Page 19 of Scandal
He doesn’t say it, but I can tell that’s probably what he’s thinking. No wonder he wants to get rid of me so quickly. To him, I’m just his bandmate’s little sister.
We’re practically family…
God.
I’m so unbelievably stupid. Did I really think I could just show up here and somehow change his mind?
I’m a twenty-three-year-old sound engineer who works too much and has no life. He’s a rock legend who has traveledthe world and is adored by millions. We’ve only had two conversations. What exactly did I expect we would have in common?
“Are you hungry?” Asher’s voice cuts through my self-loathing. “There isn’t much here, but I can call up to the main house and have something brought over.”
I shake my head. The truth is, I’m famished, but I already feel like a burden, and having someone hand-deliver food seems like a giant inconvenience. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
“About that,” he says, tipping his head toward the far corner of the dimly lit space. I’ve been so preoccupied with the water bucket and the lack of bathroom facilities—like, seriously, where are they?—that I didn’t even notice the bed in the far corner.
The only bed.
I nearly groan. He’s about to do that dumb guy thing, where he attempts to be chivalrous but just ends up with a backache. “I’ll take the sofa, and you can have the bed for the night,” he says, nearly right on cue.
I glance over at the incredibly small love seat, then back at Asher. I don’t know his exact height…Okay, that’s a lie. Of course, I do. He’s six feet two. And that sofa is most assuredly not.
The bed, however, is large enough to accommodate both of us.
“That’s ridiculous,” I tell him, giving a nonchalant wave, as if the thought of sharing a bed with him doesn’t make me bolt for the door. “We can share it.”
He starts to protest, his gaze wary. “I really must insist. It wouldn’t be proper.”
I giggle-snort. Proper?
This, from a man who wrote a song about how good a woman…tastes. Scotland really does bring out the manners in this rock star. “You’re the one who was just saying we’repractically family, Ash. What exactly isn’t proper?” I challenge him, my voice far more confident than I actually feel. “I’ve had to share a bed with my brothers before. Are you telling me this is any different?”
If he’s going to insist that he sees me as nothing more than family, then I’m going to hold him to it. His eyes dart to the bed once more before he finally relents. “All right. If it’s fine by you, I wouldn’t mind avoiding the sofa for the night.”
“More than all right.” I fake a smile. “And if it helps, I’ve been told I don’t snore.”
His jaw tics as he heads to the fireplace and starts a fire. “Old boyfriend tell you that?”
My brow scrunches in confusion. “What? No, my brothers, remember?”
I swear his neck starts to redden, but he palms the back of it before I can confirm. “Right, yeah.”
He pokes at the fire for a while, and I finally gather the courage to ask. “Is there a bathroom I can change in and use to wash my face?”And pee?I desperately need to pee. But I leave that part out.
“It’s just outside,” he says, rising to his feet.
“Outside?” My eyes widen.
An amused grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. It’s the first I’ve seen since I made a fool of myself in front of that guard at the front gate.
“Yes, I’ll show you,” he says, motioning toward the front door. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.” Then he pauses, considering his words. “Well, it could be worse.”
“Very encouraging,” I mutter under my breath.
He’s right.
Itcouldbe worse.
It’s not an outhouse, which, in all honesty, was exactly what I was picturing. It is, however, very…rustic.
