The beer paused halfway to Jesse’s mouth. It was the first time Aspen had referred to Dylan as a stalker, and even though Jesse already knew it was true, hearing the words from her mouth made him even edgier.
“It can certainly help with stress,” Clara said gently. While others would pry and try to get information, Clara wasn’t like that. She was a listener, and eventually, people started sharing their problems with her just because they felt so comfortable. “Come by my place anytime,” she added. “I work from a home studio.”
“I might just take you up on that offer.” Aspen took a big sip of her drink. It was her third one for the night.
Jesse leaned down so that his mouth was close to her ear. “Maybe we should go. Get some food.”
She looked up at him, eyes slightly glazed. “You’re always looking out for me.”
“You look out for me too.”
She snorted.
“You don’t need looking after,” she said. “You’re big and strong and trained in a hundred and one ways to kill people.”
“A hundred and two.”
“Oh, sorry, missed one.” She looked across the table at his brother and sister, who were now arguing about whether acupuncture could fix stupidity. “And you have an awesome brother and sister.”
“My mom’s pretty great too. You’ll need to meet her soon.”
Aspen put her elbow on the table and sat her chin on her palm. “While I have a crazy mother, no siblings and a dying career.”
“Your career isn’t dying.”
“Try telling that to my forever-unfinished manuscript.” She sipped her drink again. “How exactly does one become re-inspired?”
“When exactly did you lose inspiration?”
“One month into my relationship with Dylan.” She cringed before frowning down at her drink. “You’re right. I should stop drinking.”
“What happened between you two?” He’d asked before, but she’d always deflected. And maybe it was unfair to ask while she was drinking, but, fuck, he needed her to tell him his suspicions were off. Way fucking off.
Her frown deepened. “He showed me who he truly was.”
“And who was that?”
“Not you.”
He held her gaze for long seconds, willing her to tell him more. To open up to him.Trust himwith the information he needed.
The navy specks in her ocean-blue eyes bore into him. Gutting him. Distracting him just for a moment.
When the silence stretched, he inched closer, slipping an arm around her waist before lowering his head and whispering, “Let me in, A.”
“Letting people in can be dangerous.”
“Not with me.” He lifted his head, those beautiful eyes once again holding him hostage. “You’re safe with me.”
Her chest rose and fell, her lips parting. For a moment, he thought—hoped and prayed—that she’d tell him something important. Then her lips snapped shut. She looked away, then immediately straightened and frowned.
He followed her gaze across the bar to a couple who appeared to be fighting beside a booth.
“Do you see the way he’s standing over her?” Aspen asked quietly.
Yeah, the guy looked like an asshole. He was tall, towering over the woman, an angry scowl on his face. But she looked just as angry, as if she could give as good as she got.
Jesse looked back at Aspen. “He’s not doing anything wrong, and she’s not walking away. It’s not our business.”
