Page 42 of Twist of Fate
Fuck, I am not usually this much of a disaster.
I jog over to the door, and just as I’m about to buzz her into the building, there is a hesitant knock. The doorman must have let her up.
I turn the handle, and just as I’m about to say hi, her eyes widen, and her cheeks flame red.
Right, shit. Clothes.
“Sorry. Running a bit late. Give me a moment.” She follows me in as I go to quickly fasten the top button of my jeans. To my surprise, she doesn’t look away, her gaze fixated on my bare chest as I toss my shirt over my head. When she digs her teeth into her bottom lip, I nearly groan. “Did you find the place all right?”
The sound of my voice nearly startles her, and I have to smother a grin. “What?” Her eyes drift up from where she was ogling my six-pack to my eyes. “Oh, um. The cab driver didn’t seem to have a problem with it.”
“Right.” I nod. “I suppose that being in the city doesn’t require much driving.”
“I don’t think I’ll be driving at all while I’m here.”
“What?” I scoff, scanning the room for that hoodie. I swear I grabbed one before I left the bedroom. I notice Ash checking the place, and I can’t decipher her expression—whether she likes it or not. Honestly, I’m not sure what my answer to that question is. Since I’ve been so busy, everything in here was chosen by a designer, and it’s nice—sophisticated, even—but at the same time, it feels sterile. Like you could drop any young, single executive in here, and they’d blend right in. It doesn’t feel special.
Or maybe it doesn’t feel special to me?
“What if you want to go somewhere outside of Dublin? How will you get there?”
She shrugs. “I’m not sure I’ll have time. Work keeps me busy and…” Her voice trails off, and before I can ask her what she was going to say, she bends down and picks up a faded green Trinity hoodie. “Looking for this?”
“Yes, thanks.”
She hands it to me, and her eyes shift to the kitchen as I pull it over my head. “Have you always lived here? I mean, did you?—”
“No,” I answer, knowing what she’s trying to ask. “I bought this building shortly after I took over from my father. Prior to that, I lived in a small flat across town.” If she were to ask anything more, she doesn’t. Instead, she readjusts the purse on her shoulder and looks toward the door. “Shall we?”
“Right, yeah.” She moves ahead of me, and that’s when I notice how she favors her left leg and the slight stiffness in her gait. “We can sit for a minute or two. I can grab us a cola?”
She looks back, pursing her lips. I’ve seen that look before. “I’m fine.”
“Ash.”
“Don’t,” she warns.
“Don’t what?” I retort, my tone stripped of all formality. “Ask if you’re okay. Because I can clearly see you’re in pain.”
“It’s just a flare-up.” She waves a dismissive hand. “It happens. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t handle it.” God, she is stubborn.
“Can we just go see the apartment now?” Her hand rests on her hip, and she appears to be only moments away from tapping her foot on the floor in annoyance.
“Will you rest over there?” I fold my arms over my chest. Yeah, I can be pretty fucking stubborn too.
She gives me that death stare, and fucking hell; I must be crazy because, damn, do I think that’s hot. “Fine,” she relents. “But I want a Coke.”
“Coming right up, darlin’.”
* * *
Aisling
Darlin’.
That word bounces around in my brain like a wayward ping-pong ball.
