212. Ice Cream

Asa paused before getting in the car and looked at Amy, a small smile teasing his lips. “What?” Amy narrowed her eyes and asked. “You’ve got something in your hair,” Asa said, reaching out to pluck a tiny piece of confetti from her curls. “Looks like the victory fountain at the eighteenth hole got a little enthusiastic.” Amy touched her hair self-consciously. “Is there more?” “No, just that one.” His fingers lingered near her temple for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Amy felt a flutter in her chest that had nothing to do with the strange man who’d been following them. “Thanks for getting it.” “No problem,” he said. “I’m having a really good time,” Asa said, his voice genuine. “Me too,” Amy said. “I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while.” “You have?” Amy couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. “Since the day you helped me carry groceries up the stairs when the elevator broke. You were wearing paint-splattered overalls and complaining about your sister borrowing your car with