Page 15 of Moonlit Thorns

She shakes her head and walks up to me, taking the apron from me when I pull it back over my head. “Mr. Voss has requested that you prepare his green drink for him this morning and serve it to him after his swim.”

I tense at the mention of Asher Voss. At least I’m assuming that’s the Mr. Voss she’s referring to. I’ve been lucky and only run into him a handful of times these past weeks. He does the same thing every single time—pretends I don’t exist. He doesn’t look my way nor address me.

I can’t help but watch him whenever he’s near. I tell myself it’s because anyone would keep an eye on an obvious threat, but I fear that it’s more than that.

“His swim?”

She hooks the apron back on the rack and motions for me to follow her. “Swims every morning. Then he has his smoothie out by the pool, comes in and showers, changes, and takes breakfast in the dining room with his brothers before he goes to his office. Creature of habit that one.”

“And he asked me to make it and deliver it to him?” I swallow back my nerves. I’m sure this is some kind of test.

Of course it is. The asshole probably waited until I’d grown somewhat comfortable in my new role here, then decided to spring this to put me off-kilter.

“He did.” She pats my arm as we reach the end of one of the long counters. “Now don’t look so worried—it’s just a drink. Let me teach you how to do it in case this becomes a daily thing.”

I swallow, hoping that won’t be the case. The last thing I want is to have to come into contact with him first thing every morning. Talk about a bad start to the day. I liked it a lot better when I did my thing without any interference from him.

Mrs. Potter shows me where all the ingredients are and measures how much of everything to put into the high-speed blender. When I’m done and pouring it into the tall glass, I can’t help but cringe. There’s no doubt it’s healthy, but it looks and smells disgusting.

Mrs. Potter passes me a small silver tray. “Now take this out with the glass on top and wait at the end of the pool until he’s finished. You don’t need to announce your presence. He knows you’ll be there and waiting.”

“I don’t know where the pool is,” I admit. I still haven’t gotten used to how big this place is, and I get easily turned around.

She gives me a patient smile and turns to one of the younger guys who acts as a sous chef in the kitchen. “Chris, can you show Anabelle to the pool please?”

He nods and sets down the onion he was about to chop before motioning for me to follow him. I do so with the tray in one hand and the glass in the other. No way am I risking walking through this manor with the drink on the tray. I’m likely to dump it all over some priceless rug or piece of furniture.

“Just through those double doors.” He motions ahead. “Here, let me get it for you.” Chris opens one of the doors for me, and I walk through.

“Thanks.” I glance around when I get outside. I’ve never been on this side of the house before.

I’m standing under a large portico that looks out over a stone patio with some iron furnishings. Past that is the large pool, gleaming in the early morning sun.

I swallow hard and place the tall glass on the silver tray, saying a small prayer that I’m able to balance it so that it doesn’t slide right off. Carefully and slowly, I make my way over to the end of the pool, and Asher Voss comes into view.

He slices through the water like a ship gliding through the ocean, not stopping for a break as he reaches one end then turns and pushes off to continue back down the long length of the pool. The muscles in his arms and back bunch and clench as he swims. It’s impossible not to appreciate the sheer strength and power of his body.

I stand still, balancing the drink on the tray, trying hard to not move. He’s paying me no attention, but after a certain amount of time, it’s awkward. The sun warms the back of my neck, and though it’s early in the day, I get warm under my uniform. Sweat beads at my temple, and my hand shakes as I continue to hold the tray out in front of me.

Finally, after what seems like time moving through molasses, he stops at the edge of the pool in front of me. There’s no expression on his face as he pulls off the goggles and tosses them to the side, then uses his arms to hoist himself out of the pool.

Water slides down his body onto the stone. If drinking the disgusting concoction I prepared for him is doing that for his body, I can understand exactly why he forces it down his throat every morning.

Because his body is utter perfection.

Perfectly muscled and honed the way you’d expect from a swimmer, except he’s bigger. The wide expanse of his chest would swallow me up if I was ever tucked into it.

Jesus, why am I even thinking like that?

But I know why. Because his olive skin glistens in the sun, and I want to lick every one of the water droplets off of him. I want to run my fingers through the small patch of hair between his pecs. I want to brush back the dark hair that falls to his forehead. Examining the man standing before me makes me realize that I’ve only ever dated boys, and Asher Voss is all man.

The sound of his voice draws me from my thoughts, and I blink at him, not registering his words.

“I’m sorry?” My cheeks heat from having to ask him to repeat himself, knowing he’s not going to be pleased.

“I asked if you were going to offer me my drink or just stand there openly gawking at my body like you’re hoping I’ll sit you on the edge of the pool and feast between your thighs.”

All the air rushes from my lungs.

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