3. Leilani

So, Asher’s a Potterhead just like me. Unbelievable. I wonder how many people actually know that. I can’t imagine the Hockey House bros not hassling the life out of him for it. Not that Harry Potter isn’t completely cool, I just don’t know if it’s hockey-jock, caveman cool.

Much to my horror, I’m dying to know which house he’s in. It’s taking maximum effort not to ask which one is his favorite book and which character he relates to. I bet it’s Snape. Although, that guy’s like one of the best heroes in the entire series. In fact, he’s one of my favorite characters.

So, Asher is not allowed to be Snape.

Maybe he could be… Peter Pettigrew.

I internally snort, thinking about that wretched, two-faced shifter rat who betrayed his friends to Voldemort.

No, Asher’s not like that. If there’s one thing I noticed about him this weekend, he seems to be loyal. I get the impression that he’d do anything for his hockey bros; he just acts like he doesn’t give a shit, but I bet he’d move heaven and earth for those guys.

So, maybe he’s a Gilderoy Lockhart, then. The man who thinks the sun shines out his ass and he’s been placed on Earth to save it… when in reality he’s a lying coward.

I fight a grin, forcing myself not to look in the rearview mirror in case he’s trying to smile at me again. I don’t want to connect with him. It’s horrifying enough that he’s into one of my favorite book series ever. I don’t want to find any other connections with the guy.

I don’t want him to know that I’m most like Hermione, although he’s probably already thinking it. She was my hero when I was growing up. I wanted to be just like her. Although, when I took the quiz, I ended up in Ravenclaw, but you know, I’d argue that Hermione would have been quite happy in Ravenclaw as well.

I’m seconds away from asking Asher if he agrees before I quickly clamp my lips together. What is wrong with me?

Don’t you dare start up another conversation with that man.

He’s rude, remember?

He called you a shrutebag the first time you spoke on the phone.

And you’re allowed to hold that against him forever if you want to!

With a light sniff, I cross my arms, staring out the window with fresh resolve. Asher Bensen is an arrogant, impatient, annoying know-it-all, and I refuse to like him on principle alone.

There. Done.

Easy resolve.

Except that he also sacrificed the last of his weekend to drive you back to Nolan, and he listens to Vivaldi when he’s driving alone, and he smiled at you when you admitted you like Harry Potter.

Shit! I need to stop this. I can’t get soft around this guy. I can’t get soft around any guy. I have to keep my wits about me.

Which is why I tense up when I feel the truck slow down.

“What are you doing?” I sit up and glance out the windshield.

“We need gas,” he murmurs, pulling into the station and gliding to a stop next to Pump 11.

I don’t say anything as he hops out of the truck and try not to notice how sexy he looks pumping gas.

That’s not a sexy thing, Leilani!

So why is my heart hammering in my chest? Why does my tongue feel thick and wet as I watch him doing this inane, simple task?

Clenching my jaw, I force myself to look away, but it only takes moments for my eyes to track back to him. He jiggles the nozzle, then returns it to the pump, dusting his hands on the back of his jeans before striding around the front of the truck.

Crap, even his walk is beautiful.

No, it’s not! Stop it!

I’m so riled by my attraction that when he slips back into the truck, I stupidly let out a growl.

He frowns, turning to look at me. “What’s your problem now?”

His snippy tone actually helps, and I rise to it with relish. “Nothing. Would you just drive already? Stop messing around.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, Your Highness.”

“I am not—” I growl again, a throaty one that actually makes him snicker. “Oh, shut up. I just want to get back, so start the engine and let’s go.”

“You’re grumpier than you were when we started.”

“Yeah, well, I’m having to travel back to Nolan with you, so if that’s not enough to make me grumpy, I don’t know what is.”

He pauses before starting the engine, and I suddenly hate myself for being so bitchy.

Spinning yet again, he gives me the driest glare I’ve ever seen and mutters, “Do you want me to kick you out of this truck? Is that what you’re trying to achieve here? You want me to leave your ass stranded at a gas station?”

I narrow my glare even more and seethe, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Really? You want to try me?” His grumpy scowl nearly makes me laugh for a second.

I don’t even know why, but I’m suddenly fighting this ridiculous giggle. My belly shudders with it as I bite my lips together and battle this stupid smile that’s trying to form.

“Just drive,” I finally manage.

“You know what your problem is?”

“Here we go,” I mutter.

“I think you’re hangry. I’m trying to remember if you ate anything for lunch, but I think you were too stressed about trying to get back to Nolan, and now your blood sugar is low and your inner beast is coming out to play. Unfortunately, for the nice guy who’s offered to drive you back a day early”—he points at himself—“he’s having to suffer your?—”

“Okay, fine, I’m hungry!” Now that he’s suggested it, I realize that I kind of am.

I only nibbled at lunch because I was stressed trying to figure out how I was going to tell everyone that I needed to leave. I knew it would disappoint people, and I didn’t want to hurt Caroline’s feelings. But I couldn’t stay. I need my room. Solitude. Safety.

Which is why I’m desperate to get back, but… you know, maybe I’m also desperate for some steak fries and a meaty burger.

“I knew it.” Asher grins. With a laugh that’s annoyingly triumphant, he spins and finally starts the engine. “I know a great place that’s just off the next exit. Can you last ten minutes, or do I need to grab gas station snacks first?”

“I can last ten minutes,” I grit out.

“Excellent.” He checks over his shoulder before pulling away from the pump and joining the flow of traffic. “And don’t worry, by the way. I turn full-blown Hulk if I don’t get fed regularly, so… you know.” He grins into the rearview mirror, and it’s impossibly hard not to smile back.

My lips start to rise, but I catch them before any teeth can show.

Crap. He’s not allowed to be charming!

He’s Asher Irritating Bensen.

No, wait, I can do better than that.

He’s Asher Drives-Me-Fucking-Crazy Bensen.

Asher Asshat Bensen.

I smirk. Asher Asshat. I like that.

My brain does a playful little giggle as I let that swirl through my head for a while. The streetlights flash past like a swift drumbeat, and we’re soon pulling into a parking space just outside Riley’s Righteous Bar Grill.

“This place does the best burgers. I’ll buy you whatever you want. Order three if you will. No judgment here.”

“I’m paying,” I murmur as I grab my purse.

“What?” Asher swivels in his seat to snap at me. “No, I can buy you dinner.”

“No way. You paid for gas.”

“It’s my truck!”

I finally glance up at him, noticing the incredulous look on his face. It’s oddly satisfying.

With a cheesy grin, I pop open my door and tell him, “I don’t care. I’m paying for dinner or we’re not eating.”

He rolls his eyes and huffs, muttering his way out of his truck and slapping the door closed.

I stifle another giggle as I meet him at the restaurant door and let him open it for me.