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I didn’t sleep well, tossing and turning all night. I eventually fell asleep thinking of Jasper and wondering if he’d be there for my exercise session in the morning. I suppose it made sense that I’d dream of him.
Like all my dreams, they were disjointed. There was a conversation, in which Jasper said he looked good naked too and invited me to look at his tattoos. With his help, I peeled off his T-shirt and found more ink on his chest, a spiral of ivy leaves that trailed down his stomach and disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans.
Dream-me was shameless and ran her fingers over every inch of ink that she found.
“It goes down to my cock,” said dream-Jasper. “Want to see it?”
I couldn’t resist his sultry night-time voice, and I eagerly popped the button on his jeans. That was as far as I got. I jerked awake in time to hear a knocking. Someone at the door? What time was it?
Daylight crept in through a gap in the curtains, and I checked my phone. Seven-thirty. Way too early to be up, since I’d had maybe four hours of sleep.
At least I had pajamas on.
The knock sounded again, and I hastened to the kitchen. I saw who it was right away. Jasper.
I look good naked, too.
My cheeks burned as I opened the door. “Hey,” I managed to say, not looking at him. I couldn’t help myself; I glanced at the top of his jeans, as though expecting to see ivy leaves peeping out from beneath his shirt.
It goes down to my cock.
Stupid, I told myself, but it didn’t help. I dragged my gaze up to meet his, and saw his puzzled expression. He could probably fry eggs on my cheeks, and heat spread down my throat. This took embarrassment to a whole new level of Hell.
“I thought you were exercising this morning,” he said. “Are you okay? You’re kinda pink.”
I clapped my hands to my face. “Yes. Fine. Thank you.” The words ran together.
“Did I get you out of bed? Sorry.”
The word bed reminded me of the dream again. Of kneeling beside him, caressing the impressive hard-on inside his jeans. Dear God. I had to think about something else.
“I overslept,” I said. “Give me five minutes?”
“Sure. I’ll wait out here.” He hobbled to the outdoor chairs, and I found myself admiring his ass. What was wrong with me? Jasper would be mortified if he thought I lusted after him. He was a nice guy, trying to help me, nothing more. And I bet he looked amazing with no clothes on. Unlike me.
I fled back inside the cottage. Two minutes in the bathroom, and then I pulled on my underwear and jog pants. Where was my oversized T-shirt? Not where I left it. In desperation, I rummaged through my clothes and pulled out the next largest. While baggy over the chest, it was short and barely covered my belly. It was either that one or an ancient Foo Fighters shirt that clung to my tits like a second skin.
Hiding my thighs was more important, and I shimmied into the top, conscious that Jasper waited.
I slunk outside, sneakers in one hand, and sat on the deck to put them on, buying myself a few moments. I needed to gather my composure. I’d seen hot guys before. I’d been engaged to one.
I was used to making a fool of myself, but it didn’t mean I had to keep doing it.
“What’s the plan?” I mumbled the question, my head bent as I tied my laces. “Same again?”
“Yep. And a little further today.” He paused. “Was everything okay last night? You left in a hurry.”
“Yes. Fine. Thank you.” I fixed a bright smile on my face before lifting my head. “Let’s get started.”
He studied me for a moment, dark brows tugged together, and I wondered if he’d call me on my blatant lie, but no. He nodded, and then pushed to a standing position. “Come on. Let’s make the most of the weather.”
I hadn’t noticed it until now. He was right. The sun peeped over the hills, and the sea was calm. Pink clouds dotted the horizon and were reflected in blurry patterns on the water. I took a deep breath. Beautiful.
I followed Jasper onto the sand, and then, under his direction, did some stretches and jogged on the spot for a minute. At the point when I felt I couldn’t do any more, he told me to walk briskly to the driftwood and back, and in that time, I caught my breath. Mostly.
Walking back, I couldn’t help staring at him. At the faded hoodie he wore and the jeans that fit him perfectly. The stick in his hand and the way he avoided leaning on it. What happened to him? It was a question too far. He said he wasn’t always a gimp, but I guessed that anyway, since he was a personal trainer.
The exercise session had to be longer than fifteen minutes, but while I felt tired and my muscles complained, it wasn’t unmanageable, and Jasper kept a close eye on me.
There were no smiles from him today, but a steady calmness that made me want to keep going, to keep pushing on. I marched and carried weights, and then did some yoga-like stretches on the sand.
Sweat pooled in the small of my back and stained the front of my shirt, and I must smell disgusting, but it didn’t stop Jasper from bending down and touching my foot.
“Point your toes and count to five, and then relax.” He stood close and watched. “That’s right. Well done.”
I flopped onto my back and let out a huge sigh. “I’m munted.”
He didn’t reply, and I raised my head to look at him. “Thank you. I do appreciate this. It’s only been two days, but I can feel the difference,” I said.
“You will.”
“I need to shower.”
“Yes. Before you get cold.” As if to underline his words, Jasper shivered, and guilt tugged at me. While I’d been working out, he stood in one place. Though it was warmer than yesterday, it wouldn’t be fun, standing still for half an hour or more.
“Would you like to come back for a hot drink?”
A hint of a smile teased at his lips. “We had this conversation. I hate herbal tea.”
“I bought coffee yesterday. As long as you take it black.” Buying a bag of ground coffee had been an impulse, in the faint hope that Jasper might call around again, and now I was pleased I did it.
“That works. I’ll make the drinks while you shower.”
“Deal.”
I had the quickest shower in history, pulled on clean jeans and a floaty top, and dashed back to the kitchen. I found Jasper sitting at the table, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. Though I hated drinking it black, the aroma taunted me. It was as well I didn’t buy milk and sugar, otherwise I’d be indulging right now.
“I made you some Lemon Zinger,” said Jasper, nodding to a cup steaming on the counter. “And your phone has been going mental. Someone’s desperate to talk to you.”
It wasn’t even eight thirty on a Saturday morning, and there was a very short list of people who might be calling me. With a sense of impending doom, I picked up my phone and scrolled through the two missed calls, two voicemails, and no less than four text messages, all from Deanna.
Something was badly wrong.