Page 49 of Powerless
I grab her hand and start walking back to our room. “You don’t need to worry about me, Sunny.”
I don’t look back when I hear her soft response.
“I always worry about you, Jas.”
14
Sloane
Sloane:This waitress is a fan.
Jasper:Sloane.
Sloane:What? She looks like she’s going to gobble you up.
Jasper:Don’t.
Sloane:Are you blushing?
Jasper:She’s a stranger. Doing her job. She isn’t looking at me like anything.
Jasper:Don’t make that face.
Sloane:If you need space, just leave a sock on the hotel room door.
Jasper:Sunny, shut up. I’d never do that to you.
The waitress seats us next to one of the enormous windows overlooking the lake. We didn’t know what to expect at Rose Hill Reach, only that it was right next door to the hotel. It’s a lovely spot though. All windows face the lake and one door opens to a long dock with a wide landing that I’m assuming could function as a patio in the summer.
Inside it’s all vaulted ceilings and dark woods. River stone fireplaces and butcher block tables. In one corner, there are even pool tables and dart boards.
It’s cozy. I almost feel like I’m at a ski lodge as I remove my jacket and scoot down into the rounded wooden chair, gazing out over the water. The water where Jasper and I just . . . well, I don’t know what we were doing.
I glance back at Jasper and watch him fold his tall, powerful frame into a chair that’s too small for him.
He reaches up to take one of the burgundy, leather-bound menus the waitress is now holding out to us. Her eyes widen when the tips of his fingers brush against her hand. Even hidden beneath the brim of his hat, he’s recognizable—especially only four hours away from Calgary.
“Oh my god. Hi,” she breathes out, looking like a kid on Christmas. “You’re Jasper Gervais.” One of her hands falls across her chest, and I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes.
Jasper gives her a kind smile and a gracious little dip of his head. “Hi,” is all he says back, turning his small smile down to the menu. In typical Jasper fashion, he’s friendly, but notthatfriendly.
Friendly enough that no one can say he’s rude, but not friendly enough to invite more conversation.
Not that it’s ever stopped me.
“I, uh . . .” The girl’s brown eyes flash between us, trying to read the situation before she points a finger like she’s come up with a great idea. “I’ll give you a minute with the menus!” She’s chipper, and I can’t help but notice the way her cheeks pink when her eyes land on Jasper again.
She’s starstruck and it’s honestly cute.
Jasper doesn’t notice though, or at the very least, doesn’t comment. He hunches over his menu and stares at his options. It strikes me that he isn’t an easy man to get to know, that he must seem closed off to most people he meets. Two dimensional even. But I know better. I know his humor. I know how fiercely he loves his family, and I know he has social anxiety that makes him seem standoffish to most.
He keeps so much locked up inside that he never talks about.
“What are you going to have?”
My eyes snap up and back down at the menu filled with standard pub fare. “A salad.”
Jasper’s head tips up and he stares at me, expression carefully blank before his eyes roam over me, catching on my shoulder that peeks out of the neckline of the thick knit navy-blue sweater I recently purchased.
