At first, I didn't want to tell him because I didn't know him. Then, after I got to know him and realized my attraction to him, I was more scared to tell him than anything. What if he thinks I was just another one of Coop's whores? Or what if he thinks I did this on purpose? Irrational--that's all it was. Because when you strip all the bullshit away, he deserves to know and I am a huge bitch for not telling him.
So that's why I woke up this morning I made a promise to myself. I have exactly three weeks to tell him. In three weeks, I finally get to find out if I'm having a boy or girl, and I feel like Asher needs to be a part of that. He needs to know so that he has time to decide if he even wants to be part of that.
God, I hope he does.
Of course, today isn't going to be that day. I promised Dee that I would try one more date before I gave up on it for a while. The last idiot I attempted to go out on a date with showed up with a car so full of trash that I couldn't even make out where he was sitting. I wasn't even sure how he was able to drive that damn thing. There was trash for days--clothes, bedding... Hell, I think he had food stuck to his windshield. Of course, that should have been the first clue that I needed to run. He got out, walked around the car, and gave me a huge hug. The only thing I noticed was the overwhelming stench.
So... I proceeded to vomit all over his feet. His socks--with holes--and-sandals-wearing feet.
And the worst part was that he didn't even seem to mind. He smiled, half of his teeth missing, and tried to kiss me!
Needless to say, I all but ran back to my car and hauled ass out of the parking lot. I had to pull over twice to strip the clothes from my body and frantically brush ants off of me.
And then I shamelessly ran back through the lobby of my apartment, past a blushing Joe, and straight to my place--where I took the hottest shower I could safely have while trying to talk myself out of a bleach scrub.
So this afternoon is it. If this date is another date from hell, I'm done.
I wisely told Dee that this date was going to be a lunch date; that way, if it turned out to be another disaster, I wouldn't have to have my whole night ruined. I talked to date number three, Phillip, on the phone last night. He seemed pleasant enough. Very polite and soft-spoken. He didn't refer to himself with any weird nicknames, and most importantly, he knew that I was pregnant and didn't seem to have a single issue with it.
Famous last words, it seems.
Pulling up outside the local burger hot spot, I immediately see him standing against the wall next to the front entrance, our designated meeting spot. He has the tall, sleek build of a runner. Slim hips, flat stomach, and strong shoulders. His hair is clipped short--just enough length for me to run my fingers through his blond locks. I can't see his eyes from here, but if I remember from the terribly grainy picture he sent me, they're a warm hazel.
I take in his straight-laced clothes--typical country-club-type polo and dress slacks, all the way down to his loafers.
Okay, that might be a point in the negative column. I'm so used to looking at the guys in their tough-guy boots that loafers throw me off for a second.
Shaking my head at my own foolishness, I climb out of the car and make sure that my clothes are in order. It's harder these days to find things that don't show off my stomach. I decided to go with a nice pair of black slacks and a loose-fitting blouse. Nothing that draws attention to my growing stomach.
"Chelcie?" he questions when I get closer. His friendly, open face lights up when he spots me.
"Yes, it's a pleasure to meet you, Phillip." I go to offer my hand, but he pulls me into a friendly hug. Errr...okay, maybe another negative. I don't hug.
I awkwardly pat his back a few times and pray that he isn't going to keep me in this hug crap for too long.
"Not a hugger, huh?" he laughs, pulling away with his warm smile still in place.
Well, thank God I didn't offend him. So far, so good.
"Yeah, sorry. Must be weird being on the other end of an anti-hug person."
We both laugh and make our way into the restaurant.
It doesn't take long to get a table, and for once, there isn't any awkward silence or overly flirtatious behavior with the staff. He seems genuinely interested in what I have to say.
"So, Phillip, tell me a little about yourself. You mentioned that you own a construction company?" I grab my water and take a sip, waiting for him to answer. I'm shocked that I'm actually enjoying myself.
"Please call me Phil. My father is Phillip, and I feel like I need to have a sweater vest on when people call me by my full name." He flashes his bright, white teeth when he smiles at me. Damn, he might be as close to perfect as I'm going to find. "Or then again, it could be my mother yelling at me." He laughs at his own joke, and I smile, waiting for him to continue. "I opened up my company about ten years ago. I worked through college building houses, and it just seemed like the right thing for me. I knew what I was doing and had years of connections to get the jobs done cheap. We do everything from small home repairs to complete demo and remodels. It's fun, and I love working with my hands. Just kind of fit."
"It must be impossible to work in the Georgia heat during the summers. I couldn't imagine working outdoors. But then again, I pretty much sprint from air-conditioned building to air-conditioned car when it goes over eighty."
"It's definitely not a walk in the park, that's for sure. I've been lucky, and my company does well, so the majority of the heavy work I contract out. I spend most of my working hours in the office, telling others how to do their job."
We're interrupted for a second when our food arrives, and a comfortable silence settles around us. The noise of the other diners around us fills in the blank in conversation. We make eye contact a few times, his eyes heating with blatant desire.
"Do you mind me asking about the baby's father? I don't mean to overstep. I just want to know what I'm dealing with." He actually blushes at that, and I can't help but smirk at his obvious discomfort in asking.
"I don't mind. He...uh, he passed away earlier this year. It wasn't a planned pregnancy, and unfortunately, I never had a chance to tell him." I can feel the familiar tears burning my nose and threatening to fall from my eyes, but I quickly blink them back and push off the nagging guilt that my child's father isn't ever going to be here.
"Oh God, I'm so sorry." His eyes flash with embarrassment and sympathy, and I reach out to grab his hand--reassuring him that he hasn't offended me.
"It's okay. You didn't know. I've had time to come to terms with it, and I'm excited for he or she to come."
"I can imagine. I've got to say, if you hadn't told me about the baby, I never would have guessed you were expecting."
"Oh trust me, you can definitely tell. I swear, if my feet swell any more, I'll end up barefoot before I even hit the halfway mark," I laugh and go to take another bite of my burger when I notice that Phil's gone oddly silent.
His eyes, which had a spark of heat behind them, are now full-out blaring.
"Are you okay?" I question.
He doesn't say anything for the longest time. His jaw ticks a few times and his eyes just burn into mine. It isn't until he reaches under the table with one tan forearm to obviously adjust himself that the alarm bells start going off.
And to think, it was going so well.
"Phil?"
"What? Oh, Jesus. I'm sorry. Look, I'm going to be honest with you because I feel like we should start our relationship with complete honesty." He pauses, looks me dead in the eyes, and waits a beat. I'm still stuck back at relationship, so it takes me a second to realize that he's still talking. "...I don't even know when it started."
"When what started? I'm sorry. I spaced out there for a second," I apologize.
"I can imagine. It's pretty hot, isn't it?" He wiggles his eyebrows, and I notice for the first time how perfectly shaped they are.
"What is pretty hot?"
"Tell me please. What color are they?" he practically pants.
"Phi
l, stick with me, okay? What is hot and what color are you talking about?"
Frustration is getting the best of me, and I can feel my crazy pregnancy hormones kicking in because I'm two seconds away from throwing my burger in his face. Which would be a shame because it really is delicious.
"Your toes. God, just the thought of them swollen and ripe has my mouth watering. I bet they're red hot and juicy, aren't they?" He hisses out a breath, and I can see his forearm flex.
I have to fight back a gag when I picture what his hand is clearly doing under the table...at the thought of my toes?!
"I can't wait to get those little piggies in my mouth," he moans. "Get them all wet and let you take over from there."
"Excuse me?" I shriek, drawing the attention of the nearby tables.
He doesn't even seem fazed when his eyes darken even more. "Babe, let's get the check. My ass is clenching just imagining you sticking those feet near my body."
Holy. Shit.
There is no freaking way he is serious right now.
"It's got you hot, doesn't it? Thinking about me sucking on your feet until your toes, your swollen toes, are nice and wet? It has me so turned on right now that I bet I won't even need to use lube this time."
"Phil, I think you have definitely got the wrong impression here. These piggies aren't going anywhere near any hole you have in your body."
Looking around frantically, I catch the eye of our waitress and signal that we need the check. I look over at Phil--disgusting, perverted, foot-fetish Phil--and pray that she hurries the hell up.
Chapter 10 - Asher
I've been in a foul mood since Chelcie and I shared that kiss. All I can think about is how she melted into my body, just as hot as I was to see where that kiss was going. The last thing I'd expected was for her to pull the emergency brake on it.
How she can possibly think that I find her anything close to chubby is beyond me. Her body has curves in every place that is meant to drive a man wild. Just thinking about my hands holding her hips as I take her... Goddamn, it's the hottest thing that's been playing on repeat since the first time I saw her bend over to pick something up.
Those hips, that ass--fuck me. She's one hundred percent woman and I love every single inch of it. For the first time in my life, I want a woman who wants nothing to do with me. I crave her, and I have the worst feeling that I've done something to make her doubt that.
The fleeting memory of her standing in front of me with tears raining down her face flashes through my mind momentarily, there one second and gone the next. I know I've made a lot of mistakes, I've drunk too much, and there are so many holes in my mind that I fear I might have done something during one of my drinking benders that has done permanent damage to the relationship we started to form.
Before I can analyze the thought any further, my phone starts to ring.
"Dee?"
"Oh, dear Asher James. How are you this fine day?" she sings through the line.
"Uh, I'm fine. How are you?"
"Fine, just fine. So tell me--what are you doing today?"
She's up to something. Dee's been up my ass since we met, always trying to meddle in my business, and this phone call is screaming devious Dee.
"About to head over to the gym. Why?"
"Well, see...I'm over at Sway's getting my hair done and the guys are all real busy. Is there anyway that you could swing over to Fat Jacks and grab us some burgers? I'm really--really--in the mood for some of their burgers."
"You want me to get you lunch? Doesn't Sway have staff there that takes care of that crap for you?"
Unbelievable.
"Oh. They're all out right now. You know, slow day, so he told them to go out and enjoy a long break. It's just a few of us here."
Right.
"What about Davey? Pretty sure he wouldn't mind grabbing his boyfriend, and you, some food."
She's silent for a second. Then I hear the phone rustling against her hand, her muffled voice talking to someone near her.
"He's out. Sick."
"He's sick?" I question, knowing damn well that she's full of shit but curious enough to wonder what she's playing out.
"Yup. So Fat Jacks?"
"Dee, cut to the chase. What are you up to?"
"Shit," she hisses.
I can hear Sway yelling at her in the distance a few seconds before the phone is clearly ripped from her hands.
"Asher, you tall glass of water, did you miss me? Of course you did. Look, what Dee here is so clearly terrible at is subtlety. I'm going to be honest with you, okay?"
"Yeah." As curious as I am, I can feel it coming. I just know that whatever is coming is going to set some sort of ball rolling, especially if Sway has a part in it. I just have to hope it's a calm situation they're about to get me into.
"Sway here has noticed recently that you've got those sexy cerulean eyes trained on our fine little Chelcie. Oh yes, I noticed those fireworks shooting all over the place, and it's a wonder no one got burned. So Sway here is doing you a favor, darling. I just got word from little miss Denise that Chelcie is currently on a date. As we speak, she's sitting that lush body down and having a meat-filled lunch. So if you want to make sure the only meat she's partaking in is the burger variety, I suggest you take those hot buns and get over to Fat Jacks. You got that, love?"
That ball that's been sitting in my gut, slowly burning hotter at each word he has spoken, is starting to uncoil, spreading a wrath like no other to have spread throughout my body. My woman is out with another man? Oh. Hell. No.
I click the phone off before grabbing my keys and storming out the door. Maddox looks up from grabbing his duffel off the floor, his eyes questioning the mood that is following me out the door. I vaguely hear him remind me that I'm watching Cat again until he gets home. Not willing to waste a single second on the fucking elevator, I start running at full speed down the twenty-seven flights of stairs.
The only thing I have my mind set on is getting to Fat Jacks as quickly as I can and claiming MY woman.
For fucking good.
Chapter 11 - Chelcie
He's still looking at my toes.
My skin is crawling with the way he's looking at my poor toes. I've tried everything to shift his attention from my feet, but he literally just moved closer and is looking under the table...at my feet.
I'm cursing my outfit now. Earlier today, it seemed like a good idea to wear the cute, new open-toed flats I'd picked up. I haven't worn them yet, and I loved the way my red-painted toes peeked out of the shoe. They made me feel sexy before. Now, all I want to do is find about ten pairs of socks and hide my feet for the rest of my life.
"Oh God, flex them again," he slurs.
I wouldn't have been able to stop the gag that came bubbling out if I'd had a gun pointed to my head.
"Please stop," I beg.
"Let me touch them," he wheezes, and before I can stop him, he has my ankle in his hands, my foot in his lap, and my shoe popped off and he is basically masturbating my big toe.
The burger I had so lovingly devoured not even ten minutes ago is churning in my stomach. Unwilling to cause a scene, I squeeze my eyes closed and pray that I will just die on spot.
"Get your fucking hands off my woman."
My eyes snap open at the venom-filled voice at my back.
"Drop her goddamn foot now before I rip your hands off your body."
The danger in his threat causes me to shiver, and his hand is immediately at the base of my neck. His fingers curl and flex against my skin, causing me to shiver again. All thoughts of my poor, molested toes completely fly out the window.
"Being as she is here as my date, I think it's safe to say that she isn't your woman."
Oh what an idiot.
"You have two goddamn seconds to remove your hands before I take your fingers and break each one. Then, when I'm done, I'll snap your wrist before moving to your fucking elbows. And if I feel like being nice, I might leave your arms at that. She.
Is. Mine."
I try to remove my foot from his hold, but his fingers clamp tightly around my ankle, causing me to whimper from the pain. Neither one of them notices, but as the tension climbs between the two of them, Phil's fingers get tighter and tighter.
Asher's hand is still holding me at the base of my neck, and it feels as if the two are having some weird tug-of-war minus the tug. I whimper again when Phil's fingers get even firmer against my skin. I can feel my toes, those damn toes, starting to tingle with the loss of blood flow, and just when I thought his hold couldn't get any more painful, he proves me wrong.
The raw cry that escapes my lips shocks even me and has both of the men whipping their eyes in my direction. Phil takes my cry as one of pleasure, and I can see him puffing out his chest. Asher comes around, not removing his hold but curling his fingers up the side of my neck and holding my cheek in his palm. His eyes look into mine for a beat. I can see the vehement intensity of his anger in those beautiful blue eyes. His gaze travels down my body until he sees the cause of my pain. When he looks quickly back up at me, I see the danger in his observation. He never breaks his stare. I see his other hand move in my peripheral, but I don't dare break the connection to him.
I hear Phil cry out in pain a second before my leg is dropped. Asher doesn't waste a second. After pulling out his wallet, he throws a few bills down then scoops me up in his arms and marches out the doors. I duck my head in the crook of his neck, running my nose along his warm skin and feeling safe.
Safe and protected.
He doesn't say anything. Walking with a steadfast determination to his Jeep, he unlocks the door with ease then sets me gently down before buckling my belt and jogging over to his side.
And just like that, we're taking off towards the apartment at a speed that matches the rapid beats of my heart.
Chapter 12 - Asher
I can't stop the rage that has fully consumed my every emotion. I can't even focus without seeing a red haze clouding my vision. When I walked through those doors and saw that motherfucker's hands on Chelcie, I believed myself capable of murder. Cold, hard murder, and I didn't give a fuck that I had witnesses surrounding me. My soul was demanding that I claim what is mine--that I tear that piece of shit to pieces for even breathing her air.