The Set Up (23 page)

“What I get is that you’re letting that raw part of you rule your brain. Push past it, Jasper, and try to think a little more clearly.”

“What? You want me to be one of the Hardy Boys and join Nancy Drew?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying, but you’re being an asshole, and you know it.”

If we were face-to-face, a comment like that would have landed him a punch. However, he’s not wrong. It’s not like I don’t know that sometimes my temper gets the better of me.

Like with what just happened.

“Listen,” he says. “I knew she must have been back here for a reason.”

“I don’t need a—”

“Let me finish,” he interrupts. “Maybe Charlotte wanting to avenge her father will sting you a bit by forcing all those memories to resurface, but I have to say I don’t think she’s doing it to harm you or cause you pain.”

Reason starts to surface. “You have a point.”

“Okay, then here’s another. Not that I don’t think she can make it back alone, but I know you and you won’t be able to live with yourself if you don’t go back and get her,” Will tells me.

Again, he’s not wrong.

“Did you hear me?” Will asks.

The speedometer reads 60, 65, 70. “Yes, I did.”

“And?”

I leave my foot where it is and ignore the posted speed limit. “You’re fucking right!” I shout, and then quickly pull my car over to the side and wait for the traffic to pass before yanking on the wheel and doing a U-turn.

“I know I am. I can’t believe you’d leave her stranded there to begin with.”

“Did you even hear what I told you?”

“Yeah, I did. And now that you’re calmer, I have to tell you I think you’re wrong. You should want to know what happened instead of ignoring the fact that what was determined might not be true.”

Blowing by the now closed Belle Isle Boat House, I feel the need to move faster. To get to Charlotte sooner, but I can’t make myself push the gas down any farther. “I’m not quite ready to admit that, but I could have listened. Now that I’ve pissed her off though, she might never talk to me.”

“All you can do is try,” Will says.

“Toss her over your shoulder if you have to,” Drew says.

“She has nothing but bad intentions,” I hear Jake mutter.

“Take me off the fucking speaker phone, Will.”

Really, right now is not the time for the peanut gallery to chime in. There’s a click, and then Will is back on the line. “Sorry about that, Jasper. Are you close?”

Finally, I’m back where I left her. “Yeah, I am.”

Slowing slightly as I pass the bottom of the hill, I look up and see her bike is still there. A whole bunch of remorse hits me at once and in a split-second decision, I decide to skip the walk or bike ride back up. Instead, I slam my foot on the gas and race around the other side of the mountain. My speedometer hits 60, 70, 71, 72, 73. I don’t give a shit how fast I have to go to get to her, and I floor it. 74, 75, 76, 77, 78. And just like that, I’ve let all the psychosomatic bullshit go that I’ve held onto for three years and surpass the 70 mark.

I’m more than halfway up to the lighthouse on a path that isn’t meant for cars, but all I care about is finding her. The dashboard needle climbs from 4,000 to 5,000 to 6,000 RPMs. I shift gears. The speedometer now reads 80, 81, 82. When I’m almost to the top of the bluff, I start to downshift and quickly begin to slow. “I see her, Will. I’ll call you later.”

“Remember to keep your cool and you got this.”

“Yeah, I know. And thanks for talking me down.”

“You know that’s what I’m here for.” He laughs before he hangs up.

Yanking the gearshift into park, I rip off my seat belt and rush out of the car.

The sound of my engine having alerted Charlotte to my arrival, she has already stood and is now walking toward the tree where her bag still lies.

“Charlotte,” I call.

The look on her face when she turns toward me wrecks me.

Anger.

Sadness.

Loneliness.

I hate that I’m the cause.

“Charlotte,” I call again.

Everything about her goes hard. Her shoulders, her jaw, even her pale blue eyes. “Go away, Jasper. There’s nothing left to say.”

Picking up my pace, I’m almost running to catch her. “It’s my turn to talk.”

She secures her bag on her back and starts down the hill toward her bike.

Without any hesitation, I follow her. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I made you a promise and then I broke it, but I’m here to make it right.”

She wheels around. “Make what right, Jasper?”

Time to confess. “I was a selfish ass who was only thinking about myself and how digging up the past would impact me when I stormed off, refusing to listen to you, and I should have been thinking about you, and how all of this impacts your feelings.”

The look she gives me is one I can’t read, but since she starts to turn back I’m going to say it’s a
fuck you
look.

I grab her wrist. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

With a pause in her step, she looks down at my hand. “There’s nothing to make easy because there’s nothing between us.”

My breath catches. “That’s a lie.”

She hesitates before looking up at me. “Nothing
more
between us.”

For a moment, all I can do is stare at her. I’d never been in a situation quite like this. With any other person in the world, I’d have walked away when that look of disgust was first thrown my way. Not with her, though. Not her. I can’t. “I said I’m sorry, Charlotte. Sometimes I act before I think. And with you, I seem to do that a lot.”

Her hard expression starts to soften.

I step closer. “I’m sorry.”

The tension in her body relaxes.

“I reacted out of reflex. As a way to protect myself. But I know this isn’t just about me. We’ve both been through hell, and the thought of either of us reliving that is hard to bear.”

She looks away.

With a gentleness I seem to have only for her, I pull her to face me. “And did I mention I tend to act before I think sometimes?”

A reluctant smile twitches at the corner of her mouth.

“Did I?”

“Yes, I think you might have.”

Standing next to her out here like this, I can really understand just how good and pure she is. Regardless of what Jake thinks, he’s wrong about her.

Dead wrong.

Good intentions are written all over her. They’re in the sound of her voice. The way she looks out at the vastness. The way her eyes land on mine and shyly shift away the minute I catch her gaze. Despite her height, she’s still so small, so delicate. Yet somehow beneath it all, I can tell she’s a powerhouse of strength. “Let me take you out to dinner tonight.”

She stares at me. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

Encouraged that she didn’t flat-out say no, or slap me in the face, I press on. “Nothing formal. I just want to hear more about what your aunt told you. Your father must have had a reason to think what happened was more than just an accident.”

Her head tilts sideways in contemplation.

I could pull her into my arms.

Touch her.

Put my mouth to hers and taste her kiss on my tongue.

Yet, I don’t. It doesn’t feel right. Not in the wake of anger. Instead, I allow my eyes to roam every inch of her face and what I see is a girl more afraid than she wants me to know.

Is it me she’s afraid of?

This strange connection we have?

“I promise not to kiss you again,” I tell her hoping to ease her concern. After all she did say she wanted to forget it.

Her lips curve and she steps away from me. “What if I want you to?”

Stunned, I uncharacteristically falter for words. By process of elimination, that means she wants to forget about what happened between Eve and me.

Before I can figure out what to say, she starts walking fast. “Race you to my bike.”

Competitive mode fully operational, there’s no hesitation in my response. “What do I get if I win?”

She turns backwards but keeps moving. “What do you want?”

Already moving fast, I answer. “I want a lot, but I’ll settle for being the first to shower before I take you out to dinner.”

“Deal,” she says, kicking it into an all-out sprint.

She has no idea how much I hate to lose.

RUB A DUB

Charlotte

I LOST THE
race.

Actually I let him win, but I’ll never tell him so. The truth is I wanted to see where he lives, and I wasn’t sure he wouldn’t just drop me off and then run home to shower if I’d won.

It’s more than simple curiosity.

Not that I think that what his place looks like reveals all about who Jasper Storm is. Still, it will help me get a better glimpse into his life. I have a need to make sure that he’s all right. That even though he might have had a horrific childhood because of what happened, he was still able to come out on the other side not so much the worse for wear.

Sometimes I’m not so sure I did.

With a push, he flings the door open to his loft and a flutter of nerves quakes in my belly. Then his hand is on my back and that quake turns into an eruption. “Come on in. I won’t be long.”

Walking close to him, maybe too close, I do as he suggests. “You don’t have to rush.”

Jasper shoves his hands in his pockets as if nervous about showing me his apartment.

So adorable.

The place is magnificent, but not in a way that screams money. More in a way that says “space, I have lots of space.” And it is handsomely decorated. Instantly, I know this is all him.

Rough and smooth.

Hard and soft.

Old wood floors, big beams, a high ceiling, and brick walls. It’s a living room, kitchen, and dining area, all in one large space. Industrial-size windows and modern French doors open to a small landing and offer a great view of the city. A hallway leads to what I assume is his bedroom and bathroom. Black-and-white photographs of cars are hung gallery style on the larger walls. There’s an actual loft, too, with a cute spiral staircase that makes me want to climb it. He says that’s where their temporary offices are, and the other guys come here daily. “Your apartment is really nice,” I tell him.

“Thanks. It works,” he says rather modestly, almost shyly.

He’s being so cute.

I can’t hold my smile back. “This place is about five times bigger than mine. It more than works.”

Jasper laughs. “Well, your apartment is a little on the small side.”

“You think?” I giggle.

His hand is gone and I miss the feel of it on my skin. “Do you like baseball?”

A quick glance at my watch tells me it’s after four. “I do, but I think the game already started.”

There’s a look in his eyes that I can’t decipher. “Sweet. Then I’ll definitely hurry. Maybe we’ll be able to catch the tail end at Harry’s. It’s not that far from your place.”

“Sounds great. When we get to my apartment, I’ll hurry too and I’m sure we’ll make it,” I tell him with excitement.

He turns on the television and flicks through the channels until he finds the game. For a moment his eyes lock on the screen.

Rather than watching the game, I watch him. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. The way he seems mesmerized by the Tiger player who is up to bat, the smile that breaks across his face when that player hits a home run within five seconds of him having turned on the game, the fist pump he makes, the sound of the
yes
coming from his mouth. “No fucking way!” he suddenly shouts at the television, and then turns and says, “Can you believe that?” He’s pointing to the screen.

“What happened?” I ask, obviously having missed it because my eyes were on him.

“The ref is calling foul ball. That was not a foul ball.”

The laughter that bubbles out of me is unexpected.

Narrowed eyes glance my way. “What?”

I slap my hand over my mouth. “Nothing.”

Slowly, he saunters toward me. “Charlotte, what’s so funny?”

With my pulse pounding, I shake my head. “Nothing. Really, it’s nothing.”

Close, he’s getting closer. And closer still. Then his fingers are on my sides and he’s tickling me. “Tell me.”

I’m trying to push him away but not really that hard. I like the feel of his hands on me even if it is only in jest, but when I practically start crying from laughter, I have to give in. “Okay, okay. There’s this thing you used to do when we were kids that you still do.”