Chapter 1 #2
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?”