Asher's Sonnet (Smith Pact Duo Book 2)

by Ja'Nese Dixon

  Asher’s Sonnet

  Ja’Nese Dixon

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organization and events portrayed in this story are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Asher’s Sonnet. Copyright © 2018 by Ja’Nese Dixon

  All rights reserved.

  For more information address:

  Purpose Prevails Publishing

  2231B Center St. STE 144

  Deer Park, TX 77536

  www.purposeprevailspublishing.com

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9987811-7-4 (paperback)

  Printed in the United States of America

  “It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.”

  - William Shakespeare

  Also by Ja’Nese Dixon

  Read the Series

  Smith Pact Duo (Contemporary Romance)

  Yuki’s Luck (Book 1)

  Asher’s Sonnet (Book 2)

  Smith Surprise (Book 3)

  Contents

  About Asher’s Sonnet

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader….

  YOU’RE INVITED

  SNEAK PEEK: Yuki’s Luck

  SNEAK PEEK: Smith Surprise

  Also by Ja’Nese Dixon

  About the Author

  Armed with her sexiest f*ck-him dress

  and a hall pass…

  Asher Smith is a complicated man. He’s hardworking, loving, but distant. And the only way Jasmine Smith can have him fully is to make him think he’s lost her for good.

  Fed up she asks for a hall pass and he said yes.

  Barely holding back her tears, he witnesses the crime scene: her string bikinis, lingerie, and her sexiest f*ck-him dress are packed and aimed to kill.

  Jasmine books a flight for a week in Cancun with Yuki, her friend and his sister, willing to do whatever it takes to get his attention.

  This trip will be the death or rebirth of her marriage. It’s up to Asher to decide.

  1

  “Can we stay like this forever?” I ask Asher knowing it’s impossible. But a girl can wish, can’t I?

  To remain covered in a cocoon of kisses, crazy lovemaking, and the strength of his arms. I could stay in this bed, beneath him, literally until my clock stops ticking. It’s irreplaceable.

  My sight is blurred as my eyes close letting my fingers paint the picture of him. Asher covers the canvas of my body as my hands traverse the expansion of his moist skin. Slick, smooth, firm, tasty. The muscles in his back flex and relax as his lips explore. Our breathing in sync.

  “I believe that is the most tempting offer I’ve had all day. How can I refuse Mrs. Smith?” He grips my lower thighs and wraps my legs around his waist. His gruff chuckle is the only sound I hear as he takes me on a first class trip to heaven and back.

  Asher climbs up my body, tossing back the sheets and the breeze from the ceiling fan causes goosebumps to cover my exposed skin, and I shiver as his sweet kisses awaken every part of me.

  I love this man.

  Hours later I sweep my hand across his side of the bed, and the sheets are cold. A flash of loneliness stabs my heart as I reach for the next best thing, his pillow. I take a deep inhale, glancing over at his nightstand. He always leaves a note.

  “This is the very ecstasy of love.” - WS

  You make it impossible to leave. Will you accept my love as a deposit on our forever?

  Wish me well.

  Love you, My Lady.

  Asher has an old soul, quoting Shakespeare and 90s love songs in his notes belie the dark suits and his towering presence. He makes it nearly impossible to ask for more, but I can’t help it.

  “Love you too,” I whisper to the vacant house.

  I close my eyes and pray for him and Dylan as they meet with another realtor this morning. The powerful duo are best friends and planning to open a beer garden. Their concept is unique but will fit perfectly in the urban, yet laid-back Austin downtown scene. I’ve lost count of the number of meetings, the number of disappointments, but today feels different. I’m hoping his faith and belief in his sister Yuki will make this dream for my man a reality. Which reminds me, I need to call her later today to schedule lunch.

  I toss back the covers and cross the room, hoping my breakfast isn’t too cold. I snag a t-shirt from Asher's drawer and head to the kitchen to see what he prepared this morning. I smell the bacon still lingering in the air. Peaking in the microwave, I spot my plate. Yep, bacon, eggs, and waffles.

  After nuking it, I reach for a glass and utensils, setting the single place for myself on the island covered with swirling gray marble. The beauty of our home is unmatched. But the open style family kitchen with its stainless steel appliances and black cabinets is unlike any I've ever had in my life.

  I look around the room. The drapes, hardwood floors, the immaculate decor are what dreams are made of. I grew up in a working family. Not rich. Not poor. All four of my parents work daily. And I went to college, snagging a job with a startup magazine and immediately joined the ranks of the upper 1% of society until I was replaced.

  I retrace my steps back to our room and head to my walk-in closet. It could house a small family. Clothes for every occasion line the walls, as a gift from Asher for my birthday. New floors, new track lighting, cream walls. The island has a chair on one end and drawers on the other. The sides have all types of contraptions holding my jewelry, accessories, and more thingamabobs than I could ever use, in life.

  I open the second drawer in search of my notebook. The beep of the microwave finds me on all fours reaching in the back. So, I snatch up the book and take it with me, following the sound back to the kitchen. I place it next to my juice and grab my plate from the microwave. I need tape. I deposit my plate on the placemat and get the tape from the side drawer near the door leading to the garage.

  I add today’s note to the others. I say my grace and dig in flipping through the pages and pages of notes, letters, Asher in written words. On paper, my Shakespeare quoting, cooking man is the epitome of a dream man.

  We met in Las Vegas, and before I knew it, I became Mrs. Smith and no longer lived in New York but Austin, Texas. The boy is bad. I chew on the bacon searching for the right words. That’s kind of what my days are like now. Losing my job, moving to Austin without my family or friends, leaves me endless time to think. To process my thoughts. To pick the moments apart to try to figure out how did this all happen.

  He swept me off my feet. Dinners and calls and words. It felt like Asher found a way to fill the cracks in my heart. His brooding presence felt like the sun after endless rainy days. And I bloomed under his rays.

  We met and dated long distance for less than six months, and we are just shy of the anniversary of that trip. The moment we met. These have been the best and worst days of my life.

  I flip a few more pages, brushing the scratch of Asher's penm
anship across the back of an envelope. It’s like he can’t wait to transcribe the thoughts in his head. He grabs whatever, whenever, and composes. An Asher sonnet.

  Not fourteen lines.

  Not perfect in rhythmic sound.

  But a sonnet nonetheless.

  And I know I love Asher, and he loves me, but the nagging question of my existence is, Am I happy?

  Am I, Jasmine Smith, happy? And for the life of me, I want to say yes. I have every reason to say yes. Right?

  I finish my breakfast, wash the plate. I return my notebook to its place in the drawer behind my extra sexy lingerie. The quiet of the house affirming yet another day of being alone, waiting for Asher to finish conquering the world.

  I can’t let the silence consume me.

  I, too had my sights set on slaying the world until Swagged Out Style disrupted my global domination. The ring of my phone stops my endless musing.

  “What up Tiff?” I head to the living room glad for the distraction.

  “You baby! Has Romeo left the building?” Her laughter blends with the hustle and bustle of New York in the background. I miss it.

  “You know it.” I glance at the clock. “He should be meeting with the realtor as we speak.”

  “Him and that fine ass friend of his.”

  “Him and Dylan?” I correct her, shaking my head at my best friend. Tiffany is always on one thousand percent. “Yes, girl. They are touring another potential location for Smith & Jameson.”

  “Bae-bae I’d be down with the swirl for a taste of that one.”

  I can see her in my mind rolling her neck and snapping her fingers. And I burst into laughter. We laugh until I’m laid back on the bed wiping away the traces of her exuberance.

  “You’d be down with the swirl for Dylan, huh?”

  “Yes hunty and I’d become a southern belle, a housewife, I’d kick my man to the curb…all of that.”

  “Girl, I’m not having this conversation with you. You know your butt ain’t leaving New York. And Kevin would follow you.”

  “Chile’ please. Kevin would have to kiss my entire—”

  “Tiff!” I cover my mouth to stifle my laughter at her aggressive tone. She means business. A lifetime of friendship tells me so. And those two are always up to something. It is the nature of their relationship. They fight, they make up. They fight, they make up. Today must be a fighting day.

  “Don’t you Tiff me. I’m tired of Kevin and his hollow promises. Just a second.” I hear her mumbling on the other end. I use the time to slip on my jeans and find a clean shirt of my own.

  “Sorry,” she pops back in, her voice in ‘work-mode.’ “I will not tell you about Kevin. I’m liable to start cussing and get kicked out of the building. That man knows how to light a fire under my a—”

  “Tiffany Ann.”

  A hoof crossed thousands of miles. “What is wrong with him?”

  “I guess men problems are in the water.”

  “Well, pass me a Dr. Pepper or a shot.” Her laugh didn’t hold her bubbly personality this time. “I’m tired,” she whispered. “And I’m happy for you and your new life but how is it that Asher sees you and puts a ring on it and my man can’t see that I want more?”

  Boom. Tiffany’s whisper found a kindred spirit.

  “Tiff, can I help?”

  “Yes, hook me up with Dylan.” She whines.

  “Tiffany I can’t with you!” I howl.

  “Yes, you can.” A door slams in the background on her end. “You got me pouring out my soul, and I almost forgot the reason for my call.”

  That gets my attention.

  “Have you kept up with SOS?”

  “No, can’t say that I have.” I built the digital edition of the magazine only to be replaced by the man I hired and trained. “Should I?”

  “A little birdie told me advertising is declining and they’re ready to give the golden boy a new address, preferably outside of New York.”

  “Huh.” I slide to the end of the bed. Wesley out means I could be back in. But would I want the job? Hell yes!

  A raise. The corner office. Back in New York. Suits instead of worn blue jeans. I can see it now.

  “What are you thinking over there?” Tiff asks.

  “Nothing.” I lie. I need to update my resume. Should I send it? No. That would make me look desperate. I make a mental note to update it anyway.

  “Yeah right. What’s going on with you two? And make it quick, I need to get to work.”

  “I think I’m experiencing a mid-life crisis. Do women have those? And stop laughing at me.”

  “Who has a midlife crisis at 27? No. One.” She laughs so hard it almost hurts my feelings. “Girl you better get your butt up off that plush couch and find something to do. You obviously got too much time on your hands. A midlife crisis.” Tiffany laughs totally forgetting she’s at work.

  “I could use your support Tiff.” I wonder if I should slip on workout clothes instead. I’m sure I can’t fit my suits anymore.

  “Girl I got your front and your back. What’s got you tripping?”

  “I don’t know, I feel like this life isn’t my life. Asher works all day and night. And I’m here.” I glance around with only the echo of my voice to keep me company. “ I miss color and design. Meetings and luncheons. Creativity.” That’s what I miss most.

  “And what does Asher have to say about all of this?”

  “He’s busy with Smith & Jameson.” An antsy feeling gathers in the pit of my stomach. I need to plan a trip. Somewhere different, new.

  “Are you still tripping with that man?”

  “Don’t start Tiff. As a matter of fact, I think I’ll plan us an anniversary trip.”

  “Anniversary?”

  “The anniversary of the day we met. Why didn’t I think about that before?” I say the last part more to myself. Not Las Vegas again. I walk to the mirror and inspect my reflection. Turning side to side. “Where did you guys go last?”

  “Cancun. You’d love it there. Now you’re thinking. Go on Stella. Get your groove back. Look I gotta go, the man is calling.”

  I stand unmoved staring at my reflection. Cancun and Asher in his swim trunks. Images of his chocolate skin stretched out in the white sand. Yeah, us away on a romantic trip is exactly what I need to get my—no, our—groove back.

  I strut to my closet and pull out a new, sexy tan string bikini. Against my skin, I’ll appear almost nude. I do some digging and find the perfect spot for our trip. By the end of the day, I’ve reserved a condo with a private beach for a week. We’ll have plenty of time to explore each other. But first I’ve got to peel my man away from Smith & Jameson. I’m up for the task. I dangle the fabric in the air. Asher won’t be able to resist this.

  2

  “Hey, beautiful. I got some great news. Hit me back.”

  They got it. I tap Asher's name on the screen. Of course, he’d call when I decide to jump in the shower. The excitement of our romantic getaway has me on a high. All that’s left is to book the flights.

  The phone rings several times before the voicemail sounds. I disconnect and type a quick text.

  Babe, call me back. I’m heading to lunch with Miss Rhonda.

  I’ll call you back. I’m in a meeting.

  That’s his auto response. I toss my cellphone into my purse and grab my keys from the drawer. Where are my shades? I circle back and pop them on top of my head. I pick up my pace. I need to get going if I don’t want to be late.

  The Smith women, Asher’s mother, and sister treat me like family. It took a second though. Us eloping rocked both families for a few months. His family rebounded quickly, mine is another story. They are giving me the silent treatment. I jump in the car and back out of the garage. The bright sun overhead and the gorgeous blue sky scream top down. I lower my shades as the convertible top locks into place with the press of a button. The ease of this Benz spoils me, if only my parents would get with the program. All four, yes four, are in cahoots
to get me out of Texas and back to New York. But they don’t know what they’re missing.

  “It’s not Asher, dear, we think you rushed into it. Like you do everything.” Was the jest of our last family call and I hung up on them. They ganged up on the video conference call like it was an intervention. Like Asher was holding me hostage. Like I don’t know how to make decisions for myself.

  I set off towards Miss Rhonda’s house. What my parents don’t know is I fell in love with Asher but a close second is Austin. It does not compare to New York. I’ve replaced the concrete with rolling hills covered with trees, and Town Lake is in my backyard. And Asher has every toy known to man to partake in water sports all housed off our private dock.

  I jump on the highway. I owe my parents an apology, and they’ll get it before we leave for Cancun. Or maybe after, I don’t want their nagging to kill my vibe. Their concerns are valid, and the truth is it makes me wonder if they’re right. Whether my endless questioning of my marriage is due to rushing into it.

  I park, and Miss Rhonda is standing at the door. Asher’s mom could be his sister, and they look exactly alike. He has her smooth brown skin. Her eyes are bright and alert, missing nothing. I always feel exposed with her. It's like she knows something that I don’t.

  “Hey, baby.”

  “Hello Miss Rhonda.” She folds me into her embrace.

  “What did I tell you about that?” She pulls back killing me with those eyes.