“Um, no.” What?
“I bumped into her the other day at the grocery store. She mentioned she was trying to make a little extra money before their summer vacation to Disney. So I offered to have her come out and do some cleaning at the house. I was thinking Tuesdays if you can switch her schedule so she’s working here Sundays instead. Then I could go to Griff and Winn’s and watch the kids there Tuesdays and stay out of her way.”
Tuesdays. I needed Brittany here Tuesdays. She was the only housekeeper on the schedule that day.
If she wanted extra money, why hadn’t she asked me first? I would have given her more shifts. Why hadn’t Mom told her to talk to me first instead of offering her a side gig?
But instead of getting mad, I smothered my frustration. At this point, I’d do anything to get back to normal with my parents. Even if that meant changing the schedule. Again.
“No problem. I’m sure I can adjust the schedule.”
“Thanks.” Mom smiled. “Let me know if it becomes a hassle and we’ll forget the whole thing.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” I lied. It was going to be a cluster. “I’ll call Brittany.”
“See you tomorrow night.”
“Bye.” I waited until they were outside and past the hotel’s gleaming windows before I dropped my head to the desk.
If my head had hurt before Mom and Dad’s visit, it was unbearable as I left the hotel.
My skull throbbed, and when I hit the gravel on Alderson Road, my teeth rattled, making the pain worse.
Jasper’s Yukon was parked outside the A-frame when I got home. I found him in the kitchen, wearing a simple gray T-shirt and a pair of faded jeans. His feet were bare, his hair damp, like he’d showered recently.
That stubble on his jaw was begging to be touched, and his lips needed to be kissed.
This man, this gorgeous man, was mine. Temporarily mine, but mine nonetheless. It took me by surprise each and every night. I’d walk through the door, and my heart would skip.
Would my real husband be as handsome as Jasper? Would he make me cookies so I wouldn’t show up at a family dinner empty-handed? Would he have a dirty mouth and wickedly talented tongue? Would he kiss me like he was a man drowning and I was his air?
Jasper spotted me standing inside the door. He was beside the counter, seasoning two small steaks on a cutting board. “Hey.”
“You eat red meat.” I sighed. Thank God.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I shook my head, about to set my purse down when I noticed the dining room table. My dining room table. “You went to my house?”
He nodded, washing his hands at the sink. “Foster and I took a few trips today. Hauled out the rest of the furniture.”
“Oh. Thank you.” I pulled out a familiar chair, sinking into the smooth, walnut seat. “I would have helped.”
He shrugged. “We had it covered.”
That meant all that was left was to clean. Then the owners could find another tenant.
“Most of the stuff I put in the shop,” he said.
“All right.” There wasn’t much need for my furniture inside the A-frame.
If I had kept sleeping on the couch, I would have insisted we bring in mine because it was more comfortable. But Jasper’s bed was a dream, soft and plush and warm. Not once had I woken in the middle of the night with cold feet, and the crook of his neck was better than any pillow.
“How was your day?” he asked.
“Long. My parents stopped by. We need to go to the ranch for dinner tomorrow.” I braced, just like I had at the hotel. Shoulders pinned. Breath held.
That muscle—the angry muscle—feathered Jasper’s jaw. “I’m not one for family functions.”
“And I’m not one for anal play but I still let you shove your finger up my ass last night.”
“This is not the same.” His look flattened. “And you liked it last night.”
Yes, I had liked it.
Jasper was pushing my sexual boundaries, and each time we were together, he seemed to unlock a new level of pleasure. Last night had been nerve-racking and exhilarating. The combination had led to the most intense orgasm of my life.
“You might enjoy dinner with my family. If you tried.”
He walked to the fridge, taking out a sweet potato. Ignoring me.
“My family thinks I have horrible taste in men.”
“Okay,” he drawled, rifling through a drawer for the potato peeler. “I’ll try not to take offense to that.”
“You could prove them wrong.”
He turned on the faucet and started peeling a potato.
“The last guy I brought home was for Foster’s first dinner at the ranch. Did he tell you about it?”
“No.”
“He was a guy I met at Willie’s. He was sort of lanky with a hippie vibe. Cute though.”
The peeler scraped harder against the potato as Jasper’s frame tensed. Was that jealousy? If so, I liked it. Though he had nothing to envy. That guy had been a solid two compared to Jasper’s eleven.
“We’d gone on a couple of dates,” I said. “Nothing serious. But since Foster was coming to the ranch, I thought, why not bring a date too? We’d get all of the introductions over with. So we get to the house and it turns out my date wasn’t entirely a stranger to everyone in the house.”
Jasper’s focus was still on the potato and peeler in his hand, but he’d slowed, listening.
“Winn knew my date. She’d gotten a call at the station from the general manager at the grocery store because he’d caught this guy stuffing a cucumber down his jeans.”
“What the fuck?”
“Exactly.” I huffed a dry laugh. “Come with me. Show everyone my taste isn’t as bad as they think.”
Jasper set the peeled potato aside and picked up a towel to dry his hands.
“Don’t make me beg,” I whispered.
Jasper crossed the room, towering in front of me. His hand came to my cheek, tilting my face up so I could stare at him while his thumb stroked my jaw. “It’s better this way. Keep some separation.”
Begging it was. “Please.”
“Go without me, angel.” His voice was soft, smoother than I’d ever heard before. Either because he talked more when I was home. Or because he was trying to lessen the blow of his refusal.
“This is important to me.”
“Why?”
I blinked. Why was it important that he meet my family? What the hell kind of question was that? “Um, because it’s my family. And you’re supposed to be my husband.”
Not supposed. He was my husband. Temporarily.
Was this about his family? We hadn’t spoken about them. I had no idea where he was from. Where his parents lived. If he had siblings. Curiosity bubbled but I tamped it down, saving those questions for another day. There was begging to do.
“Jas.”
His hand fell away from my face. “I’ll be gone in a couple of months.”
My heart squeezed. Why was that so painful? It wasn’t a surprise, not really. We hadn’t exactly talked about what would happen after the divorce but I’d known the chances were high that he’d leave Quincy. Still . . . it stung.
“Please go with me.”