“I don’t think he likes my nickname,” I told Lyla.
She giggled as we fell in step, our heels clicking on the sidewalk as we trudged to our hotel, stopping outside the bank of elevators. Foster had gotten us our own suite for tonight with two separate bedrooms. Thank God. Lyla was a bed hog.
“Don’t go anywhere without Chase.” Lyla pointed a finger at my nose.
I raised a hand in salute. “Ma’am, yes, ma’am.”
“Eww.” She scrunched up her nose. “Don’t ma’am me.”
“Madam?”
“Queen Lyla will suffice.” She tried a curtsy but stumbled, too tipsy to keep her balance.
“Oh my God.” I jumped to snag her hand, helping her stand upright.
“Heels are the enemy.” She shot a frown at her feet, then stepped into the open elevator. “See you in a bit?”
“Be back in a flash.” I waved as the doors slid closed, then gave Chase my evilest smile. “Let’s do shots.”
His jaw dropped.
“Kidding,” I singsonged, retracing our steps through the lobby and outside.
We’d just passed the fountain again, the water dark and calm, when a familiar face appeared on the sidewalk ahead.
“Oh, hey. There’s Jasper.” I pointed.
Chase raised a hand.
Jasper did the same. And in his hand was my jacket.
“Yay.” I clapped my hands together, stopping as Jasper joined us on the sidewalk. “You’re my hero. Thank you.”
“Welcome.” He held out the black leather, helping me slide it onto my arms.
I smiled up at him, having to crane my neck to keep his gaze. Wow, he was tall. Why hadn’t I realized how tall he was before? He was about the same height as my brothers. “You’re tall. How tall?”
“Six two.” His deep voice had a rasp, like he didn’t use it enough so it wasn’t smooth.
“You have a nice voice.”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “Are you drunk?”
“Oh, yeah.” Even after all the walking, my buzz was solid. Would I feel great in six hours when I had to be at the airport? Nope.
Jasper’s eyes crinkled at the sides, like he thought I was funny. Not laugh-out-loud funny, obviously, but amusing funny.
Was I funny? I thought I was funny. “Chase, do you think I’m funny?”
He looked at me and blinked too many times.
I frowned. “My dad does that. The scowl-blink combo. I hate it. Maybe it’s a guy thing. I talk a lot when I’m drunk.”
“Huh?” Chase turned to Jasper. “I didn’t understand any of that.”
“You can take off,” Jasper said, coming to Chase’s rescue.
“But Mr. Madden said I had to stay with them until they were back in their suite.”
“I’ll make sure she gets back.” Jasper jerked his chin. “Go. Have fun.”
“I’m going to sleep.” Chase took a step backward. Then another. Then he turned, walking so fast it was nearly a jog.
“Bye!” I called. “Thank you for babysitting us!”
That’s when Chase actually started running.
“I don’t think he liked babysitting,” I told Jasper. “Can we watch the fountain show again?”
“Sure.” Jasper walked toward the concrete half wall that bordered the lake, finding an open space.
I squeezed in beside him, resting my forearms on the flat surface. Then I propped a foot up between the rounded columns beneath. “I like water fountains.”
“Then you’re in the right place.” Jasper kept his eyes aimed forward, overlooking the quiet water as I stared up at his profile.
It was the nicest profile I’d ever seen. He had a perfect forehead. Not too round. Not too flat. His dark brown hair was longer on top and shorter at the sides, a few strands sticking up out of place. He had a strong chin, square at the bottom. Soft lips with a full pout. A classic nose except there was a bump on the bridge, like it had been broken before.
“Does it hurt when you break your nose?”
“Yes.” He glanced down at me, his brown eyes catching the Vegas lights and giving them a sparkle.
Jasper had lived in Montana for months. There weren’t a lot of single, handsome men in my small hometown, so when Jasper had arrived in Quincy, he hadn’t gone unnoticed.
Or maybe he had.
Seriously, he was hot. Smoking hot. I should have been crushing on him for months.
Was this beer goggles? I’d never had them before. Except I hadn’t had any beer tonight. Just those vodka tonics and the shots Lyla and I had taken before we’d left the club, but they hadn’t hit me yet.
“You’re extremely hot.”
Okay, maybe the shots were kicking in after all.
Jasper arched an eyebrow the same dark shade as his hair.
“You’re kinda grumpy and brooding too. Also hot.”
“Do you always say what’s on your mind?”
“Only when I’m drunk, remember? I talk a lot.”
Jasper stared down at me, something flashing in his gaze, but I couldn’t make it out. The fuzzy edges of my mind were beginning to get fuzzier.
“What else?” Jasper asked.
I studied his mouth as he spoke, the way he formed the words. The flex in that sharp, chiseled jaw. “What else what?”
“What else is on your mind?”
“Oh.” I let my gaze trail down his chest, taking in his broad frame stretching the black T-shirt he wore with faded jeans. The shirt’s cotton molded like a second skin to his biceps and shoulders but was looser against his stomach. Did he have a six-pack? I bet he had a six-pack. “I’d kill to see you without your shirt on.”
Jasper barked a laugh. It was hoarse too, like he didn’t laugh enough.
Sad. Should I give him a hug?
Too busy contemplating that question, I didn’t realize what he was doing until it was too late.
Jasper reached a hand behind his head, fisting his shirt. Whoosh.
Shirt gone.
“Holy. Freaking. Abs.” My jaw dropped. “Six. Definitely six.”
“Eight,” he corrected. “Count again.”
“Whoa.” I reached out to pet a muscle, just to make sure it was real. The muscles bunched beneath my fingertips.
“That tickles.”
“You’re ticklish? Aww. That’s adorable.”
He frowned. “I think I liked it better when you called me grumpy and brooding.”
“Ow, ow!” A woman walking behind us did a catcall. “Sweetie, if you’re not gonna drag that man to your hotel room, please send him to mine. Planet Hollywood. Room 1132.”
My cheeks flamed.
Jasper was Foster’s best friend. I couldn’t drag him to my hotel room, right? Right. That could get awkward. But I really wanted him to lose those jeans too. What did his legs look like? Were his thighs as bulky as they looked? Were they dusted with the same dark hair that trailed from his navel to the waistband of his jeans? How far did that trail go, anyway?
“Eloise.”
My gaze whipped up to his face. “I like how you say my name.”
“You’re blushing.” Jasper’s voice dropped to barely a whisper. Something else crossed his gaze, maybe teasing, maybe flirting, but it happened too fast for my sluggish brain to catch.
“I’m drunk,” I blurted.
“So am I.”
“No way.” My mouth parted. “You are?”