Page 4 of Jasper (Guardians of the North #5)

JASPER

I can’t deny that I told a few white lies when I met Vanessa in Cape Cod.

In all honesty, I thought we’d never see each other again.

I remember a nagging whisper in the back of my mind back then promising I was full of shit for being okay with that.

For accepting that as reality. But I shoved that annoying truth down until it went silent, willing to take whatever time she’d give me, however brief.

My only priority was making the most of every moment I did have with her.

Because I’ve never met anyone like her.

Vanessa’s very presence was all-consuming. She was the breath of fresh air I’d spent my whole life chasing. When we went our separate ways, I didn’t expect to feel so fucking empty. Like someone had sucker-punched me in the gut and I never quite recovered from it.

Now that she’s back in my life, I can’t imagine letting her slip away again. Which is what I tell my buddy Joel as I pull up to the hangar the next morning to drop him off.

“You’re sure about this one?” He’s not only one of the best rescue swimmers I’ve ever worked with, he’s also one of my best friends.

The only other born and raised Alaskan in the J-Squad.

The two of us are the last men standing.

The last single guys in our group. Maybe that’s why I feel like he’s the best one to open up to.

If anyone is going to play devil’s advocate and point out things I need to hear before I get in too deep, it’s him.

“You know, looking back, I think I was sure about her four years ago.” Just wish I had realized how life altering meeting Vanessa Wheeler would actually be. How it would modify the very way I saw the world. I would’ve done things a little differently.

Maybe.

I didn’t know she was the admiral’s daughter until after we’d gone our separate ways.

“Think the admiral’s going to go for it?” Joel doesn’t hide his doubt.

The admiral likes me—a detail my buddies constantly give me shit about.

Like I’m a teacher’s pet or something. But going after his daughter might unravel that relationship quite quickly.

Admiral Wheeler is known for his quiet acts of retaliation.

He’s not the kind to lose his cool and yell.

He’s the cool and collected strategist who’ll destroy your career and watch quietly from the sidelines as it happens.

“I don’t know, man,” I answer honestly. Though I should care a lot more about the answer to that question than I do, I’m too distracted to focus on the dire consequences.

With Vanessa not just in my time zone now, but my orbit, I can’t seem to think too clearly about anything other than her.

Letting her walk away without giving this everything I have seems wrong. “I hope so.”

“I’ll come to your funeral, but I ain’t planning the shit.”

“Just make sure there’s plenty of Caribou Creek Stout to go around.”

I drop Joel off, longingly gazing at the helicopter on the flight line I should be flying.

I absently rub my wrist brace, silently cursing the careless accident that caused the sprain and grounded me for six weeks.

The sky is my happy place. The place where I find calm among the chaos.

Even in risky storms, I feel the world still.

I could sure as hell use a flight or two to figure this whole Vanessa thing out. To clear my head and make a plan.

Instead, I’m forced to leave behind the hangar and head into town.

Vanessa never told me why she had her rule about not dating military.

I assumed, after I discovered she was the admiral’s daughter, that she wanted a different type of life.

But whatever her reason, my resolve to wear her down has only intensified since that dinner last night.

To ensure if she’s still clinging to that rule that I convince her to break it.

I pull up to the hotel and am hardly out of my truck before I catch her clearly on a mission to escape me. It’s the only reason she’d dodge behind a tall plant near the sliding doors at the sight of me.

“Going somewhere?”

“Damn you military and your early hours,” she mutters, letting out a heavy, annoyed sigh from behind the fake plant.

“Where’s your assistant?”

“Conveniently MIA.” Vanessa drops her eyes closed as she spins around slowly and steps out from behind the tall plant.

With pursed lips, she looks up at me. I subtly rake my gaze up and down her curvy figure once, admiring the dark skinny jeans that hug her sexy legs.

“I don’t want to do this, Jasper. I’m still mad at you for lying.

For spoiling that memory for me. It would just be easier if we stayed out of each other’s ways this weekend. ”

“It would be easier.”

“Good. I’m glad we agree?—”

“But sweetheart, I have no plans on taking the easy road.”

“Don’t call me that,” she grumbles.

“Let’s start with breakfast. If you’re planning to be on your feet all day bossing people around, you can’t do it on an empty stomach.

” I might sound a bit desperate, but I’m not driving away without her.

I know I lied, but I also know what we experienced in Cape Cod was real.

“Plus, you can shoot your firing squad of questions at me over the world’s best pancakes. ”

“I already ate.” Her stomach rumbles, as if on command.

Calling out her lie. She grumbles again, and dammit if it doesn’t turn me on.

Then again, damn never everything about Vanessa Wheeler turns me on—from her narrowed eyes to her sly smirk to the way her blue eyes darken when she thinks about the past. “Fine. But after breakfast, I need to see where the festival is being staged. I need to do a walk through and?—”

“ After we eat.”

“Fine. Let’s hurry up then.”

I open the passenger door and offer my hand. She stares at it for several beats, then at the lifted truck before letting out a heavy sigh and relenting.

The contact is almost as electrifying as it was when we shook hands at dinner.

An instant trigger to the memory of a passion-filled weekend.

Last night, we pretended not to know one another.

But the wattage is higher now. More charged after a night apart knowing that out of all the places in the world either of us could be, we were both sleeping in the same small Alaskan town.

My dick twitches against my zipper as my hand brushes side boob.

It was an accident, but her gasp isn’t one of shock and indignation.

It’s a gasp I recognize from our nights of passion.

A sexy exhale that promises everything we shared then is still present now.

Lurking just beneath the surface, waiting to be coaxed out.

“Don’t get any ideas,” she says with narrowed eyes.

The minx means to fire daggers at me, but their potency is no match for the desire that is aimed my way instead.

She can pretend to hate me all she wants.

The truth is fighting its way to the surface, and I know it’s what’s going to win this round.

“Sweetheart,” I say, tracing a single finger along her jawline and eliciting that sexy little inhale I’ve missed so much, “all I have are ideas.”