Too Hot to Handle (Romancing the Clarksons #1)(71)

Why did her body—including her heart—fill with lead at the prospect of climbing back into the Suburban?





Chapter Thirty-Two



Jasper usually left the bar’s busywork to Nate, but cutting limes and replacing cash-register tape was helping keep his mind occupied, even if the silence acted as needles beneath his skin. In just under an hour, the Clarksons—including Rita—would arrive to help him and the chef prep the kitchen for Buried Treasure’s first ever dinner service. The specials menu lay on the bar in front of him, but it resembled more of a eulogy to Jasper.

If that were true, dropping Rita off this morning had been a wake. Their impending separation had filled the truck’s cab so thoroughly he hadn’t even been surprised when Rita simply climbed out with a sad smile over her shoulder, setting off bone-deep agony so thick he hadn’t been able to swim through it. Hadn’t been able to call her back and say a proper good-bye, the way two people did after slaking each other’s lust for damn near ten hours.

She’d said his name in her sleep. When he’d returned to the room after removing the perfect soufflé from the oven, he’d slipped in beside her, rain beginning to pelt the roof, feeling more contentment than was wise in their situation, but unable to help himself. He’d lain awake, watching the reflection of raindrops play on Rita’s back, refusing to believe at first that she was breathing his name. But she was. She’d done it exactly three times, all in different ways. Insistent, sweet, and longingly. That last time had prompted Jasper to roll her over, slide down between her thighs, and wake her up with his hungry mouth. He could still taste her. Probably would for the rest of his life.

By the end of the day he would know if he’d get to refresh that taste every day, the way he craved the chance to do.

When the front door of the Liquor Hole opened, shedding light on the dim bar, Jasper squinted into the sunlight. The prospect of seeing Rita an hour earlier than expected sent his pulse haywire, but when the door closed again, Jasper saw it was only Belmont who had arrived. Interesting.

Jasper sent Rita’s older brother a nod and stood, going behind the bar to toss a coaster in front of him. “Get you a drink?”

The stool creaked under Belmont’s size. “No.”

“Okay.” Silence stretched. “You stop by for a reason?”

“Yes.”

When it became apparent that Belmont was going to take his sweet damn time revealing his reason for stopping by early, Jasper set about icing down beers, cleaning the empty liquor bottles, and making a fresh pot of coffee. He might still be sticking to his sober guns, but he had no self-imposed rules against being caffeinated. Damn, he hoped Belmont had stopped by to talk about Rita. It would be nice to talk about her with someone. And Belmont’s interest in his sister’s relationship would mean it hadn’t been some elaborate daydream.

Belmont cleared his throat, bringing Jasper’s head up. “Do you have intentions?”

“Intentions for what?” Jasper asked, wanting to have the words said out loud. Wanting the last three days to be real.

“My sister.”

Jasper picked up a bar rag and started cleaning. “I do. But you might have noticed she has intentions of her own.”

He swore another five minutes passed before Belmont spoke again. “You could try and change her intentions to match yours.”

Jasper’s laughter hurt on the way out. “Thank you for the advice.” He threw down the rag in his hand. “You know, I’m a little out of my fucking depth here. I couldn’t have made it any clearer how I feel about her. Now, I’m going to be selfish and I’m going to fight, but it’s like trying to race a clock and I only had three days to compete.”

“That true?”

“Which part?”

Belmont ran his thumb along the crease of his chin. “You made it clear how you feel about her?”

Jasper started to say Yesgoddammit, but realized it wasn’t true. Not yet. Still, a man didn’t expose the most vital parts of himself—as he’d done with Rita—without wanting that woman to hold them in her hands, accept them, did he? He’d showed her his restaurant, introduced her to Rosemary, held her in his bed. He’d all but screamed, Take everything of mine. Please take it. Hadn’t he? “I made it clear,” he hedged.

“How did it go?” Belmont asked after a minute. “When you told her?”

If Jasper had blinked, he would have missed the way Belmont shifted, tension creeping into his lumberjack shoulders. As if maybe he’d come to the Liquor Hole to get advice, just as much as needing to give it. “Why do you ask?” Jasper propped an elbow on the bar, a few feet from Belmont. “Something to do with your fifth traveler, maybe?”

Blue eyes frosted over. “She’s not your concern.”

“No, I reckon she isn’t,” Jasper said, burying his amusement. “Pretty obvious she’s your concern, though.”

Belmont’s hands balled into fists on the bar and once again silence filled the room, making Jasper wish he’d had the presence of mind to put on some music. “Love is kind of a selfish business, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Belmont muttered. “What if it’s really the opposite?”

Jasper’s throat constricted. “What do you mean?”