Page 58 of The First Spark

But, until I reach that juncture, I need to fake it.

How hard can it be?

Glancing around the tent’s interior, I realize the woman in my store earlier was overdressed. Some of these chicks are wearing little more than lingerie.

Each one is pretty and playing up their assets to the fullest, so there isnomistaking their intention.

Right in the middle of the melee stands the man they’ve all come to see—Asher Hammond.

He’s casually dressed in a leather jacket and jeans, every inch of him epitomizing the quintessential heartbreaker.

Every move, gesture, and smile from the angelic bad boy oozes charm. He’s effortless.

I hate him for it.

Then there’s me, on the opposite side of the social spectrum. Stilted and painfully awkward, I lack Ash’s finesse with crowds.

Small groups are where I shine, but when there’s too much noise from too many people, my introverted nature kicks into high gear and I fade into the wallpaper. Or, in this case, the velvet drapes.

Trust me, it’s better for everyone that way.

But as I watch the women flirt and giggle with Ash, I wish I had a bit more moxie at my disposal.

Then again, I’ve never been one to fish for attention, especially not where men are concerned. Way too much upkeep with that crown. And judging by the flock gathered around the man of the hour, that crown has several ladies-in-waiting.

Men are either interested in me, or they’re not, and Irefuse to ply them with fake charm and empty flattery to sway their favor.

Seems I’m in the minority where Asher Hammond is concerned.

“He’s popular,” Mina observes, giving me a light jab in the ribs.

Understatement of the month right there.

“Tell me something we don’t know.”

“I know someone who knowswaymore about him than any of these women.” Mina shoots me a smirk, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

Subtle, love. Subtle.

She’d love for me to cave and provide her with every intimate detail of my night with Ash, but what’s the point? Although I may know him on a deeper level than his current flock, there are a ton of other women who share the same notation on their resume.

I cringe to think how many women Asher Hammond has bedded in his thirty-eight years, or what his final tally will be once his ride on earth is done.

Although, his rampant sexual history is apparently a non-issue with his fan base. He never denies who or what he is, and more importantly, what he isn’t.

Maybe that’s the trick: Ash tells his bed buddies the truth right off the bat so they can’t throw it in his face later. Brilliant chess move.

I still hate him for it … even though I don’t hate him at all.

A thin brunette takes her turn with the man of the hour, lifting her skirt to show off a large floral piece tattooed on her upper thigh.

Ash squats down before her, his fingers tracing delicately over the inked outline, but it’s the look on the woman’s face when he touches her that catches my attention. Pure bliss.

Can’t say I blame her.

The man possesses the most talented digits on the planet.

Brain, please stick to neutral and PG-rated topics.

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