Page 9 of The Switch: A Friends To Lovers Romance

“I said I will.”

“Your grandfather built that house with his own two hands,” her dad mumbled. “It’s due for a few repairs.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Ashanti closed her eyes. “I want to hear about all the beautiful queens you’ve been meeting on that boat.”

Her father went silent.

“Dad?”

“I… might have met someone.”

She shot up. “No way! What’s her name? Do you have a picture? I’m so excited. How far have you two gone?”

“Ashanti?” Her father made a whooshing noise. “I can’t hear you. You’re breaking up.”

“Dad, don’t hang up! I just wanna talk!”

She heard a click and grinned at her screen. Aw, her dad had finally met someone after twenty-four years.

It was about time.

Since she could remember, it had always been Ashanti, her dad and her grandmother. Her mother died in childbirth and her father moved back into his mother’s house when she was still a child.

When Grandma Flora died a few years ago, she’d still been in college and her father was alone in the house.

Ashanti always urged him to start dating. He was smart, handsome, funny, and had all his teeth. There were plenty of women who would gladly put him out of his misery. Heck, the ladies at church treated him like a rock star and would throw their granny panties at him if such a thing were allowed.

But her dad was naturally shy, and he didn’t seem interested. Until a few months ago when he suddenly informed her that he had signed up for a Singles Cruise and would be out of the country for the next three months.

“You go, Dad,” Ashanti told the phone.

She pulled her book close, but the story couldn’t pull her in as it had before. Here she was on a Friday night, reading and eating way too much ice cream, when her father was out on a ship having the time of his life.

Something was wrong with this picture.

She scrambled up and grabbed her phone, skimming through her contact list. Ashanti stopped when her thumb landed on Luke’s name. His café was open until ten every night.

It was nine-thirty. She’d grab a coffee, help him lock up and then beg him to take her out. Luke could use a night of fun too.

Happy with her plan, Ashanti slipped out of the chair and raked a hand through her curly hair. It was more frizz than any discernable curl pattern so she slapped it into a bun, grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

There was plenty of parking space in front of the café. She took her time getting out of the car and trotted up the stairs to the front door.

When she walked in, a man greeted her, but it wasn’t Luke.

She ambled to the counter and frowned. “Where’s Luke?”

The guy who stood in Luke’s place was young, maybe eighteen. He had pale skin, thin black hair that he wore pasted to his forehead in a style that was less than flattering and big, brown eyes. His lips were pink, fuller and plumper than she’d expected to find on an Asian guy.

Was that racist of her? She’d have to figure that out later.

Ashanti raised her chin. “Who are you?”

He glared right back. “Who are you?”

“I’m a VIP customer here.” She folded her arms over her chest. A thought struck and her tough-girl act crumpled. “Did something happen to Luke? Is he okay?”

“Luke’s fine. He asked me to fill in for him because he had something to do.”

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