Page 69 of Broken Pact

He gently pushes my hands away and takes care of the strap for me. He takes my helmet off, his gaze roaming over my face. “Yeah, I know.”

He holds my hand and leads me inside the house. The garage door closes behind us with a soft hum, leaving us in a dimly lit space. We step through the mudroom and into the main part of the house, and I’m immediately struck by the warmth and coziness of it all. It’s so different from the industrial vibe of the clubhouse.

The entryway opens up into a vast, open floor plan. My eyes are immediately drawn to the far wall, which is entirely made of glass. The nearly full moon shines through, casting a silver glow across the room and illuminating the surface of the lake just beyond the property. It’s breathtaking, like something out of a dream.

Jasper flicks a light switch, and soft light illuminates the kitchen and living room from canned lights in the ceiling. I let my fingers slip from his as the stunning kitchen beckons me. Gorgeous white cabinetry, sleek stainless steel appliances, black and white marble countertops. I trail my finger over the edge of the large island as I walk around the kitchen.

“Does it pass inspection?” Jasper muses, leaning his shoulder against the nearest wall.

I stop next to one of the four stools tucked under the island. “I guess I didn’t picture you in a house like this.”

His smirk slips into a frown, his brows bunching together. “Yeah, well. There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“I’m sorry,” I rush the words out. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just . . . surprised, I guess.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, pushing off the wall. “Let me show you the rest of the house.”

I follow behind him as he walks through the living room to the stairs on the far wall. A plush charcoal-colored L-shaped couch faces a large flat-screen TV mounted over a stone fireplace. A few pieces of art hang on the wall, but otherwise it’s bare of any personal decoration.

And still, it’s so cozy and inviting.

“You have a beautiful home, Jasper,” I murmur. I don’t know why I’m talking so quietly, except that I’m feeling nervous. Like maybe I offended him or something.

We ascend the stairs, the wooden steps creaking softly under our weight.

“It was my grandfather’s. He left it to me when he passed away,” he says when we reach the top of the stairs.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, baby. It was a long time ago now,” he says, turning to face me once I reach the second floor landing.

The upper level is just as beautiful as the main floor. It’s a cozy loft space with cutout windows, one of those giant bean bag chairs, and the most elaborate cat tree I’ve ever seen. It takes up an entire wall, built around the windows and everything.

My brows fall toward the center. “You have a cat?” It’s somehow surprising and not.

Like some kind of rehearsed move, Jasper makes this kissy noise and a black and white fluffy mass bounds to the floor from the top level of the cat tree.

“Coraline, meet Pudding. Pudding, meet Coraline.”

Pudding makes figure eights between Jasper’s legs, its tail curling around his calf with each pass.

“You have a cat.”

“I have a cat,” he muses, humor in his voice. “Fair warning though, three a.m. is his witching hour, so don’t be surprised if you hear him scampering around.”

I bend down and hold my hand out. Pudding takes the invitation and saunters over to me, his little whiskers twitching as he sniffs me. I hold my breath, suddenly nervous that Jasper’s cat is going to reject me or something. But he dips his head and rubs the bridge of his nose along my fingers, encouraging me to pet him.

The sweet move pulls a small laugh out of me. I scratch behind his ears, loving the way he leans into my touch. His purrs sound like a little motorcycle engine. “What made you name him Pudding?”

Jasper bends down and smooths a hand along his back. “You remember those pudding cups? The chocolate and vanilla ones?” I nod before he even stops speaking, the image springing to mind immediately. “Well, his coloring reminds me of one of those. That and the cat loves a good pudding. He loves most food, really. Don’t you, boy,” he murmurs, rubbing the space between Pudding’s ears with the pad of his index finger.

I shake my head, mostly to myself. “You’re a total cat dad.”

Jasper watches me, a slow smile spreading across his face. “He likes you.”

I smile back, feeling a warmth spread through me. “Of course he does. Have you met me?”

He hums under his breath, that dangerous smirk of his blooming across his face. He scoops Pudding up with one hand and stands up. “C’mon, baby. Let me show you to the bedroom.”

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