Page 100 of Irresistibly Risky

Asher’s back stiffens, and he glances over his shoulder at where Joe is now starting practice. Asher should be over there. He should not be standing here with me, and we should not be talking like this.

He turns back to me. “How?”

“My boss mentioned it without knowing he shouldn’t. Joe doesn’t know about you. He thinks I’m a completely single mother with no father in the picture.”

“Wynter, I don’t like this.”

“What’s he going to do, Asher? Kidnap him? He may be a selfish, self-serving asshole, but he’s not a psycho, and he’s not dangerous.”

He huffs out a breath, his hands on his lean hips, and he nods. “You better say no to Dr. Horowitz.”

“You think?”

His eyes narrow. “I know.”

I smirk. “But he’s a neurologist.”

Asher growls, but he can’t fight his grin either. “You’re dangerous for my heart, Doctor. You make it beat in all kinds of new, unfamiliar ways.”

“Right back atcha, player. Now go get out there before this becomes obvious.”

“I love you,” he mouths, and then jogs away, heading straight onto the field with the other players. A queasiness flutters over me as I walk in Dean’s direction, already dreading this conversation.

“Reyes certainly requires a lot of your time and attention,” he drawls casually when I fall in beside him. Only I know the male species enough after living with Asher to understand nothing is casual when they’re asking about another man.

“Football players seem to be needier than hockey and basketball players are after they’re injured.”

He chuckles at my brush-off, liking that answer.

“What do you think though? About dinner?”

“It’s a nice offer, and if I weren’t seeing someone right now, I’d consider it.”

He taps his fingers on his khaki-clad thigh, but I can hear the surprise in his voice since I’ve never mentioned anyone in all the times we’ve chatted. “You’re seeing someone? Is that new?”

“It’s new but serious.”

He bobs his head. “I get it. No worries. I just thought I’d try.”

I offer him a wan smile, and we both let it go. Practice drags and drags, but we fall back into friendly chit-chat, which is a relief. We tell stories about med school and residency until my phone rings in my pocket. I give him a sheepish look and then slip it out, walking away in a hurry for privacy when I see it’s the daycare.

“Hello?”

“Dr. Hathaway?”

“Speaking.”

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but Mason doesn’t seem to be feeling well. He’s been fussy for most of the morning, and he just threw up. When we checked his temperature, it shows he has a fever.”

“Oh my gosh.” My hand covers my mouth and I spin around, facing the field. “How high is his temperature?”

“It’s 103.8.”

My heart picks up a few extra beats. That’s not a crazy high fever for a child. I know this. But still, it’s the first time he’s ever been sick or had a fever, and it being high like that makes me nervous. The medical part of my brain implodes when it comes to my son.

“I’m on my way to get him now.”

“Thank you. We’ll see you soon.”

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