Textual Confusion

4. Sharing is caring.

CHAPTER FOUR

SHARING IS CARING.

The next week was straight-up miserable, and Friday was no different from the days that preceded it.

Asher got toothpaste in his eye to start his morning. Then, when he left for work, he discovered that the building’s elevator was broken (again), and he fell down half a flight of stairs in his rush to get to work on time. (The result being a sore ass and a faint bruise on his forehead where he managed to bean it on the banister.) And to top it all off, when Asher finally got to Honeycomb Café, he forgot to set a timer and burned his first batch of apple turnovers.

As he started peeling apples for his second batch of turnovers, Asher couldn’t help but wonder if he deserved all the rotten luck that had seemed to find him over the past week.

It almost felt like karma for the way he’d handled things with Mystery Man.

It would be a lie to say Asher hadn’t considered unblocking him more than once over the past week. But whenever he was tempted by the idea, he always got hung up on what would have to happen next if he did.

No doubt the man would demand that Asher reveal his identity.

And he could only imagine what Mystery Man’s reaction would be if he did that .

There was a good chance he’d be disgusted when he realized he’d been talking to another man this whole time. Would he cuss Asher out? Call him names?

The worst part of imagining those scenarios was that Asher wouldn’t even blame the man if he did . He’d been lying to him since the very beginning, after all.

Yeah, and he knew it, a small, optimistic part of his brain couldn’t help but point out. He’s known since at least that second night that you weren’t who you claimed to be, but he kept texting you anyway. Heck, the day before you blocked him, he sent you a post-shower picture of himself in nothing but a towel.

Yeah, but he still more than likely thought he was talking to a woman. His would-be sugar baby’s name was Bianca – hardly gender neutral.

Yet he never talked about or asked to see your pussy or tits, did he?

True.

Despite having blocked Mystery Man’s number, Asher had kept all the messages they’d exchanged, and he’d scoured them to double-check if the man had ever used any gender-specific language. But besides the one time he claimed Asher would love being his “ pillow princess ”, there was nothing.

Both men and women had a “ hole ”, after all.

Taking all evidence into consideration, Asher acknowledged there was a chance that Mystery Man might have considered the fact the person he was talking to was a man.

But it was a minuscule chance, and a risk Asher wasn’t willing to take. He didn’t think his heart could take it if he allowed himself to get his hopes up and opened himself up to rejection, only to find out Mystery Man was completely straight and repulsed by him.

It would crush him, which was the argument Asher always used on himself late at night when his finger hovered over the contact labeled Mystery Man on his phone.

So far, it’d worked.

But the situation had definitely taken its toll on him. Asher had spent more time tossing and turning than actually sleeping the past several of nights. Which was probably why had he’d fallen down the stairs that morning and had forgotten to set the timer for his first batch of turnovers.

He honestly wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through the day, let alone tomorrow, considering he’d promised to attend that fancy Halloween party/charity gala with Danny. Not for the first time, he cursed his friends for talking him into going.

He was seriously considering faking sick to get out of it, but deep down, he knew he couldn’t do that to Danny. Especially after he and Sasha had dragged Asher out on Wednesday night to buy him a suit for the occasion. They’d settled on a gray two-piece with a white shirt, leather suspenders, and a navy bowtie. (Apparently, it would pair well with Danny’s slightly darker charcoal suit and burgundy necktie.)

Forcing thoughts of the gala to the back of his mind, Asher put the batch of turnovers in the oven, and he was simultaneously making the glaze for the turnovers and whipping up the batter for some double chocolate chip muffins when Mr. Brittle surprised him by barging in the back door of the kitchen.

Asher squeaked, nearly dropping the whole container of cocoa powder onto the floor. “Mr. Brittle!” he exclaimed, face reddening as he processed the very unmanly noise that had just escaped him. “You’re early.”

He usually didn’t show up until opening time, which was still a half hour away.

“I wanted to talk to you before the morning rush.”

“Oh. Um, here, let me just put this aside-”

“Nonsense, I don’t want to put you behind,” Mr. Brittle said, waving Asher off as he shuffled over to the countertop he had his ingredients spread out on. “I just wanted to let you know before I told the rest of the staff. I got news yesterday that a bid I put in on a condo down in Florida was accepted. My house is officially going up for sale next week, and I plan to be gone by the first of next year.”

Asher stared, taken aback. Whatever he had expected Mr. Brittle to tell him (perhaps he’d come to grumble about Tina waltzing in late earlier in the week or bitch about Sasha’s admittedly questionable customer service), it definitely wasn’t this . “You’re moving… to Florida?” he repeated, a lot more calmly than he felt on the inside.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Asher knew Mr. Brittle had family in Florida – a daughter, he was pretty sure, who’d married well before popping out a gaggle of grandchildren. (He had listened to Mr. Brittle complain about the fact she wanted nothing to do with the family business often enough to know.)

“That’s right. Maureen has made it clear she had no intention of moving back to Seattle, so I’ve decided to go to her instead.”

“That’s great… I mean, family is important, and if that’s what you want to do, I’m happy for you. But… but what about the café?”

“I’ll have to sell,” Mr. Brittle said matter-of-factly.

Asher blinked, hoping his expression didn’t give away the fact it felt like his stomach had just fallen through his asshole. “Oh.”

“Before going through my realtor, though, I wanted to give you first whack.”

Asher jerked his gaze up from where it’d fallen to the floor. “What… what do you mean ‘first whack’?”

“I know how hard you work, and I may be old, but I’m not braindead. The customers don’t come here for the overpriced coffee they could get at any old Starbucks for a fraction of the price. They come for you and your confections. Like those fancy popsicle stick things you made last week.”

“You mean cake pops?”

“Yeah, those. They sold out before noon. Besides, I don’t want some new age hippie coming in and turning this into another one of those ridiculous cat cafés-”

“They’re actually a great way to promote the adoption of shelter animals,” Asher couldn’t help but point out, still feeling a bit numb from the news that Mr. Brittle was selling the café.

Mr. Brittle waved a hand. “You’re too soft-hearted. Besides, animals don’t belong in the kitchen. Or do you think customers would enjoy cat hair in their food?”

Asher winced. Fair enough.

“Anyway, I wouldn’t expect you to keep things exactly the same. You could even change the name if you wanted to. I just think you deserve a storefront for your creations.”

Asher was honestly touched, but that didn’t make buying the café from Mr. Brittle any more realistic. “That’s really thoughtful of you, Mr. Brittle, but to be frank, there’s no way I could afford what this place is worth.”

“That’s why I want to cut you a deal. I just need enough between the café and my house to cover the new condo. A hundred grand and the place is yours.”

Asher’s eyes widened. Honeycomb Café was situated on a corner in a prime location of downtown Seattle. The price Mr. Brittle just suggested was an extremely generous offer on his part. It was almost enough to make Asher cry.

Mostly because there was still no way he could afford it.

Between what he made working at Honeycomb Café and his home bakery business, he could barely afford his rent with enough money left over to feed himself and pay the bills. He didn’t think any bank in its right mind would give him a loan either.

Not with his lack of credit history.

“Mr. Brittle…” he began, steeling himself to once again have to say no… but how could he? When would another opportunity like this come knocking? Never, that’s when. “Can I think about it?” he hedged after a moment.

“Of course. I didn’t expect an answer today or anything. But I need to get back to my realtor soon.”

Asher licked his lips. “How soon?” he asked.

“End of next week, I imagine.”

One week. One week to make a decision. And then two measly months to come up with a hundred grand if he said yes. No big deal.

Asher startled when the timer on the oven went off, and he nearly forgot his mitts and burned himself when he hurriedly went to pull out the apple turnovers before the golden, flaky crusts could char like those of the first batch had.

He looked at the perfectly baked morsels, and couldn’t deny that he was good at what he did. And more importantly than that, he loved it. He loved experimenting with classic recipes in attempts to make them even better. He loved seeing the gleam in customers’ eyes when they caught sight of a display of perfectly frosted cupcakes or the way they’d flutter shut when they sunk their teeth into a buttery croissant or a freshly glazed roll.

He loved making people happy through baking, and it’d been a dream of his since he was a teenager to eventually own his own storefront.

The fact of the matter was he might never get another opportunity like this again.

He couldn’t say no.

Fuck it.

He didn’t need a week.

“I’ll make it happen.”

Do you really think I could make big bucks on OnlyFans?

Sasha

I mean, yeah.

Why do you ask?

Mr. Brittle is moving to Florida. He offered to sell me the café for a ridiculous discount.

I fucking told you he wanted in your pants. That’s great, Asher!

No, it sucks. It’s like having something you’ve dreamed of your whole life just outside your grasp, so close but unable to reach it…

You know I’d lend you the money if I could.

I know.

Not that Asher would ever ask Sasha for that kind of money.

Or even Danny, who despite making triple what either he or Sasha did, was hardly rich. Not only was his apartment much nicer than Asher’s (and thus more expensive), Asher knew for a fact that the man was still sending a portion of his paycheck to his parents every month. (Danny’s mom had been diagnosed with dementia a few years backs, and the nursing home costs were outrageous.)

Not that I don't love you, babe, but why are you texting me? Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for your hot date?

You mean the one with your boyfriend?

Sharing is caring.

Ew.

And I’m already dressed. Just waiting for Danny to pick me up.

Pic?

I knew those suspenders were a good idea. All the guys there will be drooling over you for sure.

Thanks, but I’m not going there to meet anyone. This is a favor to Danny, remember?

Whatever you say, sweetie! Have fun!

Asher sighed, shaking his head.

A moment later, his phone chimed again with an incoming message from Danny informing him he was there.

Glancing at himself once more in the mirror and making sure his curls weren’t too unruly, Asher snatched up his jacket where he’d put it on the back of one of his mismatched kitchen chairs and locked the door behind himself.

The landlord still hadn’t fixed the elevator, so he had to take the stairs. Five flights later, he was a little winded as he approached Danny’s car. It was an older model Tesla, but Danny was very proud of it, and took the opportunity to show it off whenever he could.

“You look nice,” Asher complimented Danny as he slid into the passenger seat.

It was true; the charcoal suit he wore fit him nicely, and his dark hair was styled away from his face, showcasing a neatly trimmed beard and the man’s bright hazel eyes.

“I know,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. “You ready?”

Asher rolled his eyes. “You’re supposed to tell me I look nice, too. Honestly, I don’t know why Sasha puts up with you.”

“It’s probably my monster cock.”

Asher didn’t even have to pretend to gag as Danny put the car into drive and they made their way to Block 41, a venue well-known throughout Seattle for its vaulted ceilings and contemporary chic look. (Not that Asher had ever been there before.)

It was where the gala was being held.

“Would it be totally tacky to hand these out to people?” Asher asked, taking the business cards Sasha had designed for his home bakery business out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

“Nah, do it,” Danny urged.

Traffic was light for a Saturday, and it wasn’t long until Danny was pulling up to a surprisingly demure, modern-looking building. It was three stories tall and had a brick exterior with large windows spanning the walls. After handing off the keys of his car to a valet, Danny escorted Asher inside.

The venue’s inside matched its outside. It had a modern, almost cold look, with exposed pipes on the ceilings and beams jutting up from the hardwood floors, but the industrial look was tempered by the softness of the décor. Twinkling faerie lights twisted up the wooden beams, and circular tables covered in white tablecloths sported impressive, colorful flower arrangements.

It was understated, but very pretty. And loud. Chatter filled Asher’s ears as Danny dragged him over to one of two bars, each with long lines forming.

“Danny!” someone nearby exclaimed, catching both of their attention.

Asher watched as Danny’s naturally open expression closed off. “Chad,” he greeted tersely, not even bothering to offer a fake smile.

Ah. That explained it.

Asher had heard all about this Chad guy. Danny bitched about him even more than he complained about his boss. He was Danny’s office rival for all intents and purposes. They were hired at the same time and both worked in the accounting department. As such, they were vying for the same supervisory position that was opening up at the end of the year.

Asher recalled Danny once commenting that the man resembled an ogre, but he was actually quite good-looking with his floppy blonde hair and blue eyes. His smile was definitely smarmy, though. “Where’s your date?” he asked Danny. “Don’t tell me you came alone.”

“This is Asher, a family friend,” Danny introduced between gritted teeth. “Sasha couldn’t make it, so he was kind enough to accompany me.”

“Ah, I see,” Chad said, looking Asher up and down and scrunching his nose in a way that made Asher want to sock him. (Danny, too, judging by the way he tensed.) “Well, you know Julia, of course,” he said, wrapping an arm around the waist of his date, a leggy Asian women with long, black hair and clear, milky skin. She honestly looked like a model in the blue, sleeveless dress she wore, matching sapphire pendant hanging from her neck. “Lucky for me that my girlfriend considers me enough of a priority to show up to important work functions.”

Asher threaded his arm through Danny’s, locking on tightly to his elbow before his friend could do something stupid like jump the dickhead. “Excuse us. We were just getting a drink,” he said, pulling Danny with him as he wiggled his way through the crowd of people at the bar, not caring if he was being rude.

“Two shots of tequila, a mojito, and whatever you have on tap, please,” he ordered as soon as he caught the eye of one of the bartenders.

Danny didn’t question the order, offering Asher a grateful smile when he handed him one of the shots. They both dutifully downed their tequila before taking their drinks. Since dinner would be starting soon, they decided to find their assigned table.

Because Asher’s horrid luck was apparently contagious, Chad and his date had somehow been assigned to the same table as them, and both were already sitting when they arrive. “Fancy seeing you again,” Chad greeted with a shit-eating grin.

“Yeah, imagine that,” Danny muttered, directing Asher to the other end of the table, purposefully sitting as far away from the man and his date as possible – not that it was very far at all. (The table was only large enough to seat eight.)

Luckily, they didn’t have to sit in tension-filled silence for long because the rest of their table companions showed up shortly. All of them turned out to be middle-aged men, probably mid-to-late fifties. Two had receding hairlines while the other two still had full heads of hair, but there was definitely more gray than any other color. All four of them appeared to be dateless.

Dates or not, they must have been important because Danny and Chad immediately shot up from their chairs when they arrived, shaking hands with each of them as they greeted them. Following Danny’s example, Asher stood and waited for Danny to introduce him to the man closest to them. He was one of the two who still had his hair, though he had a bit of a gut.

Something about the way he smiled at Asher when their eyes met made his insides squirm – and not in a good way.

“Mr. Barclay, this my date, Asher Kodet. Asher, this is Mr. Barclay, one of the board members at Kingston Enterprises.”

Oh. Wow. A big wig, then. No wonder Danny looked so nervous. Asher hurriedly offered Mr. Barclay his hand.

“There’s no need for formalities outside of work,” Mr. Barclay said, reaching forward to take Asher’s hand in his own. Asher’s discomfort grew when the man caressed the back of his hand with his thumb. “Call me Richard, Asher. Danny’s certainly lucky to have such a handsome young man on his arm.”

Asher yanked his hand away from Mr. Barclay as discretely as possible. He probably should have corrected him – he wasn’t Danny’s date date, after all. But judging by the way Mr. Barclay’s eyes roamed up and down his form, it was better to let him keep his assumptions.

Danny introduced him to the three other men who’d joined them (another board member, and two others who worked in the accounting department alongside with Danny and Chad) before they all took their seats.

Asher tried not to make his displeasure obvious when Mr. Barclay ended up sitting beside him, thankful when everyone at the table – sans he and Julia – immediately dove into work talk. Asher made a valiant effort to pay attention, but talks of equity and tangible versus intangible assets quickly caused his thoughts to drift. He noticed that Julia looked just as bored as he was.

Deciding that just because her date was an asshole, didn’t mean she was one, too, Asher attempted to engage her in conversation. After clearing his throat to gain her attention, he offered her a strained smile. “So, how did you and Chad meet?”

“We met while we were both attending Stanford. Our parents introduced us.”

“And you hit it off right away?”

“It was a good match,” she said, shrugging as she took a sip of her cocktail. “We’re both smart and good-looking. Odds are we’ll pass on desirable genes to our children one day.”

Asher blinked. That was a very analytical way to look at a relationship.

“What about you?”

“Huh?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “You and Danny. How did you meet?”

Did she not hear Danny when he told them they weren’t actually dating? “We grew up next door to each other.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh. So you are together?”

“Uh, no. Not in the romantic sense. We’re just really good friends.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Asher nearly jumped out of his skin at Mr. Barclay’s interruption. He turned to see the man all but leering at him. Making a quick decision to ignore him and his inappropriate response, Asher hastily returned his attention to Julia.

“So, what do you do for work?”

“I’m a lawyer.”

“Oh. That’s really impressive.”

“I know.” A pause. “And you? Where do you work?”

“I work at a café.”

Julia raised her eyebrows. “You’re a barista?”

Asher probably would have been more annoyed at her condescending tone if he wasn’t so preoccupied with the man sitting beside him. He could feel the heat of his stare on the side of his face. “I’m a baker, actually. I’m trying to branch out and start my own business.” Reaching into his suit jacket, he handed her one of his cards. “Here. If case anyone you know needs catering.”

She examined the card with unimpressed eyes. “How quaint.”

“I admire the ambition it takes to start your own business,” Mr. Barclay interjected. “I’ll take one of those cards.”

Working hard to keep his expression neutral, Asher reluctantly handed the man a card. It had his cell phone number listed, and he’d be pissed if he had to change it because of some asshole – again.

Luckily, before Mr. Barclay could attempt to engage him in more conversation, a speaker took the stage at the front of the venue and commandeered everyone’s attention. The woman, dressed impeccably in a sparkling silver gown, introduced herself as Margaret Kingston, the wife of Kingston Enterprises' founding CEO. She thanked everyone for coming to the gala, talked about the auction that would be taking place later in the evening, and spoke a little about the charity that the night’s proceeds were going to benefit – The Children’s Foundation of Seattle, an organization that worked to improve the lives of the impoverished and disadvantaged youth of the city.

When she was finished speaking and the applause had died down, the meal was served. The first course was comprised of ricotta-stuffed dates and a leafy salad drizzled in some sort of sweet dressing, while the main course was surf and turf: filet mignon and shrimp doused in a creamy, lemon sauce, served along with a side of asparagus.

Asher dutifully cleaned both of his plates.

The portions were tiny, but the food was delicious. Or, at least, it looked delicious.

It was hard to focus on what the food tasted like when Mr. Barclay kept dragging him into unwanted conversation. The man had even brushed a wayward curl off his forehead at some point, causing Asher to stiffen in discomfort.

Unfortunately, Danny seemed oblivious to his distress, engaged in his own conversation with the rest of the men at the table.

Asher was beyond relieved when dessert finally arrived.

It was a trio of chocolate: a piece of sponge cake, a fudge-walnut brownie, and a scoop of chocolate ice cream. The sponge, topped with white chocolate drizzle and a raspberry, was a bit on the dense side, and the brownie could have used some dark chocolate chips to cut the sweetness, but the ice cream was deliciously rich and creamy.

He’d just brought a second spoonful of it to his mouth when a hand was suddenly gripping his thigh and Mr. Barclay’s hot breath hit the side of his face as he whispered into his ear. “Your lips look good wrapped around that spoon, but I’m certain they’d look even better wrapped around something else.”

Asher dropped his spoon and stood up so quickly from his chair that he nearly toppled the table over in his haste to escape the man. Chad sneered and Julia released a scandalized gasp while the rest of the people at their table looked at him with a mix of concern and confusion. (Except for Mr. Barclay, who looked annoyed.)

“Asher, is everything alright?” Danny asked.

Asher licked his lips, regretting it immediately when Mr. Barclay’s eyes latched onto the movement. The frickin’ pervert. “Of course. I, uh… I just need the restroom.”

A wild flush crawling up his neck, Asher turned and hurried in the direction he hoped the bathrooms were. He was flustered, however, and not looking where he was going, which is how he ended up inadvertently jostling a server as she was pouring wine into someone’s glass.

Asher jerked his gaze up from the hardwood floor just in time to see her accidentally dump a quarter of the bottle of wine into the poor guy’s lap. “What the fuck are you doing?” the man snarled, shooting to his feet.

Annnd his sympathy vanished.

Asher was vaguely aware of the chatter still ongoing elsewhere in the room, but all the surrounding tables immediately quieted, and Asher found his ears ringing in the sudden silence.

It took a moment for the server to react, her face reddening to nearly the color of her hair. “Oh my God. I-I’m so sorry, Sir,” she stuttered as she instinctually grabbed a nearby napkin and began to pat the man’s lap dry.

He caught her by the wrists and shoved her hands away.. “Don’t touch me,” he snapped. “You’ve already done enough damage. Honestly, what sort of imbecile can’t even handle the simple task of pouring wine without making a mess of things?”

“It wasn’t her fault,” Asher retorted, finally getting over his shock and speaking up before the man could hurl any more insults at the poor girl. She already looked near tears. “I ran into her while she was pouring, so if you should be mad at anyone, it’s me. You know, it says a lot about a man the way he treats waitstaff-” Asher cut himself off when the guy finally turned his glare onto him and he got a good look at his face.

Asher’s eyes widened. His jaw loosened. His thoughts came stumbling to a screeching halt.

Holy shit. Jesus motherfucking Christ.

It was impossible, and it made absolutely no sense, but standing before him was none other than… Mystery Man.

“Excuse me?” the man spat before he caught full sight of Asher. Asher didn’t think it was his imagination the way the man stiffened, the tiniest wrinkle forming in his brow as he eyed him up and down. “Who are you?” he demanded bluntly.

He had no idea who Asher was. Of course he didn’t. It wasn’t like Asher had ever shared a picture of his face while they’d been texting. (No, just shots of his pink panty-clad ass. Fuck .)

Realizing he was standing there like a fool, doing an impressive impression of a goldfish, Asher jerked his gaze away from the man – Mystery Man, oh my God.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to squeak out to the waitress, who was still standing there, nervously holding the half empty bottle of wine. Then he bolted from the room, making a beeline for the nearest restroom.

Upon reaching it, Asher was relieved to find it gloriously empty. Locking himself into the stall furthest from the door, Asher fought back a panic attack.

His brain was a mess of thoughts.

He’d just met Mystery Man, and he was one of Danny’s co-workers. He was also somehow even better looking in person than he was in pictures. His eyes were so dark and intense as he’d pinned Asher in place with that dominating stare.

It almost made up for the fact that he’d been a complete asshole. Asher couldn’t believe the way he’d verbally assaulted that poor waitress for an accident that wasn’t even her fault. There was no reason for him to berate her in that deep voice with its harsh, gritty tone…

“Stop that,” Asher muttered to his nether regions, pressing a palm to his crotch and willing away the slow-forming erection. Honestly, what was wrong with him?

A lot of things, probably.

But Asher was in much too sober a state to properly name them all. He honestly couldn’t believe how awful his night was turning out.

First, he’d been groped by one of the bigwigs from Danny’s work, then he’d run into Mystery Man, who apparently also worked for Kingston Enterprises.

The fact that Danny and Mystery Man probably knew each other was just too much, and Asher was seriously considering giving into the urge to flee the country, and start a new life in Mexico somewhere.

But Asher was terrible at Spanish.

And it’s not like Mystery Man knew that Asher was the person who’d been impersonating the sugar baby he’d hired.

Reminding himself of that fact was enough to pull Asher from the edge of his mental breakdown, and after splashing some water onto his face, Asher worked up the courage to leave the restroom and go find Danny. By the time he returned to their table, however, it was empty.

For all appearances, it seemed Danny had abandoned him. Asher was going to give him so much flack for it later.

Truthfully, he was tempted to leave, but he knew Danny would worry, so Asher decided to head to the bar instead. The only way he was going to get through the night was with the help of alcohol.

Once he made it to the front of the queue, he ordered two vodka sodas, ignoring the side-eyes he got when he downed the first before taking the second to go. The band was playing soft jazz, but no one was actually dancing, just mingling in circles, and Asher imagined Danny was making his rounds. A quick glance at his phone revealed no new messages, so Asher decided to explore instead of attempting to find him.

He wasn’t sure it was allowed, but no one stopped him as he slipped out and wandered the long hallways. Somehow, he ended up finding a back door that led to a courtyard.

It was a brisk fall evening, and Asher shivered a little, but the fresh air was invigorating, and Asher found himself sitting on a bench near a fountain. He looked up at the sky. It was impossible to see the stars through the smog of the city, but the moon was beautiful, illuminating the fountain and greenery surrounding him, glittering off the koi fish in the pond.

“Pretty.”

It was truly an exercise in self-control the way Asher didn’t jump at the sudden sound of a voice behind him. And not just any voice either. That voice. The gritty timbre that had Asher willing away an erection in a public restroom not half an hour ago.

That didn’t mean Asher didn’t react at all. It was like his body wasn’t his own, the way butterflies immediately erupted in his tummy and the muscles of his shoulders automatically bunched in anticipation. Or, most ashamedly of all, the way his cock twitched.

When he felt like he had control enough of his expression, Asher turned to face the man, all the work that had gone into looking composed immediately shot to shit when he saw that Mystery Man wasn’t looking at the sky or scenery at all, but straight at Asher.

Was he calling him pretty?

“The leaves are changing colors,” Asher blurted, immediately feeling his face heat afterward.

Wow, Asher, very astute, he razzed himself. Any other groundbreaking observations you’d like to make? Like that the moon is shining or that the water in the pond is wet?

“I wasn’t talking about the leaves.”

Good thing his face already resembled a tomato or Asher was sure it would have reddened further. Still, he couldn’t quite get himself to believe that the man meant him. Sure, Asher had been called pretty before, but never by someone as ridiculously attractive as the man standing before him.

“May I sit?”

Asher’s tongue felt like it was glued to the roof of his mouth so he just shrugged, offering the man a “ do as you please ” kind of gesture.

If he had known that the bench would feel immeasurably smaller with two people sitting on it, he may have rethought his lackadaisical response to the man’s request. As it was, his leg felt like it was on fire where it was pressed against Mystery Man’s thigh.

His thick, meaty thigh that strained against the fabric of his slacks.

Fuck.

“I didn’t catch your name earlier,” Mystery Man said.

Asher jerked his gaze away from the man’s thighs, concentrating on his face before quickly deciding that that wasn’t any less distracting and focusing his attention on the koi fish in the pond instead.

He’s an asshole, Asher, remember that.

“Probably because you were too busy berating that waitress to even think of asking.” If Asher wasn’t so nervous, he might have been shocked at his own audacity. (Not that he was wrong, but still, he usually left the sass to Sasha.)

Mystery Man frowned. “I did ask,” he pointed out, “but I apologize if raising my voice at the waitress upset you.”

Asher couldn’t help the way he side-eyed the man incredulously. What a bizarre thing to say. “Did you apologize to the waitress too? You know, the one you actually raised your voice at?"

“She got a lofty tip for her trouble. Don’t worry about her,” he said, waving a hand.

Asher pursed his lips. “Is that how you take care of all your mistakes? By throwing money at them?”

“I’m not in the habit of making mistakes,” the man immediately retorted before a pensive look took over his expression. “But I admit that I’ve been having an off week. I don’t usually take my frustration out on the waitstaff.”

Asher couldn’t but help if wonder if he had anything to do with that. Surely not, though, right? There was no way blocking Mystery Man’s number would have had enough of an effect on him to influence his mood for an entire week.

It wasn’t like they had been talking for long. He couldn’t have grown as attached to Asher as Asher had to him. He reflected on his own abysmal week. “I doubt your week has been as awful as mine,” he found himself sharing before he could think better of it.

“Oh yeah?” Mystery Man’s eyebrows shot up challengingly. “Try me.”

Obviously, Asher wasn’t about to admit he was the person the man had been chatting with before he’d freaked out and subsequently blocked his number. Luckily ( unluckily? ), there were lots of other horrible things that had happened to him that week so there was plenty to choose from.

“Well, yesterday I found out that my boss is moving to Florida at the end of the year and I’m probably out of a job-”

“You don’t work at Kingston Enterprises, then?” Mystery Man butt in. “I didn’t think you did. I would have remembered a face like yours if I’d seen it before.”

Asher’s brain short-circuited for a moment, and he flushed. “Oh, um, no,” he stammered. “I’m, uh, a baker, actually.”

Mystery Man stiffened. “Really? A baker?”

Shit.

Why did he say that? Asher wasn’t supposed to share anything that could make the man link him with the person he’d been exchanging texts with the week before. (You know, the person who had deceived him and pretended to be a prostitute all because he was too horny to control himself when confronted with a picture of Mystery Man’s abs. Yikes.)

“A pastry chef, technically,” Asher clarified quickly, thoughts racing as he fought to remember what they were talking about. That’s right, his terrible week. “Anyway, after finding out my job is in jeopardy, I’m forced to attend this fancy gala tonight, where I’m groped by some old geezer during dessert. Then, as I’m trying to get away from the creep, I accidentally run into a waitress and make her spill wine all over this rich asshole, who goes on to yell and make a scene. And to top it all off, my date abandons me to go rub elbows with his colleagues. So. Pretty sure I’ve won the shittiest week award based on tonight alone.”

Asher had been staring at his lap, playing nervously with his fingers as he blathered on, so it wasn’t until he didn’t get a response that he glanced up and realized how positively seething mad Mystery Man looked next to him.

His nostrils were flared and his jaw was clenched so tight that Asher saw a muscle in his cheek tick. But most telling of all were the man’s eyes. They were as dark as the pitch black sky and were swimming with barely suppressed rage as they stared into Asher’s own warm brown orbs.

Honestly, Asher might have been scared if he wasn’t so turned on. He squeezed his legs together in an attempt to hide his sudden erection.

Seriously, what the fuck was wrong with him?

“Someone groped you?” the man snarled, jerking Asher from his thoughts. “Who? Describe him if you don’t know his name.”

Asher frowned in indecision. Mystery Man looked ready to throw hands, and Asher didn’t want to be responsible for an old man getting his ass kicked – even if he did kind of deserve it. “Um, his name was Barclay, I think,” Asher answered honestly after a moment. “Richard Barclay.” He snorted. “Fitting name since he was a giant dick,” he added in an attempt to cut the tension.

Mystery Man wasn’t having it. “And what did Barclay do to you?”

“It really wasn’t that big of a deal,” Asher tried to play it off.

“What. did. he. do?” the man repeated the question between gritted teeth.

Asher wiggled in his seat. He honestly couldn’t tell if the way his tummy kept fluttering was due to nerves or arousal, but being the sole focus of the Mystery Man’s attention was definitely an intense experience. “He grabbed my leg under the table,” he admitted when he couldn’t take the man’s scrutiny any longer, “and he made a comment about my mouth – propositioning me for a blowjob, basically.”

For a tense moment after the confession, it was eerily quiet. Even the frogs in the pond stopped croaking. But then Mystery Man seemed to relax into his seat, and like his body wasn’t even his anymore, Asher found himself following suit, the tension in his body drifting away.

“Thank you for telling me,” the man said, surprising Asher by taking him by the chin and forcing him to meet his gaze. “It is a big deal, and I’m sorry that happened to you, but I’ll take care of it, and make sure it never happens again.”

Asher wanted to ask him how exactly he was going to do something like that. Barclay was a board member at Kingston Enterprises, so he doubted Mystery Man could do much more than file a complaint on Asher’s behalf. Still, it was a sweet gesture, and Asher was sick of talking about the old pervert, so he nodded his acceptance of the words. “Thank you.”

“As for your date, he must be both blind and an idiot to leave you to your own devices,” Mystery Man said, slowly leaning forward into Asher’s space, and Asher’s eyes couldn’t help but dart to his mouth. The man’s lips were a little chapped, but also full and pink and so damn inviting. “If you were mine, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight,” he added, voice low and gritty, yet still full of steel. “I’d dote on you, make sure you were always safe and comfortable. I wouldn’t let you wander around alone, where anyone could come and steal you away.”

Mystery Man’s mouth was only an inch away from his own now, and Asher felt lightheaded and hyper-focused all at once. He could smell the man’s cologne – something woodsy, maybe sandalwood, with a hint of amber – in his nose and feel the man’s hot breath on his face.

“Is that what you’re trying to do?” he asked, voice coming out a bit breathless, but he was proud he hadn’t stumbled on the words. “Steal me away?”

Unfortunately, before Mystery Man could answer, or better yet, kiss him, the door leading into the hidden garden was suddenly flung open, squeaking loudly on its hinges as the sound of shuffling footsteps and giggles filled the air.

Asher immediately lurched away from the man and attempted to stand from the bench, but Mystery Man forced him to remain in his seat by clamping a heavy hand on his shoulder and getting to his feet himself.

He turned and stared down the two intruders, a young couple who’d stumbled drunkenly into the courtyard, not seeming to notice they were interrupting an intimate moment. In fact, they seemed to be in search of a place to have an intimate moment of their own, judging by the way the woman was hanging off her date, pawing at his suit jacket and nuzzling his neck.

The man saw them first, and he appeared to recognize Mystery Man, immediately freezing when he noticed him staring. “Sir!” he exclaimed, before spotting Asher. He glanced back and forth between the two of them, eyes widening, before abruptly shoving his date away.

The girl stumbled in her heels and Asher winced in sympathy.

“I’m so sorry for interrupting. I didn’t realize anyone was out here. I was just-”

“I can only imagine what you and your date were about to do. But as you can see, the courtyard is closed . If you value your position at the company at all, you’ll take this rendezvous of yours elsewhere – immediately .”

“Of course-”

“Closed?” The girl repeated stupidly, interrupting her date’s hasty agreement. “But you two are out here. How can it be closed?”

Asher got the pleasure of seeing that muscle in Mystery Man’s jaw tick again. “It’s closed because I said it’s fucking closed,” he snapped before turning his attention back to the woman’s date. “Get her out of here, and fucking sober up. You’re at a company function. Have some goddamn respect.”

The man whitened. “O-of course, Sir,” he stammered. “My apologies. I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be sorry, just leave .”

Nodding, the man all but dragged his date out of the garden. Asher didn’t know whether he ought to be impressed or worried over the fact he looked seconds away from defecating before deciding to go with bewildered.

This time, when Asher attempted to stand, Mystery Man allowed it. “You must be pretty important to have him so scared,” Asher said, facing him. “He looked like he was about to shit himself.”

The corner of Mystery Man’s mouth quirked in amusement before he wrinkled his brow, suddenly looking concerned. “You weren’t scared, were you?”

Asher shook his head. “Scary isn’t the word I’d use to describe you.”

Mystery Man raised his eyebrows. “What word would you use, then?”

Intimidating. Devastatingly attractive. Annoyingly charming.

Not that Asher was about to admit any of that out loud. “I can think of a few,” he said coyly instead, when it became clear Mystery Man was waiting for an answer.

“I could think of a few words to describe you, too,” he said, reaching out and brushing the backside of his finger down the side of Asher’s face. And somehow they were right back to where they were before, a scant few inches between them.

Everything about Mystery Man drew Asher in and demanded he close the remaining distance between them. He wanted to kiss him so badly. (He wanted to do more than kiss him, but they were in a public space.)

The interruption must have knocked some sense into him, however, because he managed to resist the urge. Instead, gathering up all his willpower, Asher took a step backwards. He cleared his throat. “I better be getting back to the party,” he said. “Danny’s probably getting worried-”

“Danny?” Mystery Man interrupted, brow furrowed. “Who’s Danny?”

“Oh, um, he’s my date.”

“The one who abandoned you?” the man demanded incredulously. “Why would you want to go back to him?”

There was no way Asher imagined the scorn in his voice.

“I may have exaggerated that part a little,” Asher admitted, giving into the natural urge to defend his friend. “He didn’t really abandon me. Technically, I left to use the restroom and he wasn’t where I left him when I returned. He’s actually a great guy.”

Mystery Man stared at Asher with dark, unreadable eyes. “I see,” he said after a moment.

“Maybe you know him,” Asher added, unsure why he seemed so upset all of a sudden. “His last name is Volesky. He works in the accounting department on floor-”

“-floor ten,” Mystery Man finished for him. “I’m aware.”

Asher blinked. “Wow. That’s really impressive.”

“I make it a habit to know everyone who works for Kingston Enterprises.”

“Right. Anyway,” he hedged, taking a step towards the exit, “I better get going…”

“You never told me your name,” the man stopped him, reaching out and gripping his wrist. “How am I supposed to know how to refer to you as when I think of you later?”

Asher reddened at the implications. “It’s Asher,” he offered after a moment. “Asher Kodet.”

“Asher,” Mystery Man repeated, and his name had no right sounding so good on his tongue. “Pretty,” he said, rubbing his thumb carefully over the pulse point on Asher’s wrist before reluctantly loosening his grip. “It suits you.”

It was the second time in the past half hour that he’d used that word to describe him, and it warmed Asher’s insides, giving him a burst of courage. Before he knew it, his mouth was open and words were tumbling out. “Handsome,” he blurted. “Charming. Intimidating on the outside, but surprisingly sweet on the inside.”

Mystery Man frowned. “What are you-?”

“Words I’d used to describe you,” Asher explained before hastily turning towards the door, not sticking around to see the man’s reaction.

“Wait!” he heard him call, but Asher ignored him, speed walking down the hallways until he reached the main ballroom, where he quickly got lost in the crowd of bodies. He was pleased to see that the band had moved on from jazz to something more lively, and people had loosened up enough to start dancing.

It only took him a few minutes to spot Danny across the room. He was talking to an older woman in an eye-catching, bright yellow pant suit, but even from a distance, Asher could tell his friend was distracted. He visibly relaxed, however, when his eyes met Asher’s across the dance floor.

Asher only had to wait a handful of seconds for the man to excuse himself from the conversation he was having and approach him. “Where have you been?” Danny demanded as soon as he reached him, taking Asher by the elbow and all but dragging him to a corner of the room, near one of the bars. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“ You’re the one who abandoned me after supper,” Asher accused.

“You went to the bathroom! I thought you’d be back in a few minutes!” Danny frowned. “What was up with that by the way? You were acting weird throughout the entire dinner and then you bolted as soon as dessert was brought out.” He leaned in. “Was it indigestion? Diarrhea?”

“Indigestion? Frickin’ diarrhea ?” Asher repeated incredulously, crossing his arms over his chest. “More like that old guy, Barclay, was trying to molest me under the table.”

Danny’s eyes widened. “What?”

Asher explained what had happened, watching as Danny’s face got more and more red as his anger got the best of him. Asher imagined most people would be intimidated if they saw someone as big and strong as Danny looking as livid as did, but after having witnessed the fury burning in Mystery Man’s eyes… well, it was like seeing a puppy upset after experiencing a wolf’s rage.

“I’m going to kick his old, wrinkly ass,” Danny promised darkly, actively searching the room for Mr. Barclay.

“You can’t do that,” Asher said, latching onto his arm before he could actually follow through. “He’s a member of the board. You’d be fired. And probably thrown in jail. Not to mentioned sued.”

“I don’t care. You’re worth it,” Danny assured, and Asher allowed himself to indulge in the warm and fuzzy feeling that bloomed inside him for all of two seconds before common sense once again took over.

He pinched Danny on his side, under his ribs.

“Ow!” he whined, flinching away and pouting at Asher. “What was that for?”

“For being an idiot,” Asher said. “Sasha would kill you if you got arrested, and you love your job. Don’t put it at risk just because one pervy old man couldn’t keep his hands to himself. I promise that I’m fine. Just, you know, maybe don’t leave me alone again.”

“I won’t,” Danny hastily assured, thankfully allowing the subject of Mr. Barclay’s wandering hands to drop.

He took Asher’s request seriously and spent the remainder of the evening hovering protectively over Asher’s shoulder or with his arm wrapped snugly around his waist as he introduced Asher to various co-workers.

Asher’s heart wasn’t in it, but he forced himself to mingle, smiling and laughing on cue. But he found his thoughts often drifting towards a certain someone, his eyes searching the crowd for a familiar face of their own volition. He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved to have never spotted him.

The mental drain of socializing with people he didn’t know, along with the lack of sleep he’d gotten that week, soon caught up with him, and Asher found himself hiding a yawn behind a hand around an hour later. “Do we have to stay much longer?” he asked when they got a moment alone, leaning sleepily onto Danny’s shoulder.

Danny glanced at his watch. “Nah, we’ve stayed long enough to put in a proper appearance.” He nodded towards the bar. “Want to get one last drink before we hit the road?”

Asher agreed, and a few minutes later, they were nursing their apple ciders at the bar.

“You’re the one who wanted to drive instead of taking an Uber,” Asher pointed out as Danny pouted at his drink. He’d wanted another beer until Asher had reminded him of that fact.

“The Tesla deserves to be shown off,” he insisted.

Asher snorted. “You know, I’m kind of sad we didn’t see your boss tonight. I’d have liked to be able to finally put a face to a name with all the horror stories you tell about him. Plus, Sasha says he’s sexy as-”

Danny’s eyes latched onto something behind Asher, and they widened as he suddenly began to choke on his cider.

“Jesus, Danny, are you alright? Did it go down the wrong tube?” Asher asked, hurrying to his side and patting his back until his friend could breathe again.

Which made it all the more annoying when his concern was immediately brushed off as Danny stood, directing his attention towards whatever – or rather, whomever – had gotten his attention behind Asher.

“Sir! It’s great to see you. Black is definitely your color. Then again, I think all colors are your color. My friend and I certainly weren’t talking about you right now. We were just-” Danny rambled without taking a breath, and Asher probably would have felt secondhand embarrassment for him if he didn’t turn around a moment later and see just who it was his friend was talking to.

Asher immediately stiffened, Danny’s words entering one ear and going out the other, unheard. Because, somehow, Mystery Man had found him. Again.

He didn’t seem to be paying much attention to what Danny was saying either, since he’d only spared him one withering, unimpressed glance before his eyes had found Asher’s and refused to leave.

He stepped into Asher’s space, crowding him against the bar. What is Mystery Man doing? Surely he’s not going to kiss me-

“You dropped this earlier, in the garden,” he said, holding something out to him.

Oh.

Asher blinked stupidly down at the business card in the man’s hand, trying not to let the disappointment he could feel suddenly welling inside him to show on his face. The card must have fallen out of his pocket at some point during their fated meeting.

Asher took it from his hand, steadfastly ignoring the way goosebumps broke out across his arms when their fingers inadvertently touched. “Thank you.”

“You know, it’s strange.”

Asher frowned. “What’s strange?”

“The business listed on your card. I’ve never heard of it, but the number’s very familiar.”

Asher’s glanced at the card, his blood freezing in his veins when he took in the string of digits listed under the logo. His cell phone number. The same one he’d been using to text with Mystery Man.

Asher racked his brain for a believable excuse, but there was none, and by the time he looked up with wild eyes, Mystery Man was already walking away.

Fuck.

Asher’s shoulders slumped. His stomach turned unpleasantly, threatening to spew all three of the courses he’d eaten earlier.

“What the fuck was that about?” Danny demanded on his left.

Asher swallowed around nothing. “I don’t know,” he lied.

“Do you even know who that was?” Danny pressed.

“Do you even know who that was?” Asher shot back, his temper flaring as he took the turbulent emotions he was feeling out on his friend.

But, of course, Danny didn’t understand. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” Asher mumbled, fighting the urge to cry. He sniffled. “I imagine he was one of your colleagues.”

Danny slapped a hand to his forehead, groaning as he slowly dragged the appendage down his face. “That wasn’t one of my colleagues, Asher,” he drawled. “That was my boss, CEO and majority shareholder of Kingston Enterprises, otherwise known as the scariest, richest mofo in all of Seattle. That was Markus Kingston.”