Unfriended(Love in New Highland Book 1)(25)

       

Effectively, let's face it, I'm a dirty old lady. It's not how old you  are, it's how much older you are. If my latest calculation is correct, I  am 18 percent older than Ash. Shit's not right, is it?

I've had many frustrating nights replaying our times together, only  adding on an X rated layer. I guess you could say Asher inspires all my  RPF fantasies.

The last two nights could be described as Asher-infused. Even though I  was staying far, far away from him, he had a presence that could not be  dissipated.

He'd looked at me. He'd actually said-

No. Do not. Go there.

When Karl arrived, I was banging out push-ups and sweat was pouring down my chest and forehead.

"Hey," I said, wiping my brow with my sleeve. "Is that pizza?"

"Dudette, you need a shower," he said, squeezing my shoulder. He looked  me up and down. Not the hot way I'd caught Asher looking at me, but more  with vague concern.

Asher's brother is like him-a top grade pantymelter-but there's  something distant and inaccessible about Karl even while he's smiling  amiably at you that makes you not want to go there in any romantic  sense.

If he hadn't made it clear our marriage would be nothing more than a  piece of paper, a shared residence, and maybe an annual shag to keep it  official, I'd have turned him down. There were depths to Karl, but I was  skittish of depths. I'd had enough angst growing up with unconventional  creative types to last me a lifetime. Give me a simple straight shooter  and I was happy.

Someone like Asher.

Asher and his sexy, straight shooting-

No. Bad Charis.

With the stern discipline I was not even remotely known for, I ordered myself to cease and desist on all thoughts Asher.

"Yeah, I'm smelly," I said. "Give me ten minutes."

Only for a microsecond did I get weirded out by showering with Karl in  the apartment. Now if it had been Asher lurking in my living room … I was  pretty sure the act would have taken on sensual overtones, and I'd have  been tempted to take the edge off. Embarrassingly, it had happened that  way a few times.

The worst ever was during an opening-night movie party I gave at the end  of spring quarter last year. For some reason, I'd found it impossible  not to keep shooting peeks at Asher, whom I hadn't seen all week and who  was dressed that night in shorts and a gray tee shirt. He'd looked  luscious. I'd wanted to lick him.

Aura had been there too of course. They'd been acting all night like a  couple in a spat, like they'd been getting on each other's last nerve. I  remembered him looking around with an irritated expression and stopping  when his gaze landed on me. I expected him to wink or roll his eyes and  I gave him a warm smile and a thumbs-up. Instead he'd looked blank as  if he didn't recognize me. That was weird. Then he'd turned to Aura and  kissed her.

Not the kind of kiss guys usually give their girlfriend in public.

I'd gotten up shakily and gone into the bathroom. I lectured myself on  inappropriate jealousy, inappropriate lust, inappropriate imaginings,  all-around inappropriateness. And I'd stripped off my clothes right then  in the middle of the party and taken a seven-minute shower. It had only  taken four to achieve the chemical wash of a solo orgasm. I was  super-relieved that Asher and Aura had gone by the time I got out.

Thankfully that kind of public insanity only comes on a couple of times a  year, probably in sync with my fertile cycle or something.

When I came out squeaky clean wearing jeans and a sleeveless shirt with  my handy special bra that keeps my girls decent, Karl was sprawled on  the sofa with the open pizza box on the coffee table, making pieces  disappear with alarming alacrity.

"Hey, save me some of that!"

"What's up with Asher?" He handed me a plate.

I froze, stopped breathing, then huffed out all the air, shoved the plate back at him, and dropped to the floor.

He watched me do sit-ups. Twenty. Thirty. Fifty. I was a madwoman.

"Have you even seen him?" he persisted.

"No, I-haven't-seen him." Seventy. Eighty. Not bad. I was getting really buff this week.

"Hmm. Food's almost gone."

Somehow my appetite had waned. "Don't spill red stuff on my carpet. I  had it steam cleaned last week. What is so very amusing, Mr. Karl?"

"You. You usually train this intensely?"

"It happens."

"It's happening to Asher, too," he said idly. "He drove a squash ball into my ass four times last match."

"Oh."

"My brother's been hounding me to release you from the engagement. I'm  starting to feel sorry for him. You sure you want to go through with  this? It's coming up Friday, you know. The meeting with the executor and  then our big day Saturday."

"Shit." I'd actually forgotten the wedding was this weekend. That was bad, wasn't it?                       
       
           



       

I collapsed, rolling over on my stomach, my heart pounding and my  abdomen burning. But it was better than the confusion of thinking of  Asher.

So he'd been on Karl's case to quit the engagement. I couldn't believe  he was persisting in this. Whatever had gotten into him I was expecting  to go out of him at any moment.

I fucked up. What had he meant by that? And berserk? He had to be  joking. I was the last kind of woman to make guys berserk with jealousy,  and certainly not Asher.

I'm more the kind of woman you forget is in the room until you want someone to play center field.

The prospect of Asher doing what he said and looking at me without  clothes on made me seize up with panic. This was the man who got a  hard-on for E cups and grabbable asses. He'd laugh his fucking face off  if he saw me naked.

No. I didn't think he was lying to me, exactly. But at best he was  pretending an attraction for my own good. At worst he was fooling  himself.

But damn, I wished it were true.

Except, no I didn't. Because, getting married Saturday.

I stumbled to my feet and made my way over to sustenance.

"The date's not solid," he commented. "We could reschedule with the judge."

I hesitated with a piece of pizza halfway to my mouth.

"C.S … you don't have to do this. I can keep asking around. Someone will  step up to the plate. And if not, I'll live." His tone was dry, at odds  with his carefree words.

"But we got the license already. And you really want your inheritance."

"I can take it or leave it."

"You say that, but you'd rather take it," I said wisely. "I'm learning  you, Karl. You're a man of understatement. When you show a slight  inclination toward something, that's the same as somebody else's life  dreams."

"I don't have life dreams." His face didn't change, but he sat there  placidly, and I had the feeling I'd struck an off note. There was no way  I was going to ask what was wrong, though. Asher's whole family was a  hot mess of personalities, most of them boisterous and sociable. Karl  was the lone dark wolf, an exception that proved the rule. Karl liked  his privacy, and I respected that.

"I promised," I said firmly. "I filled out the paperwork, and in case  you don't know this about me, I despise paperwork. I'm doing it. We are  going to get you wed." I could hear the stubborn note in my voice.

Yeah, brilliant, Charis. Thirty minutes of filling out forms is a good reason to alter the course of your romantic life.

What course?

Good point.

"We probably won't need to be married forever," he sighed. "A year or two should do it."

"Whatever." I waved my hand, then started in on the pizza, adding with my mouth full, "One year, twenty. It's all fine by me."

He tilted his head. "You don't have dreams of-"

"No." I swallowed the pizza through a lump in my throat. "You've asked  me that before. When it comes to getting married, I'm sans dreams."

"Why is that?"

I frowned at him. "Why are you asking me this now?"

He laughed, then changed the subject-I think. "Yesterday I told Asher I've been getting texts from his ex-girlfriend. He said-"

"What?" I was startled. "Which ex-girlfriend?"

"Aura Renaldi, of course."

"No way. Texting you? Why?"

He shrugged. "Fuck knows."

I suddenly remembered Aura being there outside the coffee shop the other  day when that whole fiasco with Asher happened. "Crap, Karl, maybe she  wants you now."

"Could be."

"Bizarre that she'd go to you after she's had Asher."

He laughed.

I munched through two more slices of pizza, barely registering the taste when usually I go wild for pizza.

Seriously, though. It strained credulity that after a long-term  relationship with one man, a woman would go after his brother in a move  bound to cause hurt. The soap opera shit people did … .

"And you? How do you feel about her?"

Another shrug. "She's not bad."

"Would you actually date a woman who's already dated your brother?"