Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother Chapter 187

The second we walk in, I know this isn’t my usual scene.

It’s all dark wood and leather booths and smells like grilled steak and old whisky. Not the bright, elegant cafés I’m used to with my friends. Not the studio where I practically live.

I smooth my dress down with clammy hands. I’m suddenly very aware of my open back and high heels.

Asher holds the door open with an easy hand on the small of my back. It’s steadying.

At the far booth, I spot Anna first—bright smile, a wave. Rooster beside her, leaning back in the leather seat, casual and relaxed.

Anna hops up to hug me as soon as we get there.

“Look at you,” she whispers in my ear. “That dress. Asher is a dead man.”

I let out a nervous laugh, cheeks already warm. Asher slides into the booth beside me. His thigh brushes mine. I feel it like a live wire.

“Good to see you, brother,” Rooster says, clapping Asher’s shoulder. They do that masculine half-hug, and I watch Asher’s mouth curve, warm and real. It hits me all over again how different he is when he’s with people he trusts.

Asher leans back, arm casually draped across the booth behind me.

“Good to see you too.” His voice is low, steady.

His fingers brush my hair. I pretend it doesn’t send a shiver down my spine.

Anna gives me a knowing smile. “How’ve rehearsals been?”

I exhale. “Busy. Very busy. I basically live at the studio right now. Luc is a tyrant—”

“Oh, he always is,” she says.

“—but he’s also kind of my favourite person this week. I needed it. Moving my body again, being in it. You know.”

Anna nods, eyes soft. She knows.

A server comes over to take drink orders—water and wine for Anna and me, beer for Rooster, whiskey for Asher (of course).

The second the server walks away, Rooster smirks across the table.

“So, Asher tells me you’ve been shopping furniture like a man possessed.”

I blink. “Have I?” I glance at Asher.

He gives the smallest smile. “You have opinions.”

Anna laughs. “Finally, someone to balance out his ‘I don’t need anything but four walls and a cot’ aesthetic.”

I cover my mouth, giggling. “I might’ve convinced him to buy an actual couch. With cushions.”

“A couch?” Rooster gasps, clutching his chest. “The man’s gone soft.”

Asher rolls his eyes. “It’s for her.”

The casual way he says it makes my pulse skip.

Anna leans her chin in her hand. “Tell me, Penny. On a scale of one to ten, how bad is he at choosing home decor?”

I smile sweetly. “Five. He’s functional. Minimalist. But—” I glance at him— “he has surprisingly good taste in colours.”

Asher’s mouth twitches. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“You were about to buy a black-on-black-on-black bedspread,” I remind him.

Rooster groans. “I rest my case.”

Anna beams. “And this is why you need a Penny.”

I’m about to argue, say we’re not—

Asher just says quietly, “I do.”

The words land heavy and warm in my chest. I look at him, eyes wide. His gaze is steady on mine.

Rooster clears his throat. “Well. I guess that’s settled.”

Anna grins. “You’ll have to invite us over when you’re done decorating.”

Asher glances at me. “If she approves of the place, we will.”

I flush. “It’s beautiful. It already feels like you.”

His eyes soften. “It feels like us.”

Anna leans across the table again, conspiratorial. “So. Are you ready for Christmas Eve?”

I blink. “He won’t tell me what we’re doing.”

“You’ll like it,” Asher says simply.

Rooster raises a brow. “Is this a Navy seal operation level surprise?”

Asher smirks. “Classified.”

Anna rolls her eyes. “Of course.”

Dinner comes—steaks, perfectly cooked. Sides for the table. I let out a soft hum at the first bite, and Asher’s eyes darken, watching me.

Anna kicks me under the table when Asher turns to answer a question from Rooster.

“You are so gone for him,” she whispers.

I shoot her a look. “And you’re one to talk?”

She grins. “Fair.”

Asher turns back. “What are you two scheming about?”

Anna beams. “How beautiful your date looks tonight.”

I want to sink under the table.

Asher’s hand comes to rest on my thigh, warm and solid. “She always does.”

I’m toast. Melted, useless toast.

We talk, laugh, eat. Rooster tells stories about ridiculous training mishaps. Anna teases him mercilessly.

I find myself leaning into Asher more, relaxing, safe. The way his thumb moves idly on my thigh the whole time makes it impossible to focus.

After dessert—chocolate cake I barely taste—Asher catches my hand under the table, laces our fingers.

Anna gives me a sly smile. “You coming to our Christmas Eve brunch too?”

Asher answers for me. “We’ll be there.”

Rooster raises his glass. “To surviving the holiday madness.”

We all clink glasses.

And when we leave the steakhouse, Asher’s hand is at the small of my back again, possessive and protective.

As we step out into the crisp night air, he leans close, voice rough against my ear.

“You’re mine, Princess. No more denying it.”

I turn to him, breathless. “I never was.”

His mouth crashes to mine right there on the sidewalk. And I don’t care who sees.