Asher's Sonnet

by Ja'Nese Dixon

  Almost against my will, I kiss the man I’ve given my heart. “I love you, Asher.”

  “I love you too.” He pats the mattress beside him, and I snuggle against my man. Miss Verda said we shouldn’t chase happiness, but this time it found me. “Speaking of travel, how did you get here before me?”

  “I bought a plane,” he says matter of factly.

  “You what?!”

  We played and explored all night. An odd sound in the hall disturbs my blissful slumber. Sort of like hushed whispers from the hall. I pop my head up, hearing nothing, I close my eyes snuggling closer to Asher’s warm body. Then I hear it again.

  Is it coming from across the hall? My suite. I elbow Asher.

  “Ash.” I shake him.

  “No woman, I gave you all I got,” he jokes, pulling me closer.

  “Ash, I think someone is in my suite.” I jump, as a door closes in the distance.

  “What?” He hops up. “Stay right there.”

  He stalks across the room. His naked body a piece of art as he peers out the peephole. “What the—”

  “What is it?” I’m behind him trying to get a look.

  “I asked you to,” he shook his head, “Call the front desk.”

  “But—”

  “Jazz,” an edge of warning in his voice quiets me.

  I’m back on the bed reaching for the phone as he silently pulls on his jeans. “Stay. Here.”

  He crosses the room and steps into the hallway. The door automatically closes behind him. I ring the front desk. I explain what little I know, searching for something to wear. I spot Asher’s shirt and slide it on. Just the way I like it.

  The clerk is sending up security, and I scurry to the hall to check on Asher. I open the door to see him land a jab across the face of a masked man.

  “Ash—” I call out. They are in the doorway, halfway in and halfway out of my suite. He turns in my direction, and the assailant shoves a fist in Asher's stomach causing him to fold over.

  “Get in the room.” The words rip out impatiently. He’s up on his feet, dodging several missed hits from the masked man. I back away as he lands a one-two punch sending the assailant to the floor in a heap.

  I’m torn between following his request and wanting to help. But Asher is holding his own.

  “Now Jazz!” He glares at me half naked.

  I glance down in my t-shirt and no under clothes. “I just—”

  “Baby, please. Five. Minutes.” Grunts fill the hall.

  “Only five,” I say, as I notice several uniformed men heading in our direction.

  “On your list of wifely duties, can you, please add listen?” They are patching him up and walking Emilio out in handcuffs. I’m standing beside Asher in the hotel bathrobe I found in his bathroom.

  “Mr. Smith, on behalf of the hotel we’d like to extend our sincerest apologies.”

  Apparently, Emilio switched my key with a blank during our brief chat in the restaurant. I can’t image what would have happened if I was in my suite. Asher pulls me near as he answers questions for the police report.

  “My Lady, go grab your stuff. Let’s get out of here.”

  11

  “I still can’t believe you bought an airplane.” Asher’s laugh is low, throaty. We moved to an exclusive rental and spent the entire week enjoying each other.

  Flying back home in our plane is yet another new experience with Asher. He is reclined in the seat next to me, his warm hand resting on my knee. I close my new journal and open my book of Asher sonnets. I flip through the pages. I brush my fingers over his smooth strokes considering my ultimatums, my brash decisions, yet I can’t say I’d take it back. Tempting Asher has changed our lives and strengthened our marriage.

  “Asher…” He must hear the emotion in my voice as his loving eyes hold me captive, and I can’t believe I doubted.

  “My Lady.” His face is still bruised, but it doesn’t mask his beauty. I close the journals, placing them aside, and cuddle into him.

  I think this is the joy Miss Verda spoke of. I’m blooming in his rays, and this joy is deep, deep, deep in my soul. I’m certain we will find our way, together.

  “Thank you….” I’ve always felt like I’m fending for myself. But not anymore.

  “For what?”

  “Loving me.” I hold my tears in check as sweet peace fills my body.

  “Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service?”

  “Can we stay like this forever?” I climb on top of his lap.

  “Mrs. Asher Smith, that is an offer I can’t refuse.”

  My mouth covers his, thankful that this Shakespeare quoting, old soul, poet, is all mine…forever.

  Epilogue

  Six Months Later

  I deserve to celebrate tonight. To say I’m proud is an understatement. I move through the crowd catching Asher’s eye, right before his head dips to whisper in Jazz’s ear. The blush crossing her face makes me believe I could be a granny soon. Although, I’m much too young for grandkids. But having kids young will do that to you.

  I stroll through the lobby basking at their new establishment. Smith & Jameson is a beer garden and eatery featuring international ales with both indoor and outdoor seating supplied by independent truck vendors. There is a line for indoor seating so with a wave at the hostess I head to the bar.

  I’m proud of my big babies. They managed to get this place open without killing each other or filing for divorce, hence my cause to celebrate.

  Dylan and Asher handle the business and staff. Yuki manages the vendors and branding. Jazz covers the media and public relations. The Smith legacy will exceed my wildest expectations. My heart skips a beat as a brief thought of Cleo Smith crosses my mind. I’m grateful even for the hard times because now I can embrace the joy in this.

  I lean back against the bar looking for everyone since I’m early. Yuki is across the room and appears to be giving a tour. She points out the features of the open tap system to a group of men in suits. The only person left to find is Dylan. Oh, there he is, heading in my direction.

  “Momma.” He kisses my cheek and casually drapes an arm around my shoulders.

  “Hey, baby.”

  “Let me get you a table.” He scans the room, but he won’t find a free table. This place is packed.

  “No sir, I’m just fine watching all of y’all make this happen. Did your parents come?”

  “No, ma’am. They’re traveling.” The disappointment in his eyes crushes me.

  “Their loss.” I wink. I adopted Dylan in my heart as his parents traveled the globe.

  “I agree. Let’s head to the private room. Asher wants us to meet him there.”

  We talk as we make our way toward the back. They have several VIP rooms that double as conference spaces.

  “Hey Momma!” Yuki stops us, kissing my cheek and Asher’s lips. “Let me finish this tour.”

  I glance over her shoulder to see a young man waiting. He steps forward, extending a hand. “Jaxon Reinheart.”

  “Rhonda Smith.” His eyes sparkle like shiny pennies, with a sheen of purpose. Judging by his appearance, he’s only a few years older than my boys. “You must be friends with Asher or Dylan.”

  “Yes, I am.” He steps closer, and I swear I’m having a hot flash. “And you must be Asher’s sister.”

  How cute, he’s flirting?

  “No, I’m his sister.” Yuki is at my side. But it doesn’t stop his eyes from giving my body a bold, sweeping gaze.

  “And you are?” Jaxon asks, ignoring Yuki’s presence, which is rare.

  “I’m Asher’s mother.” His mouth drops open.

  Speaking of my son, he enters the room. “Let’s gather around. We have a full house to serve,” Asher says. We all clap moving in to grab a flute of champagne.

  Asher gathers Jazz to his side with a glass in his hand. Those two have weathered the harsh ups and downs of a new marriage and celebrated their first anniversa
ry stronger than ever. And he’s the happiest I’ve ever seen. I love Jazz, she’s creative, spirited, and a perfect addition to our family, best of all she loves my baby.

  To his right is Yuki, always covering her brother’s back. Dylan, her fiancé, wraps a hand around her waist. I watch her lean into him. My baby has found her resting place. I’m so glad they are finally embracing their love for each other. Now, if I can get them to finally set a wedding date.

  “Speech, speech, speech.” The small group chants.

  “‘We know what we are, but know not what we may be.’ William Shakespeare.” Asher pauses scanning the small crowd, his eyes landing on me. “I think on this one, my main man William has it all wrong.”

  The group chuckles.

  “I happen to know a very wise woman that foretold this moment. Thank you, Momma.” My eyes fill with unshed tears as glasses extend in my direction.

  “To my wife Jazz, sister Yuki, and best friend, Dylan—”

  “I think it’s time I get an upgrade,” Dylan blurts out, and the group laughs again. “I put a ring on it.”

  “Well, until Yuki says ‘I do,’ she still has time to come to her senses,” Asher retorts.

  “Children…” I call out in my most motherly tone, and we all laugh. I brush away happy tears as I sense his curiosity.

  Jaxon’s eyes are magnetic, and I feel a sweet sensation awakening. The corners of his mouth turn up as he extends his glass in my direction.

  I miss the rest of Asher’s speech, I don’t doubt it was wonderful. And as the room clears a powerful realization washes over me. I’m done with this season of my life. My children are happy, whole human beings. And now it’s time to find a love of my own.

  THE END

  Thank you for reading! Reviews are important. Would you please take a minute to write one NOW? I’d greatly appreciate it.

  Take care and I hope to “see” you soon.

  Want to read about Rhonda and Jaxon? Check out Book 3 in the Smith Duo series: Smith Surprise.

  Dear Reader….

  I hope you enjoyed this story. Now listen, this story was hard to write. I love romance and we usually stop at “I Do”. But I’ve been married almost twenty years. I love my hubby but marriage is not an easy road to navigate. It’s rewarding, but not easy.

  In this novella, I hoped to explore, for a brief spell, what happens after they fall in love.

  Additionally, I must warn you, our two has become three. Please don’t shake your heads, but this book series started as a duo. I meant to write about Yuki and Asher Smith. But after many reader emails there is a final Smith story coming for Momma, Miss Rhonda Smith. She will have her own story.

  I look forward to “seeing” you again. Please consider leaving a review. And…I’m off.

  Until later, happy reading!

  Ja’Nese Dixon

  www.janesedixon.com

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  For more information visit http://www.janesedixon.com.

  He’s stolen her heart, it’ll take luck to get it back.

  Just her luck, one evening after too many shots, Yuki wakes naked tangled in Dylan’s expensive sheets. Yuki Smith doubts her mother’s judgment on men, life, and definitely on naming her “lucky.”

  Dylan Jameson is her twin’s best friend and all the things she’s not. Filthy rich, focused, and drop-dead gorgeous. And beneath it all he is a really great guy. Then he messed it all up by asking for what she could not give, commitment.

  Dylan heads to Ireland, somehow he took her luck with him. Now Yuki must board a plane to god-knows-where, to encounter god-knows-what, hoping for a chance to tell Dylan the truth. Because he’s captured her heart and something tells Yuki she’ll need luck to get him back.

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  or Read in Kindle Unlimited!

  1

  “Put up your mugs.”

  I reach for the heavy crystal tankard mug, extending it across the table towards my twin brother, Asher Smith, careful not to let my eyes slide to his left. He sent a cryptic text message.

  It’s on!!! Meet me at the spot in an hour.

  I finalized the email I was typing, told my assistant to forward my calls to my cellphone, and now here I am in a bar at three pm with Asher, his wife Jazz, short for Jasmine, and his best friend and business partner Dylan Jameson—the one I’m avoiding in public. It’s complicated.

  “What are we celebrating? And hurry cause I’m hungry.” I ask as my heart warms, pride does not start to explain the feelings tumbling in my chest. The smile on his face tells me it’s good, really good. But I use this moment to give him a hard time. I mean, isn’t that what sisters are for?

  “Patience is a virtue.” Asher says over his glass.

  “Bite me, kid brother.” I kick him. That’ll wipe that smug look off his face.

  “Ouch! And you’re wearing those god-awful pointy heels.” The gang laughs. I lift my legs to avoid the sweeping motion of his foot as he tries to return my sisterly love tap.

  “Children, children,” Dylan chimes in, “stop teasing. Get to it. I have plans.” And I break my rule as my eyes meet his. Always the mediator. His strawberry blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and his wicked smile. He winks, and my heart skips a beat. Everything about him reads off limits. But like a child fascinated by the fire, I reach for the flames praying I don’t get burned. Not my smartest move.

  The waiter returns with our standard order of spicy wings, seasoned fries, and Dylan’s insisted upon house salad on the table. And we’re still waiting on the reason for this gathering in the middle of the day.

  Jazz sits her mug down places her elbows on the table turning towards Dylan. “It must be a woman. For you to pass on wings and beer—”

  “And the salad—” He adds.

  “We all know ain’t nobody touching that tired salad but you. Who goes to a sports bar for salad?” Asher looks throughly confused.

  “Asher, focus.” I cut through their banter. “What happened to the toast? Y’all are the worst.” I reach for a wing and Jazz, my hopeless romantic sister-in-law, smacks my hand and the slippery chicken tumbles to the table. “Ouch.”

  “That’s for kicking my husband.” She winks and has the nerve to laugh.

  “Thanks, babe.” Asher leans over the table and kisses her dismissing the raised mugs in the air, our food getting cold, and the ticking clock.

  “Get a room. Make the toast already cause this mug is heavy.” I retrieve my wing praying the five-second rule applies. Dylan drops his head chuckling.

  “Okay, okay. We closed on a space for Smith & Jameson.”

  “What?” I spring to my feet, and my wing flies across the room. “Sorry," I say to no one in particular as I round the table, pulling Asher into a hug. “I knew it. I knew you would get it.”

  Asher and Dylan were finding it difficult to secure a location for their international beer garden and eatery. They wanted a space near downtown but roomy enough for at least six truck vendors to park and offer food. But finding adequate space stalled their brilliant plan.

  “Your call did it.” Asher said.

  I pull back placing my hands on his cheeks. “No, your business plan did it. I’m just doing my part.”

  “My good luck charm.” He whispers under his breath for only us to hear. I hate when he calls me that, and he knows it. “Don’t give me that look.” He holds up a finger. “Let me have this moment. Please.”

  “Okay.” I reluctantly agree.

  “Thank you.” He kisses my cheek, the joy dancing in his eyes is infectious. I feel a silly grin matching his spread across my face.

  “You’re welcome.” I go back to my
seat, we lift our mugs with more vigor this time.

  From struggling to this. I’m Vice President at BrandShare and up for a major promotion to partner. He’s independently wealthy from his business ventures, and he’s on course to build a legacy with the Smith name on it. I look over at Asher, certain it will only get better.

  “In the words of William Shakespeare, ‘It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves’. My destiny is connected to each of you and I’m a blessed man.” He smiles at Jazz as she brushes away a tear. “This toast is to my beautiful wife, talented and uber-wealthy best friend, and my twin.”

  “And Momma,” I add. “Don’t forget Momma.”

  “Never.” Asher’s head drops for a brief second and when he looks up again, his eyes are glistening with unshed tears. “I will not fail with odds stacked so perfectly in my favor. We have a prime location in downtown Austin, the vendors, forty-nine of the fifty craft breweries on board, and in three days we’re off to Ireland to secure a deal with one final brewery.”

  Dylan places a hand on Asher’s shoulder. “Man we got this.”

  He nods. “Let’s toast to Smith & Jameson Beer Garden. That we get the final contract with Impose Brew and we open our doors to the public by the summer. To Smith & Jameson.”

  We repeat as our mugs chime reflecting the excitement swirling around our table. I tap Asher’s glass. Then Jazz. Then Dylan, and our eyes hold longer than they should. I’m frozen. The sounds in the bar and of Asher and Jazz talking cease to exist. He mouths, Don’t be late. I look back and forth to ensure no one saw it but me. He smiles and I find the strength to pull from his vortex.