Jasper Vale (The Edens #4)(33)

“I don’t really like cookies. But if I had to choose, oatmeal raisin.”

“Oatmeal raisin? Oh my God, I married a monster.”

The corner of my mouth turned up. It was the first time I’d smiled in, well . . . a week.

“Sorry I stank up the house,” she said.

“It’ll fade.”

“Stupid Eloise,” she muttered.

“Call yourself stupid again, and I’ll take you over my knee.”

She gasped, her eyes widening.

“You’re not stupid.” I knew it was one of those off-handed, self-deprecating remarks, but I still didn’t like it. If I heard it again, I’d spank her beautiful ass until it was red. “So don’t say it.”

“Okay,” she whispered, her gaze running over my T-shirt and shorts. “Were you at the gym?”

“This morning. Then I went for a hike. Did you work today?”

“No, I took it off.”

Eloise had spent every day this week at the hotel. Either to avoid me or because she was busy. Probably both. Normally when I woke up each morning around six, she was already gone, leaving behind her scent, that earthy, floral vanilla, in the bathroom.

Except this morning, there’d been no perfume. When I’d come down from the loft, she’d been asleep on the couch, her eyelids fluttering as she’d dreamed.

So it had been my turn to sneak out early.

Foster had asked me to come to his gym this morning to work out.

Today was the first time we’d seen each other since the coffee shop last weekend. We’d talked on the phone a couple times, short, clipped conversations. Not that our face-to-face today had been much different. We hadn’t spoken much before we’d climbed into the ring to spar.

Inside the ropes, there hadn’t been the need for words. Foster had let his fists do all the talking.

Eloise’s eyes locked on the fresh cut on my lower lip. She reached out to touch it but stopped before she actually made contact. Then that sad look in her eyes doubled.

So did the pinch in my chest.

“How was Foster?” she asked.

Pissed. Seriously fucking pissed. “Fine.”

He was angry that I hadn’t told him about Eloise. He was mad that I’d spent a month concealing the truth. But mostly, I think he was hurt because he knew I was still hiding something.

Maybe I should have fessed up. Maybe I should have laid it all out there, explaining that this marriage was a sham. That Eloise and I were gutting this out so she could have a shot at her hotel and I wouldn’t have to show up to Sam’s wedding alone.

But I’d kept my mouth shut. My reward? An ass kicking.

Foster had landed a kick to my gut that had knocked the wind out of me. Then he’d popped me in the mouth, the skin splitting instantly.

It had bled on and off during my afternoon hike. Whatever blood was on the sleeve of my black shirt was invisible.

“You didn’t, um . . . tell him about our arrangement. Did you?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No.”

“Thank you.” She sighed.

More secrets. But for some reason, keeping our motives from Foster didn’t bother me as much as hiding this marriage to Eloise.

Why? No fucking clue. I’d tried to figure it out on my hike. I’d spent a couple hours trying to sort through these feelings. Clear my head. It hadn’t worked. I still felt . . . off.

Maybe I was just tired. Sleep had been shit all week.

“Where did you go hiking?” she asked.

“The Sable Peak Trailhead.”

Even after a punishing workout with Foster, I’d had this restless energy coursing through my veins. So I’d searched for local trailheads and headed for the mountains.

The loop had been six miles. My legs were dead, and tomorrow I’d pay for overexerting myself. And only a sliver of that energy had faded.

“That’s always been Mateo’s favorite trail.” Eloise pulled her knees up, hugging them to her chest. “Maybe I should have gone hiking with you instead of yet another kitchen fail.”

Those beautiful eyes flooded with tears.

This wasn’t about the cookies. But if she needed to cry over them, I’d sit beside her.

Even though I needed a shower, even though I was starving, I didn’t move. We stared at the trees until Eloise filled the silence.

“My mom is an amazing cook. She jokes that Knox and Lyla inherited her talents, and by the time Mateo and I were born, there was nothing left for us. But I still try. I bake cookies for family dinners and pretend not to notice when they all disappear to the garbage can in the garage. I make sangria that no one drinks.”

“Do you like to cook?”

“No.”

“Then why not quit?”

She lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. I guess it would be nice to do it right. Just once.”

Eloise was still trying to cover up those ugly horses with pretty pictures.

“After today, I think . . . I give up.” Her voice was so small. Gone was the strong, vibrant woman who’d caught me in her spell in Vegas. And at the moment, I’d give anything to make those tears disappear.

“I like to cook,” I said. “Hate doing laundry.”

She sniffled, wiping beneath her eyes. “I don’t mind laundry.”