Authors: Randi Cooley Wilson
He narrows his eyes. “Would you have said yes if I simply invited you to my home
?”
He’s right. I would have said no. No, wait, make that HELL NO!
I concede by
throwing my hands up in frustration. I take a moment to study him. Trying to figure him out is like doing a math problem. It’s making my migraine worse.
“Great. Get in the car,” he barks. I ra
ise an eyebrow at him, unmoving. “Please,” he adds.
Proud of myself for winning a round, I smile and move toward the car. It’s off to Asher’s for family dinner night.
Yippee
. The sarcastic delight must be written all over my face because he picks up on it.
Asher blows out a long
, exaggerated breath, looking drained. “Listen, let’s just try to get through tonight without killing each other. Then, we never have to speak again if that’s what you want.” Placing his hand on the small of my back, he guides me to the passenger’s side of the car. Once I’m in, he closes the door and makes his way around to the driver’s side.
I have to admit, part of me is giddy to be sitting in my dream car. The leather is so soft and the entire car smells like Asher. I
peek over at him. He’s just sitting there, watching me. His eyes have become softer. “Wait here a minute,” he demands in a quiet tone as he gets out of the car and runs into the coffee shop. A few moments later, Asher reappears with a cup of ice and some napkins.
Once
back inside the car, he places the cup in the cup holder then folds some ice in one of the napkins. Asher turns to me and gently brushes my hair away from the side of my face that’s sporting the bump. With a light touch, he applies the ice to the spot where my welt is now showing. I wince from the cold but my body relaxes from the intimate gesture.
“Tender?” he asks
. His voice is low and hoarse.
“A little
.” I offer a polite smile.
He just
stares at me. “You really scared the shit out of me when you taunted that thing, siren. Don’t ever fucking do that to me again, understood?” His blue eyes hold mine.
“Okay.”
My eyes glaze over him, stopping at the blood on his chest and I become weary, reminded of the vicious animal attack. Maybe I did hit my head harder than I thought.
Animals don’t just disappear into blue flames, right?
I start chewing on the inside of my cheek.
“Okay,” he
repeats and takes my small hand in his large one, flooding my body with heat as he raises the two and places my hand on the make shift ice pack. “Hold this here while I drive.” He looks forward and starts the car. I clutch his leather jacket as if it’s a safety blanket and buckle my seatbelt while he pulls out of the parking lot.
I stare at the muscles on Asher’s right arm as he shifts
gears, driving us out of the parking lot and onto a main road. The way he handles the vehicle is so attractive. He’s controlled and focused as his left hand guides the steering wheel, commanding the sports car where he wants it to go as if it’s an extension of himself.
My gaze roam
s his arms and I notice the thick leather bracelets he wears on each wrist. They have some kind of black stone interweaved in them. I let my ogling eyes wander up to his striking face. It’s tight and fixated on the tree-lined road ahead of us. The car’s suspension is smooth, lulling me into a relaxed state as I concentrate on his five o’clock shadow, a constant fixture on his beautiful face. I heave a sigh of contentment as I contemplate how it would feel to run my hands over his jaw and cup his face. Asher shifts uncomfortably in his seat, most likely because I’m gawking at him like a psychotic stalker.
He always looks
like he’s on guard. As if at any moment he might need to jump into battle. I have an overwhelming need to touch him and kiss the lines between his brows. This silence and my ogling cause a lingering uneasiness. I have to put an end to both.
I turn and
watch the landscape roll by through the passenger window as we leave the Kingsley College area. “So, you’re family friends of McKenna and Abby?” I ask then chastise myself.
That was riveting dialogue, Eve.
“Yes
.” His glance slides to me then back to the road. “McKenna is dating my brother, Keegan, and Abby is seeing my other brother, Callan,” he replies.
Interesting
. Nothing like keeping it all in the family, I internally snicker. “How did you all meet?” I ask to keep the discussion going.
“We grew up together. Our families were long time friends,” he says through a
stressed jaw.
“So you all go to Kingsley together?” I
press.
“No.” Asher doesn’t elaborate as we drive out of town.
I
want to keep the conversation moving. My need to know more about him is becoming an unhealthy obsession. “Are you from around here? I thought I detected a slight accent. Plus it seems you speak Gaelic fluently,” I throw out with a sarcastic edge.
His jaw tenses again.
“I was born in New York but my family moved to London when I was very young. We traveled between New York, England, Ireland, France, and Scotland quite a bit for my father’s job. I guess I picked up a trace of an accent here and there, as well as the languages. I can also speak French, Latin, and Welsh.” He ponders this as if it’s the first time he’s considering that he has an accent or speaks multiple languages with such ease.
“What does your father do for work?”
His face turns guarded and defensive. “He was in politics and private security. Mainly working with religious politicians,” Asher answers but it sounds contrived.
“Is he retired?” I dig deeper.
“No,” he says, shaking his head, his tone short and distant.
“And your mother, what does she do?”
This one sided conversation is like pulling teeth.
“She was in the same line of work,” he
replies with a slight annoyance forming on the outskirts of his voice.
I notice his use of the past tense when speaking about his parents. “Are they in New York or back in London?”
“Eve, listen, I don’t mean to be unkind but both my parents are no longer with us. I would prefer not to talk about them.” With that, he successfully ends my line of questioning.
“Of course.
I’m sorry to hear that. I lost both my parents too but that was when I was a baby. I know the void that leaves with you,” I offer with sincere empathy.
Indecision
flashed across his face, but then it was gone. The hand on the shifter comes off, reaching for mine. He takes my hand in his for the briefest moment and squeezes before releasing it. My body responds immediately to his touch and then diminishes just as fast at the loss of contact.
Asher’s
demeanor changes again, alerting me his annoyance levels are rising. I need to change the dialogue to a neutral topic. “Are you the oldest, middle, or youngest child? I mean, you said you have only the two brothers Keegan and Callan?” I inquire, aching to learn more about him.
He seems
to relax as he answers. “Keegan is what you would consider twenty-three, I’m twenty, and Callan is eighteen.” He smirks. “I suppose, technically, that makes me the middle child. No other siblings to discuss other than them.”
I pull my brows together in confusion.
“What you consider?” I ask. “That’s an odd choice of words.”
He pauses,
selecting his next words with care. “I just meant that age tends not to be a big deal in our family. It’s not like we keep track of who’s older and who’s younger.”
Weird
.
“I turned eighteen in May,” I offer. “I was always the youngest in my class. It sucked.” That earned me a chuckle.
“Well, I think you’ll find eighteen changes everything, so I wouldn’t worry about the past.” His gaze lingers on me for a moment.
His eyes seem older than twenty
. There’s a lifetime of wisdom, sorrow, and obscurity behind them. As if he’s lived an existence of never ending heartache. Maybe that’s why he’s so aloof. I turn to look out the passenger window, enjoying the rest of the ride in comfortable silence.
Asher
drives us to an adjacent town about forty minutes outside of campus that locals consider to be full of ‘old money.’ The estates here are massive, each with their own personality. They’re meticulously cared for and maintained, right down to their impeccable lawns, safeguarded behind tall gates.
I’m seriously wondering what he is doing in this section of town. Breaking my contemplation, he slows down and pulls up to an intimidating
, medieval iron gate, adorned with large and fierce looking dragon heads on each side.
After pressing some numbers on the hi
gh tech keypad and scanning his thumbprint, the gates creak open, allowing us entry. We continue driving on a long, cobbled, circular driveway leading to an off white stone mansion.
My eyes dart
around, taking everything in. “This is your home?” I ask in awe.
“Yes.” He smiles at me
with pride. Asher follows the circular driveway toward the estate and parks next to a motorcycle and multiple expensive-looking cars. The only one I recognize is Abby’s black Mini Cooper.
In the center of th
e round driveway is an enormous, ornate, off white water fountain showcasing the same dragon heads as the gate. It’s made of smooth granite and the dragon heads have water streaming out of their mouths into the pool below. The entire sight is beyond gorgeous.
The front yard is
covered in flowers and beautiful topiaries. It’s so peaceful here. Asher cuts the engine and turns to face me, hesitancy crossing his face. The next moment, he’s out of the car. Walking around to the passenger side, he opens the door and offers his hand. I take it, attempting a graceful exit. His eyes are fixed on mine. The intensity causes a shiver to ripple through my body. Again, the strange warmth hums inside my veins at his touch.
“Thanks
,” I manage to say with a hint of shyness.
“No problem
.”
His eyes drop
to my parted lips. Needing to retreat, I step away, my back colliding with the car. Asher drops my hand, steps forward, and cages me in with one arm on each side of the car. I hold my breath at the proximity and in anticipation of his next move.
Lifting his right hand
, he brushes my hair over my shoulder, exposing my neck. His fingertips lightly caress the spot on my head that met the ground earlier. Goose bumps rise on my skin at the intimate gesture. Without thought, my tongue darts out and licks my bottom lip. His eyes flicker to it before narrowing again, masking whatever emotion might have been there. Asher squeezes his eyes closed and then open, as if forcing himself to come out of a trance. Then he steps back, putting distance between us.
“Abby’
s waiting. We should get going,” he grumbles.
“Okay.” It’s all I can manage after the intensity of the moment.
What just happened?
I move away from the car as he shuts the door and places his hand on the small of my back. It’s becoming a bit of a habit with him. He guides me up the few steps to the two large, dark brown, wooden front doors, adorned with the same iron dragon heads from the gate and in the fountain.
These people certainly love dragons
.
To the right of the entrance is a brass plaque set within one of the home’s stones.
La Gargouille Manor
.
Interesting
. Just as I’m about to ask Asher what it means, the heavy doors groan open and Abby is standing there, staring at Asher with a worried look on her face. It washes away and turns into relief as soon as she sees me, quickly snagging me into a stern hug.
“Abigail
, give her some breathing room. She’s fine,” Asher says. His hand is still on my lower back, branding me as he guides me out of her hold and into the largest foyer I’ve ever seen.
The walls are crafted of an off white stone which is soft and warm. Directly in front of us is a grand staircase
that leads to the second floor landing, which is open and overlooks the entryway.
The stairs are made of dark hardwood and black rod iron railings. In the center of the ceiling is a black rod iron chandelier, featuring what
seem to be candles, but upon closer inspection, I notice they’re actually flameless. Under the circular chandelier is a round granite table decorated with red snapdragons in a large medieval vase.
There are paintings on the walls of castles and
, I think, European churches, but what really catches my eye are the beautiful stone statues displayed in alcoves all around the foyer and into the hallways. The entire manor has a modern medieval feel to it.
Professor Davidson would love this.
Abby shuts the doors and
uses her most cheerful voice. “Eve, welcome to La Gargouille Manor. We’re so happy you’re here.” With that, she takes my hand, pulling me away from Asher. The warmth of his touch leaves me wanting it back.
S
he tugs at my arm, dragging me down a long hallway designed in a similar décor as the foyer. My eyes scan everywhere as Abby hauls me into a considerable family room.
The softly lit
room is adorned with a massive brown leather sectional, a big fireplace blazing with a generous fire, and beautiful antique wooden tables. Next to the fire are two wingback chairs and a flat screen TV hangs over the fireplace, airing a football game.
Ceiling to floor windows
and French doors allow the natural light to filter into the room, bouncing off the dark hardwood floors and stunning stonework on the walls.
My att
ention is drawn to McKenna, who’s playing pool with a guy that looks similar to Asher. His brown hair is longer on top and perfectly styled. He’s wearing tailored black pants and a dark grey button up shirt with the top button undone and sleeves rolled to his elbows, showing off the same Celtic cross tattoo on his forearm. The attractive guy also wears the same leather bracelets on both wrists as Asher, although his stones are red.
Though I see the similari
ties in the two, this man looks much more reserved with a quiet intelligence about him. He hits his shot. Stripes in the corner pocket. Pleased with himself, his blue eyes look up at me and he stands to his full height.
“Eve
, this is my,” Asher pauses before catching himself, “older brother, Keegan St. Michael. Keegan, Eve.”
Keegan walks over to me w
ith a very debonair swagger, holding out his hand and shaking mine in a formal way. “Pleasure, Eve.” His smile is polite.
I didn’t think it possible but this
brother seems even more standoffish and intimidating than Asher. He’s extremely muscular, giving off a fierce warrior vibe. I get the impression he would win a bar fight with his eyes closed.
“Hi
,” I respond.
McKenna sa
unters up to us, entwining her arm through Keegan’s and tightening her eyes at me. “Hello, Eve.” The ice queen sounds even more thrilled about me being here than I am.
Clearly
marking her territory.
She should just pee on him while she’s at it.
He steps back and puts his arm around her shoulder as she relaxes into his side.
I respond by putting on my fakest and sweetest tone.
“Hi, McKenna. As always, it’s delightful to see you.”
Suddenly, I’m jerked
away by another Asher look-a-like with my back to his very muscular chest. He’s squeezing me so hard in a bear hug I might pass out from the lack of oxygen. Evidently, this person has no issues with physical contact or boundaries.
Jeez, this must be the other brother, Callan. Are they all on steroids?