Pretty much a first for her.
After his attempt this morning to rush them into what surely would have been brain-cell-depleting sex梕ven if was outdoors梥he continued to replay the story Jasper told her last night about what he抎 overheard in his own establishment two years ago. The bride-to-be asked if I was going to be the paid entertainment. If one thing was clear, as she marched toward the Liquor Hole, it was that she couldn抰 leave Jasper with that impression of himself. Perhaps she抎 made a point this morning on the mesa, but it didn抰 feel like enough. No amount of time felt like enough.
So she was fixing him for the next girl?
Fuck. That stung like a wasp on steroids. Her step faltered on the dusty sidewalk, and a passerby gave her a concerned smile. Oh, she liked the idea of Jasper being brought out of celibacy by some local chick about as much as she抎 enjoyed the view count on her YouTube video this morning. Also known as, not at all.
揘othing to be done,?she murmured under her breath just as she reached the Liquor Hole parking lot. Since the bar didn抰 open until evening time, she was surprised to see so many cars parked in the lot. Maybe last night抯 customers had been driven home by a designated driver? At the end of the row, she spotted Jasper抯 truck and released a pent-up breath. God, even little remembrances such as the capable one-handed way he drove, or the way he抎 helped her climb out, as if she were a Faberg?egg梩hose memories worked her pulse into an insane tempo. Truth was, she didn抰 need a reason to be there at that very moment. Her feet had carried her there because who knew when such a small distance would separate them ever again?
It took Rita a full three minutes梐nd several irritated curses梩o paste a casual expression on her face before testing the front entrance door, even though she suspected she抎 have to knock. When it opened with no problem, Rita pursed her lips and stepped inside.
The sight that greeted Rita sent her stumbling back, shaking the wooden door on its hinges. Behind the bar and spilling out onto the dance floor, at least thirty senior-citizen women stared back at her, lips peeled back in bright, welcoming smiles. In front of each of them梠n the bar or on folding card tables條ittle cooking stations had been set up. No stoves or ovens, but an assortment of ingredients, mixing bowls, kitchen utensils. It was like she抎 entered a completely different dimension than the bar she抎 stood in last night watching her brothers try to off each other.
Rita caught sight of Jasper抯 grandmother, Rosemary, as she sailed forward through the group of white-haired women. 揜ita!?
Her boots felt like cement shoes. 揌i. What厰
Rosemary drew close and encompassed Rita in a big, squeezing hug. 揑 was so excited when Jasper told me you were staying another day. Why, I got the phone tree lit up right away and moved our get-together to Friday, instead of Saturday. We are raring to be taught a professional recipe, I抣l tell you what.?She looked Rita up and down. 揃lack shorts, green shirt. Where is that rascal grandson of mine??
揑 was just about to ask the same thing,?Rita said, bolts tightening on either side of her neck. Until Rosemary抯 explanation, she抎 completely forgotten the conversation over lunch about Rita giving a cooking demonstration. Why would she remember something so offhanded when they were supposed to be back on the road by now? It had never really been a possibility in her mind. 揓asper planned this.?
It wasn抰 a question, but all thirty women bobbed their heads with unrepentant enthusiasm, making Rita feel a little dizzy. And at that exact moment Jasper walked out of the kitchen, jingling his car keys, probably on the way to go pick her up at the Arms. Even though Rita had seen him only a matter of hours ago, the sight of his easy ruggedness spiked her blood with longing. When his gaze landed on Rita, she saw the purpose there, knew he抎 spent the last few hours working hard to put the demonstration together, but nothing could eclipse the sudden anxiety. It barreled through her like an Amtrak train, releasing black smoke into every region of her insides, covering them in soot.
Jasper was in front of her before she blinked. 揌ey there, beautiful,?he said for her ears alone, while Rosemary faded back with all the subtlety of a circus clown. 揅hanged clothes, did you? Damn, but those shorts hug your hips. If I didn抰 have so many hawk eyes on me, I would turn you around and see what they do for your ass.?
Why was he talking to her like that? Couldn抰 he tell she was debating whether or not running and leaping through the plate-glass window was feasible? 揓asper厀hat did you do? You shouldn抰 have done this. I抦 not厰 Her palms started to sting, the sensation traveling up her forearms. 揑抦 not ready for this.?
A shadow passed over his eyes as they reassessed her, a slow journey over her face. 揝ure, you are, Rita.?His voice had grown even more hushed. 揧ou were in the kitchen last night and you survived. I thought棓
揧ou thought wrong.?Oh, God, she sounded like someone had hands wrapped around her neck. 揑抦 sorry, but you were wrong. You shouldn抰 have done this. I抦 going to disappoint them one way or another.?
揘o. No, you won抰。？He cupped the sides of her face, eased into her space. And, damn him, it calmed her some. Not enough to ebb the terror, but enough that she could focus on his blue eyes. 揟his is just a hurdle you need to jump. Let me help you do it.?
揑 didn抰 ask for your help.?
揘o, you didn抰。 I don抰 think you抎 ask for someone抯 help if you were on fire.?Rita抯 body tensed at the choice of words and Jasper hung his head with a curse. 揓esus, I抦 about as smooth as a pothole.?
揈verything okay over there??Rosemary called, sending Rita抯 heart into a round of thundering palpitations.
Jasper turned his head slightly. 揥e抣l just be a minute.?When he turned back to address Rita, his expression was one of determination. 揑 didn抰 ask for your help naming my restaurant or giving my kitchen your seal of approval. Didn抰 ask for this morning, either. But I抦 damned grateful for it. Maybe I just needed to return the favor.?
Her head was full to bursting with arguments. Sound ones and immature ones, namely the one echoing the loudest. I don抰 need these people. I don抰 need this. Just turn and walk out. But then she saw the cookbook lying on Rosemary抯 workstation. Miriam Clarkson抯 Main Dish Cookbook, to be exact. And there was no doubt in her mind she stood in a room full of people who knew Miriam was her mother. That before she even picked up a spoon, she wouldn抰 live up to the legacy. 揇id you tell Rosemary??
揘o, she figured it out on her own.?Jasper sighed. 揈very day I wake up wishing I抎 never taught her how to use the Internet.?
If she walked out of the Liquor Hole now, she wouldn抰 only be disappointing the women, she would be letting her mother down. Again. They would shake their heads, the way she抎 seen so many critics and customers do, lamenting her inability to measure up.
Damn it.
No choice. She抎 been given no choice. Resentment at being thrown back into the cauldron so soon making her throat feeling like sandpaper, she shrugged Jasper off and walked to the only available station, observing the ingredients. 揑 see we抮e making french toast today.?
She picked up an egg and her hand began trembling violently. A ditch dug itself in the very center of her gut, deepening as the silence stretched, everyone watching. Looking for faults, of which there were so many. The egg cracked in her hand and she could only stare. Not really seeing the egg, but all the failed dishes and the fire. Always the fire now.