Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Fiona
The afternoon shift at Sugar’s Creamery was slow, the kind of slow that made every minute stretch like taffy.
I wiped down the counter for the third time in twenty minutes, my phone sitting face-up beside the register.
I’d looked at it at least six times—which was ridiculous considering it hadn’t made a sound.
The flowers were at home on the counter, their petals still perfect, the deep green ribbon tied around the stems exactly the shade I’d described to Jasper. It had only taken him three days to turn a handful of random answers into something I couldn’t stop thinking about.
I’d seen the card. He’d admitted sending them. Still, somehow knowing that hadn’t made anything easier.
Sugar emerged from the back room carrying a fresh tub of mint chocolate chip. She glanced at me, then my phone, then back at me with that look she’d perfected over the last few weeks.
“You’re thinking too hard again,” she said.
“I’m not…”
“You are.” She slid the tub into the freezer case and closed the glass door. “Whatever it is, just ask him.”
“Ask him what?”
“Whatever question is eating you alive.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but she was already disappearing into the back again.
I looked at my phone. What exactly was I supposed to ask? Why did you send me flowers? What do you want from me? Are you flirting with me because you actually want me, or are you just really, really good at this?
That last one sounded a little desperate even inside my own head.
My fingers moved anyway.
Me: New question.
His response came almost immediately.
Jasper: I’m ready.
Of course he was. Jasper always seemed ready for whatever I threw at him, while I spent half my time wondering what the hell I was doing.
I took a breath and typed before I could lose my nerve.
Me: What’s the first thing you notice about a woman?
The three dots appeared, disappeared, then appeared again.
Jasper: Depends on the woman.
I frowned at the screen.
Me: That’s evasive.
Jasper: It’s honest.
There he was. Give Jasper a straight question, and somehow, I ended up doing more work than he did.
Me: Fine. What did you notice about me?
I hit send before I could stop myself, then immediately regretted it. I could’ve asked him anything. Favorite movie. Favorite motorcycle. Whether he secretly watched terrible reality television.
Instead, I’d basically asked him to tell me whether he thought I was attractive.
Brilliant.
The dots appeared again, and my stomach tightened while I waited. I hated those three little bouncing dots more than I had any right to.
Jasper: That feels like a trap.
Me: Coward
Jasper: Your eyes.
My smile disappeared instantly.
I’d expected a joke. Maybe my legs. My hair. Something easy to laugh off and pretend hadn’t mattered.
Not my eyes.
I read the words again, and before I could decide what to do with them, another message appeared.
Jasper: Then your legs.
Heat rushed into my face. There he was.
Me: Jasper
Jasper: You asked.
Me: I expected something polite.
Jasper: Your smile was third.
I stared at the screen. Third? He’d remembered the order?
Jasper: Your laugh moved ahead of everything once I heard it.
My throat tightened.
For a few seconds, I forgot about the Creamery, the empty tables, even the possibility of Sugar wandering back out and catching me staring stupidly at my phone. Jasper remembered my laugh.
At the resort.
Me: That was smooth
Jasper: That was true.
That was so much worse.
Smooth I could dismiss.
Smooth could be explained away.
Jasper had a road name that practically came with a warning label. I could tell myself he knew exactly what to say because he’d had years of practice saying it to women. But he kept slipping something honest beneath the charm before I had time to protect myself from it.
I put my phone down, stared at it for about two seconds, then picked it right back up.
Me: What do you think I noticed about you?
Jasper: My devastating beauty.
A laugh escaped me and I looked around the empty shop, embarrassed at my reaction.
Me: Your ego
Jasper: Same thing.
My smile stayed this time.
Me: Your eyes.
His response didn’t come immediately, and I hated how much satisfaction I got from being the one who’d made him pause for once.
Jasper: Really?
Me: Then your smile.
Another pause, longer this time. I bit my lip, staring at the screen.
Jasper: Nothing about my legs?
I laughed again, my hand covering my mouth.
Me: I was trying to be polite
Jasper: Now who’s evasive?
My face warmed. Fair enough. There were plenty of things I’d noticed about Jasper Francis Alexander DuBois that didn’t qualify as polite conversation. The way he moved. The width of his shoulders. His hands.
Definitely his hands.
And there was absolutely no chance I was putting any of that in writing.
Me: Next question.
Jasper: No. We’re staying with this one.
Of course we were.
Me: I’m invoking my right to remain silent.
Jasper: Not one of the rules.
Me: There are rules now?
Jasper: There are when they benefit me.
I smiled despite myself. That was the thing about Jasper. Just when a conversation started feeling too serious, he shifted it enough to let me breathe. I wasn’t sure whether he did it intentionally.
I suspected he did.
And somehow, that made it worse too.
The next day, I was lying across my bed when my phone buzzed.
Jasper: Truth or dare?
I frowned at the screen.
Me: Over text?
Jasper: Afraid?
My eyebrows went up at his challenge.
Me: Truth.
Jasper: Disappointing.
Me: Ask the question
The dots appeared, disappeared, then his message came through.
Jasper: Have you thought about kissing me?
Well, that was unexpected.
I read the question again, even though there was absolutely no chance I’d misunderstood it.
Had I thought about kissing him?
Yes.
That wasn’t even difficult.
The embarrassing part was how often.
I’d wondered what his mouth would feel like from the first night at the resort. Every conversation since had only made the curiosity worse.
Me: That escalated quickly
Jasper: You chose truth.
Stupid choice. Stupid game. Stupid rules. Stupid ridiculously attractive man fifteen hundred miles away.
Me: Maybe
Jasper: Maybe you have or maybe you haven’t?
I covered my face with one hand. Apparently vague wasn’t going to save me.
Me: Maybe I’m not answering
Jasper: That’s against the rules.
I smiled into my palm. He wasn’t getting more than that.
Not yet.
Two could play this game.
Me: Your turn. Truth or dare?
Jasper: Truth.
Perfect.
Me: Have you thought about kissing me?
His answer came before I had time to prepare myself.
Jasper: Yes.
I stared at the screen.
Just yes. No joke. No question thrown back at me. No clever little escape route.
Me: That was fast
Jasper: You wanted honesty.
Apparently, I had. It had seemed like a much better idea before he actually gave it to me.
My fingers moved again.
Me: How often?
Jasper: That’s a second question.
Me: Answer it anyway
The dots stayed on the screen longer this time.
Jasper: More often than is gentlemanly.
I swallowed.
That answer was pure Jasper. Polite enough to look harmless until I thought about what he was actually saying.
Me: You don’t seem very gentlemanly
Jasper: I’ve been behaving beautifully.
Me: From several states away
Jasper: Distance has saved my reputation.
There were words you could read and move past. Then there were words that gave your imagination entirely too much room to work. My eyes drifted closed as I wondered what would happen when the distance wasn’t there? When Jasper was close enough that neither of us had a phone screen to hide behind?
My fingers moved before common sense caught up.
Me: What happens when it doesn’t?
Jasper: You tell me.
Of course he’d do that. He could’ve told me exactly what he wanted, but instead, he handed the question back to me, making it my choice.
Me: That sounds like a dare
Jasper: It might be.
I stared at those three words.
Not a promise.
Not a demand.
A dare.
He’d left the space between us open and let me decide whether I wanted to cross it. That should’ve made the whole thing less dangerous.
But it didn’t.
Because I knew what I wanted. I wanted to kiss him. Not some vague, someday kiss that was easy to imagine because miles of interstate stood between us. I wanted to know what would happen if he were standing right in front of me and I didn’t give him time to be careful.
I wanted to see whether all that control he kept hiding behind would hold.
Maybe that was the part I hadn’t been ready to admit.
The flowers hadn’t changed anything. Neither had his answers. They’d only made it harder to keep pretending I didn’t already know where this was going.
I set the phone on the mattress beside me and stared at the ceiling.
Maybe I wasn’t standing at the edge anymore.
Maybe I’d been falling for a while and had only just looked down.