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“And one epic moment in the middle of the football field.”
She covered her face with her hands. “Ohmigod! I can’t believe we did that. What were we thinking?”
He let out a sound that was purely male. “I know what I was thinking.” He wiggled his eyebrows. She wondered how one man could manage to look both adorable and sexy at the same time.
She leaned forward. “I was never thinking. Not when you were around.” And wasn’t that the problem? No one else in her life had been able to make her lose her train of thought. Even now, she could get lost in those mesmerizing baby blues. Which was why she needed to take a step back. But with their closeness it was hard. So she sat back in her chair, flung her hand in the air to signal the bartender.
Jasper’s brow shot up. “Another one?”
“I’m twenty-nine. I’m divorced. And I’m thirsty.”
His gaze roamed over her again and his eyes darkened. “Yeah, I’m thirsty, too.”
God, she wanted to kiss him. Luckily, she was saved by the bell when George, otherwise known as the burly, bearded bartender, strolled over. “Still dating that little brunette from the next town over?” he asked Jasper.
“Maria? From the ice-cream place?” Jasper asked.
“No, the other one. The one who always has part of her hair in a braid,” George said, pointing to the braid in his own long hair that was tied back with a red bandanna.
“Oh, you mean Julie.” Jasper shook his head. “No, that’s over.”
Carissa raised her eyebrow. She couldn’t help it. Same old Jasper apparently. Except for the year they’d dated, he’d always been a ladies’ man. Not that she could blame him now. After all, he was gorgeous, young, successful. Why wouldn’t he be the toast of the town? And yet this conversation was leaving a very unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach.
George placed a large mug of beer in front of Jasper, who offered a questioning look. “It’s on the house,” George said. “Despite your active and envious dating life, thought you could use a pick-me-up after your little spill into the bay earlier today.” With that, he turned and headed toward two older men, more than likely local fishermen if she had to guess, sitting at the end of the bar. They nodded at Jasper and started snickering.
“You fell into the bay?” she asked Jasper.
“It was nothing.”
“Not what the Bayside Blogger is saying,” one of the men at the end of the bar offered.
“Bayside Blogger said you saw your high school girlfriend and fell into the bay,” added the other man.
Carissa’s mouth dropped open. She’d thought someone had been around her when she’d stopped to look out over the water. Jasper had been at the dock when she pulled up a couple hours ago? He’d fallen into the bay? Because of her?
“Jasp...”
“Don’t say anything.”
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. But she decided to give him a break since he looked so uncomfortable. “Who is this Bayside Blogger I keep hearing about?”
He looked relieved at the change in topic and proceeded to tell her all about the town’s biggest gossip columnist as they enjoyed their drinks.
“So, Carissa...” He trailed off and his eyes met hers. A shadow fell over his face. “What happened, Car? I mean, what really happened between you and the man you married?”
Car. No one had called her that in ten years. Such a simple little nickname, and yet it had a huge effect on softening her heart.
She didn’t know if it was the use of Car or the alcohol or the stress of the last couple of months. But something had her turning toward her first love and spilling everything.
“We met in college. We got married shortly after that. We lived in Chicago.”
He waited. “And?”
“And what?”
He chuckled. “Come on, Car. That’s nothing. I could have found out more information from Twitter.”
She relented. “Fine. Our marriage was good. At first.” She twisted her empty shot glass around in circles. “But Preston started working longer hours, taking more business trips.”
“Uh-oh,” Jasper said.
“I knew he was cheating on me. I don’t know how long I knew. Only that I didn’t really want to admit it. But when I found him in our newly purchased California king bed with someone, I knew keeping up the pretense of a perfect marriage wasn’t going to be possible.” And still, she hadn’t been the one to file for divorce. Pathetic. But she kept that to herself.
“Why did you marry him in the first place?”
Because he was an escape. Because he was ambitious and driven. In other words, because he was the polar opposite of her father. Of course, she didn’t dare tell Jasper that, either.
“It’s a long story,” she said, in lieu of the truth.
“Okay, then let me ask a simpler question. Where did you work?”
She took a long pull of her beer and wished like hell that was a simple question. “Nope.” He raised a brow. “I didn’t work.”
His mouth fell open. “You? You didn’t work. You, the queen of ‘have ambition, get some drive and determination.’ Little Miss ‘why don’t you have goals, Jasper?’ did not actually have a job?”
When he put it like that...
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Jasper ran a hand through his thick hair, clearly exasperated.
Her cheeks were heating up and she knew it had nothing to do with the alcohol or the stuffy bar. She didn’t mean to get defensive when she said, “I mean, I did work at an event-planning firm. For a few years.”
“Before you quit to be a stay-at-home wife?” He held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not judging you or anyone else for staying at home. I’m just completely confused given the last conversation we had before you left Bayside.”
God, she’d been such a brat to him that day. Briefly, she considered telling him about her parents. Revealing why she’d acted so drastically and broken up with him. But he jumped in with a question.
“What are you going to do now?”
She paused for a long moment before answering. “Become a caterer. At least, I hope so.”
“Seriously?”
Was it just her or had he moved closer? She could smell his cologne, a clean, crisp scent that wrapped itself around her, making the dirty bar and stale alcohol smell slide away into the background.
“Sure,” she said, her voice breathy. “I love to cook, and I was the queen of the dinner party back in Chicago.”
“You have experience as a caterer?” His arm was mere centimeters from hers. Although they weren’t touching, her body was tensed in anticipation.
“I do.” She would have crossed her fingers at the lie if Jasper wasn’t sitting so close. She did have some experience. Informal experience, but that was a start. Maybe she didn’t technically know how to run a business, but she could cook. In that area, she was confident. And she’d decided back in Chicago that she would cling to that confidence.
“So really you moved back here to start your business.” Jasper’s finger finally made its way to her skin, traveling from her wrist slowly over her forearm and up toward her elbow, leaving a trail of tingles in its wake.
“Yep.” Damn, she couldn’t concentrate.
He turned, angling himself. His gaze flickered down to take in her lips, which she conveniently pursed for him.
What in the hell was she doing? She couldn’t do that. Not with him. Could she? She supposed she was officially divorced now. Yes, she was a free agent. She could do anything—or, um, anyone—she wanted.
And maybe tonight, she wanted Jasper. Maybe she needed the connection with him because it had never felt so easy with anyone else. It wasn’t like they hadn’t slept together a million times already.
Confused, she threw back the final shot of tequila. Then she nodded to indicate his finger, which was still gently caressing her skin. “Jasper, what are you doing?”
His grin spread slowly but assuredly. “What do you think I’m doing?”
Even as the words left his mouth, she was moving closer to him. His eyes flickered down to take in her mouth, and she responded by biting her lip. She opened her mouth to say something seductive, something sexy. In a practiced move she used to perform all the time when she was younger, Carissa flipped her hair and placed her elbow up on the bar. Only, she missed the bar and nearly nose-dived into his lap, and she let out a very loud belch.
Embarrassed beyond belief, she shook her head.
Jasper grinned. “Yep, I think we may be done here for the night.” He pushed the mug with her remaining beer away from her.
“I’m not ready to leave.” But even as the words left her mouth she let out a hiccup. When had she become buzzed?
“Last call,” George bellowed out from the end of the bar to groans around the room.
Jasper nodded. “See, time for everyone to go. Not just you.”
Carissa rose from the bar stool and almost toppled over. Whoa. Maybe she was a little more than merely buzzed. She had to grasp the edge of the sticky bar to keep from falling. “Gotta pay,” she informed Jasper, who had already handed his credit card to George.
“I got it,” he said.
“No!” she said defiantly.
“Consider it a welcome-back present.”
“No,” she repeated, trying to untangle the straps of her purse. “Gotta be independent. Can’t rely on a man.”
Jasper scribbled his signature on the check and turned to her. “You can’t even get into your purse. Come on.”
Suddenly, this seemed like a bad idea. She couldn’t leave with Jasper, her ex-boyfriend. “Nope,” she told him. “You hate me. Can’t go with you.”
“You have to go with me. I’m going to walk you to your aunt’s house.”
She swayed and tried to right herself, but Jasper had to reach out and steady her. “What will the peoples think?”
“I don’t think ‘the peoples’ in this bar really care too much about anything except getting in one last drink order before George shuts down. Now, shall we?” He nodded toward the door.
Her head felt fuzzy. Thick and fuzzy. And she was very tired.
“Carissa Blackwell,” Jasper said. “Get your hot butt out the door.”
“You think my butt is hot?”
He made a show of looking around her back and then considering. “Yep. That is one fine behind. Now let me get a better view by walking to the door.”
“Okay, but you’re not the boss of me. I can get to the door by myself.”
And with that she took two steps forward before tripping and ending up on the floor.
* * *
“Everything okay?” George asked, an amused expression visible, even under the depths of his beard.
“Yeah, I got this.” Jasper turned to take in Carissa, who was currently in a pile on the floor laughing her head off. He sighed. He probably should have cut her off earlier.
After helping her up, Jasper waved good-night to George and the other patrons who were busy settling their bills. Then he ushered Carissa out the door and into the dimly lit gravel parking lot.
Even as he concentrated on getting her across the lot, he couldn’t help but think about the night.
Carissa Blackwell was back in Bayside. Carissa Blackwell was divorced. Carissa Blackwell was incredibly drunk.
He didn’t want to admit to himself that he’d been flirting with her. He’d looked into her eyes and gotten lost in old memories. Something he’d been adamant about not doing. Seeing her walk into The Rusty Keg had his insides all twisted up. The anger and hurt he’d felt all those years ago had bubbled up to the surface.
Then she’d admitted her husband cheated on her and something changed. Maybe because of the embarrassment that emanated from her when she told him. Perhaps it was the way her gaze flicked downward every time she said the word divorce.
Jasper wasn’t entirely sure. All he knew was that the resentment took a back seat to caring.
Didn’t take much to move closer and eye that tempting mouth. He shook his head. Everyone knew he was a big flirt. That’s how he liked to communicate. And he hadn’t seen Carissa in ten years, so they had a lot of communicating to catch up on. That’s all.
They walked to the end of the parking lot. She was swaying and stumbling a little more than he would like to see. But cabs weren’t abundant at this hour in Bayside, and he needed to get her home. She stopped in front of him, her long hair settling around her heart-shaped face.
“It was weird to see you tonight.”
He didn’t know what to say. That may be the truth, but still.
“But I’m glad I did,” she continued. “You still make me feel tingly.”
Tingly? Was that good or bad? “Really?”
“Yep,” she said. “You were my best friend and my boyfriend. And you know what else? You were my first love.”
Something softened inside him. “And you were mine.”
“But now you hate me. Except for tonight when we’re playing nice-nice.”
He sighed long and loud, a decade’s worth of angst spilling out. “I don’t hate you.”
“You’re not happy with me,” she said.
He shook his head. “No. Hey, it’s your birthday though.”
