by Jayce Carter
After ten minutes or so, when all the food was off the barbecue and staring at an empty grill would seem strange, he lost the fight and turned.
He told himself he was checking on the party as any good host would, except his gaze, as it moved across the small groupings of people, didn’t stop on any of them. No, he was looking for one specific person.
When he found her, he felt as if his brain shorted out.
How can she do that?
Jasmine sat under the small gazebo in the back with Trent across from her. She had a hard cider in her hand, her feet up on the edge of the table, a slight smile to her red lips. She appeared completely engaged in the conversation, and why wouldn’t she be?
Trent was a great conversationalist. Among other things.
He shoved off the thought. There was no reason to be jealous, and he refused to give in to that nonsense. Or that was what he told himself. In reality, he still stood there, spatula in hand, frozen in place, staring at her as if nothing else existed.
She moved her head, those green eyes of hers meeting his as if she’d felt his stare. She didn’t smirk, didn’t give him one of those ‘gotcha’ looks that said she’d caught him staring, that she’d won.
Instead, a spark of energy passed between them, even separated by the large backyard as they were, a moment of the past rearing up and reminding him exactly what they’d had.
Maybe it hadn’t been all good, but it had been powerful.
She jerked her gaze away, looking more unsettled than he was used to seeing her.
At least I’m not the only one too stupid to let go of the past.
Trent was a bore.
Jasmine talked to him because she didn’t know him already, which seemed the safest choice. She’d caught sight of a few of the folks she’d known before and even been forced into a quick ‘Hey, how are you?’ moment with a woman she’d gone to high school with.
Then Trent had shown up like a very arrogant white knight, and she’d pegged him as the lesser of two evils.
“So I love to go down to my desert house. It’s on five acres, surrounded by joshua trees. Maybe you’ll want to come see it some time?”
That was the fourth time he’d mentioned the place, and she’d lost count of the obvious come-ons he’d tried.
Somehow, none of them landed, which was almost annoying.
Jasmine enjoyed a bit of fun to pass the time. Prior to her marriage, she’d been no stranger to casual, no-strings-attached sex. In that way, Trent was a perfect option. He was clearly a hit-it-and-quit-it man—just her type—and he wasn’t bad looking, at least from a purely academic standpoint.
Blond hair, tan skin, blue eyes that were bright and entirely focused on her. He wasn’t nearly as muscular as Finn, but even thinking that annoyed Jasmine.
She didn’t need to compare every other man to Finn, and as much as she hated it, he’d been the ruler she’d measured all other men by.
They were bigger or smaller than Finn. Their eyes were lighter or darker than Finn’s. Their voice was deeper or higher than Finn’s.
Everything was always compared to him.
So why couldn’t she stop and just enjoy Trent for what he was?
Because of that look Finn gave you.
Goosebumps broke out over her arms as she thought back to a few hours before, when she’d felt a heavy weight on her. She’d turned away from Trent’s self-aggrandizing monologues only to find Finn there, across the back yard. His eyes had been dark even in the bright sun, and there had been no mistaking the intensity as he’d locked them on her.
She should have winked or done something to poke at him. Instead, she’d been taken aback by all the potential there, by how it had made her breath quicken and she’d had to fight the smallest of moans from escaping her suddenly dry lips.
She’d been so close to standing and going to him, as if drawn by that look alone.
Then Trent had laughed at his own joke and woken her up, and she’d remembered she wasn’t an idiot.
Finn was dangerous, and she didn’t need to walk into those flames again. She’d felt them twice before.
So instead, she’d spent the party with Trent. Others would come now and then, but Trent seemed happy enough to monopolize her time. It worked out for her. She could get her points for coming, help show that she and Finn could be friends, and she didn’t have to do any heavy lifting when it came to conversation.
Amazingly, even three hours into the party when few guests remained, Trent still hadn’t run out of stories to tell about himself.
The sun had dipped down, a slight chill hanging on the breeze.
“Isn’t this cozy?” Finn’s voice was rough, and in that split-second, she forgot all about Trent.
He lowered himself into another one of the chairs, looking a bit ridiculous in the small wicker furniture. At least if it broke, she’d have the pleasure of watching him topple to the concrete.
She couldn’t possibly find him attractive after that, right?
One look in his direction said yeah, she probably would.
“Shit, are we the last ones here?” Trent twisted his arm to peer at his watch. “Eight already?”
His voice rose at the end, just before he offered her a lifted eyebrow and expectant pause. It came through loud and clear, his not-so-subtle attempt to get an invite in.
“Time flies,” she said, without adding the rest of the saying because she doubted she could contain her eye roll.
Trent went to say something back—no doubt an even-less-subtle attempt to get an invite—when Finn set his hand on Trent’s forearm. “I’ll see you later, huh?”
Trent pursed his lips, his expression showing he wasn’t thrilled with the turn of events. He drank the last few gulps of beer from his bottle before rising. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, buddy, it was a good party. And Jasmine, I hope this isn’t the last time I see you.” He leaned down as if to offer a kiss, but there was no way that would happen.
She turned her head so the kiss landed on her cheek, and when he backed off, disappointment ran rampant on his features. At least, it did until his lips curled up. Great, he took that as some sort of challenge, like proof I want him to chase.
Trent left, and Finn walked him out. Jasmine finished off her hard cider as she sat under the gazebo, the lights of the pool casting the water in a pretty aqua. She could see this place being a wonderful, relaxing getaway.
Jasmine took one more deep breath before getting out of the chair and tossing her bottle into the recycling bin. She could curl up in bed, put on trashy TV and get a good night’s sleep before tomorrow.
She’d set her hand on the door to her place when that same far-too-familiar voice stopped her. “Well, weren’t you cozy with Trent?”
Jasmine turned, letting her back rest against the door as she looked up at Finn.
Damn, he looked good in the dim lights outside. She wanted to say it was the alcohol—she’d never held her liquor all that well—but Finn had always had something she’d loved. Even when he hadn’t been this filled out, when he’d been in that gangly, not-quite-a-man stage, she’d always stared.
Basically? He was her weakness. Always.
“He was good company,” she lied.
Finn set his hand on the door frame so he leaned into her space. He smelled of smoke from the grill, and before she could stop herself, she leaned in.
“Really? Then why didn’t you kiss him?”
“Maybe I don’t like an audience.” She tipped her face toward his, moving up to her toes despite not touching him.
That was the hardest thing, how badly she wanted to cross that barrier and how she fought that desire.
The heat of his gaze was so much like it had been earlier, that intensity taking her back to when they’d last had sex, to how easy it would be to fall into that again.
“Good thing you didn’t kiss him. Pretty sure I would have decked him.”
And…damn…that was one hell of a turn on. Something
about a man wanting her enough to actually punch someone?
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I don’t much like the idea of anyone having their lips on you.” He leaned impossibly closer, his breath fire against her lips.
“Anyone except you?”
He was going to kiss her. She knew it. Right then he would slide a hand around the back of her neck, pull her in close and kiss her until her knees were weak and she begged him to come inside. She hadn’t invited Trent in, but she’d plead for Finn.
Except he didn’t. His lips didn’t press to hers and his body didn’t blanket hers. He took a step backward even as his eyes burned. “No, not me. I’ve been down that road, sunshine. Twice.” With that, he turned on his heel and walked toward the house, leaving her breathless and needy.
Once she sobered up from him and the alcohol, when tomorrow reminded her of all the reasons Finn was off limits, she’d be pissed that she’d let herself fall.
Until then, it seemed she’d have to put herself to bed without any satisfaction.
Her only reassurance was that she’d gotten a look at his jeans as he’d turned away.
He wasn’t going to bed comfortable either, and the thought of him having blue balls soothed her.
Chapter Four
The sound of an engine not turning over never failed to draw Finn in. He figured it was like animal lovers being called by the cry of some wounded cat.
In the driveway, Jasmine sat in her truck, holding her key in position so the engine complained nonstop. He winced when she let the key go and slammed her palm against the steering wheel.
He should go back inside. How close had he been to kissing her just two days before, when they’d stood outside her place?
Way too close.
Her breath had tasted of apple from her hard cider and the pool lights had made her green eyes impossibly brighter.
His sister’s words came back to him and he had to admit, damn, he had trouble keeping his head about him when it came to her.
Then she held that ignition again and Finn lost his fight. He walked down the steep driveway to the small turnout she’d used to park her truck.
He rested his elbow on the open window. “You’re killing the poor thing.”
She jerked, hitting her elbow on the steering wheel. “Damn it!” She curled her arm against her chest and rubbed at the elbow.
“Sorry. Didn’t expect you to be quite so jumpy.”
“Well, I didn’t expect people to be sneaking up to my window unannounced. I guess we’re both surprised.”
“Didn’t sneak. You were just determined to flood the engine, so you didn’t notice.”
She turned a glare on him. “What do you want?”
Finn opened the door and caught her arm, pulling slightly so he could get a look at the elbow. Red, but he doubted there was actually any harm. “I think you’ll live.”
She narrowed her eyes further. Funny that she could have that much venom in her expression given how cherubic her features were. The green eyes, the freckles—they all made her look like some sweet forest creature, but her expression said she’d take pieces off anyone who messed with her.
He smiled, knowing niceness would only worsen her attitude. “Aren’t you in a bad mood?”
“Of course I am. I have errands to run and my truck won’t start. That’ll put anyone in a bad mood.”
And he’d bet part of her snarling had to do with him walking away the night before. Maybe he should feel bad about it, but not a speck of guilt sat inside him.
He’d had to deal with his own wants, with the way his cock had demanded in no uncertain terms that he should go back to her. So if she was annoyed or horny or anything else, well, that was her problem to deal with.
Which immediately turned his mind to how she might deal with that.
He groaned softly. Don’t let yourself go there, you fool.
She sat up straight at the sound he made but didn’t say a word back.
For the best.
“Come on. I’ll drive you.”
“I don’t need you to.” Stubborn woman.
Finn turned back to her, his arms crossed. “No? So how are you going to run your errands?”
She opened her mouth but snapped it shut when it became clear she had no other options. The realization stung Finn too.
Being in a place like that wasn’t something he envied. No one wanted to be without options.
He sighed and softened his voice. “Look, sunshine, it’s fine. I’ll take you for your errands and have my buddy bring over one of the loaners I have at the shop for you to use while I fix your truck.”
“I don’t need any hand-outs,” she argued, but the fight had mostly left her.
“It’s not a hand-out. If I have a truck that doesn’t work sitting in my driveway, people will start to think I can’t do my job right. It won’t take much to get it going and the loaner is sitting at the shop, not doing a damn thing. Now, come on and stop fighting me.”
She pressed her lips together, and he recalled how sweet her breath had tasted the night before. Now he’d bet it tasted of coffee—still sweet though, since she’d always poured a damn cup of sugar into the stuff. A tiny nod was her response, so he took it as his win.
In the back of the truck sat two boxes, shipping labels already affixed to them. “You mailing these?”
“Yeah. I need to go to the postal place and that computer shop on the corner of Fifth and Bryant.”
He hefted the larger box and let her handle the small one, carrying it over to his SUV. They fit easily in the back, and Jasmine didn’t argue as she slid into the passenger side of the vehicle.
Once on the road, Finn watched her through his peripheral vision, saw how she fidgeted, how she looked a bit different than she had.
She looked…haggard. Not physically, but as if some of that spark inside her had dimmed.
He thought back to what the renting agent had told him. Ugly divorce.
“So, you got married?” Not his most subtle intro into a conversation, but hell, he’d never been good at subtle.
She didn’t look his way, her gaze pinned to the trees they passed. “Yep.”
“Never figured I’d see the day, not with how adamant you always were about not getting tied down.”
“And it worked out wonderfully, huh?” She snorted softly. “Looks like I was right about it being a bad idea.”
“What happened?”
“Fuck if I know.” She slid down a little in the seat and traced the buttons on the door with her finger. “That’s not true. I know. He was an asshole, and I didn’t realize it. Funny how that happens, huh? Love fools us into thinking things can be different, into thinking they can be great, into ignoring the entire box of red flags that he was.”
“Lot of words without a lot of details.”
“He was the picture-perfect vision of what girls are supposed to want. The son of a local judge, pretty blond hair, blue eyes, a cop. I was smitten. Or, I guess I thought I should be smitten. He asked me to marry him, and me, being me, ran off.”
“Well, there’s the girl I know,” Finn said as he thought about how empty his bed had felt each time she’d done that to him, when she’d skipped town without a word. “What brought you back?”
Her gaze darted over to him with a loaded look before she shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. He wanted to know where I was more and more, didn’t want me doing anything, didn’t like me having friends.”
“He didn’t hurt you, right?” Finn’s hands cranked down on the wheel as a rare rage inside him simmered at the thought that the bastard might have put his hands on Jasmine.
Sure, the woman frustrated him to the point of insanity, but that wouldn’t ever excuse anyone hurting her.
“Nothing like that,” Jasmine said, though her voice had lost a little of its intensity, as if the story alone had worn her out. “Maybe it would have gone there, eventually, but I wasn’t going to wait around. The th
ing is, turns out it isn’t so easy to leave when you’ve got someone with that much power wanting you to stay. He knew everyone, and in the end, I had to give up everything. I lost the home I’d bought, lost all my savings, lost everything. Even still, he hasn’t signed the papers, hasn’t made it official.”
“I’m sorry, Jas,” he said, wishing there was something more to say.
“You know what I miss the most? I mean, I miss the place. It was on the beach, and the breeze from the ocean would come in and I’d breathe it all in, but you know the real thing I miss? I didn’t get to take anything. Aaron, my ex, destroyed the few personal things I had there. I lost that necklace you gave me, the gold one I always wore.”
“He destroyed it?” There went that rage again.
“Yeah. All my pictures, everything. When I got to the house to pick up my belongings, they were all gone. He said he had no idea what happened to them.” She sighed softly. “It’s stupid, but I miss that the most.”
Finn set his hand on her thigh and squeezed softly, the best reassurance he could give her. “I know it wasn’t easy, but I’m glad you left.”
She looked down at his hand, then shifted her gaze out of the window again. “It was a good reminder, I guess. I’d forgotten for a while why I never wanted to settle down. Aaron reminded me. It never works out.”
Finn wanted to argue with her, but the set of her jaw said there was no point.
That girl had more armor on than a tank, and he doubted there was a person alive who could peel it off anymore.
* * * *
Jasmine lay in her bed, her words to Finn running in her mind.
Why had she told him so much?
Because he’s always been my safe spot.
She remembered when she’d been seventeen and had a split lip from her stepfather’s backhand. Where had she run?
To Finn’s. She’d crawled into his window, into his bed and curled around his warm body. She’d fallen asleep to him stroking his fingers through her hair, a rare good night’s sleep for her.
Sleep had always eluded her. She’d grown up on edge, always trying to read her stepfather’s body language. Was he in a good mood? Bad? That would determine her mother’s safety.
