Page 31 of Scandal
Aside from a brief interaction with Asher’s father, when he tried to get me to reveal some nefarious plan, I am mostly ignored for the rest of the evening as the earl and countess parade person after person before Asher. There are lords and ladies, a few dukes, and even a knight—the ones who kneel before the king. Not to be confused with the Knights who live here.
And there are so many women.
They all flutter their lashes at him and scowl at me, obviously not knowing who I am but seeing me as competition nonetheless. Asher politely nods, but he saves all his words for me.
Or the few he manages to utter, that is.
He is constantly checking in on me.
Am I okay?
Do I need a drink?
Am I warm enough?
Do I want to leave?
The last one is a no-brainer. After three hours of boring people and bland food, I am more than ready to go, even if it means returning to that drafty old cottage.
But now that we are finally free and in the car, Asher couldn’t feel any farther away. He’s right next to me, staring straight ahead with his eyes on the road, but his mind is somewhere else.
I don’t know Asher that well. Sure, I know basic facts and random trivia that anyone with a phone or internet connection could find out. I know his birthday and his height. I know all of his number one hits, and I know he’s known for being a bit of a recluse, even before the downsides of fame pushed him to seek privacy.
But I don’t knowhim.
I don’t know what his favorite book is. I don’t know if he likes scary movies or bananas in his smoothies—which, by the way, is disgusting.
I don’t know what makes him happy.
Is he happy?
Gravel crunches under the tires as the car comes to a stop. The headlights illuminate the old stone building, then dim as the engine cuts off.
There are no lights except the faint glow of the car’s dashboard. When we both get out and the doors slam shut, the dashboard flickers out, and we are suddenly plunged into darkness.
Neither one of us thought to leave a light on inside.
“Shit,” Asher curses from the other side of the car. “Hold on, Merc. Let me walk over and help you. I know my way around fairly well.”
I stubbornly take a step toward the front door, or at least where I think it is. My heel sinks into the mud leftover from the midday rain.
I nearly cry. I saved for months to buy these shoes.
As I struggle to yank my ruined shoe out of the mud, my other foot slips forward, and all of a sudden, I’m airborne.
“Oh!” is all I have time to yell as my arms flail, and I pitch forward and land on?—
Strong hands grip my waist. “I’ve got you.”
“Asher?” I place my hands on his shoulders, trying to steady myself.
“Aye. Were you expecting someone else, then?”
I bite my bottom lip to keep from grinning, then realize he can’t actually see me. Or can he? That was a quick save. “No. I mean, thank you.”
“Just saving myself the trouble of a muddy floor is all.”
“Yeah, well, you haven’t seen my shoes.”
