The Billionaire’s Fan (The Whispering Oaks Society)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Asher

I can’t fall asleep. My body is humming, knowing that the woman that I’ve been thinking about non-stop is in bed, down the hall from me.

It’s been far too long since I’ve been a regular guy. And everything about Jordyn makes me feel like one. She doesn’t treat me any differently. She doesn’t tip-toe around topics; she isn’t putting me on a pedestal, and she doesn’t ask me to introduce her to so-and-so or to hook her up with something.

No, to her, I’m just Asher Knight.

And I like that. I like just being me.

I lay in the bed in her spare room with my shirt and jeans laid neatly atop the dresser in the room's corner. My arms behind my head as I stared up at the ceiling.

Is she already asleep?

What does she wear to bed? Does she have pajamas? Does she sleep in her underwear? Does she sleep in the nude? My mind is racing.

I’ve learned so much about her within the past few hours that I yearn to know more. I want to know everything about her. I want to be in her orbit and soak off the realness she alludes.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

What is that? I sit up and strain my hearing to figure out where the drip is coming from.

Is it coming from inside the room?

I roll off the bed, my bare feet padding across the hardwood floor. The dripping is not coming from the bedroom. I slowly open the bedroom door to avoid any noise and poke my head out.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Everything is quiet part for the drip as I tiptoe toward the bathroom. I lean into the bathroom. It’s not coming from the shower. I look over at the sink. The bowl is slightly damp, but I don’t see any water dripping from the faucet.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

I open the storage under the sink.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

I sit on the ground and begin moving toiletries out of the way. And there it is.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

A small puddle has formed underneath one of the pipes. I press gently on the puddle and feel the wood is soft. I sit up and slam my head against the top of the cabinet.

The sound echoes through the darkened hallway as I cringe.

Shit.

There’s no sound coming from Jordyn’s room, so I resume. I move to lie on my back and glance up at the pipe again.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

I hear a clearing of the throat from the doorway, and I look over my body at a beautiful sight.

I move up on my elbows to sit up.

Bump my head again, on the bottom of the cabinet door. And with a rub of my forehead, I move to a sitting position out of harm’s way.

“Hi,” I say, suddenly feeling very exposed and I reach up and grab the hand towel to cover myself with.

“Looking for something?” she asks with a smirk.

“No, ma’am. You do, however, have a leak in your bathroom sink.”

I pretend to not stare, as she stands in front of me wearing only a t-shirt.

She looks around my body into the storage cabinet behind me. “Is that so? Even though you’re a famous rock star, do you also moonlight as a plumber?”

I shake my head with a laugh. “I know my way around a house. But I would not say that I’m a professional.”

“I can call someone and have them come and fix it in the morning.”

“I can fix this in less than five minutes. No need to bother someone else and pay for it. I just need a wrench.”

She perks up and looks away. “Give me one minute.” She returns a moment later, holding a small pink toolbox. She hands it to me, and I hide the laugh that is bubbling up.

I open the toolbox. Every tool inside is bright pink. I quirk an eyebrow and look up at her.

“My brother gave it to me when I bought the house. I want to say that this is probably the first time that it will be used, but shhh, don’t tell him that.”

“Oh, I’m going to call up the tabloids and shout the news from the rooftops.”

“Are you going to fix my sink or just sit there in your panties? Not that I don’t mind or anything,” she grins.

“Yes, ma’am. So bossy.” I joke as I lean back down and adjust the wrench before placing it at the pipe.

A moment later, I sit up and place the wrench back in its designated spot in the toolbox. I move to stand up, with the hand towel still covering myself, just in case any involuntary movement occurs. And when our eyes meet, it happens. Thankful for the shield, I offer her a smile.

“Bedtime,” I say awkwardly.

“Indeed.”

“Unless you have any other leaks that need to be fixed?”

I stand in her kitchen, wearing my jeans, in front of the stove with bacon sizzling in front of me. Opening the cabinets, I pick out a small plate and place a few paper towels on top to absorb the grease.

I place the strips of bacon on the paper towels and cover them, placing the tongs on top of the extra paper towel, then turn to the fridge, whistling a tune from one of our songs.

Jumping at the sight of Jordyn resting her hip against the fridge with an amused look on her face.

“Good morning,” I say. I lean closer and kiss her cheek. “Excuse me, I need to grab the eggs.”

“So, let me get this straight. You write poetry, sound like an angel on stage, are a plumber, and now a cook?”

“I sound like an angel?”

“You know very well that you don’t sound like a dying bird.”

“I guess I sound alright.”

“What are you making for breakfast?”

“Oh, nothing special. Bacon, eggs, toast. Do you not keep fresh fruit in the house?” I ask.

“I usually eat all my meals at the restaurant. But no. I don’t.”

“If you’re going to be my girl, we’re going to need to add some fruits and veggies to your diet.”

“If I’m going to be your girl? My, my. Are we a tad bit presumptuous?”

“I mean, I stayed the night.” I shrug, cracking an egg and tossing the shell into the sink.

“Look at you, counting your chickens before they hatch.”

“Actually, I’m planning on eating whatever in these shells. And if I’m lucky, you.”

“Sir,” she says with a laugh.

“So I was thinking. How about you come to Empire Bay tonight and I take you out for dinner?”

“We haven’t even eaten breakfast, and you’re talking about dinner?” she teases.

“I know what I want when I see it, and I want to eat dinner with you.”