“Just promise me one thing.” “Anything.” “Take the Jag back from Vincent. He’ll be insufferable with it.” As much as I appreciated Asher’s commitment to change, I wasn’t going to make him give up his favorite car. It suited him; the saloon didn’t. Asher laughed, his eyes glittering in the late afternoon sunlight. “Done.” Then he lowered his head and covered his mouth with mine, and everything—the cars, the people, the catcalls from his teammates—melted away again.
