The properties out here were secluded, most of the homes large and built off the road to give their owners some privacy. The turnoff to the A-frame was the last in line, and when I reached the mailbox, I slowed to roll down the narrow driveway.
A silver Yukon was parked in front of the cabin. Inside the house, the lights glowed golden behind the windows. Standing on the front porch, with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, was Jasper.
My heart tumbled.
Jasper stood statue still, his dark eyes unreadable. He was as gorgeous as he had been Saturday. That ruffled dark hair. That stony jaw dusted with stubble. Soft lips and a body built for sin. The ache in my core that had woken me this morning flared to life.
Never in my life had sex been that good. He’d made me come two—no, three—times. The fact that Lyla hadn’t heard us having sex on our end of the hotel suite had been a freaking miracle. Because that man had made me scream.
Heat rose in my cheeks as I parked beside his SUV. I took a fortifying breath and climbed out of my car, walking to the base of the porch’s stairs.
Here goes nothing.
“Hey there, husband.”
Jasper’s jaw clenched. That clench had to be a good thing. A sign that Jasper didn’t want to keep the title.
“So . . . about this marriage.”
CHAPTER FOUR
JASPER
Marriage.
That word packed a punch.
Eloise stood at the base of the steps, looking at me with those striking blue eyes. They caught the afternoon light, making them shine as vibrant as the sky above our heads.
She was dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a sweater with a mock turtleneck. She looked warm. Comfortable, yet stylish. Beautiful.
So goddamn beautiful.
There was some resemblance between Eloise and her older sisters. The long, dark hair. The pink lips and the shape of their mouths.
But Eloise had a youthful appearance that had nothing to do with the age gap between her and her siblings. It was just . . . her. She had effervescence. Energy. A spark that radiated from those pretty eyes.
My wife.
I groaned. “What a fucking mess.”
“My thoughts exactly,” she muttered, starting up the stairs. “Should we go inside?”
“Yeah.” It was cold out today. Winter had a grip on Montana and it showed no signs of loosening its hold. When I left Quincy, I wasn’t going to miss these brutal temperatures.
Though when my flight had landed this afternoon in Missoula, the weather hadn’t bothered me as much as I’d expected. Either I was getting used to the snow, or contemplating the stupidity of my actions had made me numb.
Eloise stopped beside me on the porch, glancing around to take it all in.
There were two levels to the A-frame. The porch stretched across the front. Above us, a balcony extended off the loft bedroom.
When I’d come to Montana in January, the owners had built up an impressive pile of chopped wood for the fireplace. The stacks had dwindled since I’d been here, but hopefully there was enough left to get me through my stay. The logs rested against the porch’s railing, bracketing the center stairs.
The A-frame wasn’t like most I’d seen before. There were no massive windows out front, filling the triangular frame. Instead, those windows were on the backside of the cabin, offering a view to the landscape.
The green tin roof blended with the surrounding trees. The wood-slat siding was the same color as the earthy forest floor. It would have been almost camouflaged except the front door had been painted a bold orange-red, the color of rusted metal.
That red shouldn’t have fit, not that gaudy of a color, but I couldn’t imagine that door being any other shade.
“Cute cabin,” Eloise said. “I’ve never been to this place before. I’ve seen some of the other Stewart properties but not this one. I like it.”
“How did you know where I was staying? You didn’t ask Talia, did you?” Shit. If Talia knew about us, then Foster knew. And that was not a conversation I was ready to have.
“No. God no.” Eloise shook her head. “Talia mentioned a while ago you’d rented a cabin from the Stewarts. Their other vacation rentals are in town.”
“Ah.”
“Small town.” She shrugged. “Privacy has a different meaning in Quincy.”
“I’m learning that.” Every time I went downtown to grab dinner or a pastry from Eden Coffee, someone would wave and call me by my name. Someone I hadn’t met before.
It was . . . odd. Not necessarily bad. Not exactly good either.
“That’s actually the reason I’m here.” She waved a hand to the front door. “Shall we?”
“Yeah.” I walked to the door, holding it open.
She breezed past me, her perfume wafting to my nose. Vanilla and spice. Floral undertones and a hint of smoke, like she’d been near a fireplace. The combination was subtle but alluring. It was the scent I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for three days.
“When did you get back?” she asked, her gaze roving around the interior.
“About fifteen minutes ago.” I’d hauled in my bag and immediately gone to light a fire. After it was lit, I’d headed outside on the porch, about to haul in more wood for later, when I’d heard tires crunching on gravel.
“Oh. Good.” She seemed relieved that I hadn’t been back long.
I jerked my chin for her to follow me through the cabin.
The kitchen sat at the front of the house, opposite a small dining nook. I headed for the living room, toward the open ceiling and large windows that overlooked the property. The fireplace crackled, its heat slowly chasing away the chill.
The cabin had baseboard heat, but I had a fire going whenever I was home.
Eloise spun in a circle, taking it all in, from the circular, iron staircase that led to the loft to the open bathroom door beside the laundry room.
The A-frame was small. Intimate. With the loft and another small bedroom, it offered me plenty of space.
It had been built in the seventies and had a vintage vibe. The walls were covered in tongue-and-groove boards. The honey color matched the massive beams that stretched from the floors to the peaked roof. The furniture was a mix of textured upholstery and leather, some pieces newer than others.
Nothing fancy. Everything comfortable. Just right for a guy who’d needed a rental for a couple months.
Montana was only a temporary stop.
Foster had moved up here permanently, but I’d only ever planned to stay long enough to train him through the fight. Then I’d either return to Vegas. Or find somewhere new. If Foster didn’t retire, I planned to travel. To bounce back and forth. If he hung it up, then I had options.
My place in Vegas was waiting. I’d return. Or I wouldn’t. But first . . . Eloise.
The silence between us stretched. She looked everywhere but at me.
What had happened to the woman who talked too much, who voiced every thought in her head? Maybe she was as lost for what to say as I was.
“Sorry.” That seemed like a good enough place to start.
“Things, um . . . they got a little out of hand on Saturday.” The color rose in her cheeks. “I’m sorry too.”