Page 18 of The First Spark

Waiting for the right moment.

Glancing around the dim space, I spy my only possible weapon—a push broom. “If this is my lone defense, I’m screwed.”

The footsteps move closer, no doubt drawn to the light leeching from the corner. I grip the broom tighter, ready to greet whoever they belong to, while praying they’re only a figment of my sleep-deprived imagination.

Or maybe itisa ghost, which would be a welcome reprieve at this point.

It’s then I hear another sound—the upstairs door swinging shut.

A door that locks from the outside.

A door I’m certain Ididn’tunlock before I wedged it open.

Stupid, stupid,stupidwoman.

And then I hear a deep male voice drawl, “I know you’re down here. Might as well come out.”

Chapter 5

Truth, Consequences, and Whiskey

Ori

The sheen of fear gives way to aggravation as I recognize the burly voice.

Asher Hammond.

With a grunt, I step from my hiding spot, still clinging to the broom. “What do you want?”

“Hello is a customary greeting.”

“Why would I say hello to you?”

He shrugs. “Because it’s polite? Granted, you don’t like saying thank you, either, so I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“You want me to be polite toyou? As I recall, you informed me that your initial impulse was to let me fall off the ladder.”

Ash offers another shrug, the corners of his mouth turning up. No doubt he’s picturing the scene in his head and relishing every second. “But I didn’t, did I? AndIrecall you were all too happy to cling to me.”

“As opposed to what? Cracking my skull open? What an option, Asher.”

“I know which optionyou chose.”

This. Fucking. Guy.

A growl rises from my chest, which only serves to amuse him further.

And then he spots my ‘weapon.’

No way he’s going to let this one slip by unmentioned.

Asher crosses his arms over his chest, a smirk coloring his face. It’s the same pose from six months earlier. So glad the man still enjoys making me nuts. “What’s the broom for?”

“Although you likely have a harem of women to perform these rudimentary chores, it’s used for sweeping.”

He moves closer, and I back away.

Now his expression borders on a sneer. “But you’re not sweeping, are you? I think that’s your weapon, sad as it may be. What’s the matter? Are you scared?”

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