jasper
Jasper had been stranded in worse places than an airport with decent coffee and functioning Wi-Fi. He’d also been stranded with worse people.
Bennett Shaw wasn’t the worst. Just the most tightly wound man Jasper had met in years, and possibly the most entertaining when irritated.
They stood near the rental car desk, surrounded by equally frustrated travelers. The line crept forward agonizingly slowly. Bennett scrolled furiously on his phone, firing off emails to his team, rescheduling calls, damage controlling the delay.
He’d worked with Jasper on exactly two projects before this. The first had been a disaster. Bennett’s carefully structured timeline had been derailed by Jasper’s last-minute “creative pivots.” They’d nearly missed the deadline. Jasper had blamed Bennett’s rigidity. Bennett had blamed Jasper’s chaos. Their teams had to be separated for a month.
The second project had somehow worked, their different approaches had complemented each other in ways neither wanted to admit. Bennett had hated how effective Jasper’s instincts were. Jasper had hated how often Bennett’s data proved him right.
Bennett preferred not to think about the second one. Jasper watched him a beat too long.
“This is the part,” Jasper said, “where we decide who is driving.”
Bennett did not look up. “I am.”
“Of course you are.”
“I drive because I prefer control,” Bennett said.
Jasper smiled. “You seem like the sort who white-knuckles through life and won’t admit discomfort.”
Bennett met his gaze. “And you seem like someone who enjoys provoking people who could leave you stranded in a snowbank.”
“Empty threat,” Jasper said lightly. “You’d never abandon me. You’re far too responsible.”
Bennett turned back to his phone, but Jasper caught a minute twitch at the corner of his mouth, a reluctant amusement he knew he’d inspired.
Progress.
The rental clerk informed them that exactly two vehicles remained. Both were SUVs. Both required sharing.
Bennett stared at the keys as if they’d personally insulted him.
Jasper leaned in just enough to lower his voice. “If it helps, I promise not to touch your radio presets.”
“That does not help.”
“Your loss. I have excellent taste.”
Bennett sighed. “Just get in the car.”
The drive to the hotel took longer than expected. Snow thickened the roads. Visibility dropped. The world outside the windshield felt muffled, distant. Jasper watched Bennett drive. Precise and controlled, hands steady on the wheel.
He was good under pressure. That much was obvious.
What intrigued Jasper most? The sheer effort Bennett spent tamping down every stray emotion. Masking the toll this mess was taking on him.
“You know,” Jasper said, “if this were a rom-com, this would be the part where we bond over shared adversity.”
“This is not a rom-com.”
“No. You are right. The lighting is all wrong.”
Bennett shot him a look. “Do you ever stop talking?”
“Only when something interesting happens.”
