Thorn in My Side (Bunch-A-Blooms 2)

“What are you going to do when you meet again?”

“Act like nothing ever happened?” I shrug.

“I saw you yesterday. You were happy.”

“Well, I certainly don’t make a habit of going around miserable.”

“Not miserable, just not fully engaged. You were all there at the party, and no one missed the protective hand you kept on the small of her back. You looked good together.”

“What’s your point, Asher?”

“You deserve some happiness too. I think you should pursue this further. You used to like a good challenge.”

The words rub me the wrong way. “You think I don’t now?”

“I don’t think you’ve had anyone worthy of a chase in your life for a long time. It’s impossible when everyone is throwing themselves at you.”

I turn his words over. He’s right. The thought of the chase stirs my blood. She’s skittish. I’m in a position of power. It would make sense. Clearly, she’s not interested in my money. It’s refreshing really.

“You might be right, brother.”

“I have my moments,” Asher says smugly.

I snicker. I helped him gain that confidence. My soft-spoken, kind-hearted brother had grown leaps and bounds over the year. Now the things others once used against him, served as his strength. Remaining level-headed in any situation was a major plus for a businessman. I’ve been sleepwalking. It’s time for me to wake up.

“That you do.”

“Are you going to go after her, then?”

“She won’t know what hit her,” I promise. Excitement sparks in my belly. I have to go out of town Monday, but I won’t be forgotten in the interim. I’ve never been a man afraid to fight for what he wanted. Why should now be any different?

My phone chimes. I pick it up and smile.

“Speak of the little she-devil.”

Can we talk? ~ O

If you’d like. ~ L

“I’ll have to take a rain check on lunch, Asher. I have a phone call to place.”

He smirks and smoothes his angular cut dark hair away from his face. “Happy hunting, brother.”

I wave him off as I move into the house.

Now? ~ O

Now is good for me. ~ L

I move into the library in the house and pour myself a glass of Scotch. The phone rings and I wait until the second to answer.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” she says softly.

“Hello, Olive Bateman.”

“I’m sorry I left the way I did. I was…concerned.”