Chapter 11

Two hours later, a knock on her office door startled Emma. Before she could even look up, the scent of something heavenly hit her nose.

“Madame Director, I’ve brought you some soup.” Jasper came through the door with a flourish, brandishing a white napkin over his arm and two bowls of soup balanced precariously in one hand.

“Eez it dee French kind, given your new accent?”

“It eez. Absolutement.” He smiled as he held up the bowls. “But it appears there is nowhere on this desk to put zee soup, so perhaps Mademoiselle will join me in the courtyard for dinner?”

“Join?” The word popped out of her mouth before Emma had time to pull it back, and one more time, she felt her cheeks flush. Good Lord, she hadn’t blushed so much around a man since—well, since ever.

“You think I brought two bowls just for you?” Jasper winked. “I’m generous, but this is my soup we’re talking about. These are the last two bowls, and I’m having one of them.”

“Of course. That’s not what I—never mind.” She shook her head, pushing away from her desk. “I would love some soup, thank you.”

“Excellent.” He stepped back to let her pass through the doorway. “Lead the way.”

“I can do that, but only because there’s an entrance to that courtyard in every hallway. Can’t get lost getting there.”

They fell into step as she headed for the nearest courtyard door, and her stomach growled embarrassingly loudly, making him laugh.

“Have you actually eaten anything today?”

“Apparently not enough.” She reached the door and punched the exit code, then held it for him as he sidled through. “Where should we sit?”

“Follow me. I have the perfect spot.”

She smiled as she followed him, definitely not doing a full body scan as she did so. But truly. Who could help it? She couldn’t have him—didn’t want him, thank you—but she could look.

He led her down a wide path edged with fruit trees until they reached a low table, and he set down the bowls. She slid onto a bench and picked up her spoon, leaning down to inhale the steam.

“This smells heavenly.”

“Thank you. Hope it tastes that good.”

She blew on her spoon, then tasted it. Then she closed her eyes, transported back to her grandmother’s old Victorian on a sick day when her parents had been too busy to stay home with her.

“Can I hire you for Monday through Thursday nights, too?”

He laughed. “Horace would never stand for it.”

“Well, I imagine you have a life and all, as well.”

“There is that.” He smiled, stirring his soup. “So you’ve survived two weeks. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“Ready to move out here yet?”

“Um, no?”

“Well, it’s still early days, I guess. You will.”

Emma laughed. “Is this a thing? Some irresistible power Carefree has over people?”

“Totally is.”

“Ah. It’s one of those mystical vortexes? Area 52? Something in the water?”

“Actually, the water has been blamed on numerous occasions. Whisper Creek water, in particular, but it seems to be a thing.”

“Okay, what is this Whisper Creek that people keep talking about? My friend—who’s from Florida, by the way—told me I wasn’t to leave here without the Whisper Creek calendar.”

Jasper rolled his eyes. “That damn calendar has ruined everything for normal men.”

“What?” She laughed. “How?”

“Have you seen it?”

“Just a quick peek.”

The lie rolled off her tongue without a hitch, but really? She couldn’t exactly admit to scrolling through the thing for a flipping hour the other night.

Holy cowboys, Batman.

“Whisper Creek used to be just another ranch with normal people raising normal cows and horses and such.”

“And now it’s Playgirl Paradise?”

He brushed a hand across his mouth like he was trying not to laugh. “So you’ve seen enough of the calendar.”

“Well, I mean…it’s not exactly designed for skimming.”

“Great. Even you.”

Emma felt her eyebrows scrunch together. “What does that mean—‘even you’?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “I just hoped maybe you were above the base exploitation thing, being that you’re a professional, well-educated—”

“Warm-blooded woman?” She raised her eyebrows. “Because really, that’s kind of all it takes to admire that calendar.”

“Fine. Enough about the calendar. They sell them in the general store if you need one…for your friend.”

“Good to know. Thank you.” She spooned soup into her mouth. “I may need five or so copies.”

“As I was saying, Whisper Creek used to be just a ranch. And no, they’re not a bachelorette paradise now. I mean, some weeks they are, but that was never the goal. It’s owned by the Driscolls—Sara and her sons, Cole and Decker—and they took it from a struggling run-down disaster to a really successful operation.”

“Sounds nice.”

“You sort of have to see it to believe it. It’s one of those postcard-perfect places that you’d never believe was run-down, not so long ago.”

“So what was their secret? How’d they make such a success out of it so quickly?”

He pointed to his head. “They made some risky decisions at the start, but they were the smart kind of risky. They turned the place into a guest ranch, and both brothers married ridiculously talented women who kind of breathed new life into things, and before they knew it, they were rocking a waiting list. Now it’s a full-on, all-the-bells-and-whistles place where you can ride all day and eat all night. And pause for yoga and a massage, if you’re in the mood.”

“Sounds idyllic. Why am I staying at a sterile hotel at the edge of town?”

“Good question, actually.” He looked up. “You know, with school back in session, their bookings have probably eased up. They might have space.”

“It’s okay.” Emma shook her head. “It sounds like a place that’s perfect for people who have time to ride and do yoga and get massages. I’d never have time to take advantage of everything they have to offer, anyway.”

“You’d never have time? Or you’d never make time?”

“He says, with no judgment in his tone at all.” She raised her eyebrows again. “Not all of us have our own businesses or make our own hours.”

“Noted. But I’m pretty sure, unless laws have changed significantly since I practiced, that you’re working far more hours than your company attorneys would be comfortable with, if they knew.”

She processed the words as they flew by, then put on the brakes at one phrase. “Since you practiced? Were you an attorney? Are you one?”

His jaw stiffened, and in that instantaneous, unconscious reaction, Emma had a feeling there was a long story behind whatever answer he was about to give.

“Was. Past tense.”

“And…now you’re a café proprietor?”

“Coffee guy. That’s what I am. And it’s perfect for me.”

“What made you leave law?”

He took a deep breath, looking over her shoulder like he was sorting through possible answers, trying to figure out which one fit with this particular conversation.

“Wasn’t perfect for me,” he finally said, in a tone that made it very clear he was done talking about it. “Now, back to you. Why elder care? How’d you choose this for a career?”

“Well, doctoring and lawyering were already taken in my family. And I get motion sickness too easily to be a rocket scientist, so…my choices were limited.”

“What’s your degree in?”

“I have a few of them. I, um, I wasn’t a very decisive college student.”

Yes, that’s why I have three degrees. Not because I was overcompensating at all. Not because I was desperate to prove I still had worth, after the monstrously stupid decision I made. Not because I was an empty, hollow shell of a human being afterward, and I was desperate to fill up my hours with anything to help me stop thinking all the time.

Jasper laughed, and it startled her out of her thoughts, because her thoughts centered around the least funny period of her entire life.

“Let me see if I can guess what they are.”

She smiled tentatively. “Go for it. But I’ll give you a clue—only one of them has any relationship at all to what I’m doing now.”

“Healthcare administration, I’m assuming.”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’m relieved you’re not in charge of my father’s home working with an anthropology degree or something.”

“Close. Archeology.”

“No way.”

“It was my first one. My rebel degree. I was going to tour Egypt with a shovel and brush, discovering amazing things till I was an old woman.”

He nodded slowly. “But let me guess—your sense of direction steered you away from that plan?”

“Getting lost in the labyrinths is frowned upon. I needed to stick with something GPS-enabled.”

“Like a nursing home.”

“Like Florida,” she corrected. “It’s impossible to get lost in Florida, because you can only get, like, four hours lost before you crash into an ocean.”

“So why did you need a rebel degree?”

She looked down at the table, finding a dent that needed attention. It was kind of a personal question, if she chose to answer it honestly.

“Maybe I just needed a rebel life for a while.”

He looked into her eyes, nodding slightly as he pushed his bowl to the side of the table. “So what came after archeology?”

“Business finance.”

“You say that like it caused you actual pain.”

Emma smiled. “It hurt my brain.”

“Hard stuff.”

“Oh, I had a 4.0 average. It hurt because it was deadly, horribly boring. There’s only so much how-to-make-the-rich-get-richer info you can take in before you see how screwed up our system is.”

“So you didn’t finish?”

“I finished. Have a shiny MBA to show for it, but I never framed it because I’m not proud of it, you know?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I think I’d still be proud of it, even if I didn’t like it all that much. Especially with a 4.0 to show for the work.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know.” She fiddled with her spoon.

“So what led you to healthcare, then? Why nursing home management?”

“My gramma, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Her voice went soft, thinking about the one person in her life who’d ever really gotten her. Gramma might have given birth to Emma’s father, but the resemblance ended at their blue eyes. On Gramma, they’d been laughing and bright. On Dad, they were ice cold even on the hottest July day.

She took a deep breath, sitting back in her chair. “She was from Ireland. Catholic to the core. No meat on Fridays, you gave up something important for Lent, and birth control was for Protestants.”

Jasper laughed. “Oh, boy.”

“She had ten children, eight of whom made it to America with her. The other two are buried in tiny graves somewhere in her hometown. My dad was the oldest, and his dad was a force. Success was not optional. It was required. Dad was the first of his family to go to college, and he was determined to make his parents proud. And us, I suppose.”

“Did he?”

“He…did.” Emma felt the corners of her mouth head downward as she pictured all of the nights Mom would plastic-wrap his dinner and put it back in the fridge…all of the birthdays when he called from somewhere that wasn’t home…all of the days and weeks that sometimes had gone by between sightings of him.

“I’m guessing there was a cost?”

“There was definitely a cost. But he was a hard worker, and he was proud of his success. He only wanted the best for us.”

“Naturally.”

Jasper said the word innocently enough, but there was an undertone of tension that made Emma snap her eyes to his.

“It was—fine. Truly. My mother was a powerhouse family manager. We wanted for nothing, and she ran a tight ship. It was all good.”

“I’m sure it was.”

She studied him for a moment. “What were your parents like when you were a kid?”

“Boringly fantastic.”

“Really?” She smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone describe his own family like that.”

He shrugged. “We lived the Norman Rockwell life. Little house in a little town with a little family. Christmas tree in the living room, stockings on the fireplace, Jell-O salad in the fridge.”

“Wow. You look really great for someone born in the seventies.”

“Very funny. And the salad was only for special occasions.”

She laughed. “I have never had a Jell-O salad. Now I feel deprived.”

“I’m sure we could get Horace to whip some up for you. If there’s one thing we have a lot of in that kitchen, it’s gelatin.”

“Hard to believe this soup came from the same kitchen as Horace’s creations.”

Just then, he jumped, just like he had last Friday night at the café table. He swore silently as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Still not used to that alarm?”

“Unfortunately, I have to get going.” He looked apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

“Sure. Of course.” She started to slide off the bench. “Thanks so much for the soup. You’re totally hired if you want to convince Horace into early retirement—just saying.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

She stood up and stacked her bowl inside his, then picked them both up. “I have a lot of work to get done tonight still, anyway, so I should get back into the office.”

As she turned to go, she felt his hand on her arm—gentle but firm. “If I said I might have a better offer, would you be interested?”

“I’m not going out to Whisper Creek to meet the cowboys. Don’t even suggest it.”

He smiled. “Wasn’t going to. I was actually thinking about inviting you to come with me.”

“Um…”

He chuckled. “For a long drive to a deep, dark wood. Obviously.”

“I assumed as much.” She felt her cheeks flush.

“Promise it’s an innocent invitation. It involves kittens.”

She laughed. “Oh, that’s so much better, yes.”

“Yeah, I suppose that came out wrong.” He laughed, too. “But seriously, I’m fostering kittens for my friends Daniel and Hayley. They’re vets, and someone dropped a litter on their porch a week ago. They need to be fed every three or four hours, and since—as you so kindly pointed out earlier—I have my own business and make my own schedule, they asked if I might be able to take them for a few weeks.”

“Kittens.” She smiled. “You have—kittens.”

“If you make a comment right now about living in my mother’s basement or something, I—”

“Wasn’t going to.” She put up her hands. “Promise.”

“So? What do you think? Can you put aside paperwork for a couple of hours in order to feed poor, starving, abandoned kittens?”

She laughed. “You’re a piece of work, Jasper.”

“Thank you.” He took the bowls from her hand. “I’ll take these back to the kitchen while you go close up your office and get your stuff.”

“I haven’t said yes yet.”

“Kittens, Emma. Cute, fluffy, mewy little things that only want love. And formula.”

He made what must have seemed like a desperate-kitten face, and in that moment, she lost all sense of reason. Any man who could cook a soup she’d donate an arm for, make her laugh as much as she’d done in the past half-hour, and fostered kittens for his veterinarian friends couldn’t be a serial killer, right? So leaving with him wasn’t a monumentally moronic idea, even though she barely knew him?

She rolled her eyes. “Okay. Just let me grab some things. I’d love to see the kittens.”

“Excellent.” He smiled broadly, and it hit her between the ribs.

Every freaking thing about this man was hitting her in weird places.

Back in her office, she pulled out her phone. She might be stupidly enamored of Jasper in this insane moment, but she wasn’t completely stupid.

“Hola, chica!” Ari’s chipper voice came across the airwaves, giving Emma a sudden stab of homesickness. “Two weeks down! Please tell me you’re not sitting in your hotel room doing nothing on a Friday night.”

“I’m not.”

“If you’re still in the office, that’s not acceptable, either.”

“Well, I am still in the office, but I’m leaving, if that gives me any points.”

Ari laughed. “Only if you’re going somewhere besides back to the hotel room.”

“Actually, a stranger has invited me back to his place to help feed his kittens.”

There was a long, studied pause, and Emma could practically hear Ari’s wheels turning as she waited for a response.

Finally, Ari laughed. “Good one.”

“It’s true, actually. But I know his name, so it’s totally legit.”

“Awesome. It took you only two weeks with dementia patients to lose your own mind?”

Emma laughed. “I’m actually calling you because I am going to someone’s house, and he did lure me there with kittens, but I thought it might be a good idea for someone to know where I’m going in case I disappear and never come back.”

“Um, Emma? Who is this guy? And how is the kittens part not sending you running?”

“He’s the one I told you about—Jasper. His dad lives here at Shady Acres.”

“And does he have references? I mean, not that there’s anything necessarily creepy about a single guy in his thirties who has—you know—kittens that he uses to lure women to his house.”

“I know how it sounds.”

“That’s good, because if you didn’t, I’d worry.”

“He’s really nice, Ari. Promise. He just made me soup, actually.”

“Soup and kittens. Marry him.”

Em laughed again. “Shut up. It was really good soup.”

“Why is this man making you soup? Are you sick?”

“No. He’s just nice.”

“You mentioned that part.” Ari paused again. “Hey, Emma?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re working pretty hard at not saying a whole lot of anything useful here. Just saying.”

“I’m not really working at it. I just had this weird urge to make sure I don’t go off alone with him, without anyone knowing where I went. And I know you can do absolutely nothing from Florida, but…well, I don’t have anybody else to call. So, you win. Don’t you feel special?”

“Absolutely. So give me his name, number, and measurements, and you can be on your way.”

“All I have is his name.”

“You sure it’s his real one?”

“Funny. Yes.”

“Okay. Just answer me one question.”

“One.”

“Is he hot?”

“Deathly.”

Ari laughed. “You didn’t even think about it.”

“Didn’t have to. He’s ridiculously hot. So hot that his single status makes me suspicious that he bats for the other team. Except I don’t think that’s possible.” Emma took a deep breath. “No, it’s definitely not possible.”

“Okay, second question.”

“You said one question.”

“True, but your answer to that one leads me to require another one.”

“Ari? He’s waiting in the hallway.”

“I’ll keep it quick. Would you consider dating him? If the opportunity presented itself?”

Emma sighed. “By all reports, the real director’s surgery went well, and there’s a good chance she’ll be back sooner than the original twelve-week mark. It would be insane to even think about dating out here.”

“Completely. So have a terrible time, okay? Don’t even think about doing anything like kissing him.”

“I’m not. I wouldn’t. Not a chance.”

“Mm-hm.” Ari laughed. “Full report in the morning, girl. And Em?”

“Yes?”

“Do something worth reporting, would you?”