Page 46 of In Case You Didn't Know

“Nothing.”

“Oh come on, you can’t make a noise like that and say it means nothing. If you have something to say, just say it.”

He shifts gears, because of course he drives a stick shift. His movements are so fluid it’s stupidly attractive.

“If a guy lets a woman out of his sights for a month it means one of two things,” he says, like he’s the source of all knowledge when it comes to men and relationships. “Either he’s not that into her…” He trails off as he turns the corner onto the little road that leads to the lighthouse. It’s rocky and bumpy and there’s no suspension in this car so I find myself being jolted up and down like I’m riding a donkey.

“Of course he’s into me,” I say testily. Because if I’m going to have an imaginary boyfriend, I at least want him to adore me. It’d be awful if he was an asshole. “So what’s the other thing it means, Einstein?”

His lips twitch at the nickname. It doesn’t stop him from coming out with the killer blow though. “Or he doesn’t exist.” His voice is light, but his eyes are anything but. For a second, I see something fierce behind them. Possessive. Raw.

“Are you accusing me of lying?” I shoot back. “Maybe there’s a third option, genius.”

“What would that be?” he asks languidly. He comes to a stop outside the lighthouse, in the exact same spot he parked in last time.

My body shivers at the memory of how he touched me that night.

“That we’re grownups who trust each other and know that the other person is busy.”

Asher smirks. “I guess that’s a possibility.” He climbs out of the driver’s side, and I pull at the handle of my own door because there’s no way I’m going to let him open it for me. “So let’s say… what did you say his name was again?” he asks.

“Nice try,” I say as I climb out of the seat right as he reaches my side. “I’m not telling you, remember?”

“Well, when you think up a name, let me know,” he says, walking to the trunk of his car to pull out my suitcases. The trunk space is small, and they’re so tightly packed he has to yank the first one hard to get it out. He puts it on the ground and I reach for it before he lets go.

And immediately pull my hand away like it’s on fire.

Asher lets out a sigh. “I don’t have a disease. You don’t have to panic about touching me.” He reaches out and takes my hand. His palm is warm, his fingers soft as they curl around mine.

I’m not panicking. I’m just staring at those fingers and remembering. I let out a rough breath and bring my eyes up to his.

He looks at me like he can read my mind and knows exactly what I’m thinking about. My heart thuds against my chest as he slowly runs his thumb over my wrist.

“Does he know about us?” Asher asks, his voice low.

“There is no us.” My voice is unsteady. Actually, my whole body is and I have no idea why. He’s just holding my hand. He’s not touching me anywhere else. He’s certainly not twisting them inside of me like he did that night.

And yet, I’m as turned on as I was then. By a simple swipe of his thumb against my skin.

“I’m going to find out,” he murmurs. “You do know that?”

“Find out what?” I ask him. God, his hand is big. I try to remember what they say about guys with big hands. Or is it big feet?

I look down. They are at least size thirteen. Maybe bigger. Dear Lord.

“Find out his name. Or that he doesn’t exist.” He gives me the cockiest smile.

“Well, while you’re wasting your time, I’m going inside to call my boyfriend. He’s planning our next date. Maybe you’ll get to meet him then.”

thirteen

FRANCIE

“Ryan,” I mutter. “No, sounds too much like I’m copying Ryan Reynolds. Or Ryan Gosling.” I let out a sigh. “Jack, that’s a good name.” I frown as I pour a cup of uncooked pasta into the boiling water. Autumn had arranged for the kitchen to be fully stocked for my arrival, and right now I’m making myself some macaroni and cheese because I need the comfort.

“Or Richard,” I try the name out loud. It sounds aristocratic. The water starts to boil over, hissing as it hits the hot plate. “Dammit,” I yell, turning the burner down. Stupid Asher and his stupid fingers.

I’ve spent most of the afternoon trying to think of a fake name for my fake boyfriend, when I should be writing, which means I’ll be staying up all night to catch up on my word count.