Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
jasper
Jasper had been stranded in worse places than an airport with decent coffee and functioning Wi-Fi. He’d also been stranded with worse people.
Bennett Shaw wasn’t the worst. Just the most tightly wound man Jasper had met in years, and possibly the most entertaining when irritated.
They stood near the rental car desk, surrounded by equally frustrated travelers. The line crept forward agonizingly slowly. Bennett scrolled furiously on his phone, firing off emails to his team, rescheduling calls, damage controlling the delay.
He’d worked with Jasper on exactly two projects before this.
The first had been a disaster. Bennett’s carefully structured timeline had been derailed by Jasper’s last-minute “creative pivots.” They’d nearly missed the deadline.
Jasper had blamed Bennett’s rigidity. Bennett had blamed Jasper’s chaos.
Their teams had to be separated for a month.
The second project had somehow worked, their different approaches had complemented each other in ways neither wanted to admit. Bennett had hated how effective Jasper’s instincts were. Jasper had hated how often Bennett’s data proved him right.
Bennett preferred not to think about the second one. Jasper watched him a beat too long.
“This is the part,” Jasper said, “where we decide who is driving.”
Bennett did not look up. “I am.”
“Of course you are.”
“I drive because I prefer control,” Bennett said.
Jasper smiled. “You seem like the sort who white-knuckles through life and won’t admit discomfort.”
Bennett met his gaze. “And you seem like someone who enjoys provoking people who could leave you stranded in a snowbank.”
“Empty threat,” Jasper said lightly. “You’d never abandon me. You’re far too responsible.”
Bennett turned back to his phone, but Jasper caught a minute twitch at the corner of his mouth, a reluctant amusement he knew he’d inspired.
Progress.
The rental clerk informed them that exactly two vehicles remained. Both were SUVs. Both required sharing.
Bennett stared at the keys as if they’d personally insulted him.
Jasper leaned in just enough to lower his voice. “If it helps, I promise not to touch your radio presets.”
“That does not help.”
“Your loss. I have excellent taste.”
Bennett sighed. “Just get in the car.”
The drive to the hotel took longer than expected. Snow thickened the roads. Visibility dropped. The world outside the windshield felt muffled, distant. Jasper watched Bennett drive. Precise and controlled, hands steady on the wheel.
He was good under pressure. That much was obvious.
What intrigued Jasper most? The sheer effort Bennett spent tamping down every stray emotion. Masking the toll this mess was taking on him.
“You know,” Jasper said, “if this were a rom-com, this would be the part where we bond over shared adversity.”
“This is not a rom-com.”
“No. You are right. The lighting is all wrong.”
Bennett shot him a look. “Do you ever stop talking?”
“Only when something interesting happens.”
“And what qualifies as interesting?”
Jasper considered him, the clean lines of his profile, the tension in his neck. “I will let you know.”
The hotel lobby was chaos. Guests clustered near the front desk, voices overlapping. Phones pressed to ears. The sign announced limited availability due to weather conditions.
Jasper reached the counter first. He listened, nodded, then turned back to Bennett with an apologetic expression.
“Good news,” he said.
Bennett closed his eyes. “There is no good news.”
“Only one room left.”
Silence stretched between them. Bennett’s posture stiffened.
Bennett opened his eyes slowly. “No.”
“It is a very nice room.”
“No.”
“One bed.”
“No.”
Jasper lowered his voice. “Two days. Maybe three. Every other hotel within fifty miles is booked.”
Bennett exhaled through his nose. “I will sleep on the floor.”
“You will absolutely not,” Jasper said. “You will wake up unable to move, and then I will have to carry you, and that will raise questions.”
Bennett stared at him. “You’re enjoying this.”
“A little,” Jasper admitted. “But mostly I am trying to keep us from freezing in a rental car.”
The room was warm, at least. Modern, clean, with a wide window overlooking a snow-covered slope. One bed, king-sized, neatly made.
Bennett set his suitcase down and looked away.
“I am taking the shower first,” he said.
“Fair,” Jasper replied. “I will make a list of house rules.”
“There are no house rules.”
“There absolutely are,” Jasper said. “Rule one. We pretend this is normal.”
Bennett paused. “That is not a rule. That is a lie.”
“Semantics.”
Jasper sat at the edge of the bed, exhaling slowly.
He had clocked it earlier. The way Bennett reacted to proximity. The way his attention snagged and held, just a fraction too long. Jasper had seen it before, in men who thought attraction had a very narrow definition.
He was not here to force anything. He was not interested in being anyone’s experiment.
But he was interested in Bennett Shaw.
The shower turned off. Bennett emerged, hair damp, cheeks flushed. Jasper looked away.
“Your turn,” Bennett said.
Jasper grabbed his bag. “Try not to reorganize the room while I am gone.”
“No promises.”
When Jasper came back, the lights were dimmed. Bennett was seated at the small desk, laptop open, already working. The bed remained untouched; neither of them wanted to be the first to claim it.
“You don’t have to keep working,” Jasper said.
“I do.”
“You will burn out.”
“I will manage.”
Jasper watched him for a moment. “You are allowed to exist without optimizing every second.”
Bennett’s fingers paused over the keyboard. “I am existing just fine.”
“Are you?” Jasper asked quietly.
Bennett looked up. Something passed between them. Not anger. Not quite.
Vulnerability, maybe.
Then Bennett looked away. “We should order food.”
Jasper smiled to himself. “I will handle it.”
They ate sitting on opposite sides of the bed, knees almost touching. The conversation drifted, light and easy despite itself. Work stories. Travel disasters. A shared hatred of team-building exercises.
“Worst work trip before this?” Jasper asked.
Bennett considered. “Dubai. Three years ago. Food poisoning the entire week. Still had to present.”
“That’s either dedication or masochism.”
“Both,” Bennett admitted. “You?”
“Stuck in an airport in Prague for eighteen hours,” Jasper said. “Missed my best friend’s wedding.”
Bennett winced. “That’s worse.”
“It was,” Jasper agreed. “But he forgave me. Eventually.”
They fell quiet, the easy rhythm of the conversation settling into something more comfortable. Bennett found himself relaxing in ways he usually didn’t around colleagues. Especially not Jasper Quinn.
“Can I ask you something?” Bennett said.
“Always.”
“Why do you do this?”
Jasper tilted his head. “Eat hotel food?”
“No,” Bennett said. “Why do you make everything look easy?”
Jasper’s expression shifted. Something more honest broke through. “It’s not easy. I just decided a long time ago that struggling visibly doesn’t get you anywhere.”
Bennett absorbed that. “That sounds lonely.”
“Sometimes,” Jasper admitted. “But effective.”
Bennett nodded slowly, recognizing something familiar in that answer.
Later, when the lights were off, and the space between them felt louder than sound, Jasper stared at the ceiling and let himself acknowledge the truth.
This was not just tension.
And Bennett Shaw was not as unreachable as he wanted the world to believe.
Tomorrow would be interesting.