Page 119 of Irresistibly Risky

“Come on, doll,” he pleads, going for the dip again only to be denied. “You love me shirtless.”

“Um. No. Not so much.” Layla jumps in from her position on the floor, her mouth twisting in disgust. She’s sort of confiscated the cheese board along with Fallon. It might be a cage fight to get some of the goat cheese I’m eyeing. “In fact, it’s definitely ruining my appetite, which I never would have thought possible. I’m that chick who can always eat.”

They continue going back and forth, ribbing Asher, which is always amusing to watch. Lenox chuckles, and it draws my attention over to him. Rising up off the sofa, I walk over to him as he stands alone by the balcony door, just doing his own thing.

“Hi,” I say sweetly.

He blinks at me and then grins but doesn’t say anything in return.

“Thank you for digging into Joe’s… stuff, I guess you’d call it. I don’t know what you do, or how you do it, and frankly, I don’t want to know. I’m grateful though. For me and for Asher.”

He gives me a firm nod and that’s about it. For how much Asher—and even Greyson—talk, Lenox is the total opposite. Asher said he’s always been this way, but after he lost his sister, it’s been worse. He also seems like a bit of a loner but clearly loves his people with an undeniable ferocity.

I reach up and give him a hug, which he returns—albeit a bit awkwardly—and then I go back for the cheese, ready to fight my way in if necessary while Asher digs into a plate of spinach dip with pita and veggies since he now has his shirt back on. Greyson turns on the television to put the evening games on, but even though another team is playing, Asher is all anyone is talking about.

“Oh my God!” I cry when they do a replay of me and Asher on the sidelines. “I look like a crazy woman.” Layla and Aurelia giggle lightly at my outrage.

“It’s not so bad,” Fallon attests, lying through her teeth.

“Uh, no. That’s tragic girl hair right there. My hair is legit all over the place. Why didn’t you tell me?” I throw Asher a scathing glare, but all he does is shrug it off.

“I thought you looked beautiful, and honestly, I didn’t notice the hair.”

I cast a hand in the direction of the television that’s displaying the madness in like eighty inches of high definition. “It’s a ball of electrified frizz. Remind me next time it’s shitty New England weather to wear it up.”

“I hate to break it to you, but your face is going to be everywhere now,” Aurelia tells me. “I didn’t expect it when I got together with Zax, but yeah, it happened, and it wasn’t all that fun.”

“Reils, your face was already everywhere. You’re a model. Or were.”

She waves Greyson away. “That was different. It was like I was dating a Beatle or”—she snickers—“a member of Central Square.”

“Same,” Fallon commiserates. “It was madness for me and Grey. We had press posted outside the warehouse we live in for weeks. Then Grey proposed, and it started all over again.” She points at the television. “Oh look, they’re showing you standing on the podium holding up your gold medal. You look so cute.”

It goes from that to my freaking medical school graduation, like some warped this is your life video montage. I groan and collapse on the floor, splayed out like a starfish. “I take it back, Asher. We’re breaking up. Officially. You can visit Mason whenever you want, as long as I’m not there.”

“Oh, come on,” he drawls, sipping his water to wash down his food. “Don’t be such a wimp. You had your chance to run—not that I would have let that happen—but now it’s too late. In for a pint, in for a pound. Besides, it’ll blow over in like a week. And Fallon is right, you did look cute.”

“They’re practically reporting my final score in the Olympics and my GPA in college!” I half-yell. “Next thing you know, they’ll learn you knocked me up in the bathroom of a club. It’s a lot. I haven’t been on television since the Olympics, and this is different. So, so different.”

“Here, sweetheart. Sit up. I’ll get you some wine because I think you could use a drink, and it’ll make you more willing to do the naughty stuff later. Oh, and there’s goat cheese. Have some goat cheese. You’ll feel better.”

Asher jogs into the kitchen and returns with a glass and a bottle of wine—like I’m going to drink the whole thing—and pours me a mammoth glass. I take a sip and then a gulp as he makes me a cheese plate and even adds on the fig spread I like with a bounty of crackers beside it.

“There. Better now?” he checks.

“Marginally. Today sucked.”

He agrees. So does everyone else, since they all seem to know about what Joe did. I’m going to have to tell Limbick. That’s not something that can be ignored, whether it becomes public knowledge or not. I can’t imagine he’ll be too pleased, but he saw the MRI just the same as I did, and if it had been him instead of me, he would have opened up Asher’s shoulder too.

That’s what’s sitting with me the hardest. The manipulation. The lies. The deceit. I have a half-brother I never knew anything about, and he just so happens to be Asher’s teammate. His rival, I guess. What will that be like?

Asher smacks a kiss on my lips, and then we just settle into a groove of watching football—still not my favorite sport—and eating good food and laughing with his friends, who are starting to feel like they’re my people too.

It’s nice.

I’m not sure I’ve ever had people before, so I like the notion of a girl squad. I like the feeling of being home. It’s not one I’ve had for as long as I can remember. After Joe left, that all sort of fell apart, and then I was traveling nonstop for skating, and then after that, it was college, med school, residency… it didn’t stop.

But being here with Asher, our son, his people… it’s home. He’s my home.

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