Chapter 2

ASHER

I step away from the office door, not wanting to overhear something that isn’t meant for me. Eavesdropping has never been my style. I’m a firm believer in the idea that what’s not meant for your ears should stay that way.

It’s a relief to speak my mind and then step out, leaving the chaos to unfold without me. But my brother’s actions—they really get to me.

My sister blames me. She says I’m the one who drove a wedge between us. She thinks my desire for independence, my need to control my life and those around me, led me to neglect the one person who should have been by my side through it all.

But Atty and I—we’ve never been like that; we’ve never functioned the way twins are supposed to. I’ve always been his protector, the one who has to keep others at bay because he isn’t fully accepted. His unique way of being has always attracted trouble.

And even though I am the king of the damn school, there is always that one jerk who thinks he can pick on my brother behind my back. Many a jerk has felt the wrath of my fist, or Tilly’s if she finds out before me. But enough about that.

My attention is now on a stunning woman standing alone at the bar. I’m dressed for the occasion, and I could really use a way to blow off some steam. I check her out from the other end of the bar, ordering a glass of my fathers’ best whisky on the rocks—only because it’s on the house.

She’s at the bar by herself, sipping a glass of red wine. Each time she takes a sip, it’s like she’s seducing the glass, holding it to her lips just a second longer than necessary. Her form-fitting dress highlights every curve.

She’s not petite, not by any means, but that doesn’t bother me. Women come in all shapes and sizes. Short, tall. Thin, curvy. Light-skinned, dark-skinned. Natural or enhanced. I appreciate them all because women are the sacred gender.

The things they do for us men, the sacrifices they make. I’ve seen my mom pregnant. I’ve seen her grow large, tired, and irritable, yet she carries on as if nothing has changed.

She takes care of us kids, balances a full-time job and my father’s. I think my mom sets the bar too high for other women because any woman I end up with better be as badass as she is. I won’t settle for anything less, and I won’t rush into anything, either.

I need to know that my woman can handle life effortlessly, love me like there’s no tomorrow, and raise our kids with all the love she has to give.

“Another one, Asher?” the bartender, a girl I slept with about three years ago, asks me. Her name is Amber, I think. She’s been bitter ever since that night, claiming I ruined her for other men because I was too good in bed. She’s tried to get me back, begged even.

I give her a once-over. Her brown hair is pulled back so tightly that her cheeks look shiny from the strain. She’d be prettier if she let her hair down.

“Same for me, and another red for the lady over there.” She looks exactly where I’m pointing, green with envy as she lets out a distorted sigh. I take that as my cue to leave, to focus on my new interest rather than dwell on a past one.

“Hello, beautiful,” I greet the girl next to me. No, that’s not right. Not at all. There’s nothing girlish about this woman. Her face is lightly made up; the only striking feature is her red lipstick that I can’t help but imagine around the base of my cock.

Her breasts are full, but they sit in a way that tells me they’re real, not fake. She catches me looking exactly where I shouldn’t be and scoffs. She flips her long auburn hair over her shoulder, giving me a better view of her side profile. There’s a deep dimple in the middle of her cheek.

“Very…beautiful indeed. Breathtaking,” I murmur, surprising even myself. I hadn’t expected her to be as breathtaking as she is.

“He’s got quite the charm for a young one,” she murmurs. Her accent is a mystery—something I can’t quite put my finger on from just a few words.

“I’ve seen a thing or two, and I know what I like,” I respond, shrugging. I’m not shy about letting her know what I want.

She laughs—a sound that’s unexpectedly girlish and fits her perfectly. She’s stunning, tilting her head back to gaze at the ceiling. Her hair, previously tucked behind her ear, now cascades halfway down her back.

My mind is suddenly filled with images—explicit and downright dirty—that make my cock harden. “I’d ask your age, but my mama raised me better. How about you take this drink and join me at that table over there?”

She glances at the table I’ve indicated. It’s semi-secluded, hidden behind a screen, allowing for the same ambiance but with a touch of privacy. It’s the table my father always uses for discreet meetings with potential clients.

She takes only a few moments to make up her mind, finishing her drink with grace while keeping me on edge. I lift my own glass, savoring the amber liquid as I wait for her response. Patience—another lesson from my mama. Patience is key to everything—something my father clearly lacks.

I signal for another drink, and Amber promptly refills my glass. “Meet you over there?” I ask, turning to leave before she can respond. I can feel her eyes on my back as I walk away. The sensation makes the hairs on my neck stand up.

I can feel her gaze as I slip behind the screen and take a seat facing her. She can probably only see half my face, but that’s enough for her to know I’m grinning at her. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four Mississippi… Ten Mississippi.

And there it is, the Henderson charm working its magic as she gathers her things to join me. She shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips as she picks up her glass and purse.

She turns toward me, a playful smirk and a cute dimple on her right cheek as she walks over, crossing her legs in that way women do when they’re wearing heels. I take the chance to really look at her. Her dress is slit up the side, revealing more leg than is typically seen in the early afternoon.

Her curves are nothing short of breathtaking, and her now fully formed smile is absolutely stunning. She takes her time joining me, but eventually, she climbs onto the stool and places her glass on the table.

“Emma.” She extends her hand for a shake. And boy, does she have a firm grip.

“Ash,” I respond with a grin, watching as she swoons just like every other woman does at my smirk.