One True Thing (17 page)

interior and shut the door behind me. For a

moment, neither of us spoke. I stared at him and he

looked back at me. Then, naturally, we both tried

to speak at once.

“Thanks for—”

“What happen—” Asher broke off and shook

his head, smiling somewhat self-consciously.

“Sorry. You go ahead.”

Good Lord, that smile. It made me feel tense

and oddly melty at the same time. I wanted to lean

forward and cover his mouth with mine. Instead, I

looked away, down into my lap, where my

trembling hands were clasped together. “I just

wanted to say thanks for coming to get me. I know

it had to be a little, um, weird getting a call from

me out of the blue.”

Asher laughed softly. “Weird, yeah, but… not

unwelcome.”

I glanced sideways at him, a tremulous smile

curving my lips. “Yeah?”

“Definitely.” He looked like he wanted to say

more, but then he snapped his mouth shut and

turned back to the wheel. “Do you want to tell me

what happened?”

“Yeah, I do. But can we… can it wait for a

bit?”

I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye.

“Sure. Do you want to stop somewhere? Get some

food, maybe?”

“That’d be great.” I hadn’t realized how

hungry I was until he’d mentioned food, but it had

been hours since I’d last eaten, and my stomach

was feeling a little growly. “Is there a diner

around? I could go for some breakfast.”

“Yeah. Actually, I know the perfect place.”

ASHER’S idea of a perfect place turned out to be

mine as well. It was a twenty-four-hour diner with

a 1950s theme, complete with sparkly turquoise

vinyl booths, black-and-white tiled floor, and an

old-fashioned jukebox. We sat down, ordered food

and coffee, and I finally told him what had

happened with Archer back at the club. Asher

looked angrier and angrier as the story went on. By

the end, he was clearly furious, though I could tell

he was doing his best to hide it.

“God,” he muttered. “Archer can be really

selfish sometimes, but I never—” He seemed to

bite back whatever he wanted to say next. After a

second, he cleared his throat and picked up his

mug, taking a slow sip of his coffee. “I’m sorry,”

he said as he set it back down. “Let’s talk about

something else.”

That, I was more than glad to do. We talked

and ate our food and talked some more. I told him

about growing up in Delaware, about what had

prompted the recent move, about my family, Alice,

Erik, and Rue.

He told me he was California born and bred,

and his parents still lived in the house where he’d

been raised, up north in Sonoma. We even talked

about our favorite foods, which for me consisted

mainly of veggies but also extended to eggs and

dairy most of the time. Cheese was a weakness I

didn’t think I’d ever be able to shake, but the idea

of eating or even touching actual animal flesh had

weirded me out since I was a teenager.

Back in Wilmington, more than one person

had looked at me oddly when I talked about that,

but Asher seemed unfazed. I guessed it had to be

pretty common on the West Coast, since neither he

nor Archer had seemed surprised. As far as I could

tell, that was the only trait he shared with his

brother, aside from their physical appearances.

Being there with him, doing something as

simple as sitting back in a diner and chatting about

everything and nothing, felt strangely good. Better

than anything I’d ever done with the guys I’d dated

in the past. The feeling I’d had around him from the

beginning was there, buzzing just beneath my skin,

but it had mellowed a bit, as if the fact that we

were together eased it somehow. That didn’t mean

I wasn’t aching to touch him, because I was. I

wished I was beside him instead of across from

him. I wished our fingers were laced together. I

wished I could kiss him, have him hold me. It was

unreal how badly I wanted that last one.

He was beautiful, more so than Archer had

ever been to me, for all that they looked almost

exactly alike. I wished he’d been the one I’d given

my phone number to all those weeks ago.

But it’s okay. It doesn’t matter anymore.

We’re here now.

The thought brought a smile to my lips. He

wouldn’t have come to pick me up if he didn’t

have any interest, right? Wouldn’t have given me

his card, as Michelle had implied. I had hope,

timorous and wobbly but there all the same, that

maybe he liked me just as much as I liked him.

THE night had lightened into the gray of predawn

by the time he dropped me off at the house. I didn’t

want him to go. I wanted to invite him inside, ask

him to stay for lunch, dinner, the rest of the

weekend, maybe the rest of the month. I held that

in, but I couldn’t resist the urge to give him a hug

before I got out of the car.

“Thank you,” I murmured, relishing the feel of

his arms around me. He felt so good, smelled so

good. I wanted to cling to him forever. “You really

came to my rescue tonight. And I… I just wanted to

say I’m sorry about that day at The Banana Leaf.

You were just trying to warn me, and I… I was

nothing but rude to you in return. It’s been bugging

me ever since.”

Asher’s arms tightened in a brief squeeze.

“It’s okay. And you can call me, you know. If you

ever need anything or just want to talk or…

whatever. Call me anytime.”

I nodded as I pulled away. It wasn’t exactly

what I’d been hoping to hear, but I thought it might

only have been shyness that kept him from saying

more. “I will.”

I slid from the car and started up the walkway

to our front door. I told myself I wouldn’t look

back, wouldn’t smile and wave like a goofball,

wouldn’t watch him drive away until his car

disappeared from view.

But that was exactly what I did anyway.

Asher

I FELT my phone vibrating my pillow before I was

awake enough to hear anything. I reached over to

move it away from me. I nearly knocked it to the

floor before I noticed whose name was on the

caller ID.
Dusty
. The whole night seemed so

surreal—hell, it had only been a few hours since I

dropped him off at his place. I scrambled with my

half-asleep hands to answer the phone before

Dusty disappeared.

“’Lo?” I mumbled.
Oh, great. It’s my tired

voice.
I sounded like a frog when I was tired.

“Were you asleep? I’m sorry.”

I cleared the sleep out of my throat. “I can’t

believe you’re not. It’s only been four hours.”

We’d sat there and talked for so long that the early

morning breakfast crowd had started to trickle into

the doors of the diner before we left. And that

feeling I’d had earlier with Josh, like I was sitting

across from the wrong person. Gone. Dusty…

well, that had felt perfect, Archer or not.

“I know.” Dusty’s voice sounded giddy. “I

couldn’t sleep. I’m kinda wired.”

“From the club?”

Dusty cleared his throat nervously. “Um. No.”

“What then?”

There was a long pause. I wondered if I’d

lost the call. “Nothing. I’m being dumb. I, um, was

just going to see if you wanted to go to the park

today. Just, you know, hang out.”

“You want to hang out with me?” I asked, still

not quite awake.

“Forget it. It was just an idea. If you don’t

want to—”

“No, Dusty, I do. I just thought. Well….” I

didn’t want to voice what I thought. That he was

still with my brother. Because if he was with

Archer, then I couldn’t let myself get close. It

wouldn’t be right.

“What?”

“You know what? Never mind. When do you

want to meet?”

Dusty laughed softly. “I suppose now is out of

the question?”

I wanted to. I did. But, “Could we maybe

meet in a couple of hours? Both of us could

seriously use some more sleep.”

He giggled into the phone. Freaking adorable.

“Okay. How about we meet at Plummer Park?

Two?”

“I can do that. I’ll see you by the frozen

yogurt cart at two.”

IT WAS one thing to sound confident on the phone,

but I had to admit I was nervous as I approached

the yogurt cart. I didn’t know what Dusty expected

of me. I mean, I sure as hell wasn’t anything like

Archer. But he seemed to know that. And like it.

He was standing there, looking adorable, in a pair

of cargo shorts and a black T-shirt. His blond hair

wasn’t as spiked as usual. I liked it softer. Made

him look… more like his personality. Soft. Sweet.

Someone I wanted to take care of.

“Hey,” he said when I made it to the cart. “I

got you some butter pecan. Is that good?”

“It’s my favorite, actually. How did you

know?”

He shrugged. “Because it’s mine too? I guess

it was just good luck.”

“I guess so.” I took the cup of yogurt from him

with what I hoped was an encouraging smile. He

looked about as nervous as I felt. Maybe ’cause

there was that feeling… like this could be

important. I’d had it all along. Something told me

Dusty’d had it too. I wanted to ask him what was

happening between us, what was happening

between him and my brother. It was scary, though,

and probably best to save for later than thirty

seconds after we met.

“You, um, want to walk around for a little

while?” His question startled me a little bit. I’d

been lost in thought.

“Sure.” We walked in silence for a few

moments.

It

was

odd,

but

somehow

companionable. I couldn’t let the quiet last for

long, though. I had to say something…. “So what

did you think of Manacle?”
Oh, Jesus. Something

other than that.

Dusty choked a little bit on his yogurt. “Um,

well, I have to admit that place isn’t really for me.

It’s a little bit—”

“God-awful?”

He outright laughed at that one. “I wasn’t

going to use that word, exactly, but yeah. It’s god-

awful. There were guys there on leashes!” He

blushed. “I mean, if that’s your thing, then I guess

it’s cool, but—” He broke off and looked at me

from under his lashes.

“No,” I chuckled. “It’s not my thing at all. I’d

take a nice dinner party with friends over that

scene any day.”

Dusty leaned over and nudged me with his

shoulder. “Then I think you might be my kind of

guy.”

My heart sped to a ridiculously rapid pace,

all from one little sentence. I thought I was his kind

of guy too. And I thought he was mine. Just mine.

The thought of him kissing my brother again made

my stomach turn.

“So what would you make for this intimate

dinner party with friends?” Dusty asked. I hadn’t

realized that I’d been Silent Sam again. Poor guy

probably thought he’d scared me off instead of the

opposite.

“Well,” I hedged. “I’m not the world’s best

cook, but this Greek place down the street makes

the best eggplant casserole, and I’d get bread and

salad and maybe Chianti?”

“Mmm, and baked blueberry cobbler for

dessert. Now I’m all hungry.”

I laughed. “After that four-egg omelet at the

diner?”

He elbowed me again. “Hey, that was hours

ago. And I have a high metabolism, I’ll have you

know.”

I laughed at him, glad that things were already

comfortable between us. After our walk, we lay in

the grass and watched the puffy white clouds float

by. Seriously. Yeah, that wasn’t something I’d

thought of doing in about fifteen years, but it was

wonderful. Relaxing. We stayed there for hours,

with our shoulders and fingers occasionally

brushing together, just talking—about nothing, and

lots of things. Just
being
. I couldn’t remember the

last time I’d done that, with no purpose, no plan

for any outcome. Nothing.

“Hey, Asher?” he said quietly when we’d