Chapter One
Jasper
"Ineed a favor."
I press the button to stop the treadmill before slowly turning to face my baby sister. I know that tone. Frankly, the goddamn thing haunts every nightmare I have. Every disaster Olive has ever dragged me into started the same way, with her using that exact same tone and those exact same words.
"Hell no," I say, grabbing my towel to mop my forehead.
Olive pouts up at me like I'm ruining her life. "Jasper! You don't even know what I need!"
She needs Jesus, that's what she needs.
"Don't care. I'm not getting involved in another one of your schemes." I narrow my eyes at her. "I've still got bird shot in my ass from the last one, Olive."
Her lips twitch. "That's your own fault. I told you to teach me to shoot with real ammo, but no. You insisted on birdshot." She rolls her eyes at me. "It was bound to happen."
"You…" I trail off with a bark of laughter. "Jesus Christ. You're unbelievable."
"Yeah, but you love me anyway."
She's right, I do. Doesn't mean I'm crazy enough to put a gun in her hand with real ammo in it. I'd have a bullet lodged in my ass right now instead of birdshot if I were.
"What do you want this time?" I ask, curious. It's guaranteed to be something wild that I absolutely will not do…just like it always is. But at least she's entertaining. I could use a little entertainment in my life.
I'm bored out of my mind. I wasn't built to sit around, doing nothing. But now that I'm out of the military, I've got nothing but a lifetime of it stretching before me. It's been three days, and I'm already losing it.
"Nothing major," she says casually. "I just need you to go to dinner with Sarah tonight."
"Absolut—" I stop talking, a current running through me as soon as Sarah Tolliver's name registers in my brain. Fuck.Sarah.My whole system lights up at the thought of the shy little goddess who haunts my mind far more than I'm willing to admit to my sister. She'd never speak to me again if she knew the things I want from her sweet little best friend or the things I've done to her in my dreams.
But there isn't a man alive who would judge me for any of it. Sarah is a walking, talking wet dream. Every time she's in my vicinity, all I want to do is pull her into my arms, run my hands over every lush curve on her body, and then just fucking hold her.
I've spent a lifetime in the military, where the only thing that's soft is the mud we wade through. Sarah is soft. The way she speaks, the way she smiles, the sound of her laugh…it's all so fuckingsoft.
I've never wanted to protect anything the way I want to use my own body to shield that softness. I've never wanted to take care of anything the way I want to take care of her, either. It fucks me up sometimes, how much I crave things with her that I never even considered until she walked into my life three years ago.
But she's so afraid of me, she can't even string two sentences together without stuttering her way through them. Every time we're in the same room together, she turns into this shy little mess, and all I can think about is how much I want to scoop her into my arms and just fucking hold her until the panic leaves her gaze and she's telling me every secret I see hiding behind those pretty blue eyes of hers.
"Why do you need me to go to dinner with her?" I ask my sister.
"I knew it!" Olive cries, leaping to her feet. "You like her."
"Don't recall saying that," I mutter, trying to play it cool. I'm not fucking cool, though. When it comes to Sarah, I've never been cool. I've been a beast on a chain, just waiting for a reason to snap it.
"You like her!" Olive cries again, jabbing me in the ribcage with a fingernail. "Admit it."
"Cut that shit out," I snap.
"Not until you admit it," she says, poking me again. "You like Sarah."
"Fine!" I growl, backing away before she can poke me again. "Jesus Christ, Ol. Yes, I'm crazy about her, okay? But it's a moot point."
"What?" My sister blinks at me. "Why?"
"For a few reasons."
"Name them."
