Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Jasper
Boxes filled the bed of my pickup and the back seat.
I closed the door after loading the last one.
Along with our daily duties, Sheridan and I spent every other free moment cleaning out her mom’s place.
Or as she called it now, Bishop’s Getaway.
The house could use a coat of paint, and that would be my job for the next week.
I would borrow a paint sprayer from Jensen, and the place would look twenty years younger by the time I was done.
The staff was excited about the change, nervous about the extra work of reservations and cleaning, but the listing was up on the website, and reservations had been made.
Sheridan and I hadn’t been sneaking any moments together.
We were exhausted from cleaning decades out of a house.
Much of our time together had been about work, and I’d like to change that.
I’d like to use the string of condoms I put back in my wallet.
Sheridan banged out of the front door with cleaning supplies. “These spiders are persistent.”
“You should leave them until I paint. They catch bugs.”
She lifted her gaze to the large webs stretching from the eaves to the railing. “I’d love to keep them, but I can see some guests running for their lives. These ladies are huge.”
“They are.” They had long legs and a large backside. The webs they wove were large and intricate. “Let them enjoy their last week before I paint. Then I’ll relocate them.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “You’re going to relocate spiders?”
“Thelma and Louise? Yes.”
She bit back a grin and eyed both massive webs. “All right. I was dreading ruining all their hard work anyway.”
“They just have to leave it alone through part of September. Then you can claim it’s Halloween decor.”
“Ooh, I like that. When it frosts, they’ll be gorgeous.” She wrestled the door open again.
I jogged up the steps, but I didn’t get there in time to help her. She put the supplies in the closet that had a shiny new lock on it so housekeeping didn’t have to haul supplies back and forth.
“You coming to town with me?” I asked. “We can grab a bite to eat.”
She pushed her hair back. I liked this look on her. I liked all her looks, but a simple college shirt and athletic shorts teased at her curves. She was herself. Her face had color instead of the pensive worry she’d carried around much of the summer.
“I could use a break, yeah. We made good time.”
Now I could steal her away like I’d wanted to all week.
We went to town and dropped off the boxes with the thrift store, then I went straight to Rattler’s.
Sheridan straightened in her seat. “It’s been forever since I’ve been here.”
“You’re long overdue, then.”
Inside, the cool AC swallowed us. It had to look the same to Sheridan. The place hadn’t changed from the long counter lined with stools to the booths along the wall. The high-school-aged hostess led us to a booth by the windows and set a menu in front of each of us. I didn’t need one.
She pored over hers. “This all looks so good. What do you get?”
“Depends on how I feel, but usually a porterhouse with mashed potatoes. Unless I’m here on prime rib night. Then I get the king.”
“Sounds like I’d need a nap afterward.” She tapped a nail on a picture of a wrap. “Steak wrap with their special aioli.” She shoved her menu away.
“Want an appetizer?”
“I want all of them, but I’m not that hungry.”
“What about dessert?” Something about being here with her made me want to make this more special than just two people stopping for lunch. We’d been so caught up in preparing the cabin that we hadn’t done anything together. And Sheridan was fun to hang with.
“That wrap looks huge. And that”—she slid the menu back over—“s’mores lava cake looks almost as big. I haven’t had s’mores yet this year.”
“We’ll have to change that.”
She lifted a shoulder. “I only need to get the supplies. I’ve been making them in the microwave when I want some.”
“Sheridan ‘I Don’t Know Your Middle Name’ Bishop. You don’t use a campfire?” I put my hands flat on the tabletop.
“It’s Frances, and it’s been a while.” She leaned forward, putting a hand by her mouth. “Why? Is it illegal?”
“It should be.” I shook my head. I’m only scandalized because that meant she hadn’t been out in the summer, having fun and roasting marshmallows. “We’re doing it tonight.”
“S’mores?”
“Yep.”
“Where?”
“The new firepit I made.”
She frowned. “That’s for guests.”
“No one will care. Seeing us use it is like an advertisement. Besides, it’s Sunday.” Even if all the rooms were full, she could still enjoy the firepit.
“I should keep cleaning.” She stared out the window. I had more arguments, but most of them were selfish. I wanted time with her. “But I should have some work-life balance, so I don’t burn myself out.”
A grin spread across my face. “It’s going to be a late night. I might need somewhere to crash.”
She pretended to think, a smile playing across her lips. “Hmm…I might know a place.”
“Does it have a tub?”
Sheridan
The sun was below the horizon, but it wasn’t quite dark.
Yard lights glowed around us, turning the resort into a looming shadow behind us.
The fire crackled in front of us. A family that was staying through Wednesday had been out with us, enjoying the clear night and roasting marshmallows. They’d just retreated into the resort.
“Now it’s time for the good stuff.” Jasper reached into the cooler by his chair.
“I’ve had like five marshmallows.”
“Put a sixth one on, boss.”
I grinned to myself as I stuck two more marshmallows on our forks.
We had a long week ahead of us. Jasper would be painting outside, and I would work on the inside.
He had suggested hiring Poppy’s husband to do some work in the kitchen.
I tried to refuse the friends-and-family discount, but Jensen only asked me to put his flyers in the entrance.
“I can’t believe I’m renting out the house,” I mused while I held the marshmallows over the flames.
Jasper assembled the graham crackers and chocolate. “Believe it. You got it done.”
Almost done, but there was no doubt that it would happen. “You think it’ll work? It isn’t the most up-to-date.”
“Quit worrying and be confident in the work you put in.”
“Of course. Easy. Confidence is my biggest trait.” I smirked.
“It’s going to work, and I happen to have space at my house if all the beds here are full.”
I’d woken up at his place once already, but that was before we were sleeping together. Not that we’d done much of that in the last week. I didn’t want to seem too eager. He wasn’t in for anything serious, and I was married to Bishop’s Landing. “Oh? Where would I sleep?”
“On me.” He beckoned for the roasting stick. I handed it over. Neither of us liked our marshmallows black.
“That doesn’t sound comfortable.” I’d love to be on him, but I liked joking around. I hadn’t been able to do a lot of that with anyone.
“You’ll be too worn out to care.”
If only I could have his confidence. The man sounded like he two-stepped through life and everything just worked out, but he’d given me a glimpse of the toll it’d taken on him. He’d confessed that he also wanted time and support. We were alike there. “How are you going to wear me out?”
I used the top of my s’more to slide the marshmallow off. I licked the side, and he sat forward on his lawn chair, his gaze on my mouth. To tease him even more, I took a bite and sucked the gooey marshmallow off my finger.
He steepled his fingers. “First, I’m going to use my tongue to clean that chocolate off your chin.”
Lust stole my breath. I lifted my hand. “I can’t eat if you actually tell me.”
“Oh, you’ll want to hear my plan.” He rose and crossed to me, his s’mores left on the paper plate. He put his hands on the armrests of my lawn chair and bent down. I tipped my head back. He licked along a spot on my chin, sweeping up to my lips.
I moaned, and my eyelids fell shut. It’d been a long week, working around him but never really touching. I wasn’t worried about being seen. Only the desk clerk was working, and the guests wouldn’t know the connection between me and Jasper.
I was about to open for him when air wafted across my face. I opened my eyes, and he was sitting back down.
“That’s the start,” he said, pushing his palm down onto his crotch. “Then, I’m going to watch you eat that s’more and elicit more moans. When we get back to the house, it’ll be my turn getting my face all messy with dessert.”
Butterflies took flight in my stomach, and my pulse crept up. “Do I get to lick you clean?”
“You can put your tongue on anything you want.”
I turned into a marshmallow, getting hot and soft inside. Just like he was doing to me. “Deal.”
“That’s just the beginning. I have three more condoms, and I think that counter in the kitchen is the perfect height.”
“I’m supposed to rent it out to guests in a couple of weeks.”
“The guests are going to be doing the same thing, and that’s what the cleaning closet is for.”
I might have to fan myself. “After that you’ll have two condoms left.”
“There’s going to be more soaking in the tub.” He snapped his fingers. “You need a hot tub.”
“I can’t afford one.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” He rubbed his thumb along his lower lip. “I think the third condom will get used in the morning.”
Three times? A tremor worked its way down my spine. “I might need all my energy for painting.”
“I’ll do all the work.”
I laughed, the sound carrying across the lawn. “I do like the sound of it.”
He grinned and finally reached for his s’more. “So that’s the plan.”
“It sounds strenuous.”
“We don’t have to follow through. We can do whatever we want.”
“You’re good at that.”
He stopped with his treat closer to his mouth, confusion etched into his brow.
My arousal was thoroughly doused. Crap. I hit him where it hurt and I hadn’t meant to. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I was being playful, and I sucked at it.”
“You don’t suck at it. I’m just being sensitive.” He took a bite. The muscles in his jaw bunched before he swallowed.
“I really didn’t mean—”
“I know.” He finished eating his s’more.
The quiet was uncomfortable when the crackling of the logs should’ve been anything but. “I’m sorry.”
“Sheridan, it’s not you. And you’re not wrong.” He adjusted his ball cap and blew out a breath. “I was coasting. I wasn’t planning. How could I fly by the seat of my pants for months and not even apply for a job?”
The flutters in my stomach turned to cramps. I pressed a hand to my gut. I’d said that before. To my ex. Had I unconsciously jabbed Jasper where it’d hurt? Was I trying to keep a distance between us? Just sex was easier if I kept reminding myself why we wouldn’t work beyond, well, work.
“I don’t know about you,” I said honestly, “but I also have been accused of not making a plan. Or that they’re not well thought out.”
“I always believed that there was such a thing as thinking too much.”
“I haven’t been accused of that. Only by you.”
He held his arms out. “Guilty. It’s my job to make sure you don’t overthink.”
Everything we’d done last weekend ran through my head, leaving behind a sizzling heat. “You have a unique method. I’m a fan.”
His grin turned wolfish. “I’d like to get started on that. We have an early morning.”
It had been a good day, and he was promising an even better night. “See what I mean? You should plan more.”