“Your website says you’re the best car service in the state of Massachusetts,” he’s saying. “You don’t have a single car in your fleet that could get the job done?”
“Jasper,” I say quietly, but I don’t think he hears me. I told him not to bother with this, that he’d only need to take one look outside to see all he’d need to know about our chances, but he’d insisted.
“I’ve got four and a half hours to get my partner on a flight. I will pay you whatever you want. Up front, I’ll pay you. A bonus if you get her there on time.Anything.”
I move around to the back of the couch, stand at one end so I can intercept him when he makes his inevitable turn. He’s got his head down, so I reach out, set a hand on his forearm. It stops him in his tracks.
“It’s fine,” I whisper. “Really. I’ll rebook for tomorrow.”
His jaw clenches and he mutters a grudging “Thank you for your time” into his phone before hanging up. He looks so defeated, and I can’t help it—I move my hand, stroke his arm lightly. He took off his jacket before he made the call, rolled up his shirtsleeves as though he was about to get into a fistfight, so I’m touching his bare, warm skin, the muscles beneath corded and firm. I feel like my swallow could be heard on another planet, and that damned bell is ringing somewhere around my heart.
“I’m ruining your Christmas,” he says quietly, keeping his voice low and looking briefly over my shoulder to make sure Tanner and Allison aren’t listening.
“You’re not ruining it.”
“You’d be with your family right now, if it weren’t for me.”
He blinks down at where my hand rests on his skin, but he doesn’t move. I don’t either.
“If it weren’t for the job,” I say, keeping my voice hushed too.
“Right. The job.”
“Jasper. What happened in there?”
He shrugs. “I’m off my game.”
“Because of me.”
He looks at me miserably. I think about lifting my hand from his arm, bringing it up to his face. I’d push the brown hair that’s fallen over his brow off his forehead. I’d let myself feel the sandpaper texture of his jaw, like I did last week. It’d feel like Christmas again, and God knows, I’m really missing Christmas right now.
“Because ofme,” he says.
A fresh, angry gust of wind rattles through the house, and I startle where I stand.
Immediately Jasper sets his large, warm hand over mine, and it should be friendly, comforting, not unlike casual ways we’ve touched before in the midst of a tense meeting, or a turbulent flight, whatever. But now it feels so intimate—Jasper’s skin beneath and above my hand, a miniature version of the embrace we had a week ago.
“I’ll fix this,” he says, his features set in a familiar way. This determination—it’s at least more recognizable.
“Plane tickets are one thing. It’s not like you can control the weather,” I tease.
His mouth—scar-side, my favorite—lifts slightly in a smile, and my own lips curve in mirrored pleasure. While we stand like that I think of how fervently Jasper has been clinging to control since this morning. As much as he hates that I’m missing my family Christmas, I hate that he’s feeling so lost and out of sorts.
“We’ll make the best of it,” I say, squeezing his arm slightly, and he nods. Between us, a small shift has taken place: we feel more on the same team, more like the Jasper and Kristen who order late-night food and watch baseball. “We’ll have fun.”
“Well, we’ve found some things!” calls Romina’s chipper voice, interrupting our hushed conversation. She’s emerging from the basement door down the hall, Gil coming up behind her, his hands full. “We’ve got boots here that should work for you both, and we’ve just put some extra linens in the wash, so once those are ready we’ll take them out to the cottage, and—”
“Oh, fun!” chimes Allison, wiping her hands on a towel. “It’ll be nice for you two to stay out there.”
“The—?”
Gil speaks up, cutting off my question. “We’d have you in here, of course, but we’ve only got two bedrooms, and it seems silly for Tanner and Alli to pack up all their things—”
“No, no,” I say. “This is very generous of you.”
“It’s a bit rough-and-ready out there,” says Romina. “But the heat works, and you’ve got a small galley kitchen, and the bed is brand-new. . . .”
Jasper coughs. “The bed.” He repeats it rather than asks it. His hand is still warm over mine, warmer than before.
