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Chapter 18
Atlas
Atlas sipped the coffee that wasn’t half bad—now that he woke up in time to make it every morning at the inn. A cool breeze blew in from the screen door as Jasmine busied herself with cleaning up breakfast in between packing her daughter’s lunch. She was quieter than usual today, focusing intently on her tasks. She didn’t even make small talk with Zoey like she usually did in the mornings unless the little girl spoke to her directly.
Was it because of how he’d left last night? She’d joked about blackmailing her sisters-in-law, and it had triggered something in him. Veronica was the queen of blackmail, as were several others in their social circle. Secrets were ammunition where he was from. But after he’d cooled down, he’d realized that wasn’t what Jasmine had meant. She wasn’t like the socialites back home.
A few other guests milled about, planning their days or finishing up the simple pancake, sausage, and egg breakfast. A man he didn’t recognize walked into the room, dressed in a military uniform—Navy maybe? He approachedJasmine who stood at the stove with her back to him and put his hands over her eyes.
“Guess who?” he said.
Atlas tensed. Who was this guy?
Jasmine’s stoic expression morphed into the biggest smile he’d had the pleasure of seeing yet. His stomach sank like a rock that this guy was the one who’d pulled it from her.
“I’d know that voice and those hands anywhere. Turner! You’re back?” She spun around and looped her arms around his neck.
Atlas’s teeth ground together.
Turner’s hands traveled down her back before slapping her playfully on her ass. It took every bit of Atlas’s self-control not to tackle the man. He clenched his fists, every muscle in his body rigid.
“When did you get home? It’s been years!” Jasmine asked, giving him a tight squeeze as he picked her up and spun her around. She laughed, light and free.
Atlas’s gaze traveled from the blond-haired, blue-eyed man to Zoey.This guy seemed to be about Jasmine’s age—young. Was he the father? Zoey looked up, her gaze fixed on her mother, eyes full of questions.
You and me both, kid.
Turner set her down, holding her hands as his gaze raked over her body. “Damn, girl, you look good enough to eat.”
Jasmine blushed and swatted his chest. “You haven’t changed one bit. I thought the Navy was supposed to make you respectable.”
He waggled his eyebrows up and down. “I’m respectable everywhere it counts, and—” He leaned in and whispered in her ear. Jasmine’s cheeks reddened even more as she giggled. He had never seen this woman giggle—not that he’d known her that long.
“Mommy?” Zoey asked.
Jasmine’s attention darted to her daughter, a flicker of apprehension crossing her face. “Turner, this is my daughter, Zoey.”
Turner walked over to the dining table and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Zoey. You look just as beautiful as your mama. I bet you’re a little troublemaker too.”
The little girl reached out and shook his hand hesitantly. Turner pulled a lollipop from his pocket and offered it to her. “Do you like sweets? I always carry a few of these with me just in case I find a fellow sugar-lover.”
Zoey grinned as she looked to her mother for permission. Jasmine rolled her eyes and nodded. “Just this once.”
“Fank you.” She grasped the lollipop.
Turner straightened. His eyes flicked to Atlas and the other guests before offering a nod and focusing his attention back on Jasmine.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your morning. I just know today isn’t an easy one for you,” Turner said.
What does he mean?
Jasmine’s face dropped, her smile gone. “Oh, yeah. I appreciate it.”
Turner pulled her into another hug.
His chest burned. Atlas wanted to be the one to know Jasmine’s secrets.
“Do you like lollipops, Mr. Atlas?” Zoey asked.
