Page 9 of Jasper

He takes a slow sip of his coffee, eyes still fixed on me, like he’s measuring me up. I tilt my chin defiantly, refusing to look away, and plaster on one of my bright smiles I’ve perfected over the years.

“Morning, Little Thief.”

“Good morning, vampire,” I singsong, smiling brightly. “Nice out today, huh?”

When one of his eyebrows lifts, I shrug innocently and pretend to cough to cover my giggle. I don’t know why it’s so fun to be sassy with him, but it comes to me so easily.

“So,” he drawls, voice low and rough, “you here to steal from more innocent people today?”

I blink, caught off guard. I wasn’t expecting him to be so blunt, though there’s no real heat behind his words. “I don’t take from anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, clearly skeptical. “That right?”

“Yeah.” I tilt my head to one side, pretending I don’t care what he thinks. Maybe I’m a bad person for what I do, but it’s survival and something that’s been ingrained in me for so long, it’s just who I am. “I have standards. I only take from people who won’t be financially impacted by the loss. Rich guys who act like they are God’s gift to earth? They don’t notice when they lose a few dollars. People who walk around acting like they own the world? Like they’re better than everyone else? They deserve to be knocked down a peg. I’m doing the universe a favor.”

His lips quirk up, like he’s amused, but his eyes don’t soften. “Interesting code of ethics. So, why’d you target me?”

The question makes me suck in a breath, and I bite the inside of my cheek, debating whether to answer honestly. Screw it. If he wants to judge me, let him. I smirk, giving him a once-over before I meet his narrowed gaze again. “Because you look like you kill people for fun.”

Something flickers in his eyes—surprise, maybe—but then he does something unexpected. He laughs. It’s a gruff, rumbling sound that makes me shiver, and it’s the first time I’ve seen him actually look... happy. His smile is breathtaking. Different than what I expected. He’s still intimidating, but there’s a sparkle in his dark eyes that almost makes me think he has a kindness to him under his tough exterior. The scars on his cheeks are less menacing and almost look like dimples. I want to ask where those came from. Fighting, I assume.

He doesn’t deny my observation, and that makes my stomach do a weird flip.

“I don’t look like those other rich assholes, though,” he says with an arched brow. “What makes you think I wouldn’t miss whatever it is you were going to steal from me?”

My gaze roams over him again, and I force myself to ignore the flush that rises to my skin. “Your watch is worth at least fifty thousand, your boots are made to look worn, but they actually cost nearly five hundred dollars, and that chain you’re wearing is pure platinum, roughly worth ten grand. Oh, and all the tattoos you have probably cost hundreds of thousands. So I’d say you’re doing quite well for a murderer.”

Oh my God. I’m being way too bold. Especially if he does kill people. I might as well hand myself over to him so he can start chopping me up into body parts.

His dark gaze travels over my body with obvious disinterest, and now I feel likeI’mthe one suddenly being knocked down a peg, or five. I’m certainly nowhere close to the attractiveness level of this guy, and it’s pretty dang obvious I don’t have his kind of money. Or any money at all.

My heart pounds against my ribcage, and I can’t tell if it’s fear, excitement, or disappointment. Probably all of the above. Before I can say anything else, the barista calls my name, and I seize the opportunity to break away.

“Guess I’ll see you around,” I say lightly, though my voice wavers a bit.

He doesn’t move, just watches me with that same, assessing look. I grab my cup of hot water, not daring to look back, and practically bolt out the door. The icy air hits me hard, but I welcome it, hoping it’ll calm the heat still simmering under my skin.

I don’t stop moving until I’m halfway back to the camper, my breath puffing out in short bursts. My hands are shaking—whether from the cold or from that brief encounter, I’m not sure.

Who is this guy? And why can’t I stop thinking about him?

By the time I reach the camper, I feel like I’ve run a marathon. Fluffy greets me with a soft meow, and I pick him up, burying my face in his side as I try to steady myself.

“I need to stop going there.”

Fluffy just purrs, completely oblivious to my conflicted thoughts.

I set him down and sit on the edge of the bed, replaying the conversation over and over. I shouldn’t feel... whatever this is. I’m in no position to even like someone, let alone think about being involved with someone. And as if he would ever want someone like me. I’m stupid to even think it could be possible. A silly fantasy. And that’s the problem. I don’t know the difference between reality and fantasy anymore. And I can’t afford to let my guard down. Not with anyone. The last time I did that, I got hurt even though I knew it was coming.

I guess it’s time to find somewhere else to get my hot water and warm up because my terrifying murderer doesn’t seem to be leaving the café anytime soon.

5

JASPER

As soon as she slips out the door, I feel this weird pull to follow. It’s not like me to get wrapped up in anyone else’s business, especially not some little thief with pink hair and eyes too big for her face. But something about her lingers long after she’s gone.

I take one last sip of my coffee, the bitterness settling on my tongue, and push myself up from the chair. After tossing the empty cup in the trash, I glance out the window, but she’s already disappeared down the street.

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