Jasper Vale (The Edens)

The Bellagio fountain sprayed water high into the air as lights lit up the streams. The white hotel stood proudly in the backdrop as the water twirled and danced in time with the music, a dramatic violin concerto.

“It looks like moonbeams.” I sighed, leaning my head against Lyla’s shoulder. “This is magical. We should put a water fountain in The Eloise.”

My sister giggled. “Good luck convincing Dad.”

“Can you imagine?” I snorted. “First, he’d tell me no. Then, he’d give me that scowly face where his eyebrows come together and he tilts his head to the side.”

“Whenever he gives me the scowly face, he adds the blinky eyes,” she said.

“Oh, yeah. The blinky eyes. I forgot about those.” Dad would blink ten or eleven or twenty times in a row, like he was trying to figure out if I was joking or serious. “You know what I think is crap? I’ve never seen Dad give the scowly-blinky combo to Griffin, Knox or Mateo.”

“Right? He saves it for us girls.”

“Unfair.”

According to Dad, our brothers didn’t typically cause him the same kind of stress he claimed came with daughters. Whatever that meant.

“Are you drunk?” Lyla asked.

“Yep.” I nodded. “You?”

Lyla hiccupped. “That meant yes.”

I looped my arms with hers, snuggling closer as a dreamy smile settled on my face.

My limbs were a little loose. My head was a little fuzzy. My heart was a little light, floating through the air like mist. Drunk and happy, like the water fountain show.

“Tonight was fun,” I murmured.

“Super fun. I’m glad we came. And I’m glad Foster won his fight.”

“Me too.” I let go of her arm, standing tall, then I cupped my hands to my mouth. “Go Foster Madden!”

“Eloise.” Lyla swatted my arm as the people clustered around us shot me glares. “Would you shut up?”

I laughed. “Oh, who cares if I’m loud? We’ll never see these fun haters again.”

Tomorrow, we’d fly home to Montana. We’d say goodbye to the moonbeams and hello to reality.

Lyla and I had come to Las Vegas to watch a UFC event. Foster Madden, our sister Talia’s boyfriend and the reigning middleweight champion of the world, had defended his title and defeated his opponent in tonight’s fight.

He’d surprised Talia by flying us down—he hadn’t wanted her to sit in the arena alone. But this was just a quick trip. Lyla and I each had to get back to Quincy for work on Monday, and tomorrow’s early alarm clock would be brutal.

We’d decided to party tonight anyway. To have a few drinks. To dance. To make the most of our cute outfits. Lyla had on a navy, one-shoulder jumpsuit that brought out the blue of her eyes. I’d opted for a simple black tube top with my tightest jeans and tallest heels. It was rare that either of us dressed up these days—demanding jobs were hell on a social life.

Tonight had been a much-needed break. I only wished it weren’t coming to an end.

The fountain show finale finished too soon, and the crowd beside the Bellagio’s lake dispersed.

Chase, the kid assigned to hang with us tonight, was standing a few feet away, dutifully waiting for Lyla and me with his hands clasped in front of him like he was our own personal security guard. Technically, he was.

Before Foster had swept Talia away to celebrate his victory in their hotel suite, he’d insisted Chase accompany us tonight. He worked for Foster’s manager as an assistant and didn’t look a day older than eighteen. I suspected that the ID he’d used to get into the club tonight wasn’t exactly legal.

Considering he’d been relegated to babysitting duty, he was probably at the bottom of the UFC food chain. Poor guy. He’d followed us around all night without complaint but he looked dead on his feet.

“Ready to go to the hotel?” he asked.

I leaned in close to whisper in Lyla’s ear. “Think he’ll cry if we say no?”

She covered her laugh with a hand. “Yep.”

Chase yawned. That damn yawn was the reason we’d left the club before midnight.

“Do you think Jasper is still at the club?” Lyla asked.

I shrugged. “I dunno.”

Jasper Vale was Foster’s trainer and best friend. He’d told us about the after-party at the club and invited us along. It had mostly been guys from the UFC world, acquaintances of Jasper’s and Foster’s from when they’d lived in Vegas. But it had been nice to know at least one face in the crowd besides Lyla’s.

“Do you want to go back and find out?” Say yes. More dancing. More drinks. Say yes say yes say yes.

Chase’s face fell. He gave me this pitiful, helpless plea.

Oh, damn you, Chase.

At the club, after his twentieth yawn, I’d told him he could leave, but he’d refused. And so even though we’d been having a blast, I’d told Lyla it was time to make our way back to the hotel. I hated it when other people weren’t having a good time.

Chase might be young but he was clearly smart. In just hours, he’d figured out I was the bleeding heart of the Eden family. He was wielding that yawn to shoo us along for bedtime.

Boo. “Oh, never mind,” I muttered. “We should go.”

“Yeah, my feet are killing me in these shoes,” Lyla said.

“March on, Chase.” As we started for our hotel, the chill in the night air raised goose bumps on my forearms. It was cold tonight, even for the desert. In early March, after the sun set, the temperatures dropped.

“Brr. It’s co—” I gasped, patting my arms. “Oh, shit. Where’s my jacket?”

We’d been on our way back to the hotel from the club when we’d passed the fountain, and I’d made our group detour so we could watch the show. I spun around, scanning the spot where we’d been standing, but my jacket wasn’t anywhere in sight.

“I must have forgotten it at the club.” I groaned. Stupid Eloise. “I love that jacket.”

It was my favorite black leather coat. Not too thick. Not too thin. The sleeves were even long enough for my arms, which wasn’t easy for me to find.

“We can go back and get it.” It was Lyla who yawned this time.

She owned a coffee shop at home in Quincy, and considering that her normal wake-up time was well before dawn, I was proud of her for staying up so late. Normally she was in bed by nine. Lyla probably wouldn’t even need an alarm in the morning. Meanwhile, there was a very real chance she’d have to drag me out of bed.

“We’ll go to the suite so you can go to bed,” I said. “Then me and Chase will hike back to the club for my jacket.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded, linked my arm with hers and signaled to Chase. “Lead on, Crouton.”

Chase’s lips pursed.

“I don’t think he likes my nickname,” I told Lyla.

She giggled as we fell in step, our heels clicking on the sidewalk as we trudged to our hotel, stopping outside the bank of elevators. Foster had gotten us our own suite for tonight with two separate bedrooms. Thank God. Lyla was a bed hog.

“Don’t go anywhere without Chase.” Lyla pointed a finger at my nose.

I raised a hand in salute. “Ma’am, yes, ma’am.”

“Eww.” She scrunched up her nose. “Don’t ma’am me.”

“Madam?”

“Queen Lyla will suffice.” She tried a curtsy but stumbled, too tipsy to keep her balance.

“Oh my God.” I jumped to snag her hand, helping her stand upright.

“Heels are the enemy.” She shot a frown at her feet, then stepped into the open elevator. “See you in a bit?”

“Be back in a flash.” I waved as the doors slid closed, then gave Chase my evilest smile. “Let’s do shots.”

His jaw dropped.

“Kidding,” I singsonged, retracing our steps through the lobby and outside.

We’d just passed the fountain again, the water dark and calm, when a familiar face appeared on the sidewalk ahead.

“Oh, hey. There’s Jasper.” I pointed.

Chase raised a hand.

Jasper did the same. And in his hand was my jacket.

“Yay.” I clapped my hands together, stopping as Jasper joined us on the sidewalk. “You’re my hero. Thank you.”

“Welcome.” He held out the black leather, helping me slide it onto my arms.

I smiled up at him, having to crane my neck to keep his gaze. Wow, he was tall. Why hadn’t I realized how tall he was before? He was about the same height as my brothers. “You’re tall. How tall?”

“Six two.” His deep voice had a rasp, like he didn’t use it enough so it wasn’t smooth.

“You have a nice voice.”

The corner of his mouth quirked. “Are you drunk?”

“Oh, yeah.” Even after all the walking, my buzz was solid. Would I feel great in six hours when I had to be at the airport? Nope.

Jasper’s eyes crinkled at the sides, like he thought I was funny. Not laugh-out-loud funny, obviously, but amusing funny.

Was I funny? I thought I was funny. “Chase, do you think I’m funny?”

He looked at me and blinked too many times.

I frowned. “My dad does that. The scowl-blink combo. I hate it. Maybe it’s a guy thing. I talk a lot when I’m drunk.”

“Huh?” Chase turned to Jasper. “I didn’t understand any of that.”

“You can take off,” Jasper said, coming to Chase’s rescue.

“But Mr. Madden said I had to stay with them until they were back in their suite.”

“I’ll make sure she gets back.” Jasper jerked his chin. “Go. Have fun.”

“I’m going to sleep.” Chase took a step backward. Then another. Then he turned, walking so fast it was nearly a jog.

“Bye!” I called. “Thank you for babysitting us!”

That’s when Chase actually started running.

“I don’t think he liked babysitting,” I told Jasper. “Can we watch the fountain show again?”

“Sure.” Jasper walked toward the concrete half wall that bordered the lake, finding an open space.

I squeezed in beside him, resting my forearms on the flat surface. Then I propped a foot up between the rounded columns beneath. “I like water fountains.”

“Then you’re in the right place.” Jasper kept his eyes aimed forward, overlooking the quiet water as I stared up at his profile.

It was the nicest profile I’d ever seen. He had a perfect forehead. Not too round. Not too flat. His dark brown hair was longer on top and shorter at the sides, a few strands sticking up out of place. He had a strong chin, square at the bottom. Soft lips with a full pout. A classic nose except there was a bump on the bridge, like it had been broken before.

“Does it hurt when you break your nose?”

“Yes.” He glanced down at me, his brown eyes catching the Vegas lights and giving them a sparkle.

Jasper had lived in Montana for months. There weren’t a lot of single, handsome men in my small hometown, so when Jasper had arrived in Quincy, he hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Or maybe he had.

Seriously, he was hot. Smoking hot. I should have been crushing on him for months.

Was this beer goggles? I’d never had them before. Except I hadn’t had any beer tonight. Just those vodka tonics and the shots Lyla and I had taken before we’d left the club, but they hadn’t hit me yet.

“You’re extremely hot.”

Okay, maybe the shots were kicking in after all.

Jasper arched an eyebrow the same dark shade as his hair.

“You’re kinda grumpy and brooding too. Also hot.”

“Do you always say what’s on your mind?”

“Only when I’m drunk, remember? I talk a lot.”

Jasper stared down at me, something flashing in his gaze, but I couldn’t make it out. The fuzzy edges of my mind were beginning to get fuzzier.

“What else?” Jasper asked.

I studied his mouth as he spoke, the way he formed the words. The flex in that sharp, chiseled jaw. “What else what?”

“What else is on your mind?”

“Oh.” I let my gaze trail down his chest, taking in his broad frame stretching the black T-shirt he wore with faded jeans. The shirt’s cotton molded like a second skin to his biceps and shoulders but was looser against his stomach. Did he have a six-pack? I bet he had a six-pack. “I’d kill to see you without your shirt on.”

Jasper barked a laugh. It was hoarse too, like he didn’t laugh enough.

Sad. Should I give him a hug?

Too busy contemplating that question, I didn’t realize what he was doing until it was too late.

Jasper reached a hand behind his head, fisting his shirt. Whoosh.

Shirt gone.

“Holy. Freaking. Abs.” My jaw dropped. “Six. Definitely six.”

“Eight,” he corrected. “Count again.”

“Whoa.” I reached out to pet a muscle, just to make sure it was real. The muscles bunched beneath my fingertips.

“That tickles.”

“You’re ticklish? Aww. That’s adorable.”

He frowned. “I think I liked it better when you called me grumpy and brooding.”

“Ow, ow!” A woman walking behind us did a catcall. “Sweetie, if you’re not gonna drag that man to your hotel room, please send him to mine. Planet Hollywood. Room 1132.”

My cheeks flamed.

Jasper was Foster’s best friend. I couldn’t drag him to my hotel room, right? Right. That could get awkward. But I really wanted him to lose those jeans too. What did his legs look like? Were his thighs as bulky as they looked? Were they dusted with the same dark hair that trailed from his navel to the waistband of his jeans? How far did that trail go, anyway?

“Eloise.”

My gaze whipped up to his face. “I like how you say my name.”

“You’re blushing.” Jasper’s voice dropped to barely a whisper. Something else crossed his gaze, maybe teasing, maybe flirting, but it happened too fast for my sluggish brain to catch.

“I’m drunk,” I blurted.

“So am I.”

“No way.” My mouth parted. “You are?”

“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?”