Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Fiona
I spent entirely too much of the night thinking about a forehead kiss.
Which was pathetic.
Jasper had ridden fifteen hundred miles to take me to prom. He’d shown up in a tuxedo with a corsage, danced with me for hours, sat on Granny’s porch long after he should’ve left, then whispered something in French he refused to translate.
And somehow, my brain had latched onto the fact that he’d kissed my forehead.
Not my mouth.
My forehead.
I lay beneath the covers staring at the ceiling while the whole night replayed itself in fragments. His face when he first saw me in the dress. His hand at the small of my back. The way he’d looked at me when I thanked him for coming.
And that moment at the door.
I hadn’t imagined it.
His eyes had dropped to my mouth.
Hadn’t they?
Maybe.
That word was going to make me insane. If he wanted to kiss me, why didn’t he?
The answer I liked was that he was holding himself back because he wanted me too much to rush things. The answer I liked considerably less was that he didn’t see me that way at all.
Forehead kisses were safe. Affectionate. The kind of kiss you gave somebody you cared about without crossing any lines.
I groaned and rolled onto my side.
He’d ridden across half the country for me. That had to count for something.
Kind men did kind things. That argument had sounded much more convincing before Jasper showed up at my door in a tuxedo.
By the time morning light started edging around the curtains, I’d managed to turn one wonderful night into seventeen different reasons I might’ve misunderstood it.
I got out of bed before I could invent an eighteenth.
After pulling on jeans and a sweater, I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and headed downstairs expecting to find Granny alone in the kitchen.
Instead, Jasper sat at the table with a coffee cup in his hands.
I stopped in the doorway.
His hair was slightly mussed and his shirt looked like he’d slept in it, but he was very definitely there.
“Morning, Cher,” he said.
Granny turned from the stove with an entirely too knowing smile. “Good morning, sweetheart. Coffee?”
I stared at Jasper. “You’re here.”
His smile came slowly. “I wanted to take you to breakfast before I left.”
“I thought...” I glanced toward the window as if that might somehow explain the situation. “I thought you were leaving last night.”
“Changed my mind.”
Granny set a mug in front of the chair beside him. “Sit, Fiona. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I sat. Mostly because my knees had stopped being particularly trustworthy. “You stayed,” I said.
“I stayed.”
“Where?”
“Josie gave me a room at the ski lodge.” His mouth curved. “Drove down early this morning. Wanted to make sure you got breakfast before I headed back.”
Granny hummed approvingly from the stove. “That boy’s got manners.”
I wrapped both hands around the coffee. Jasper caught my eye over the rim of his cup. The doubts I’d spent half the night building suddenly seemed a little less sturdy.
The coffee shop on Main Street smelled like espresso, cinnamon, and warm bread. Jasper held the door for me, resting his hand briefly at the small of my back as I passed. That tiny touch was enough to restart at least three of the questions I’d tried to kill over coffee at Granny’s.
We found a table tucked into the corner. Jasper ordered coffee and croissants, and for a while we talked about nothing important.
His ride to Virginia.
The weather.
Easy conversation.
Except everything with Jasper felt weighted now. Every look seemed to linger a little too long. Every silence felt like it held words one of us wasn’t saying.
I was halfway through my second croissant when Dennis walked toward our table.
Perfect.
Not now.
Dennis worked at the hardware store and showed up around town often enough that avoiding him entirely would’ve required moving. He’d asked me out more than once.
I’d said no every time.
Apparently, he considered that an opening negotiation.
“Fiona,” he said, stopping beside the table. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Hi, Dennis.”
“I was thinking, since you’re not working today, maybe we could grab lunch? There’s that new Italian place over in—”
“I’m sorry, Dennis. I’m busy.”
“Dinner, then?” He leaned one hand against the table. “Come on, Fiona. One date. What’s the harm?”
Before I could answer, Jasper spoke. “She said she’s busy.”
His voice was easy enough that someone who didn’t know him might’ve missed the change.
I didn’t.
Dennis finally looked at him. “And you are?”
Jasper leaned back in his chair, completely relaxed.
“Romeo—Fiona’s date.”
My stomach flipped.
Date.
Dennis’s jaw tightened. “Date.”
“That’s right.” Jasper’s smile didn’t move. “See, Fiona and I are having breakfast. Just the two of us. So I’m sure you understand why she’s not available for lunch. Or dinner. Or... anything else you might be thinking about.”
The words were polite.
Mostly.
The message underneath them wasn’t. Dennis stared at him for another second before looking at me. “Well,” he said slowly, “maybe another time, Fiona.”
Something about the way he said it made my shoulders tense. Not okay. Not I understand. Another time. He walked away, and I knew he wouldn’t give up.
Jasper watched until the door closed behind him. Then he looked at me.
“How often does he do that?”
“Do what?”
“Ask you out.”
I tore a piece off the edge of my croissant. “Every time I see him.”
His fingers tapped once against his coffee cup. “And how often is that?”
“I don’t know. Rosewood’s a small town. You see the same people all the time. It’s not a big deal.”
“What does he do?”
“Works at the hardware store, I think.”
“You think?”
“I don’t really pay attention.” I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”
“Just curious.” His expression immediately settled back into the version of Jasper everybody trusted. “So you see him at the hardware store?”
“Sometimes. And around town. Gas station. Grocery store.” I shrugged. “Like I said, small town.”
“Right.” He took another sip. “What’s his last name?”
I frowned.
“I don’t know. Dennis something.” I set my croissant down. “Why are you asking so many questions about him?”
“Just making conversation, Cher.” His smile widened. “Finish your breakfast. These croissants are too good to waste.”
I looked at him for another moment. That smile was entirely too innocent, and I didn’t believe it for a second.
Still, I let it go.
The rest of breakfast passed without Dennis returning, and eventually our conversation wandered back to safer territory. When we finished, Jasper paid despite my protests and led me outside.
The blues station played softly during the drive home. Morning sunlight came through the windshield, warm enough that I could almost pretend he wasn’t about to leave again.
Almost.
He pulled into Granny’s driveway much too soon.
Jasper walked me to the porch, one hand settling lightly against my back as we climbed the steps.
“Thank you,” I said when we reached the door. “For breakfast. For... everything.”
“Anytime, Cher.”
He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. My breath stalled hoping for something different this time. Surely this time he would kiss me.
And he did. Jasper leaned in and kissed my forehead.
Again.
Of course he did.
“Ride safe,” I whispered.
“Always.” His smile was soft. “I’ll text you when I get home.”
Then he walked away. I stood on the porch watching Sugar’s car until it disappeared from sight. The spot on my forehead still felt warm.
Something was happening between us. I wasn’t imagining all of it. No man rode across the country, took a woman to prom, spent half the night on her porch, then woke up early to take her to breakfast because he felt nothing.
Did he?
I leaned against the porch post. He’d stayed. That should’ve been enough.
Except he’d also kissed my forehead twice while carefully avoiding my mouth.
Maybe restraint meant exactly what I wanted it to mean.
Maybe it didn’t.
I could still hear him from the night before.
Some things are better left untranslated, Cher. At least for now.
I closed my eyes.
There it was again.
Another almost-answer from Jasper Francis Alexander DuBois.
And apparently, I was going to have to become much braver if I ever wanted the rest of it.