The only open parking spaces downtown were two in the alley behind The Eloise. I parked the Yukon and instead of going inside the hotel, I crossed the street, swinging by the jewelry store before heading next door to get in line at Eden Coffee.
Lyla looked as swamped as she had been all week, but her smile never wavered. Eloise did that too. If a visitor had a bad experience at the hotel, it wouldn’t be because of my wife.
“Hey.” Lyla let out a deep breath when it was my turn in line. “Oh my God, this day has been nonstop.”
“Need anything?”
“No.” She shook her head. “But thanks for asking. What can I get for you?”
“An iced coffee for Eloise.”
“Coming right up.” She smiled, then got to work. The moment Lyla slid the plastic to-go cup across the counter, she greeted her next customer.
I made my way across Main, glancing down the busy sidewalks.
Twenty feet from the hotel, that same strange feeling I’d felt at home hit. A niggle. A pit forming in my gut. I glanced around, feeling eyes on me, but there were people everywhere. And not a familiar face in the bunch.
It was that goddamn kid. Blaze. It wasn’t only Eloise’s busy workload that had kept me close to the hotel. It was that kid.
No one had seen him since the day Eloise had fired him last week. According to Anne, Blaze’s mother had been mortified that he’d gotten fired and had grounded him for life.
Still, I didn’t trust Blaze. I didn’t like his obsession with Taylor. And I sure as fuck didn’t like the look he’d given my wife.
Eloise was sitting at the desk when I walked into the lobby. Her fingers flew across her keyboard, her eyes narrowed in concentration. But when she looked up and saw me, that smile she gave me chased away any of the worry.
One look and I was instantly okay.
“You got me a coffee.” She pressed her hand to her heart. “Best husband ever.”
I chuckled, setting it and lunch beside the empty cup on her desk. Then I leaned in to drop a kiss to her cheek. “How was your morning?”
“Fine. How was Foster?”
“Good.”
She looked me up and down. “No blood? No bruises?”
“Not today.”
“Then Foster gets to live.”
Only Eloise would take on Foster Madden, the Iron Fist, because he’d dared punch her husband.
Fuck, but I loved her. More and more each day.
“How about dinner tonight?” I asked.
“Don’t we eat dinner every night?”
“Smart ass.” I tickled her ribs, earning a yelp. “How about we go out to dinner?”
Eloise’s jaw dropped. “Jasper Vale, are you asking me out on a date?”
“Well, you are my wife. Maybe it’s time we went on a date.”
Her eyes softened. “Say it again.”
“Will you go out to dinner with me?”
“Not that. Call me your wife again.”
“Wife.”
Eloise put her hand on my cheek, leaning in for another kiss. “About this dinner.”
“Knuckles?”
“Or . . . my parents invited us to the ranch.” She tensed, probably expecting an instant rejection.
It was there, on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so I held it back.
“We haven’t talked about . . . you know,” she said. The fight. “I’ve been thinking about everything you said. You made a lot of valid points. And I heard you. But, babe, your parents suck. Mine don’t.”
I arched an eyebrow. She was right about my parents. Her own?
“They aren’t perfect.” Eloise held up her hands, probably because she knew exactly what I was thinking. “They don’t claim to be. But they love me.”
The Edens and I had that in common.
Son of a bitch. I was going to have to figure out how to live with them, wasn’t I? No way I’d make her choose between us.
“Would it be so hard?” She placed her hand on my chest. “Unlocking your heart for my family?”
This woman.
She really didn’t understand, did she?
This imaginary lock to my heart? I didn’t have the key.
I’d handed it to her weeks ago.
“Okay. We’ll go to dinner at the ra—”
Eloise launched herself into my arms, moving so fast I almost didn’t catch her.
Almost.
“Thank you,” she murmured against my neck.
“Say it like you mean it, El.”
She giggled, catching my drift. Her lips found mine, and I got the thank you I wanted.
I was sucking on her lower lip when some outside awareness made me pull away. That same feeling crept beneath my skin, raising the hair on the back of my neck.
“What?” she asked, following my gaze toward the windows.
There was nothing but sunshine and smiles beyond the glass.
“Nothing.” I shook the feeling away, then kissed the corner of her mouth. “Put me to work.”
She gave me that adorable mock salute. “Sir, yes, sir.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ELOISE
Jasper was asleep on his stomach, one knee raised as he hugged his pillow. Exactly how he’d looked when I’d slipped out of bed this morning to take a shower. The covers barely covered his ass, revealing those dimples above his cheeks and the rippled muscles of his back.
Warmth spread through my chest as I watched him sleep. It was still hard to believe this was really happening. That he was mine.
As much as I wanted to strip off my clothes and curl up against his naked body, work was waiting. So I padded across the bedroom, my feet sinking into the rug beneath the bed. Then I brushed the hair from his forehead.
“Bye, babe,” I whispered.
His eyes stayed closed but he stretched out an arm, blindly reaching for me. When his hand skimmed my shirt, he fisted it, drawing me closer. A silent request for a kiss.
I was learning to read Jasper. To hear him even when he didn’t speak.
So I kissed his stubbled cheek.
I love you.
Every day it got harder and harder not to say it aloud. Last night, after dinner at the ranch, I’d been so proud of how hard he’d tried that I’d almost said it on the way home.
Why hadn’t I? Why was I holding back? Because I wanted Jasper to say it first? Because he still wouldn’t wear a stupid wedding ring?
How many people had told Jasper they loved him?
Not enough. Shame on me for waiting.
“I love you.”
Jasper’s eyes popped open. A myriad of emotions flew through those dark irises. Happiness. Hesitation. Regret.
He wasn’t ready to say it back. If the only person he’d said I love you to had been Samantha, then I didn’t blame him for being scared.
That was okay. I’d wait.
For Jasper Vale, I’d wait until the end of my days.
I brushed that hair off his forehead again, then kissed his temple. “I gotta go. See you later.”
“El, I . . .” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His fist in my shirt tightened.
“I know, Jas.”
I knew his parents had never taught him about love. I knew that Samantha’s version of love had come with conditions and manipulations and limits.
Mine did not. He’d realize that. If I told him enough, he’d learn what true love looked like.