Jasper walked up behind Rita, reaching around her to collect the broken egg with a clean rag. She didn抰 turn around to see where he discarded the mess, but his hands were back a few seconds later, lying over the backs of hers and picking up a new egg. Her hands were steadier this time around thanks to the warmth from Jasper抯 solid touch, his reassuring presence at her back. But the resentment didn抰 fade, making her acceptance of his help more grudging than anything else.
They cracked the egg together, releasing the yolk into a bowl as Jasper breathed against the top of her head. In, out. Rita finally found the courage to speak after the second egg was cracked into the bowl. 揥ould you mind bringing out some nutmeg and sugar from the kitchen??she asked Jasper, craving some breathing room before addressing the ladies. 揥e抣l get the mixture done out here, then I抣l bring you to the kitchen in groups to lay your french toast on the griddle.?
That was all it took to get her audience chattering, their spoons tapping along the insides of metal bowls, eggs cracking along with jokes between friends. On his way into the kitchen, Jasper turned and glanced back at Rita, but she quickly averted her gaze.
After the time they抎 spent together, how could he not have realized being propelled back into the fire would only cause the opposite of progress? And who said she wanted to make any progress at all where cooking was concerned? She抎 been prepared to move on, happy never to pick up a kitchen utensil again, until being blindsided by this presumptuous surprise party. Jasper抯 doing.
God, the smells, the sounds of food being prepared were throwing her back to the Wayfare kitchen, flames ripping up the walls, eating up any evidence of her pathetic career. Her live-television flameout. Miriam抯 quietly patient voice echoing past. Was that smoke filling her nose梠r just a hallucination? Deep breaths. She would get through this. She would.
Hurt was an ugly thing, though, and it wouldn抰 stop rearing its ugly head, looking for something to swallow. Someone to bring down with it. Perhaps Rita had kept the pain at bay too long and it had grown too much to control. There was a voice telling her to calm down before making any rash decisions, but it was drowned out by the ceaseless acknowledgment of bitter disappointment. All her willpower was going into staying put, going through the motions without breaking down, so she didn抰 listen to the voice.
Chapter Twenty-Three
You done fucked up now.
Leaving Rita this morning, Jasper had known he needed to do something big. He抎 never been a party to the kind of beauty Rita had thrown at him on that mesa. Setting aside her own insecurities to patch up someone else抯。 His. Going a long way in doing it, too, if the new confidence he was experiencing told the tale. Maybe Jasper could fit in a thimble what he knew about a woman抯 mind, but a man stepped up to the goddamn plate and made an impression when necessary. Of that he was certain.
And Rita was synonymous with the word necessary.
Unfortunately梐s they entered hour two of Rita refusing to look at him梙e抎 stepped up to the plate and hit a foul ball. Even worse? A million times worse? She looked shaky as hell. Horses-trotting-over-a-rope-bridge shaky. In a way that made Jasper think he might have done serious harm trying to push cooking on Rita. His aim had been to remind her why she loved working in the kitchen. He抎 wanted his kitchen to make the difference. His presence beside her. She抎 made him feel worth a damn, and he抎 been compelled to use that gift she抎 bestowed.
Yeah, there was even a part of Jasper that had let him believe the impossible. That he could make Rita think twice about getting back on the road. But the distance in her eyes told Jasper he抎 been a fool. It also made him want to carry her home, climb into his bathtub with her, and just rock.
If she could just see herself through his eyes in that moment. She moved between groups, giving helpful instructions and smiling patiently, even though it took obvious effort for her to be positive and upbeat. She was good. Really damn good. Her hands were so nimble, the movements of her wrist as she whisked so natural. If he didn抰 think it would earn him a black eye, he would have told her. Beautiful, I could watch you move in this kitchen for around a hundred years and never get bored.
And hell if he wouldn抰 mean it.
When all was said and done, the demonstration, plus the subsequent cooking and eating of the french toast, took around two and half hours, sending early evening rolling in, about an hour from the staff抯 arrival. Animated conversations flared between each bite, probably making it last twice as long as necessary, but Rita didn抰 rush, saying thank you when the women remained behind to help clean, hang utensils and pans back in their rightful spots.
Jasper worried that Rita might make an immediate break for the door once the last senior lady left, but he forced himself not to accost her, knowing it might be too late for patience but trying anyway by waiting in his office. Pacing the floor like a man awaiting sentencing. But when Rita walked into the doorway of his office, locking seductive eyes with him for the first time in hours, Jasper抯 sentence became clear. And despite the denial his brain shaped on cue, his pulse began to thrum with answering male hunger.
揜ita, please sit down so we can talk.?
She sauntered into his office, releasing the bun she抎 fashioned before entering the kitchen earlier. It sent glossy black hair spilling over her shoulders, curling at the ends. Curls that would catch around his fingertips, snag in his thigh hair. Jasper expected her to sit in the chair opposite his desk, but she kept coming, strutting right into the space between his outstretched legs, propping both hands on his tense shoulders and leaning down to speak a breath away from his mouth. 揑抦 done talking.?
Jasper knew exactly what Rita was doing. Seduction as a form of revenge. He抎 stripped her of a protective layer this afternoon and, hell, he deserved this. Deserved to have his own weakness amplified. But Rita wasn抰 shaking anymore. At least not in the terrified way. Her poise was back, and he hated the very idea of taking it away from her.
On top of it all, on top of everything in the motherfucking world, he wanted to fuck Rita. He抎 wanted to fuck her on the roadside in the hot sun, those black combat boots leaving marks from digging into his ass. Resisting the pull of attraction was wrecking his head, his body. His cock was heavier than an anvil in his jeans, dying to be let out. Dying to ruin that tiny piece-of-shit vibrator for her, for all time. To show her how getting off felt when done his way. A shred of determination to talk, to right his wrong, still cycled through his mind, but it thinned every time his dick grew thicker.
Rita抯 lips were still hovering a hair from his. 揋od, I want you, Rita. But not because you抮e mad or want to teach me a lesson.?Not the first time, not ever. 揓ust listen a min棓
揘o more excuses,?she whispered, licking along the seam of his mouth and frying his ever-loving brain. Her hands slipped down from his shoulders, easing the button of his jeans free.
His deep, prolonged groan widened her eyes a fraction, making Jasper want to grab her shoulders and shake. 揥hat, Rita? Goddammit. You don抰 realize how bad I want this??Without taking her confused gaze off him, she slid his zipper down, the jagged sound making his stomach hollow out, his hips thrust forward involuntarily. 揑f you meant nothing to me, I would have rode you on my dick. Night one. Because God knows I抦 so attracted to you I can抰 even see or think or act straight.?Breathe, man. 揃ut you mean something. I抦 just trying to mean something to you.?