The Set Up

by Kim Karr

  His grin is even more wicked than that of just a few moments ago. “What do you say we do our part and conserve water?”

  Feeling that look from the top of my head to the tip of my toes, all I can think is that I’m not really that sore after all.

  Ninety minutes later we’re in his spacious loft and I’m sliding the frozen pizza into his oven. It looks brand new, with walls that gleam and sparkle. “It looks like you’ve hardly used your oven,” I say over my shoulder as I close the door.

  Jasper is opening a bottle of red wine. “It’s had a few frozen pizzas tossed in it, but that’s about it. I go to Will’s when I want a home-cooked meal.”

  “So you don’t cook?” I ask, rummaging through a cupboard in search of his plates.

  The cork pops from the bottle. “Nope. No one ever taught me.”

  I turn with a cute glass plate in my hand. “I love to cook, but I had to teach myself. When my aunt cooked, everything had at least one stick of butter or was flooded in oil, because that was the way my uncle liked it. The greasier the better, he used to say. And she kept it up for the inn as well. It was either learn to cook healthy on my own or die of a heart attack at a young age. I decided on the former.”

  Jasper grabs two wineglasses and pours us each a glass. “After my father died, my mother stopped cooking. We lived on cereal, canned soup, sandwiches, and Swanson’s frozen dinners. My mother said it was all she could afford, but I think it was more that she missed my father raving about what a good cook she was. I was always fussy and complaining.”

  This confession about his past takes me by surprise. “All kids are picky, Jasper.”

  He shrugs. “It wouldn’t have killed me to eat the meat in her spaghetti sauce, though, and maybe even tell her it tasted good.”

  I stop before I pull open the bag of carrots I’d brought over and walk toward him. Lifting on my toes, I softly kiss his lips. “No, it wouldn’t have, but when we’re kids we’re not programmed to think that way.”

  He shakes it off and hands me a glass of wine.

  I look at the glass. It’s the same pattern as the dishes I found. Clear, with a slight silver ring around the edge. Barely noticeable but adding a hint of sparkle nonetheless. Hidden beauty. Looking back at the plate and then at the glass again, I know I’ve seen it before. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve drooled over this pattern. Uncertain if I should change the topic, the melancholy look on his face tells me I should try to lighten the mood. So I raise my glass. “Do you shop at Crate & Barrel?”

  He blushes. Actually blushes.

  So adorable.

  I look around and notice things I hadn’t before. Notice a lot. All from Crate & Barrel. “You do.”

  Sipping from his wine, he speaks over the rim. “Drew’s mom works there. She helped me out.”

  Walking back to where I’d been, I scoop the hummus I brought into a cereal bowl and toss the carrot sticks onto the cute plate. “I call that store the holy land.”

  Striding toward me, he dips a carrot in the hummus and crunches on it. “I’ll take you sometime. You can help me finish outfitting my kitchen.”

  “I’d love that,” I tell him, already taking inventory of what he might need.

  That smile sparkles and gleams just like the oven and he kisses my mouth. He tastes like the garlic and onion in the hummus and I want to lick every inch of his lips. “I’m going to change—I’ll be right back,” he says.

  “I’ll be here, slaving over the hot stove, waiting for the timer to go off.”

  With a cute shake of his head, he starts for his bedroom, turns back, kisses me one more time, and then disappears down the hallway.

  I watch that stride. The way his laces hit the wooden floor. The way he disappears, and I feel a little lonely with him out of the room. I walk over to the picture of Jasper and his father. When I pick it up, I remember the very first time I saw Jasper’s go-cart.

  Mr. Storm and one of his friends are unloading a small car from the back of his truck.

  “Wow, what’s that?” I ask through the fence.

  “It’s my new go-cart.” Jasper comes running over to the fence and opens the part that is broken. “Come see it.”

  I glance back at the house. My dad is at work and my mother and Mr. Worth are inside. Tory is playing on our swing set and I’m under strict orders to watch her, and that means not leaving the yard.

  “Come on, Charlie,” Jasper says. “Really fast. She won’t know.”

  I look around. “Okay.”

  Mr. Storm puts his hand on Jasper’s mop of brown hair and squats down. “Hi, Charlotte, want to sit inside it?”

  “Can I?”

  “Of course you can.”

  I look at Jasper. He nods. “Don’t be afraid. It’s fun.”

  So I do. I sit in it. I turn the wheel. I pretend I’m driving it.

  Mr. Storm’s friend approaches. “Now listen, Jasper, some advice,” he says. “After a few laps, you’re going to want to hustle and go flat-out. Don’t. Full power, flicking the car like a demented rally driver, is exciting, but it really slows you down. Carting is a game of momentum, where the guy who lifts slightly to avoid sliding, and has silky-smooth steering, will be the fastest.”

  Jasper’s face is lit up like a Christmas tree. “I can’t wait to try it out on the track. Thank you, Mr. Harvey.”

  “You’re welcome. My son doesn’t use it anymore, so I figure why not let someone share in the fun? When you’re done with it, give to someone you know who will love it too.”

  Jasper looks at me. “I’ll give it to you,” he mouths.

  “Charlotte! I’m telling my daddy you left me alone.”

  Tory is only five, but she likes to get me in trouble. I hop out of the cart and rush for her. “No, Tory, don’t! I’m coming back right now.”

  She’s heading toward the back door.

  I run faster and faster, but when I try to open the spot in the fence that’s broken my foot gets caught and I fall.

  Jasper rushes over to me.

  I look at him. “If Tory tells my mother, she’s going to lock me in the closet again.”

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  “How?”

  “Hey, Tory!” he yells.

  She turns around.

  “Want to sit in my new go-cart?”

  She eyes him.

  “It’s really fun.”

  Instead of turning the screen door handle, she turns around and walks toward Jasper.

  “Thank you,” I mouth.

  He pulls me to my feet and holds the fence open for Tory.

  Once she’s sitting in the go-cart, Jasper looks down at her. “You know, Tory, if you tell Mrs. Lane that Charlotte left the yard, Charlotte will have to tell her that you left the yard too, and you will both be in big trouble.”

  “Oh, I won’t tell,” she says.

  Again, I look at Jasper and mouth, “Thank you.”

  The oven beeps just as Jasper comes back into the room. My eyes take him in. He’s wearing a pair of worn jeans and a Rolling Stones T-shirt. Sexy. Sexy. Sexy. I bite my lip to stop from screaming it. He rubs his hands together. “Was that the oven?”

  “Yes.” I grin, already grabbing for the pot holders. “I got this. You set the table.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says.

  I laugh. “Don’t call me that or the next thing you know I’ll be telling you to eat all your veggies.”

  “Wouldn’t want that,” he says with a smirk.

  Still laughing, I concentrate on cutting the pizza with a bread knife. I couldn’t find a pizza cutter anywhere.

  First item on his list.

  When I turn around, I look at the kitchen table and it’s the same way it was before he came back into the room. Just as I’m about to chastise him, I spot him busily lighting a candle near the coffee table. He’s grabbed the bottle of wine and thrown pillows from the sofa on the floor around it.

  Nice.

  Together we sit down Ind
ian style and eat one of our favorite childhood foods.

  “More wine?” he asks, raising the bottle.

  I am buzzed enough from my first glass, so I shake my head no.

  He pours me more anyway.

  Feeling full, I push my plate away.

  He leans over and steals a piece of pepperoni I’d plucked off my slice and sticks it in his mouth. “Best part.”

  “I know, but I try to stay away from really unhealthy foods.”

  Those eyes are half-lidded and lustful when they glance up at me as he rubs his extremely fit stomach. “I should probably try that.”

  A flutter of nerves awakens in my belly. “You . . . you don’t look like you should be worried, but for your own health you should focus on the healthier food groups.”

  With a raised brow, he points to what’s left of the pizza. “But you said this was one of them.”

  Grabbing his hand, I bring it to my mouth. “I was kidding,” I tell him, licking the grease from his finger.

  Crawling closer to me, he sweeps the hair from the side of my neck and his hot lips brush my ear. “Maybe you could cook for me now and then.” He trails light kisses down my neck. “Help me change my unhealthy habits. Get me on track.”

  Is he trying to tell me he wants to change more than just his diet? Is he referring to the endless parade of women he has had in life?

  “Jasper.” Desire bolts through me, dampening my thighs.

  Because he is fast as lightning, he’s standing with an outstretched hand before I can even calm my rapid breaths. I look up. His eyes are low-lidded with lust as he waits for me to take his hand. For a moment, I hold his heated gaze and feel my body go taut with need.

  “Come on,” he says in a voice very different from when he was eight.

  But just like when I was eight, I follow. I think I’d follow him anywhere.

  Cool air whispers between us as he tugs me toward his bedroom. Once there, I look around. At his giant bed. At his masculine bedding. At his clothes strewn across the floor. We’ve had sex more times than I can count on my hand in a single day, and still the thought of being with him again excites me. Thrills me.

  The heat of his hard body presses against my back, his fingertips coast lightly over my bare arms, and as he moves my hair to the side his breath ghosts across the back of my neck.

  Butterflies and goose bumps at the same time.

  The fabric of my top tightens across my chest at the gentle tug on it. While he waited back at my place, I’d dressed nicely. Put on a sleeveless cream-colored chiffon top, my best trouser-like jeans, and my silver sandals. Even did my hair. Put on makeup and jewelry, too. I like looking good for him. Like the way his eyes glisten when he first sees me, the way he licks his lips as if I’m his favorite food, the way his body reacts to me.

  Jasper’s hands go to the hem of my flowy top. My breasts swell and my nipples peak with anticipation. I’d gone braless because earlier he’d told me how sexy he thought that was. I won’t do it all the time, but once in a while, just for him, I will.

  I cover his hands with my own and together we leisurely remove my top. “Let’s take this slow.”

  He nods.

  “Slow,” I repeat, my voice barely above a whisper. He doesn’t even know it, but he has my world spinning. One moment I’m resigned to leaving town, the next he’s accusing me of a hideous deception and then begging me to stay, now I’m here with him and not going anywhere. Here because he wants me. Me. He’s trying to be casual about us but serious at the same time. It’s confusing and a lot to take in. But I want to take it in. I want to take him in. I want to so much.

  “I can do slow,” he murmurs against my neck.

  That’s all I need. The sound of his voice and my thoughts disappear.

  Slowly, together we pull my top over my head. When the fabric hits the floor, Jasper grips my hips and gently pulls me back against him so I can feel the hard, rigid length of his arousal against my bottom.

  After a beat, he takes a step back. “Turn around.” His voice is husky with desire.

  Hesitantly I turn. This time not because I’m nervous, but because I know his eyes will be so filled with lust it will make me want to abandon my plan for slow and easy.

  With light strokes he memorizes me with his touch. Glides over every bit of exposed skin with his fingers and his mouth. The tantalizing gentleness he displays only increases my anticipation and my arousal.

  A moan I can’t hold back escapes my lips.

  He groans around one of my nipples when he hears it and slowly slides his hands down to the button of my jeans.

  The coil in my belly tightens.

  Slowly, almost torturously so, he unbuttons my jeans and starts to pull the zipper down.

  Oh, God, I want him so much.

  “Jasper,” a voice calls out from the main living space of the loft.

  “Fuck,” Jasper mutters.

  “Jasper, I need to talk to you. It’s about Tory.”

  I quickly grab my top and put it on.

  Jasper presses a kiss to my shoulder. “Let’s go see what Will wants and then pick this back up right where we left off.”

  I nod, trying to get my beating heart to slow down.

  Naked feet lead the way.

  When we hit the living space, I freeze. It isn’t just Will, but Will, Drew, Jake, and Will’s girlfriend, Whitney.

  Pink paints my cheeks.

  Drew clears his throat. “Oh, hey, Charlotte,” he says, as if trying to make the scene casual and not so embarrassing.

  Although appreciated, I’m not sure it eases the fact that Jasper and I look like horny teenagers, in his bedroom before the sun has even gone down.

  Jasper doesn’t seem to care.

  Everyone greets one another and thankfully ignores the elephant in the room. They all know what we were doing in his bedroom at six o’clock on a Saturday night.

  “What’s up?” Jasper asks, running a hand through his hair.

  “Come sit down,” Will orders.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Just sit down. It’s something I need to show you. Not tell you.”

  Jasper grabs for my hand in a protective manner and we head to the stools at the bar, where Will is firing up his laptop.

  Jake’s busy surveying the mess Jasper and I left behind. Once he’s done, he grabs the wine bottle and brings it to the kitchen, where he finds a glass and pours the remainder of the wine into it. Sucking it down, he turns and grabs another from the chiller. “Anyone else like a glass?” he asks.

  Will is busy typing the letters T-o-r-i-e into the Facebook search bar, but nothing pops up.

  Whitney is by his side whispering in his ear, “There’s an extra r before the i-e, remember?”

  “Stupid stripper name.” Jake mutters something under his breath.

  “I’ll have a glass,” Drew tells Jake, grabbing a carrot and sticking it in the hummus still on the counter.

  My eyes flicker between Drew, Jake, and Will. The three men Jasper thinks of as brothers. Each has his own sad story to tell of how he ended up in Cass Corridor, but all are thankful they found each other.

  Punching the keys again, Will turns the screen toward Jasper. “This is Tory with an r-i-e,” he says to Jasper.

  Jasper’s intake of breath frightens me.

  Almost desperately, I look at the picture and know I’ve never seen the grown-up Tory before. If she was at the bed-and-breakfast it wasn’t when I was there.

  “And here’s the picture Alex was referring to.” Whitney shows it to me.

  I look at it. That’s the Butterfly House all right in the background. The date of the post is this past spring. It was just before my aunt died. Had my aunt met her? Talked to her? Sent her away? Or had Tory with an r-i-e never mentioned who she was?

  Sadly, I might never know.

  Looking around, I realize the room is silent except for the crunch of carrot in Drew’s mouth, and that everyone is staring at Jasper,
who looks like he might throw up any second.

  “Do you know her?” I ask.

  They all nod their heads and avert their eyes anywhere but at Jasper and me.

  “How do you know her?”

  Jasper says nothing.

  I pull the computer closer. “Is that blue streaks in her hair?”

  Jasper is pale. Will is paler. Jake is for once silent. And Drew is staring at Jasper.

  Then there is no question. Yes, those are blue streaks in Tory Worth’s hair. “Oh, my God,” I gasp and look at him. “Tell me what I’m thinking is wrong.”

  He says nothing.

  “Tell me I’m wrong!”

  Jasper squeezes my hand so tight it starts to go numb. “You’re not wrong. She’s the other girl I spent the night with last weekend.”

  The cloud I’d been floating on doesn’t just drift away. Instead it feels like it’s been yanked out from under me.

  Tears I can’t control well in my eyes. “You were with Tory Worth?”

  Jasper leans forward, and even through his own distress he tries to calm me down. “We’ve talked about this.”

  Yes, we talked about the two women in his threesome. Talked about the fact that it was before he met me again. Talked about the fact that he had sex with only one of them, and it wasn’t Eve, which means it was Tory Worth. Bolting from my chair, I rush for the bathroom and close and lock the door.

  That life and this one.

  That one.

  This one.

  That life where I was the needy one and she was the one who got all the attention. That life where she got to be with my mother and I got left behind. This life where she came in and took the one person who ever really cared about me. Why? Because she could—that was always the reason she did anything.

  There’s a light tap on the door. “Charlotte, let me in.”

  Not wanting to cause a scene, I unlock the door and return to my spot on the tile floor.

  Slowly, Jasper pushes the door open and steps in.

  I look up but say nothing.

  He sits down beside me but doesn’t touch me. “Talk to me.”

  I shake my head.