We’re halfway down the cobbled street that leads to Asher’s apartment when I feel the sting of cold, wet snow against my neck. My shriek is in sync with Asher’s laugh. I don’t get to glare at him. My boot glides over a sheet of ice and I unintentionally give another bid to the USA’s ice skating team. My gold medal performance is accompanied by Chloe’s silver. A snowbank breaks our fall.

Asher laughs until he realizes Chloe is crying. Her purple leggings are gashed at the knee, blood trickling out of the scrape. He scoops her up, kisses her forehead, and when we get back to his apartment, I embarrass myself by doing the Bandaid Dance that my mother did on the daily during my childhood. It’s worth it when Chloe laughs.

And it’s double worth it when Asher cracks one of his elusive smiles.

* * *

I consider moving into Asher’s shower. It has double shower heads and a rain effect with just the right amount of water pressure. I’m a prune by the time I drag myself out.

Asher leaves a shirt and a pair of boxer briefs on his bed for me. I don't realize how small they actually are until I have to squeeze my butt into them. I put on my bra—because I’m not one of the lucky ones that can meander around without one—and then the shirt before going downstairs.

Asher is draped lazily over the couch, one leg twisted into a throw blanket and the other planted on the floor, his head resting in one hand as he flicks through the channels.

Morgan picked Chloe up shortly after we returned to the apartment, which means we are very alone. Perfect conditions for snow day antics.

I decide to be forward. No one gets anywhere by not making a move. And if Asher won’t, I will. There’s nothing wrong with a woman taking charge of what she wants.

I’m in his lap before I realize, dripping confidence and seduction. He’s going to be putty in my hands.

“Can I help you?” He snarls at me when I slide my hands over his chest.

“You look very annoyed for a man with a hot girl on his lap.”

“You’re blocking my view.”

“As if there’s a better view than me.”

The corners of his lips flicker. For someone who’s so bothered by me being on top of him, he doesn’t hesitate putting his hands on my hips.

“You have a very nice shower,” I tell him.

“I’m aware.”

“It’s very spacious.”

“What are you suggesting, Ms. Langley?”

“Just making an observation.”

“I can also make a few observations.”

“Care to elaborate?”

Asher’s fingers brush against the exposed skin of my back. “You’re a menace.”