“Yep.” He leaned in closer, his eyes, slightly unfocused, drifting to my lips.
“Um, are you going to kiss me?”
Jasper hummed. “Thinking about it.”
For the first time tonight, I was speechless.
He leaned in.
I lifted my chin.
But then a gurgle filled the air and beside us, the quiet pool of water erupted into those moonbeam streams.
The people around us surged forward, forcing us against the concrete barrier and breaking the moment.
Bummer. I sighed, shifting to watch the show.
Jasper tugged on his shirt, then leaned forward too, our shoulders brushing as music filled the air.
The song was different this time, an intense symphony with a fast tempo and a heavy drum beat. The timing of the music and lights and movement was synchronized flawlessly.
“It’s perfect,” I murmured. “How many tries do you think it took for them to get this perfect?”
“I don’t know.”
I leaned into his arm, my head hitting his shoulder. He didn’t shift or nudge me away, so I didn’t move. “I think perfect is overrated.”
“Agreed.”
“When I was a kid, I used to get so mad when stuff wasn’t perfect. Like if I was drawing a picture and messed up, I couldn’t just erase the mistake or live with it. I’d have to get a new piece of paper and start all over again.”
There’d be piles of crumpled paper around me and tears dripping down my face because I couldn’t get the picture just right.
“I don’t know what happened or why I did it,” I said. “One day I was trying to color my dad a birthday card. He loves horses, and when I asked him what he wanted for a birthday present, he told me to draw him a horse. Have you ever tried to draw a horse?”
“No.”
“Well, trust me. They’re hard. I couldn’t do it. I kept trying and trying. I just wanted to give him that horse and make him happy. And I had this special paper that was really thick. What do they call that paper?”
“Cardstock.”
“Yeah, cardstock. It’s hard to crumple so I ripped my mess-ups in half instead. Anyway, I was on my last sheet and screwed up the horse. But I didn’t have any more paper. So I stole Talia’s box of paints from her bedroom and covered up my ugly horse. It was just random swirls of color but I covered the whole page, all the way to the edges. There was paint everywhere by the time I was done. Talia got mad because I used her brand-new paints. Mom got mad because I made a mess and splattered some on the floor. But I loved that card. Dad hung it in his office, even though it wasn’t the horse he wanted. It’s still there too. And he doesn’t know that underneath all the pretty colors is a really ugly horse.”
The fountain show began the finale, the water jets spraying shoots as high into the air as they’d go.
“I like perfect,” I murmured. “I like imperfect too. I like wild and reckless moments that you never forget.”
Like tonight.
Once more, the show ended too soon, the water dark and slowly calming. But I wasn’t ready for calm. There was energy bubbling in my fingertips. Humming beneath my skin. So I moved away from the barrier, spinning in a circle with my arms out at my sides. My footing faltered, but before I could trip, a strong hand clamped over my elbow, helping me keep my balance.
“Whoa.” I giggled. “No more spinning for me. Drunk and heels don’t mix.”
“Want to head back to your hotel?”
I pouted. “Not really.”
This was fun. This was the best night I’d had in years. Something about Vegas, the crowds, the energy, was freeing.
There were no responsibilities tonight. No expectations.
“Are you really drunk?” I planted my hands on my hips, studying Jasper’s face. “You don’t seem drunk.”
He chuckled. “How should I seem if I’m drunk?”
“I don’t know.” I tossed out a hand. “I’ve never seen you drunk before. But most people . . . loosen up.”
“I’m loose.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re all stiff. We’re supposed to be having fun.”
“I took my shirt off for you.”
“This is true. And that was fun for me.” I tapped my chin. “Do something. Right now. Prove you’re drunk.”
Jasper’s eyes crinkled again. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. You’re the one who used to live here. What’s something spontaneous to do in Vegas?”
A man walking by answered for Jasper. “Get married.”
I scoffed. “We can’t get married.”
“Why not?” the guy asked, still walking, his arms raised.
“Yeah,” Jasper said. “Why not?”
CHAPTER TWO
JASPER
The rustle of clothes being shoved into a suitcase filled the hotel bedroom. Then came the pad of bare feet as Eloise tiptoed to the bathroom. Seconds later, she tiptoed back. Then came a muffled plop, probably her toiletry case joining her clothes. That was followed by the click of a zipper, every notch joined so slowly it was painful to hear.
My wife was sneaking out.
My wife.
I fought the urge to curse into my pillow. My head was spinning. The headache throbbing behind my temples was less from last night’s alcohol and more from this morning’s situation.
But I didn’t dare move. I lay completely still, my breaths shallow and nearly silent.
Eloise thought I was still asleep. We’d keep it that way. For now. Until I knew how to fix this.
What the hell had I been thinking?
I’d married Eloise. Married.
That word had been bouncing through my brain for hours. Hours I should have spent sleeping.
Except I hadn’t slept for more than a few minutes at a time last night. Every time I’d drift off, Eloise would curl into my side or snuggle against my back. I’d spent most of last night pushing her back to the opposite side of the bed. But each time I’d shifted away, she’d followed.
A cuddler. Of course I’d marry a woman who cuddled.
I loathed cuddling.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
My head pounded with each silent curse. Of all the stupid decisions I’d made in life, last night’s was by far the dumbest.
Eloise padded to the bathroom again, closing herself inside before she flipped on the light.
As I cracked my eyes open, a glow escaped from beneath the door. The faucet turned on so I shifted, burying my face in the pillow, and let out a groan.
Could this be more of a disaster?
For about an hour last night, I’d contemplated sneaking out while she’d been asleep to delay the inevitable, awkward conversation about unraveling this mess. Except the damage was done. This wasn’t some random woman I’d fucked last night.
This was Eloise.
So I’d stayed. I’d cuddled.
Hell. Foster was going to skin me alive. I was a dead man for marrying Talia’s sister. What if I just didn’t go back to Montana? If I hid out in Vegas for the next decade, would he forgive me?
Tempting. So goddamn tempting.
Just like Eloise.
The light clicked off in the bathroom. I closed my eyes, once more feigning sleep like a goddamn coward. The door swept open almost silently except for a slight creak in the hinge. Then her bare feet crossed the room once more.