’s with a private line. But I need to meet him soon. Tell me when he’ll be there and I’ll just happen to stop by.”
“You live thirty minutes from me. No one just happens to stop by my farm.”
“He doesn’t need to know that,” she sing-songs, like I’m an idiot.
What I don’t tell her is he seems to know everything from reading my background through his so-called CIA clearance. This is something I’m still coming to terms with, but since he said not many people know about his work, I’d better not tell Steph. She doesn’t know many secrets.
I look at the clock and realize time has gotten away from me. I need to get off the phone and back to work so I’m not late for my department meeting with the administration.
“Fine,” I lie. “I’ll let you know when he’s coming next. I gotta go. I have a meeting.”
“Are you just saying that to get rid of me?” she demands.
“Why would I do that?” I smile. “Seriously, gotta go.”
She ignores me. “The kids have soccer practice tonight, but I can surprise-stop by tomorrow—”
“Bye.” I ignore her this time and hang up. I know my sister, so I silence my phone since she’s not one to give up.
I grab my things and head for the conference room. I can’t wait for this day to be over.
The meeting sails along and we go over the details of graduation, college prep testing, and the list goes on. The end of the school year is hectic at its best and a massive headache at its worst.
When the topic of the memorial arises, the meeting becomes heavy. Brett goes over all the ways the school will remember Brandon Sutherby and Kyler Jakes.
When Brett wraps up, Tom Logan leans back in his chair and shakes his head. “Maybe it’s just better to let the students move on, get over it, rather than keep dredging it up and throwing it in their faces at every possible moment.”
My eyes go big, but Marcia snaps before I have the chance. “Two of our students who would be graduating in two months were killed in a tragic accident. You want to sweep that under the rug?”
Tom’s face turns sympathetic. “All I’m saying is when it’s brought up, the students have to deal with it all over again. I’m not saying forget about them, but maybe we can lay off the waterworks at every school event.”
“We have two months of school left. Next year we’ll start fresh, but they need to be remembered. It doesn’t matter if they had their fair share of trouble,” I point out. Kyler and Brandon might not have hung in the best crowds and both knew detention well, but that doesn’t change anything.
Brett rubs his face in a way I can tell he can’t wait for the school year to end. “Sorry, Tom. They’re right and the last thing I need is blowback from the parents for not doing our part. You three are here to guide them through the end of the year and that’s what we’ll focus on.”
We go through the rest of the agenda and now I have more on my list of things to get done than I want to think about. I, too, cannot wait for this year to end.
When I walk back to the counseling center to wrap up my day, I stop in my tracks. My … I’m not sure what to call him. My pantry kissing partner? The man who makes my days fly by? He’s definitely the one capable of lighting my fireworks by simply walking into a room. Whatever he is,
he’s standing outside my office leaning into the wall with a sexy smirk on his face. I find myself wishing we were in my pantry.
“You’re early,” I note.
With no other clues as to what’s bothering Emma and her still being closed off, Asa decided to set up a conference with her teachers. It’s scheduled right after school.
Hitching a shoulder, his tone says all kinds of sexy things besides, “Thought I’d stop by.”
I bite the inside of my lip as my eyes slide to Tom and Marcia. Tom is eyeing me wondering what’s up. Marcia is eyeing me in a whole different way, also wondering what’s up.
I ignore them both and look up at Asa as I enter my office. After I brush by him, I hear the door shut and before I can set my things down, I feel the soft stubble of his beard on my neck and his strong arm wraps around my waist. I tip my head to give him access, while at the same time contradict myself. “Asa, we’re at school.”
His other hand comes up to my chin and he tilts my face to kiss me. “The door’s closed.”
I don’t make a move to stop him, but still argue, “This isn’t a good idea. You didn’t look like an official appointment when you walked in here—not the way you were looking at me.”
“How was I looking at you?” he murmurs under my ear and winds my loose hair around his hand. I feel a pull at my scalp and he turns me.
The green in his dark hazel eyes glint as he smirks, almost daring me to explain how he was looking at me. I swallow hard, not having the courage to take his dare, but if I did, I’d guess he was either stripping me naked to have his way with me nice and slow or ripping my panties off to have his way with me quick-like.
Either way, he was definitely having his way with me. Now my panties are damp and I’m at school.
I was about to change the subject, but he steps into me and the next thing I know, the backs of my thighs are pressed into my desk and he’s really kissing me.
Even though I’m not only at work, but at an educational institution for young people, I don’t stop him. I should stop him. I can’t afford to lose my job, or suffer some type of disciplinary actions, or public embarrassment.
