He faced me, pinning his shoulders back, making them seem even broader. “I need a favor.”
“And I’m guessing that favor has something to do with whatever you keep staring at.” I pointed to the mail.
Jasper nodded, plucking a square card from the stack. “I need to go to a wedding at the end of June. Go with me.”
“As your wife?”
“As my wife.” The way his voice dipped, low and gravelly, sent a shiver rolling over my shoulders.
“And after the wedding?”
“We’ll get divorced.”
Divorced. There’d be no annulment. No erasing this mistake.
“I know you want this to be annulled,” he said. “But there was always a good chance we’d have to go through with a divorce instead.”
My shoulders slumped. “I know.”
“I’ll take the blame,” he said. “You can tell the world it was my fault. Tell your family I was a horrible husband. Tell them I cheated or something.”
“No.” My lip curled. I wasn’t going to paint Jasper out to be a person he wasn’t. “They’d hate you for that. Foster would hate you. We’ll just tell them it didn’t work out.”
Jasper took one step toward me, then stopped. “Does that mean you’ll do it?”
Did it? My mind was reeling.
I’d gone to Eden Coffee for some caffeine to chase away a headache. Less than thirty minutes later, Jasper and I were discussing a fake marriage.
“Who?” I asked. “Whose wedding?”
Jasper dropped his gaze, staring at his boots for a long moment. Then he lifted his chin and whatever openness he’d had a moment ago in those dark eyes was gone. They looked shielded. Hard.
“My ex-wife’s.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
JASPER
There was a gap in the trees surrounding the A-frame. It was no more than twenty feet in diameter, but it was enough to see past the needles and boughs and sweeping limbs to the glowing midnight sky above.
The breeze brought with it the scent of pine. Smoke from the fireplace trickled from the cabin’s chimney. An owl hooted in the distance, but otherwise, it was quiet. Peaceful. Empty.
If I stood here long enough, neck craned to the heavens, would the stars offer some advice? I could use some tonight.
Not long after I’d handed that wedding invitation to Eloise, watching closely as she’d read it twice, she’d stood from that cheap folding chair and asked to be driven back to town. She needed time to think about my proposal.
So I’d taken her home, dropped her off at the curb, then watched as she’d dug her key from beneath the mat and slipped inside.
It had gone against every gentlemanly manner my parents, tutors and nannies had instilled in me not to escort Eloise to the door. But damn it, I didn’t trust myself.
A hot, mind-blowing fuck wasn’t going to change the fact that my life was a dumpster fire. Eloise and I had enough complications at the moment.
When I’d returned to the A-frame, I’d spent an hour online, searching for a new dining room set. The card table had always been temporary. It hadn’t bothered me, not until today. Not until Eloise had sat in that cheap, flimsy chair.
She deserved better.
In furniture.
In husbands.
What was she thinking? What was I thinking?
The guilt I’d thought would vanish by spilling our secret had only grown. I’d fucked up. Again.
Eloise had called me a thief.
She hadn’t been wrong.
Telling Foster and Talia, taking that chance from her, might just be the worst thing I’d done in years.
Was that why I’d pitched this idea to stay married? Because I just kept screwing everything up?
Not that it was a horrible idea. The more I thought about it, the more it actually made sense.
Could it help Eloise save face with her family? I owed her that.
Foster had called me earlier, but I’d let it go to voicemail. That was a message I was ignoring until tomorrow.
I’d deal with the fallout tomorrow.
Tonight, I just wanted to be alone. To stare at the stars.
A flicker of light burst through the trees. Headlights. Apparently alone wasn’t in the cards tonight either. It was probably Foster, here to have the conversation I wasn’t ready to have.
I sighed, dropping my gaze and rubbing at the slight kink in my neck. It was too dark to make out the vehicle that turned off Alderson. So I stood in the clearing, waiting until the car neared. When I made out the shape of a Subaru, my pulse jumped.
Eloise.
She parked in front of the cabin and climbed out. The porch lights caressed her face, chasing away the shadows. She’d changed out of the black slacks and soft, blue turtleneck she’d been wearing earlier. Her long, toned legs were encased in dark leggings. Her torso was covered with a racerback tank top, too thin and strappy for the cold night. Her hair was tied up in a messy knot.
“Hey.”
She jumped, startled by my voice and slapped a hand over her heart. “Shit, you scared me.”
“Sorry.” I lifted a hand as I walked over. “Didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
Eloise shrugged those bare shoulders. “I was doing laundry and ran out of soap. I was on my way to the grocery store, but my car sort of just drove itself this way instead.”
“Come on in.” I led her inside, waiting as she kicked off her shoes.
She padded toward the living room, gravitating to the fireplace. “Have you talked to anyone?”
“No. You?”
“Not yet.” She shook her head, stepping even closer to the stove, extending her hands to soak in its warmth.
A tendril of hair draped down the line of her neck, like a crooked arrow down her spine. I followed its trail to the sweet curves of her hips in those leggings.
I’d rather see them on the floor than on her body. All of this seemed simpler, easier, when I was inside her.
“Okay,” she murmured, more to herself than to me. Her shoulders sagged. Her hands dropped to her sides. Then she turned. “Okay. We’ll stay married. We’ll go to that wedding. Then we’ll get divorced.”
For the first time in hours, I breathed. Thank fuck. “Okay.”
Eloise shuffled to the couch, slumping on its edge. “Maybe if everyone thinks this is real, I’ll still get my hotel.”
She’d mentioned this before, last month in her ramble of desperation to keep this a secret. I hadn’t asked at the time what she meant, but if we were going to do this, then I needed to know what she was after.
“You said your parents didn’t want to give you the hotel. They wanted to give it to your brother Knox, right?” I asked, taking the seat beside her.
“Yeah.” She blew out a long breath. “I’ve been managing it for years. Ever since I came home from college. My mom used to run it but she’s stepped away, just like my dad did with the ranch. My oldest brother, Griffin, manages the ranch now.”
I hadn’t met Griffin Eden, but I’d heard the name around town. His wife, Winslow, was the chief of police.
“The hotel is mine.” The aggressive way she spoke, the growl of that word mine. A twinge pinched my side. Almost . . . jealousy?