Love Her Wilde

Ticket to Paradise: Dylan

"You like him."

"I don't like him," I retorted, rolling my eyes so hard that it actually hurt. "I don't even know the guy."

"You guys sure seemed friendly the other night," Lita grinned devilishly as we settled into our seats at the gate.

We were a mere twelve hours from island paradise and I could hardly contain my excitement. January in Chicago was cold and windy and I just wanted the sun, and sand, and a drink in a coconut in my hand. Even if my douche bag ex would eventually be joining us. Hopefully I'd be too drunk to notice.

"I don't know why you're denying it," Lita continued to blab as I dialed back into our conversation. "You two spent the entire night making eyes at each other and joking around and doing that playful bickering thing you do and..."

"Kicking your ass at darts?" I interrupted. "Because that's what we were doing. That is ALL we were doing, Lita, so drop it, alright?"

"Me thinks she dost protest too much."

"I hate you. Seriously." I lifted the Starbucks cup in my hand to my lips and sighed.

So... maybe she wasn't entirely wrong. There was a definite... flirtation happening between Asher and I, but that didn't mean I had feelings for the guy. He was a cute guy that was fun to be around. They always were. Until they broke your heart into a million pieces and stomped the shards into oblivion.

That's how Brock had started out, too. All sweet words, and cute jokes, little touches and bright smiles. He was the perfect man... or so I thought. Until he started lying about where he was or who he was with. And then blowing a gasket every time I tried to hold him accountable. It was all downhill from there and yet... I kept letting him come back. We'd be broken up for a few weeks, maybe months, and then I'd get to a weak point and I'd let him back in. It was a vicious cycle of bullshit and broken hearts, and one that I swore to myself every day I was done with. So far I had been, for almost ten months now. And honestly, after his behavior outside the bar before darts, I'd only become more determined to keep it that way.

I couldn't afford to keep up this back and forth game. I needed a clean slate. I NEEDED Brock to be out of my life. It was him that seemed to have a hard time letting go, no many how many Morgans or Megans he found himself in the interim. No matter how many flowers or apologies or promises he made, I had to walk away. My sanity couldn't take any more. It was eating away at me. So, Asher Wilde or no Asher Wilde, Brock and I were finished. For good.

I was just about dozing off when I heard the unmistakable chorus of frat-boy laughter heading toward us. I looked up just as Mason, Ryder, and the man in question turned in our direction.

Good lord, there was no point in denying the absolute sex appeal of Asher Wilde. Even dressed down in jeans and a dark blue t-shirt, the man was model level hot. And the edgy motorcycle jacket he wore only made him more so. He had the most gorgeous smile: all white and perfectly straight. It almost twinkled in the crappy airport lights. It was a bit unnerving and if anyone asked, I was going to deny the way it caused my breath to catch in my chest. However, that smile was nothing compared to the gleam in his eye when he spotted me. My heart went into full on palpitations and I folded in on myself trying to hide from the heat of his gaze.

"Ladies," Mason greeted with a crooked smirk. "We ready for the week of a lifetime?"

"Ask me after we land," I mumbled, trying my best to avoid Asher's eye.

"She's not good at flying," Ryder explained.

"Understatement. I still have scars from the claw marks she left on our flight to Cancun three years ago."