The Santillian Triplets

Chapter 7 Linden #2

Jasper wanted to continue debating me. She wanted to make her point and make it hard enough to be sure it stuck.

I saw it in the way her lips parted, poised to fire back with another explainer on my overbearing behavior.

It was in her eyes too, narrowed in contempt.

And her hands, my god. Her hands were frozen in an I'll explain your problems to you gesture.

Yet she dropped those hands to her lap. "What? Why?"

"Any number of reasons. She was going to drag the weed whacker out of the shed, did I mind if she trimmed around my driveway?

She had an extra jug of milk, did I need some?

She thought her electricity was flickering, was mine?

And whatever it was, she was mad about it.

Like, the power had personally offended her by going out for a second and she wanted to recruit allies for the fight. "

"That sounds like Midge."

"It took some getting used to. When I moved here, the last thing I expected was a neighbor who yelled at me when she had extra milk. It was so confusing."

"Tell me more."

"She was very concerned that I'd be hosting a lot of loud parties. She provided me with a copy of the town's noise ordinance and the fines for violations so I knew she meant business."

"That old bird loved her ordinances and bylaws, didn't she?

I keep finding town council meeting agendas covered in her notes and remarks for the public comment sessions.

" Jasper laughed, her eyes warm and her mouth soft.

The beauty of it hurt. It made me ache. "I went to a few of them with her when I was a kid.

She said it was important to keep a close watch on elected officials because they lost their sense and their spines when they got elected but they grew an iron grip on the purse strings. "

"She'd bang on my door at the crack of fucking dawn to give me a rundown of the meeting the night before and—"

"She didn't know how to sleep in! She didn't know how to get a minute more than her six and a half hours of sleep and there was no way in hell she'd just lie in bed for an extra hour."

I refilled Jasper's glass when she pushed it toward me. "Loved mowing the lawn at six in the morning on Saturdays. It was religion to her."

Jasper was quiet for a minute as she considered the wine. "She had such a good heart. Even when she was impossible. Even with all her nutty quirks. She'd help anyone, anytime."

Even if they said they didn't want it.

As much as I needed Jasper to face that fact, neither of us were going to be proving any points tonight.

We'd stopped hurling insults and we'd managed to share each other's presence without resorting to violence.

And seeing as Jasper was gut-twistingly beautiful with her blotchy cheeks, swollen eyes, and slightly buzzed smile, I'd swallow my own fist if it meant a few more minutes with her, just like this.

"I'll drink to that," I said, lifting my beer.

"To Midge's good heart," Jasper replied, leaning in to clink her glass against the can.

That was what should've happened. A light tap, wineglass to beer can, a toast sealed.

That wasn't what happened.

I angled my beer the wrong way. She came in too hard. Beer, wine, and shattered glass went everywhere.

She shrieked. "Oh my god."

"Okay, it's fine, don't move until I clear the glass."

"What did you do?"

"What did I do? You smashed your glass—"

"You were too close!"

"I was exactly as close as I was when I raised my beer."

"Okay so I'll address that later but now I'm bleeding. Ohhhh, wow. Oh, that's some blood."

"Oh fuck, you're bleeding." I glanced up at Jasper's face and found her pale, her eyes glazed.

I pushed off the porch and reached for her, one hand on her elbow, one on the small of her back.

"We're going to my place and taking care of this.

Come on, this way. Don't look at it. I mean it, looking at it won't help. "

"You're asking me to ignore the blood gushing out of my hand. That seems like a poorly formed choice."

"I saw the way your eyes crossed back there. Maybe you can hang with bats but something tells me blood is off-limits."

"I'm not comfortable with you being right," she replied. "It's like writing with the wrong hand."

"Sure it is, sweetheart." I led her into my house through the deck, not stopping to switch on the living room lights as we made our way into the kitchen. "Here we are."

Holding her by the waist, I lifted her to sit on the countertop. I held her injured hand over the sink and flipped on the tap, passing my fingers under the stream to test the temperature.

"What gives you the impression I want to be manhandled?"

I couldn't stop the laugh rumbling up from my chest. "Oh, there's a few things." I brought her hand to the water. "Hold still. Let me wash this out."

She obeyed this request but couldn't find it in her to stop arguing while I used both of my hands to gently lather the soap.

"We've had a number of conversations where I've made it clear I am not a fan of your hard-headed"—I laughed again because fuck, she did not know the hard half of it—"meddlesome, antiquated attitude. "

"I'm gonna stop you right there. Not because I see it differently, not because I've had legitimate reasons for everything I've done, and not because it's possible you're wrong about me."

She peered at me, a cute little crease forming between her brows. "Then why?"

"Because I've cleaned your cuts and they're mostly minor but the first aid kit is in my bathroom.

I need you to tell me whether I can leave you here for a minute.

I don't want you passing out in my kitchen.

That would be worse than another one of your banana breads, and for both of us.

The floor is hard. It will hurt. I'll have to pick you up and I'll probably have to drag your ass to a clinic. "

"Is being an asshole part of the treatment?"

"Nah, that comes free for you." I wrapped a paper towel around her hand and elevated her forearm above her head. It was more about keeping the blood out of sight than any crazy amount of bleeding. "Stay just like that. Don't move. Not even to yell at me."

The bathroom was only a few steps away and it didn't take more than a minute for me to grab the kit and return to Jasper but it was long enough for me to remember how all this started.

I went to her because I'd been out of line earlier.

Even if it bothered the hell out of me that she had to do all this work alone.

Even if there was clearly much more to her situation than she was sharing.

Even if sparring with her filled me with perverted joy.

Fuck. Especially then.

It wasn't my business to call her out. I didn't have the right to criticize her as I had.

This, plus the fact nothing good would come from pursuing my neighbor, shifted my thinking enough to stuff away any notions of keeping our flirty, fiery banter going tonight.

Until I caught sight of Jasper bathed in the warm glow of the kitchen light, her hair tucked back behind her ears, and the skirt of her dress hiked barely above her slightly spread knees.

There was nothing specifically amazing about it but maybe that was what made it amazing. She was gorgeous and freaked out by blood and maybe a little drunk too. And she was in my kitchen, waiting for me to help her.

There was nothing else in the universe I wanted right now. Not a single thing.

"I'm impressed," I said, stalking toward her while a hot tingle spiraled through my muscles. "You followed directions. Is that a first?"

Her face brightened in a rueful smile. "It might very well be. I'm not one for coloring inside the lines."

I wrapped my fingers around her elbow and took my time skimming them up to her wrist. Her skin was unreal. So soft, so smooth. I could lose a day to the creamy expanse of her forearm.

"Stopped bleeding," I said as I peeled back the paper towel. "Some antiseptic, a couple of Band-Aids, and you'll be hammering away in no time." I blotted the cuts on her palm once more. "Maybe not first thing tomorrow morning though."

She shook her head, her gaze fixed on mine. "Not tomorrow morning."

I couldn't look away. Couldn't even breathe.

"Do you want me to do it?" Her eyes widened at my question. "The antiseptic. And the bandages. Do you want me to do this for you? So you don't have to look?"

Her lips parted on a fast breath. She nodded but then stopped herself, saying, "It's okay. I can do it."

"I know you can." I gave her wrist a squeeze that fell somewhere between comfort and restraint. I didn't know what I wanted to give her more. "There's nothing you can't do, Jas, but there's nothing wrong with letting someone else deal with the problems for a minute. Especially the gory ones."

"That sounds all well and good but it's never that easy. Never."

She ducked her head down, out of the overhead light's glow, as her eyes grew shiny. Whether it was alcohol or emotion, she didn't want me to see.

I thumbed open the antiseptic cream. "I'm not gonna prove you wrong."

"Because it's the truth," she muttered, her gaze still averted as I dabbed the cream on her palm. "People don't usually do it right. When they deal with the problems, I mean."

"I'm actually going to agree with you on this one."

She jerked her head up. "I'm not sure how to respond to that. What do we do now? We can't just…agree."

I swept a bit of extra cream off her palm and wiped my hands on the paper towel.

"You know the saying. 'If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.

' You probably have it inked somewhere." I lifted her wrist, gently twisted her arm to inspect the underside.

"Not here. Maybe the other one." I ran my hand down the opposite arm.

"Nope. Not there either." I dropped my hand to her knee, stroked my thumb in the tender hollow there. "Come on. Where is it?"

"No tattoos. Hate to disappoint." A lazy smile stretched across her lips.

I eyed her up and down. "You're sure about that? I could check for you."

Her cheeks heated and she giggled, a sound so strange and novel that I found myself laughing too. "You could look but you won't find anything."

"And now I'm back to disagreeing with you because I would find plenty, Jasper." I tickled the back of her knee. "Plenty."

I held her gaze for a heavy moment before turning my attention to the first aid kit. I had to find a bandage to protect the span of her palm while these cuts healed.

"Out of curiosity, did you find anything when you grabbed my breast? You know, last week at the front door?"

"Shit. I am sorry about that."

"Don't be. My elbow was…"

"Oh, I know where your elbow was that day. I know all about that elbow."

She rubbed her temple, saying, "Glad I made a good impression."

"Are you holding up all right?" I ripped open the bandage's wax paper packaging. "Not too woozy? Not going to pass out on me?"

"I was never going to pass out on you," she replied, tart as ever.

"Course not."

"I just get a little lightheaded when there's a lot of blood. I don't see much of it," she mused. "It's funny since my work tends to be something of a blood sport. Metaphorically speaking."

I smoothed the bandage into place, my thumb passing over the adhesive several times. "What is it you do when you're not replacing rotted staircases?"

"It's not interesting."

My thumb still stroking her hand, I glanced at her, my brows arched. "Who said it has to be?"

She looked down at the bandage and pushed her lips out in a pout. I wanted to bite that pout right off her.

"I'm going to have to bake you something new," she said.

Oh, fuck, no. Please no. "Why?"

She jerked her chin up, in the direction of her injured hand. "For that. For helping me. Again."

Now that her hand was treated, I stepped between her legs. "Just being neighborly."

She brought her hand to my chest, pressed it to the center of my breastbone.

Tilting her head back, she gazed up at me, her lips barely parted.

With the light bouncing off her honey hair, she looked like magic.

Like the magic that existed in certain golden-limned corners of the forest, warm and electric and infinite.

Like the vulnerability and defiance of pure, unburdened nature.

And I still wanted to bite that pout.

I pushed my fingers through her hair and sealed my mouth to hers.

A squeak sounded in her throat but she twisted my t-shirt around her fingers and kissed me back with the same zeal she brought to arguing about anything.

I leaned in, pressing hard against the cradle of her thighs, and drew my hands down her torso.

She was a dream of ripe, rich curves and the sort of softness that didn't seem possible when considered alongside the hard edges she'd sharpened to a point.

I shoved both hands under her backside, boosting her up and holding her tight against me.

She responded by yanking my shirt up and baring my belly, and squeezing her knees to my hips like she planned on riding me right here.

Yeah, she could crack the earth open. She could snap me in half. She could do anything she wanted and I'd let her. I'd fucking let her.

And right now, she wanted this.

"Jasper," I breathed, edging back just enough to meet her dreamy gaze.

Her hands still in my shirt, her knees still trapping me inside her thighs, she lifted her gaze to me and said, "Linden, I-I'm married."