Then I went for a jump shot. The ball bounced off the rim several times before finally going through the net.
“Seven-two.” She snagged the ball. “And you don’t have to say that.”
My stomach twisted at the uncertainty in her tone. “But it’s the truth.”
A huff escaped her. “I don’t want your pity.”
I stole the ball from her hands and stood directly in front of her.
In the dim light of the driveway, her face glowed. She looked more beautiful than ever.
“I don’t pity you,” I gritted out. “I respect you. There’s a big fucking difference.”
She looked up at me, those dark eyes searching for a lie, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
I stepped even closer, the move making her tilt her head back. She was tall, but she only came up to my chin.
Her lips parted slightly, as if she was surprised by how close we were.
We weren’t touching, but we were close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from her body.
It was delicious, this feeling of being close to her, but not close enough.
I wasn’t sure there was a such thing as close enough.
“Jasper,” she said, her voice a whisper.
I ran my thumb along her jaw and tipped her chin up. “You are incredible,” I said, zeroing in on her mouth.
That mouth.
God, it haunted me.
I needed it more than I needed to breathe.
I had to taste her. Had to feel her lips on mine.
The world fell away as I angled in. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t pull away as I pressed my mouth to hers in a gentle kiss.
The baby monitor crackled, and a heartbeat later, Vincent cried out.
We sprung apart, both darting for the video monitor on the hood of my car.
In a matter of seconds, Vincent was screaming bloody murder.
She clutched the device to her chest and peered up at me, still breathing hard, her face flushed. “I gotta go.”
Then she was gone, jogging toward the house without looking back.
Leaving me holding a pink basketball and wondering what the hell had just happened.
Chapter 18
Jasper
With a roll of my shoulders, I walked toward the large barn. The path to the patio was lit up by string lights, but rather than follow them, I headed straight to the entrance, where a chalkboard sign:Summer Ale First Pull—7 p.m.
The high ceiling was made of cedar beams, and copper tanks gleamed in the back of the space. A massive bar stretched along one side, lined with dozens of taps and gleaming glassware.
