Page 117 of Romeo

“Romeo—Fiona’s date.”

My stomach flipped.

Date.

Dennis’s jaw tightened. “Date.”

“That’s right.” Jasper’s smile didn’t move. “See, Fiona and I are having breakfast. Just the two of us. So I’m sure you understand why she’s not available for lunch. Or dinner. Or... anything else you might be thinking about.”

The words were polite.

Mostly.

The message underneath them wasn’t. Dennis stared at him for another second before looking at me. “Well,” he said slowly, “maybe another time, Fiona.”

Something about the way he said it made my shoulders tense. Not okay. Not I understand. Another time. He walked away, and I knew he wouldn’t give up.

Jasper watched until the door closed behind him. Then he looked at me.

“How often does he do that?”

“Do what?”

“Ask you out.”

I tore a piece off the edge of my croissant. “Every time I see him.”

His fingers tapped once against his coffee cup. “And how often is that?”

“I don’t know. Rosewood’s a small town. You see the same people all the time. It’s not a big deal.”

“What does he do?”

“Works at the hardware store, I think.”

“You think?”

“I don’t really pay attention.” I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”

“Just curious.” His expression immediately settled back into the version of Jasper everybody trusted. “So you see him at the hardware store?”

“Sometimes. And around town. Gas station. Grocery store.” I shrugged. “Like I said, small town.”

“Right.” He took another sip. “What’s his last name?”

I frowned.

“I don’t know. Dennis something.” I set my croissant down. “Why are you asking so many questions about him?”

“Just making conversation, Cher.” His smile widened. “Finish your breakfast. These croissants are too good to waste.”

I looked at him for another moment. That smile was entirely too innocent, and I didn’t believe it for a second.

Still, I let it go.

The rest of breakfast passed without Dennis returning, and eventually our conversation wandered back to safer territory. When we finished, Jasper paid despite my protests and led me outside.

The blues station played softly during the drive home. Morning sunlight came through the windshield, warm enough that I could almost pretend he wasn’t about to leave again.