I stumble at the brazenness of his words. Jasper catches my arm, trying to steady me as I collide with his chest.
“Hi,” Jasper says quietly, our faces only inches apart. His warm chocolate eyes meet mine.
“Hi,” I whisper back as we stand frozen in place, neither one of us moving
Jasper leans in close and whispers, “Feed me, Olly.”
I swallow thickly. I do want to feed him and my cock wants to be on the menu.
“And what’s that?” he asks, pointing to the cake sitting on the windowsill.
“Dessert. Well, part of it. I thought we could make the fresh whipped cream topping together.”
“Well, well, well, that sounds rather dirty,” Jasper says, hiding a smile behind his wine glass.
“Maybe a bit more… sticky.” My cheeks heat as I play along.
Jasper’s jaw drops open. “Who are you and what have you done with my straight-laced, buttoned-up Olly?”
“He’s not always so straight-laced, you know. He knows how to have fun. Because really, what kind of boring person takes in a complete stranger for a weekend? See? That’s spontaneous and fun.”
“Ah, no, Olly, that’s how you end up on one of those television shows. The kind where the victim is way too trusting and the baby spy takes over his identity after he’s chopped into a million pieces.”
With all his nonsense, I can’t seem to stop the smile from spreading across my face.
The pot on the stove boils and I drop in the noodles before getting to work on the lobster while Jasper sits at the kitchen island.
I can feel his eyes on me, dissecting me. So many times I find him staring at me like I’m a puzzle piece. It’s invigorating that I capture his attention, but…. I also want to hide in a lobster shell.
“Are you actually walking away from The Diner?”
I blow out a breath. “We’ve gone over this, Jasper. I’m not walking away from The Diner. On busy nights, I’ll still be there helping. It’s just…” I set the knife down and look at him. “I want to know what it’s like to follow my own dreams. I love The Diner. I loved my grandfather, and I know he would understand my need to find out who I am.” I sigh, “I don’t know, I just thought you would understand that need, too.”
Jasper fiddles with the stem of his wine glass, not looking me in the eye. “I do understand, but change can be hard,” he says softly, but doesn’t elaborate. “What are you going to do?”
There’s an ache in my gut. I push away the disappointment, hoping someday he will let someone in, even if it’s not me.
Gathering my thoughts while cutting the lobster, I place it in the sauté pan, drowning it with butter.
“I want to bake.”
Jasper raises a brow. “Like pies and toffee bars?”
I chuckle. “Yes, like pies and toffee bars.”
“I might get behind that.” He hums. “Do you need a taste tester? Did you know I could be persuaded to help… if the price is right?”
“And what price is that?”
I hear the metal of the stool pushing against the floor before I hear the light footsteps come up behind me. I feel his breath against my ear when he reaches his tippy toes. “You could teach me how to drive a stick shift.”
Jasper’s carisa stick shift.
My skin prickles with electricity. I’m finding it hard to swallow, my breath sticking in my throat. Jasper has always been a little flirty, but tonight he’s taking it up a notch.
I lean back. The heat from his body feels like comfort while the scent of leather, ink, and honey becomes my oxygen. What is he doing to me?
The air settles in disappointment when the ringing of Jasper’s phone cuts through the sounds of our heated breaths.
