Finding Asher

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Ashley

I hurry to the front of the shop when I hear the front door open. I sigh when I see it's only Logan. "What are you doing here so early?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "Well, It's Friday and I know the delivery truck's coming. Besides, I didn't think it was a good idea for you to be alone with Asher."

"Why? Do you think he's going to kill me and sell my organs on the black market?"

He looks at me like I'm crazy. "Uh, no? I think he's a decent guy, I just know how you get a little uncomfortable around people you don't know."

"That's true," I say, giving Logan a couple of boxes to take out to the dumpster.

I get caught in a daze after he leaves, wondering if I should be afraid of Asher. I try not to judge people based on their pasts, but he's so intimidating it's hard not to feel a little uneasy.

The timer on the oven goes off, giving me just enough time to get another batch of brownies out before we open for the day. I hurry to the kitchen and slide on the bright red, half-burnt oven mit that I've had for years. I take the brownies out of the oven and set them down just as the front door opens again.

Thinking it's just Logan, I continue working in the kitchen until it's time to officially open. I walk into the front of the shop where all of our goodies are displayed and stop dead in my tracks when I see him. I feel like I've ran into an invisible wall.

He looks like the definition of a bad boy in that leather jacket. Wow, he is so good looking. I hope I'll be able to compose myself all day.

"Asher, right? “I ask, even though there's not a chance I could forget his name.

"Right. I believe I'm here to, uh... prove you wrong?"

He seems like the arrogant type, which I despise. What he doesn't seem like is the type that would be of any use to me in the kitchen. Which is exactly why I could care less about his arrogance. I'll probably never see him again after today anyway.

I motion for him to follow me. "Just so you know, I'm not going to make it easy for you."

"I always appreciate a challenge."

We walk into the kitchen and he looks around. I'm curious to know what he knows about baking. Probably nothing at all. If I had to guess, he probably thinks this is just some easy, peasy job that he can do with his eyes closed.

He takes off his jacket and tosses it casually to the side. My jaw nearly drops. His arms are huge and covered in tattoos. His fitted gray t-shirt clings tightly to his hard body like a second skin.

"Like what you see?" he asks, breaking me out of the daze I didn't realize I was in.

Damn. He's noticed me checking him out already. "You mean your prison body?"

His jaw clenches at my words and he looks down. Note to self: no joking about prison. "I'm kidding. Some girls like that dirty, grimy, biker look, I hear," I say, hoping to lighten the mood.

He smirks. "Some girls like you, Buttercup?"

"Buttercup? Really?"

"Some girls like nicknames, I hear," he winks.

I turn away from him to hide the heat rushing to my cheeks. "Everything you need is here. If there's something that we don't have, just let Logan know and he'll go get it for you."

I can feel his eyes on me, so I turn and give him a questioning look.

"So, what exactly is it that you want me to do?" he asks.

"Uh, bake?" I reply in a duh tone.

"You're going to be one of those horrible bosses, aren't you? Criticizing my every move, telling me I can't do anything right, all that?"

"Oh yes, I'm awful. I'm not sure how you'll manage," I reply sarcastically.

"Guess I'll have to be on my best behavior then," he smirks, moving closer to me.

My instincts tell me to move away, but I'm too caught up in his eyes to move. They're a beautiful ocean-like green and there's something mysterious about them as well. Realizing that I'm letting this guy turn my mind into mush, I quickly back away and my breathing returns to normal.

"I almost forgot," I say, motioning for him to follow me. I unlock the door to the closet and flick on the light to reveal my stash of m*******a.

His eyes almost pop out of his head. He glances over at me inquisitively, but he doesn't say anything. His mouth just hangs open like I just told him I have ties to the Russian mob. Which may not be entirely untrue.

"What? You didn't know this was a pot shop?" I ask, grinning ear to ear at his reaction. "Surely Logan told you that part."

"He may have mentioned that, I just didn't believe him," he says, still looking a little taken back.

"It's Colorado. Why is it so hard to believe?"

"I can believe this could be a pot shop. You just don't seem to fit the part."

"What did you expect? Tommy Chong?" I grab a couple of bags and we exit the closet. I lock the door behind me, as always.

He looks at me as if he's surprised that I would even know who that is. He grins, nonetheless. "Actually, yeah. I've lived here most of my life. I've seen the kind of people that run these places and believe me Buttercup, they don't look like you."

I smile and possibly even blush at his compliment. Why? Is it even a compliment? He's only saying that I don't look like a greasy, dirty, old hippie.

"I get that a lot."

I place the bags of m*******a down on the counter and pick up the grinder. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Asher staring at me rather than what I'm doing. I have to admit, I'm feeling a little flustered. How am I going to work with this guy when all I can think about is what he looks like without a shirt on?

"I'm not usually one to jump to conclusions, but something tells me you don't need a tutorial." I don't look up at him, worried he may see the effect he has on me.

"Doesn't look too hard. I believe I can manage."

"Good. Well, I'll be up front if you need me," I say, starting toward the kitchen door.

"Ashley?"

I stop, but I don't turn around. Something about the way he says my name has my heart doing things that it shouldn't. "Yeah?"

"How did you end up in a place like this?"

I turn around and glance down at my watch. "That's a story for another time. Prove me wrong first and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"Anything?" He asks with a mischievous glint to his eyes.

"Good luck, Asher," I say, turning to walk away.

I busy myself in the front of the shop for the rest of the morning; helping customers, putting out freshly baked goodies and occasionally taking a bite or two... or three out of a brownie

"Hey, I'm gonna check on Asher," I tell Logan just as the lunch crowd has cleared out.

"Well, the smoke detectors haven't gone off yet, so I guess he's doing alright."

"Better than you," I smirk as I walk past him.

When I open the door to the kitchen, Asher jumps in front of whatever it is he's been working on, trying to hide my view.

"What's that?" I ask, moving closer. No matter which way I move, he adjusts his body so that I can't see what's behind him. I give him a bored look and cross my arms over my chest.

"Just give me fifteen more minutes. Twenty, tops," he replies.

I roll my eyes, but nod, nonetheless. "Fine, but it better be good. You've been in here for hours."

"It's gonna blow your mind, Buttercup."

I scowl at him for using that nickname again, but I let it go for now. I turn around and head back to the front of the shop and get ready for our second wave of customers that should be here in the next hour or so.

Exactly fifteen minutes later, Asher comes out of the kitchen holding our shop's signature pink box. Without a word, he sets the box down on the counter and turns to look at me expectantly.

He's adorable right now. He's confident yet eager to impress me. The perfect mix in a guy, if I do say so myself.

"Moment of truth," I say, placing my hands on either side of the box.

I open the lid to reveal a dozen cake pops. I look up at him and raise a brow. He's already smirking at me, of course, waiting on the question I'm sure he knows is coming.

"How in the..."

"I told you I'd blow your mind," he says.

"I have to hand it to you, I'm very impressed, but..." I take one of the perfect pink pops out of the box and examine it closely.

"But?" He asks, his confidence deflating.

"It has to pass the taste test of course."

"Of course," he says, his eyes studying me closely, waiting for me to take a bite.

I pop it into my mouth and have to refrain from letting out a moan. It's still warm and gooey. Damn, it's good. Really good. I seriously don't think I've ever tasted anything so good in my life, but there's no way I'm going to inflate this guy's already massive ego.

He leans against the counter and continues to watch me. "You're leaving me hanging, Buttercup."

"Okay, you can stop calling me that now."

He smiles, lighting up those killer eyes of his. "I don't know, you look like a Buttercup to me."

"I think my grandmother had a cow named Buttercup." She didn't, but for whatever reason, I'm reminded of a cow every time he says that.

He laughs. "A Buttercup is a beautiful flower. Just like you." His eyes turn more serious and I'm sure I'm in no way hiding the blush that spreads across my face. "They're also poisonous."

"What the hell?" I scoff.

He finds my reaction rather humorous. "Don't get all bent out of shape, it's a compliment, really."

"How is calling me a poisonous flower a compliment?" I ask incredulously.

"You're beautiful, but I can tell that underneath that beauty there's something there that can bring even the strongest man to his knees."

My breath hitches at his words. He's a charmer, of course. Guys that look like him usually are. I don't know that hiring him will be the best idea ever, but I'm willing to give it a try. After all, he did wow me with these cake pops.

"Asher, what would you say if I offered you a job?"

"I'd say only on one condition," he smirks.

I'm offering him a job as he's giving me conditions? What an arrogant asshole. Who the hell does he think he is? I almost tell him to take his condition and shove it up his ass, but my curiosity gets the better of me. "Okay, what's the one condition?"

He leans over until his lips are just inches from my ear. "I get to call you Buttercup."

"You're really going to keep pushing this whole nickname thing, aren't you?" I chuckle.

He nods and that arrogant smirk makes a reappearance.

I sigh. "Okay, fine, but I have a condition for you." He nods, so I go on. "I'll put the cake pops out next Saturday. If we sell at least a hundred, I'll let you call me Buttercup."

He straightens up and presses a finger to his chin as if he's thinking about it. "Okay, deal."

Logan, who's been on his phone all this time, comes to stand in front of the counter that Asher and I are sitting behind. "Yum, what are those?" he asks, picking up one of Asher's cake pops.

"Slow down there, buddy," Asher says, after Logan downs one in seconds and goes for another. "I know what a lightweight you are."

Logan narrows his eyes at him. "These aren't even that good."

"Is that why you basically just inhaled two of them?" I ask.

"Hey, food is food," he shrugs before walking away.

Without Logan in the room with us, I'm suddenly nervous. Asher is so close I can feel the heat from his body. I shouldn't be enjoying this, but I am. I like the way my body responds to his presence. It's a feeling I can't explain and one I haven't experienced in a long time.

Not able to take anymore awkward silence, I start to leave, but Asher grabs my hand and stops me. I look down at this hand that's wrapped around my own and my heart begins to race.

"Thank you, Ashley."

"For what?" 

"Giving me a chance. Most people wouldn't and I can't say I'd blame them. I know I don't look like.... the most approachable person."

"Good, we'll balance each other out. You don't look approachable, I'm not approachable."

"I knew it," he says, watching me walk away. "You're going to be a horrible boss!"