Too Hot to Handle (Romancing the Clarksons #1)(54)

I am pond scum.

Jasper’s hoarse command for her to leave replayed over and over, making her trip on the sidewalk. God. What had she done? Maybe if the cooking demonstration hadn’t been so damn long, if she’d just found a way to stop the smoke and memories from crowding out logic, she wouldn’t have behaved like such a fantastic tool. But the simple act of cooking again had been too big a reminder of everything she’d left behind. Everything had been too big, too encroaching, and eventually the need to sever ties with the whole situation—including Jasper—had taken hold. How dare he foist the past on her when he didn’t understand it? No one did. With that sentiment ringing in her mind, she’d used the only weapon she had against him. Sex. Leaving. Treating their assignation in the office like any other depersonalized, no-strings encounter.

Sex with Jasper had been the furthest thing from depersonalized, though, hadn’t it? More like life-altering. Jasper talked a big game, and backed it up with something even better. Jasper Ellis was the god of sex. And—and—he was way, way fucking more than that. He was everything underneath the sex. An understanding, funny, caring, insightful man who’d only been attempting to break through to her.

Well, she’d saved him the eventual disappointment, hadn’t she?

Rita couldn’t make anyone happy. Not Miriam, who had failed to impart her genius, despite Rita being the chosen one to follow in her footsteps. Not her siblings, who’d seen no reason to connect or communicate with her post-funeral. Not her staff, her customers, the judges or contestants on the reality show. No one. And it would be no different with Jasper, except she wouldn’t have her one-bedroom apartment to hide away in. She’d be in a strange place with unfamiliar people. No way out but failure.

Rita stomped to a halt as a realization occurred like a blast of lightning. Somewhere in the further recesses of her mind, she must have considered the possibility of staying in Hurley. Otherwise, how could she deny the prospect now?

Serving to torture her further, the sound of Jasper’s heavy breaths invaded her head, echoing and beautiful. The way he’d gathered her close, like a coveted relic. She’d seen a sliver of light, a tiny chance to correct her mistake before the betrayal took hold. I can fix this, she’d thought. What if I stayed, tried making Jasper happy? But that same sliver of light had allowed Jasper to see right through her first. When he’d told her to leave, she’d almost been proud of him. It was nothing short of what she’d deserved. He’d worked all morning to do something nice for her—she’d repaid the man by treating him like garbage.

Rita looked up to see she’d grown even with the garage. Both corrugated metal doors were shut, no activity on the other side of the Plexiglas windows. In the middle of the day? She jumped with a yelp when Aaron came striding around the corner of the building, an ice pack pressed to his swollen jaw. “We’re being fucked with.”

Okay, her head was way too wrecked for human interaction, but her usual perfect brother’s faulty speech definitely deserved a few minutes of time. “What do you mean?” She pressed two fingers to her forehead, rubbing in a circle. “Shouldn’t you be recovering from dental surgery?”

His answer was offhand. “I slept for an hour.”

“Probably snored the whole time.”

He tore his narrow-eyed gaze off the closed garage. “Excuse me?”

“You didn’t snore, as a kid, I don’t think. But you do now.” She yanked the rubber band off her wrist, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. “No one’s ever told you?”

Maybe she should have taken a moment to watch Aaron closely before now. She’d always thought of him as a cold machine, but thoughts rippled and popped and smoothed under his surface, like a submarine traveling under still water. It was fascinating up close. Normally, looking directly at anyone—especially Aaron—this long would make her skin feel too thin, but she’d gone way past that point this afternoon, and her usual awkwardness receptors were in the shop, alongside the Suburban. “No, I’ve never been told,” her brother said, finally. “Women don’t usually stick around to spend the night, thank God.”

“Yeah.” Wow. None of them were normal. “Yeah, thank God. I guess.”

Aaron paced away and came back. “All right, what’s with the wounded-puppy act you’ve got going on?” He adjusted the ice pack. “It’s sadder than usual.”

“Oh yeah?” She kicked a rock at his shoe, a little surprised by her display of athleticism. “Well…you’re being more of a punk-ass than usual.”

Her brother surprised her by cracking a small smile, but a wince followed right on its heels. “Something to do with Jasper, isn’t it?” His attention shifted to the garage. “Jesus. I don’t even want to know.”

Of course, that anti-permission—and the ingrained sisterly instinct to annoy her brother at all costs—sent the whole damn story tumbling from Rita’s mouth. “Well I’m going to tell you, anyway,” she heaved out. “He’s fucking…wonderful. And I ruined it by having sex with him.”

“You must be doing it wrong,” Aaron droned, not bothering to look at her.

“I’m doing everything wrong,” she shouted. “Everything.”

When Aaron removed the ice pack from his jaw and threw it up against the building, Rita gaped. “What did you expect to happen, Rita? Maybe you’d settle down in this population-twenty dust bowl and have little flannel-wearing babies?” His laughter was low. “If that’s what you want, I feel sorry for you.”