Jasper Vale (The Edens)

The rows and columns on my spreadsheet were blurring together. The color coding had taken on a life of its own today, and now it looked like a rainbow had puked on the hotel’s shift schedule.

But it was done. Hopefully.

Summer was hard. It had taken me the entire day of shuffling and juggling to iron out the tentative schedule for the summer. Fingers crossed I’d managed to accommodate everyone’s vacation plans. It should work.

Until someone called in sick. Or quit.

“Nobody can quit,” I told my computer screen. At least not until I hired another part-time housekeeper. If I could hire another housekeeper. I’d had an ad in the local newspaper for a week without a single bite.

Worst case, I’d have to clean rooms myself. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time, but I was already working six days a week.

For the first time in my career at The Eloise, I wanted just one day off. One day to spend in bed with Jasper. If we only had two more months together, then I wanted to make the most of it.

Though maybe I was going about this all wrong. Maybe I needed to live and breathe this hotel for the next sixty-ish days. Maybe that would make it easier in the end.

Despite my best intentions to confine our relationship to sex, I was growing attached to Jasper. Everything about him was appealing. From that handsome face to his ripped body. From the way he forced me to eat more vegetables to the way he buried his nose in my hair to inhale its scent.

The nightly orgasms were just a bonus.

Ever since the burnt cookie incident, Jasper and I had settled into a routine. I woke up early each morning and left for work. When I got home in the evening, he’d make us dinner. Then we’d do . . . nothing.

I loved the nothing.

He’d listen to me talk about whatever was happening at the hotel. He’d sit beside me on the couch reading while I flipped on the TV for an hour. Then we’d retreat to the loft where we’d exhaust each other’s bodies to sleep.

The past two weeks had been good. Borderline great.

Except the pressure from my family was starting to crush me. They’d planned that family dinner two weeks ago to meet Jasper, but the moment I’d mentioned it, I could tell he hadn’t wanted to go. So I hadn’t even invited him.

When they’d asked us to last week’s family dinner, I’d lied. I’d told Mom and Dad that Jasper and I were having a date night. Was it a lie if the date just happened to be at the A-frame?

Yes. With every lie and half-truth, the icky feeling in my stomach came crawling back.

Something had to give. I couldn’t keep this up for another two months, not with every Eden within a fifty-mile radius trying to poke their noses into my marriage.

Two of my aunts had stopped by the hotel this week, asking when they were going to get to meet my mysterious husband. I’d bumped into one of my cousins yesterday at the gas station and he’d wanted to hire Jasper as his personal trainer.

Did Jasper even do personal training for anyone but Foster? A wife should know the answer to that question.

I pressed my fingers to my temples, rubbing at the headache caused by the rainbow spreadsheet and lack of caffeine.

I’d spent the past two weeks avoiding Eden Coffee because Lyla was still acting too . . . nice. The coffee at the hotel was okay, but it was nothing like Lyla’s. I missed good coffee. I missed my sister.

The lobby door opened so I tore my eyes away from my screen, smiling and ready to greet my guests. But it was my parents who walked inside, their hands locked.

I loved that my parents held hands. For as long as I could remember, they were always linked when they walked.

Did Jasper hold hands in public? Then again, we didn’t walk together in public.

“Hi.” I braced, steeling my spine and holding my breath.

Mom tried to mask it, but she still looked sad. Disappointed. Dad didn’t even bother to hide the hurt from his blue eyes.

Mom stopped at the counter and frowned. “Don’t look so scared to see us.”

But I was. “That’s not it.” Another lie that made me feel gross, but I forced my frame to relax. “I’ve just got a miserable headache. What’s up?”

“We were hoping to have dinner with you and Jasper tonight at Knuckles,” she said.

“Oh.” My stomach dropped. “Um . . .” Shit. “I’d love to but can we have a rain check?”

“Why?” Dad’s eyes narrowed.

“This headache is killing me. I sort of just want to go home and take a bath. It’s been a long day.”

Mom and Dad shared a look, one I hadn’t seen since high school—since the night I’d come home slightly tipsy and five minutes past curfew. They’d both been waiting up. I’d tried to convince them I was entirely sober.

They hadn’t bought it then, and I’d scored a two-week grounding.

They weren’t buying it now either, were they?

“How about dinner tomorrow night?” I blurted. “I’m not working, and I’m sure I’ll feel better. We could come to the house. Or meet you here in town.”

“The house.” Mom nodded. “We’ll see if everyone else can make it too.”

“Great.” My voice was too bright.

What was worse? Mom and Dad alone at Knuckles, where Dad would no doubt interrogate Jasper? Or at the house with my parents, siblings, nieces and nephews?

The house. Definitely the house. But it was too late. Mom was already rattling off potential dinner options.

“Burgers? Does Jasper like burgers?” she asked.

“Yes, he likes burgers.” Probably. Did he eat red meat? He normally cooked chicken.

Whatever. I’d eat two burgers if necessary.

“We’ll see you then,” Dad said. “Hope your headache goes away.”

“Me too.” I gave them a small smile.

“Oh, before I forget.” Mom held up a finger. “Did you talk to Brittany about swapping Sundays and Tuesdays?”

“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.”

“El—”

“This is ridiculous.” I shot out of my chair, slipping around him to pace in front of the island. “I shouldn’t have to beg for you to go with me. Why is this even a debate? You’re going. You promised me that you’d help me prove to everyone that this was real, so you’re going.”

Jasper looked up, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

I mirrored his posture, mostly so I wouldn’t squirm beneath the intensity of his stare. It took all my willpower to breathe evenly and keep my chin held high. “You’re coming with me.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re awfully bossy today.”

“I’ve been taking lessons from my husband.”

His jaw flexed. But then I saw it, a crack in that steel armor. He dropped his arms. “You’re right. I just . . . I struggle with family. But I’ll go.”

The air rushed from my lungs. “Thank you.”

Jasper crooked a finger, luring me closer. Then, when I’d stopped in front of him, my arms still crossed, he shook his head. “They don’t need to like me.”

Yes, they did. I wanted them to be proud that I’d married a good man. Just for a little while, I wanted them to like Jasper. Because when he walked away, no matter how hard I tried to convince them otherwise, he would become the enemy.

So for now, for two more months, sixty-ish days, I wanted them to like him. To be happy for us.

Starting Sunday with dinner at the ranch.