Must Love Frosting

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  “Would you want it?”

  Asher’s follow-up question lifted her gaze without hesitation. “Yes, I’d want it. The alternatives wouldn’t even be an option for me.”

  Relief flashed in his eyes, and she saw his shoulders relax when he shifted back and reached for the last of his burger.

  Tilting her head slightly, she asked, “Would you?”

  “Oh, hell yes,” he said around a mouthful of food. “No other options for me, either.”

  His unhesitating enthusiasm was heartwarming and sexy in a way she never could’ve imagined with food in his mouth. She smiled to herself as she picked up her cookie cutter to start the petals. Her skin prickled when she sensed his renewed scrutiny, but she ignored the heat in her cheeks and kept her gaze down.

  He finished eating, drained the last of his beer, then rose to gather together what was left of their mess.

  “Do you want kids?” he asked somewhat casually. “Like in general, not because of some oops.”

  Her pulse skipped at that question. She loved kids, but never allowed herself to go there in her mind or heart. After all her parents’ divorces, she’d vowed years ago no kids without a husband. Marrying someone she didn’t love wasn’t an option any more than not taking responsibility for an ‘oops’, but did she really need to explain that when Asher already knew how she felt about love?

  “That’s not an easy question to answer,” she stalled.

  “Sure it is. You say yes or no.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “From right now to how you end up with them isn’t that simple, but whether or not you want them is.”

  She needed to say no. “Yes.”

  Damn it.

  “Someday,” she quickly added to combat a second swell of hopeful giddiness.

  “Me, too.”

  His affirmation sparked another excited leap of her pulse. Her clients, Jules and Ty, had gotten married and divorced because they’d never had the kid conversation, yet here she and Asher had just had it, and she didn’t even believe in love.

  This was getting way too dangerous. And yet resisting him, denying herself…both were impossible.

  From beneath her lashes, she watched him toss the garbage, then he walked around her to swipe the dishcloth from the sink to clean the table. When he brushed unnecessarily close on his way back, a heady rush of awareness surged forward with even more force than before. All their talk of babies had her thinking about how to create one in the first place.

  Thinking about making a baby with Asher had her body lighting up and tingling in all the right places. A fortifying breath kept her from tossing the cutter and throwing herself at him. Barely. But she had to summon some self-control or she’d shuck her apron and everything else right there.

  Imagining that scene made her think of Mae saying she didn’t want that image in her head, and she choked on a giggle.

  “What?” Asher asked.

  She pressed her lips together and shook her head. Nope. Not admitting those x-rated thoughts out loud. His gaze narrowed, and she quickly asked, “What do you have going on this week?”

  “A couple of standard shoots for the Colorado Conservationist. Another one for the botanical gardens.”

  “No travel to an exotic land?”

  “Not until end of the month, and only then if you consider Wyoming exotic.”

  “Is that the skydiving?”

  “Yes.”

  “Exotic enough.”

  He leaned a hip against the counter and braced his hand on the sink. “The offer still stands for you to come with me.”

  “And my answer is still definitely no,” she retorted.

  “Worth a try.” His slight smile fell as he watched her cut out a half-dozen petals. “I suppose I should go and let you get your work done.”

  She cast him a sideways glance. “Or you could hang out a bit—unless you’re mad at me for what I said earlier.”

  “I’m not mad at you. I appreciate you listening and your input.”

  Thank God. “Is your brother waiting back at the house?”

  “Loyal’s a big boy. He can entertain himself—if he’s even back yet.”

  “Then stay.”

  He eased closer along the counter. “There’s one small problem with that.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If I stay, I’m going to want to touch you. If I touch you, I’m going to want to kiss you.” His voice went all rough and husky in a way that made her stomach flutter like crazy. “And if I kiss you, I’m going to want to do so much more.”

  By the time he finished speaking, his hard chest pressed against her arm, and he slid his hand along her back to grasp her hip. Honor’s breath caught in her lungs, and it took everything she had to keep making cutouts of the rolled out fondant. It was just for show, though. She wasn’t going to do a damn thing with any of the petals before her lips were on his, and after that, by the time she made it back, they’d be dried out and worthless.

  “What makes you think that’s a problem?” she asked breathlessly.

  “You were very adamant about short breaks.”

  “Oh.” She feigned disappointment. “Yeah, I was, wasn’t I?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  She made a show of looking at the clock, tipping her head sideways in blatant invitation. “Well…I’ve got about five minutes left. How quick can you be?”

  He chuckled at her teasing. “I refuse to be that quick.”

  Good answer.

  His fingers flexed on her hip as he leaned closer. When his lips grazed the side of her neck while his other hand rose from the counter to cup the side of her face, she gave a shaky sigh. “You’d have had more time if you’d touched me when I opened the door.”

  “I wanted to.”

  His warm breath on her sensitive skin weakened her knees with anticipation, like earlier when she’d first opened the door to his rakish grin. “Why didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t want your food to get cold,” he rumbled.

  Another good answer, and yet she forced a laugh as his mouth journeyed from her neck, to the underside of her jaw, to her chin. “You were just hungry.”

  “That, too.” His lips curved against her skin. “I’m still hungry.”

  “Want me to get you some cake?”

  “All I want is you, Honor.” His mouth hovered a hairsbreadth away from hers. “Only you.”

  Best answer ever.

  As his lips crushed against hers, she twisted into his arms and forgot all about the sugar flowers on her counter.

  Chapter 28

  Asher carried the tray he’d found in Honor’s kitchen up to her bedroom. She was sleeping on her stomach, red hair spilled across her navy blue pillow case. He stood for a moment, gaze tracing the curve of her bare shoulder in the early morning light as he remembered her soft skin beneath his hands and mouth, her alluring scent, and the addicting taste of her on his tongue.

  Loyal had told him to go get his heart broken. After last night, that was entirely possible, because she had his heart in the palm of her hand. He loved spending time with her as much as he loved loving her in bed. Even when their conversation had gotten slightly heated, he loved hearing her take on the situation. Well, more so he loved that she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, even though she’d immediately apologized.

  And he loved that she wanted kids, even if it was someday.

  A glance at her nightstand clock had him moving forward. She stirred when he braced one knee on the mattress, and his heart swelled when she rolled over and gave him a shy smile.

  “Mmm, morning.”

  Her sleep-husky voice made his dick twitch behind the zipper of his jeans. The temptation to strip down and crawl back into bed with her rose up hard.

  “Hi.”

  She pushed up to sit, pulling the sheet with her to cover her breasts. As she brushed her long hair back from her face, her lashes lifted, her green gaze rising along his body until it met his. He bridge
d the tray across her legs, and leaned over to give her a soft kiss.

  “You’re not staying?” she asked.

  The moment the question was out, he noticed her lips press together, as if she wished she hadn’t let him hear her disappointment. But he was thrilled she was unable to contain the emotion.

  “Unfortunately, I have an appointment I can’t miss.”

  She nodded and lifted the bowl he’d improvised as a plate cover to peek at the breakfast he’d made her.

  “Scrambled eggs,” he supplied. “I hope you’re good with that?”

  “I’m great with scrambled eggs.” She lowered the cover and lifted her gaze again. “You didn’t have to do this.”

  “I figured it was better than a note on the counter.”

  She tipped her head to the side with a subdued grin. “You’re a smart guy.”

  “I have my moments,” he agreed. Though right now, he was kicking himself for not rescheduling his meeting the second he woke up beside her. He hated the thought of giving her more time to over-think things between them. “I gotta get going, but I’ll text you later.”

  “Okay.”

  He leaned in one last time to press his lips to hers. Before he could pull back, her hand rose to the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair as she opened her mouth and drew him in with the sensual glide of her tongue against his.

  His heart rate spiked on a hot surge of desire. He buried his hands in her hair and pressed her back into the pillows, but then had to break the kiss before he lost the ability to walk away.

  Resting his forehead against hers, he brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “Any chance I can bring you dinner again tonight?”

  After a moment of hesitation, she shook her head with a negative hum.

  “Not even five percent?” he coaxed past his own disappointment. “Cuz I can work with that.”

  Her breath fanned his lips with her laugh. “I’ll make something for us.”

  His pulse leapt with joy even as he protested, “But you have work to do, Butter Cream.”

  The roll of her eyes was accompanied by a smile. “I have an easy chicken chili recipe I can throw in the slow cooker. Takes me five minutes and then it cooks all day.”

  “You’re sure?” Dumb ass. Take the offer and run.

  “Positive,” she affirmed. “It’ll be ready anytime after six.”

  “I will see you then.”

  He couldn’t resist one more taste of her delectable lips, then got his ass out of her bedroom before he completely tossed being professional out the window and stood up his client.

  Back across the street, he discovered Loyal had come home at some point and left again with his rental. The unmade bed in his guest room told him his brother had likely left that morning, though Asher hadn’t seen his departure while he’d been cooking Honor’s breakfast.

  He showered and headed out to his appointment, then detoured over to his parents’ house by late morning to check on his dad, who hadn’t gone into the office for the first time in years.

  Celia had sent a group text to all the siblings earlier that Mom had gone up to the St. Julien Hotel and Spa in Boulder. The location prompted a flurry of speculation if she’d gone to see Grayson or his mother, Vivian, but Celia didn’t have any other details beyond their mother’s express desire to be left alone for the time being, and to not tell their father where she was staying.

  Then she had to sign off for court, and Shelby had class, while Loyal, and Merit surprisingly, reported they were helping out at campaign headquarters for the day.

  Elena gave him a hug when he entered the kitchen. “How are you doing, hun?”

  “Okay. How’s everything here?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “About as good as can be expected. Your father is working through a bottle of scotch in his study.”

  Asher arched his brows.

  Her expression was grim as she nodded. “He told Eugene off first thing this morning. It wasn’t pretty.”

  Yesterday, he’d been wrapped up in damage control, and today he was telling his campaign manager to bug off? Not good. He hadn’t talked to his dad since the night the news broke two days ago, so he made his way into the study after asking Elena to make them a fresh, strong pot of coffee.

  His father sat behind his desk, chair turned to face the window, his hair standing on end from the fingers currently threaded through the silver-tinged strands. In his other hand was a tumbler half-full of scotch, with the half-empty glass decanter within reach on the desk. His tie was crooked, top button undone, and he hadn’t shaved. His father always shaved.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  The governor glanced in his direction before raising his glass for a deep swallow.

  Asher’s chest constricted with sympathy for the pain in his red-rimmed, brown eyes. He snagged another tumbler from the side bar and walked over to pour an inch of the amber liquid. He sat in a chair and held the glass without raising it to his lips. It had been something to do, but on second thought, he didn’t want a drink.

  His dad, on the other hand, emptied his in a couple of swallows and poured himself more.

  “What’s the plan, Dad?” he finally prompted.

  “I don’t know.”

  His gruff voice sounded as defeated as he looked. His dad always had a plan. He’d taught his kids to always have a plan. That way when life threw you a curve ball, you assess the plan, adjust, and keep moving forward.

  Celia, Loyal, and Shelby were big on the plan Plan. Merit’s plan was no plan at all. Asher’s had been to bury himself in his career and someday find the right woman to share his life and start a family. Not much of a concrete roadmap, he realized, but after meeting Honor, it couldn’t have been more perfect.

  It might take time to convince her love—everlasting love—was something she could believe in, but he had time to show her just how good it could be.

  A leather squeak across the desk drew his attention to see his father reaching for the decanter again. Asher surged up and snatched the alcohol from his hand. “If you don’t have a plan, then it’s time to figure one out. But you gotta be sober.”

  His dad slumped back in his chair. He’d aged these past two days, looking a good ten years older than his fifty-six years. The disparity of his father’s weary, dejected image layered over his happy, optimistic thoughts of Honor had his gut knotting with guilt and unexpected doubt. He’d been in his dad’s position before, but more so out of humiliated anger over Brianna’s duplicity, not heartbreak.

  Honor could break his heart.

  If he continued down the road he was on, she could shatter it in a million pieces and have him looking exactly like this tomorrow. Because hell, if his parents could split up after thirty-five years, what chance did he have with someone who made no secret over her lack of faith in love? Who was he to think he could be the one to make her believe?

  A stab of fear was bowled over by guilt for his selfishness. He was here for his dad, not to think only of himself. And his parents were not split up. They were taking time to work through a hundred and five mile-per-hour curveball.

  He set aside his own worries and asked his dad, “Have you talked to Mom since Saturday night?”

  A slow shake of his head barely stirred the gray strands sticking up from his scalp. “She won’t answer my calls. Won’t text me. Nothing. I don’t know where she is or if she’s even okay.”

  “She is okay,” he started. His dad’s gaze jerked to his, and he held up a hand. “She texted Celia, but you gotta give her some time, Dad. That’s step one of the plan.”

  He rubbed a hand over his face, his palm rasping over the gray stubble on his chin. “I should’ve told her. All those years ago, I should’ve told her what happened. What I did.”

  Asher didn’t know if he agreed or not, so he simply listened as his father continued, the words tumbling drunkenly from his mouth.

  “But I was afraid she’d change her mind and file the divorce papers, and I’
d lose her forever. But then…I think that if I had told her, maybe I would’ve found out about this boy, this man, who is my son. I hate that I haven’t known him all this time. That you kids didn’t know your brother. But, if I’d told your mother what I did and she’d left me, I wouldn’t have any of you kids, and I can’t bear the thought of that either.”

  The forlorn guilt in his father’s rough voice as he went back and forth put a lump in his throat. If he’d ever doubted his dad’s love for their mom or the family—which he hadn’t—his heartbreak right now reinforced his absolute devotion.

  Asher blew out a sigh as he rose to go set his glass and the decanter back on the side bar. He’d originally been angry with his father, but having considered the situation further, he could understand Loyal and Merit’s view that if the divorce papers were signed, as far as his father believed, it was over. If he’d been as heartbroken then as he was now, he could understand him getting drunk and making a stupid mistake.

  Hell, he could even understand Vivian not telling his dad about Grayson if Honor’s possible explanation were true. He didn’t like any of it, but he could understand the potential fear that would have motivated the woman’s decisions back then.

  Returning to the desk, he said, “I think things happened the way they were supposed to happen, and even if they didn’t, you can’t change it now.”

  “I can’t bear it if she doesn’t come back.”

  “Mom will come back, Dad.” She would, wouldn’t she? Of course she would. After thirty-five years and the family they had, he couldn’t imagine his mom throwing it all away. “You just need a chance to talk to her again. And when she’s ready for that, you can apologize.”

  “I apologized a hundred times already.”

  He knew that. Just like his father had apologized to him and all his siblings Saturday night. “Then you’ll apologize again. As many times as it takes.”

  “I don’t think she’ll forgive me for this. And I can’t really blame her. I beat myself up over it for years before I finally convinced myself we were happy, we had a great life, a great family, so that one night didn’t really matter. It was nothing after all.” His brow furrowed in a deep frown. “A nothing that led to a baby.”