Page 22 of Checking Mr. Wrong
Fiona grins as she hip-checks me. “Mabel and I know one another from New York.”
Willa’s eyes light up. “City girls unite! Okay, we need to have a proper city catch-up session. I love Maple Falls, but I miss hearing about the city. There’s something about the energy and the heartbeat of it that makes my heart sing. How about we grab coffee soon and dish about everything?”
I can’t help but smile at Willa’s enthusiasm. “Sounds like a plan.”
The conversation continues for another minute, but soon, Willa glances at Noah, who tilts his head toward the parking lot. “We’ve got to run,” she says, squeezing my arm. “But we’ll catch up more soon.”
Fiona waves goodbye as well, mentioning something about meeting up later, and just like that, they scatter, leaving me and Asher standing a few feet away from the Save Maple Falls booth.
I turn to him, suddenly aware of the quiet settling between us. “Well, looks like we’re back where we started.”
He chuckles, glancing across the market. His expression shifts, and I follow his gaze to where Carson is waving from the far side of the square, flanked by a few other hockey players, standing at the exit.
“Good timing ‘cause that’s my cue,” he says, tilting his head in their direction. “They’re waiting for me.”
I nod, trying not to feel...what? Disappointed? No, that’s ridiculous. “You better get going.”
“Yeah.” He hesitates for a beat, his usual grin replaced by something softer. “This was fun.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Fun?”
He shrugs. “You know, for a grump and a golden retriever.”
A reluctant smile tugs at my lips. “Go before you make me regret being nice today.”
He laughs, starting to walk backward toward his friends. “See you around, Mabel.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly, watching as he joins the others, his easy charm drawing them in like moths to a flame. “See ya.”
As I turn back to the booth, I realize something strange: I actually did have a good time. And for the first time, I wonder if there’s more to Asher Tremblay than just sunshine and smiles.
CHAPTER 8
ASHER
The weights clinkas I set them back on the rack, my arms burning but my mind sharper than it’s been all day. Cade’s gym is a sanctuary of sorts, tucked into the corner of his oversized garage. It smells like rubber mats and grit, with sunlight streaming in through high windows to catch the edges of a spotless row of equipment. The guy’s a fanatic about keeping his space clean, but I can’t complain. If there’s one thing I can count on, it’s that everything here is exactly where it’s supposed to be.
“You good over there?” Cade asks, his voice cutting through the steady hum of the gym’s background music. He’s spotting me, arms crossed, his brow furrowed as he watches my movements.
“Yeah,” I reply quickly, shaking out my hands before reaching for another set of dumbbells. “Just hitting the reps.”
Cade doesn’t answer immediately. I’m finding he’s not the kind of guy to fill silence just for the sake of it. When he talks, there’s a reason.
“I’m not trying to push in on you, but I noticed you’ve racked and re-racked that same set of weights three times now,” he finally says, his tone calm but pointed. “And, you’ve beencounting the plates on the rack, too. Three times in a row, each time.”
I freeze mid-reach, my hand hovering over a twenty-pound plate. My instinct is to brush him off, give him some line about double-checking my routine or being extra cautious. But Cade’s not just a guy I look up to, nor is he simply a teammate anymore. He’s becoming a real friend, and one who is in on my dirty little secret.
I let out a slow breath, dropping my hand to my side. “Making sure everything’s where it should be,” I say, trying to keep my tone casual, like it’s no big deal.
“Uh-huh.” Cade steps closer, leaning one hip against the bench. He doesn’t probe for more, but his presence is steady, grounding.
I can feel his eyes on me, not judging, just waiting. I glance at the rack again, the slight disorder in the plates making my skin crawl. The urge to fix it buzzes under my skin like static, but I choose to keep my hands busy by tapping the very tips of my fingers over and over.
“Look,” I start, my voice quieter now. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just something I do. Keeps me focused.”
“I get it, man.” Cade nods slowly, his expression unreadable. “I’ve had to put my own routines into place when I start to get in my head about my mom and what she goes through with lupus. Knowing I can’t do anything to control it is the toughest pill to swallow. It’s all about control in the end. Control and our reaction.”
“Yeah.” I glance at him, surprised by the understanding in his tone. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for you to be the one who gets my baggage when I got here.”
