Too Hot to Handle (Romancing the Clarksons #1)(25)

She was silent a while. “So…someone called you?”

“You’re going to make me admit to being nosy, aren’t you?” He took a right turn and Rita leaned along with him as he’d instructed before leaving the garage. “Men like to be described with words like mysterious. Or devil-may-care. If you could swap one of those for nosy, I’d appreciate it.”

Her hum created a vibration along his spine. “You’re both of those things, too. That’s why I’m poking around.”

“Well, good. I’d hate to be nosy by myself.”

Laughter drifted over the back of his neck. “Thanks for the permission. I think.” Her fingers flexed against his stomach. “Tell me about your eatery. Does it have a name?”

“Not just yet,” he hedged, even though it felt good simply having someone ask. Not one person had since he’d begun the addition. “As you well know, I’m not much good at naming places. Kind of hoping it’ll name itself.”

Her laughter sent pleasure filtering into his stomach, like sand through a colander. “What’s your game plan?”

“I get the feeling my game plan isn’t going to meet your standards,” he said. “Mostly since you used the words game plan.”

“My standards have…shifted of late.”

“Well. Shift them a little more, because I’m planning on setting the tables and opening the doors.” He ran his tongue along his upper row of teeth. “Doesn’t sound very sexy, does it?”

“Are you going for sexy?”

“I’m always going for sexy.” Damn, he liked hearing her laugh. It was throaty, like she’d just gotten over a cold but hadn’t quite regained her voice yet. And at the same time, it always contained a touch of surprise. She was surprised to be laughing. “See, my plan last night was to show you the addition. If you hadn’t upended up my intentions with that kiss, I’d have done it.”

The thighs around his hips flexed, forcing Jasper to talk his erection from the ledge. Easy, buddy. We’re going to Grandma’s house. Come back toward the window. “That is a pity,” Rita mumbled.

“Now I definitely didn’t say that.” Jasper revved his engine when a friend passed by in a truck heading in the opposite direction. “Pity doesn’t belong in the same breath as kissing Rita.”

Her stomach shuddered at the small of his back. “Just…tell me about the restaurant addition.”

“Stop trying to steer the conversation toward sex, would you?” She jabbed him in the ribs with a finger and he smiled. “I’d rather show you. Tonight, maybe.”

She didn’t respond until they pulled to a stop in front of his grandmother’s house. “Maybe.”

As was her custom, Rosemary Ellis made her appearance before he could switch off the bike, sweeping out onto the porch with arms spread wide, trying to give the whole world a hug. “Oh, you did it. You brought a girl.” His grandmother tipped forward, slapping both hands onto her knees with a big expulsion of huhhha.

Jasper dismounted the bike and assisted Rita with the same, removing the helmet from her head when she made no move to do it herself. Kind of loving doing it for her, too. He’d never given much thought to a woman’s hair before, but as he took off the helmet, Jasper found himself easing little strands free so they wouldn’t pull in the process. What did she look like brushing it? Probably ripped through it, impatient to move on to something else.

Rita didn’t notice his attentions, however, because she was transfixed by the petite ball of energy on the house porch. Rosemary, in her puff-painted sweatshirt—which appeared to depict a pug, but she couldn’t be sure—was jogging in place, jazz hands aloft. His grandmother had a habit of listing everything in her sight lines. “Bike is parked. There’s a girl. Black jeans. Okay, okay. Whose grandson is that, you ask? Well, it’s mine. Okay, then.”

“She calms down after a few minutes,” Jasper murmured for Rita’s ears alone. Then louder, “Now, don’t go breaking out the childhood picture albums, Rosemary.” He gave Rita’s hip a squeeze to propel her toward the stairs. “Unless they’re the ones where I’m naked. Even as a kid, I had a great ass.”

Rosemary hooted, even though her cheeks went bright pink. “Get that manner of talk out of your system now. It won’t be welcome at my lunch table.” She zigzagged toward Rita, patting her on the shoulders like she was trying to subdue flames. “Helmet hair.”

Oh, boy. “Rosemary, this is Rita. Rita, Rosemary.”

His grandmother shook Rita’s offered hand so rapidly it was a wonder it didn’t tear clean off. “Nice to meet you. Good. Come on in.”

Jasper gestured for the two women to precede him into the house, and Rosemary acknowledged the move with a gasp, a hand fluttering in the general area of her throat. “Such a gentleman,” she cooed.

Now, he loved his grandmother. Far as he was concerned, the town’s motto should be, “Hurley: Birthplace of Rosemary Ellis.” But as a man, Jasper could look back and see—while he’d been growing up—she’d overcompensated for his parents’ general lack of interest by going in the extreme opposite direction, praising his most minimal of efforts. He loved the hell out of her for it, too. Now, though, he often wondered if Rosemary’s encouraging words had been authentic, or if his parents had had the right idea about him.