Page 31 of The Love Penalty

Asher laughs as he grabs his coffee and heads for a couple of armchairs in the corner. I follow without protest because the coveted armchairs are hardly ever available. We grab the spot before anyone else can, and I sink into the soft cushions with a sigh.

“So, you been in classes all morning?” Asher takes a sip of his coffee before breaking off a bite of his cookie.

“I had one early class, and then I spent the last two hours in the library.” I rub my forehead. “But I started going cross-eyed, so I figured I needed a caffeine kick.”

“Good call.” He holds out his plate and silently offers me some of his cookie. I should refuse, but for some reason, I take a small chunk. I did pay for it, after all.

I’m surprised he let me, actually. I kind of want to ask why he did, but that could lead to a deeper conversation, and I’m really determined to keep things as light and fluffy as possible today. Instead, I tell him about the assignment I’m working on, and he seems pretty interested. We talk about history for a while, and he gives away how much he loves the subject. Much to my annoyance, I’m impressed by his vast knowledge. He obviously reads big, fat novels and nonfiction books about actual events in history. Or maybe he’s more of a documentary man. Whatever, he’s fascinated by the same stuff as me, and it’s…

I don’t know what it is. Half of me loves it, but the other half hates that we have so much in common.

I take another small chunk of cookie, then brush the crumbs off my fingers.

As soon as I’ve swallowed my mouthful, I ask him, “Why aren’t you a history major?”

He shrugs. “It’s just a hobby. I’m majoring in business studies.”

“Oh, so no pro hockey for you?”

“Nah, I’ll no doubt join the family business after I graduate.” His eyebrows furrow, and I kind of want to ask him more, but that feels too personal. If he shares something like that, he might expect the same from me, so I quickly change the subject.

“So, violin in high school. Do you play anything else?”

“Piano.” He shrugs. “I got it into my head when I was fourteen that I could be the next Billy Joel or John Legend.”

His eye roll makes me laugh.

“But I soon figured out that my fingers are not that nimble, and I wanted to be on the ice more than sitting on a piano stool. So, yeah, not exactly the maestro.”

Man, he’s got a sexy voice. And that smirk, which I use to think was so arrogant, has a playfulness about it. It’s almost self-deprecating from this new angle, and it makes me want to sit in this chair for the rest of the freaking day.

“How about you, Miss Cello?”

“Uh, ukulele… and also piano.”

“Damn,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Yet another thing we have in common. Could you stop that now, please?” His emphatic look contradicts the grin in his eyes, and I end up laughing. Again. Because he does that to me. Makes me smile. Makes me laugh.

It’s infuriating!

“I wonder what else we both like…” He bites his lip in thought, then throws a bunch of rapid-fire questions at me.

“Favorite color?”

“The sky on a cloudless day.”

His eyes light with appreciation.

“Favorite movie?”

“Which genre?”

“Oh, okay, so it’s like that.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me. “All right, I’ll get specific, then. I already know you love Harry, so I’m guessing you’re a fan of Lord of the Rings?”

I nod.

“Narnia?”

I nod again and can’t help adding, “I used to read those books every year when I was a kid. My dad would read them to me. Then, when I got old enough, I started reading them to my younger brothers and sisters.”

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