Powerless (Chestnut Springs, #3)(17)

Coffee in hand, I grab a few simple changes of clothes. Leggings. Jeans. And then I see it. My eyes light, and I speed waddle through the branded clothing section, straight toward what I need.

“No.” Jasper says from behind me as I reach forward.

“Yes,” I reply, grinning as I turn back to him, holding up one of his jerseys. Number one emblazoned across the back.

His eyes narrow, and he gives me a flat look from beneath the brim of his hat. “Where are you even going to wear that?”

I roll my eyes at him because I can see the faint blush on the tops of his cheeks, the tips of his ears going just a little red. Jasper has never been comfortable with his fame. It’s always made him squirm. “To your game tonight, obviously.”

“You’re coming to my game?” His head quirks and he looks so boyish.

“Duh.” I add the jersey to the pile of clothes over my arm and head off to the dressing room in the eerily quiet store. It’s so early that there isn’t even music playing. All I can hear is the hum of the overhead lights that cast a terrible yellow glow over my face as I try on my clothes.

I look exhausted.

I am exhausted. The only thing keeping me going is how badly Jasper needs someone to be there for him. And I’m determined to be that someone. Especially after he sprung me from my wedding.

I’m just returning the favor. That’s what I tell myself. Because the alternative is that I’m just reveling in spending time alone with him, and I don’t want to be that moon-eyed lovesick girl who follows him around anymore. I want to be strong and independent. And a good friend. Because that’s what he really needs right now.

“Wow. This jersey looks sooo good on me,” I announce from inside the dressing room, pestering him a bit, because I know he’s leaned up against the opposite wall, all long limbs and navy-blue eyes focused on the door. Somehow even changing with him this close feels intensely personal.

I roll my eyes at myself. But smile when he groans.

“Where are you going to go after the game?” is what he comes back with.

“I mean . . .” I trail off, assessing myself in the mirror and opting to leave the jersey on. It’s big and comfy, and I can tell that underneath all of Jasper’s grumbling, he finds it amusing. “I was thinking we’d go back out to the ranch. I guess I should have asked what your plans are. I checked your schedule. You’ve got a good stretch of home games.”

“Yeah. Four.”

I fling the door open with a dramatic flourish and strike a pose in my new leggings and jersey. “How do I look?”

He rolls his eyes and folds the brim of his hat. But I don’t miss the twitch of his lips or the way his gaze trails to my body and rakes over my legs.

“It might be a late night if we drive all the way back.” He holds one arm open to usher me ahead of him, and I go, no longer worried about dropping my pants in front of him.

“That’s fine.”

“We could always stay at my place in the city.” The words are strained.

I stop in my tracks and turn back to him, craning my neck to look him in the eye. “Is that what you want? I don’t know what I want, other than to not face reality yet. I’d like to keep my head in the sand for at least one more day. So I’ll go wherever you go.”

His sapphire eyes drop to my lips for a moment and then drag back up. “No. I’d rather be at the ranch with everyone. Just in case.”

Just in case. Just in case there’s any news, I assume.

“You could tell the team you need a night off.”

He shakes his head and drops a warm hand on my shoulder as he turns us around. “No. It will feel good to play. Normal. Plus, the team needs me.”

I nod, because I know that feeling. Dancing until my body aches and sweat drips down my back would be a comfort right about now.

“Can I wear these out?” I ask the dressing room attendant as we draw up to the podium.

She eyes me carefully. “Sure, doll. Let me cut the tags off, and then you need to have them scanned at the checkout.”

I offer her my best reassuring smile, trying really hard not to appear like a criminal. “Of course. Thank you.” She peeks at the jersey and then glances up at Jasper, eyes widening slightly when she puts it together. “Are you Jasper Gervais?” Her silver bob swishes as her head flips between him and the jersey I’m wearing.

“Yes, ma’am.” Jasper smiles, always so gracious with his fans. Anyone who doesn’t know him wouldn’t pick up on his discomfort. The way his neck goes a little tight. The way his thumb presses into the tips of his fingers.

“My grandsons are just the biggest fans. Any chance you’d sign . . .” She glances around, trying to find something. “Oh gosh. I don’t know. Something? A Post-it note? The boys would love this for Christmas.”

I see his body soften as soon as she starts talking about her grandsons. I know Jasper volunteers with atrisk youth sports programs and has a huge soft spot for kids. “Of course. I’ll wait here. Why don’t you go grab a couple shirts in their sizes? I’ll take the tags and buy them too.”

The woman’s hands clasp up in front of her chest. “Oh, you are a sweet boy,” she gushes, looking at him with hearts in her eyes.

And I can’t even blame her. I am too.