by BJ Blakely
I sense Jax wants to ask me more about painting, but for God’s sake, we’re not on a date or anything.
He’s a customer bumping into his waiter at the hardware store, and i’d be weird as hell to ask me why I liked to paint, right?
“Well, I hope they’re more than decent for $169.99,” Jax volleys after a while. “Those cost more than every meal I’ve had at Betty’s combined.”
Then Jax adds, “Excluding the gargantuan tips, of course.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Like I said, they’re the Ferrari of the paintbrush kingdom. The kitties I paint deserve the best.”
“I thought you said they were the Rolls Royce of brushes.”
“They are.”
“But you also said Ferrari.”
“I did.”
I sigh and shove my hands in my pocket. “I’m not good with cars.”
Jax lets out a belly laugh. “It’s okay. You’re the artist, and I’m the car guy. I can live with that.”
Something hot and spicy flickers in my gut. I eye Jax. It almost sounds like he’s saying You’re the artist and I’m the car guy in our relationship.
But he didn’t take it that far — thank God, because he’s leaving this weekend, and I’m not about to enter into a relationship with someone I’ll never see again.
Though his words give me joy, I pretend to ignore them. “I’ll take it, as long as you keep blessing me with your gargantuan tips.”
Jax snorts out a laugh. “Okay, Logan. We’ve been bantering in the crafts aisle long enough. Considering I’ll probably never see you again outside of Betty’s Biscuits, I’m going to give you a gift that I hope you won’t refuse.”
Jax takes the set of brushes down from the shelf. “I’m buying the brushes.”
My jaw drops. “Sorry?”
He clears his throat. “I’m buying you the set of brushes. You obviously want them, and I want to pay. Call it a parting gift,” Jax adds, and my stomach sinks as he reminds me that he’s leaving this weekend and will never see me again, probably.
With trembling fingers, I swipe the brushes and put them back on the shelf. “That’s very sweet, but I can’t accept this gift.”
“But I thought you wanted them.”
“I do.” The gesture is so damn sweet, but I can’t accept it. Jax probably feels sorry for me, pitying the young waiter who can’t afford nice things. I don’t want to accept a gift under those circumstances. “I’d rather get them myself.”
Jax snorts. “I’m probably going to give you the money anyways, at least through tips. This way, we take out the middleman.”
I shoot him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Jax. I appreciate the offer, but I can’t accept the brush set today.”
Jax nods. The gears turn so fast in his head I can see them. “Okay, plan B. Follow me.”
I do as told and follow Jax to the front of Hazel's Hardware. I can’t but ogle his thick ass as he walks. Damn, he’s thick. I think I’m a bottom, but I wonder how juicy that ass is in bed.
Jax stops in front of a cute little display. “How about one of these?” He picks up a tiny ninety-nine cent brush and presents it to me.
It’s a kid’s brush, a tiny little thing with stumpy bristles and cheap wood. The metal clamp holding the brush to the wood is poorly constructed.
I can’t help but stare at Jax in shock, unable to speak. His offer is sweet, heart-melting, and adorkable as fuck — which is funny, because I definitely didn’t peg Jax as the adorkable type.
“Is that a kid’s brush?” I finally muster. We’re not doing anything sexual, but my cock thickens in my khakis.
It’s so cute.
So fucking cute.
Jax nods, his eyes glowing with excitement. “Yup.”
“And it’s ninety-nine cents?”
Jax glances at the sign again, then flits his eyes back to me, which nearly sends me melting and crumbling to my feet. “I believe it’s forty-nine cents, if you count the sale price.”
My heart is melting. This man is so damn sweet and considerate. He knew the expensive brush set was a step too far, so he picked up a kid’s brush so he could still buy me something.
It’s a joke gift, but it’s the type of gift money can’t buy, and the thought that he’s doing this for me is enough to make me cry.
A man has never done this for me. Never.
It’s the sweetest thing in the goddamn world, and I can’t do anything but accept.
“It’s perfect.” Jesus, I’m being dramatic. Are tears welling in my eyes?
Please tell me I’m not about to cry at the hardware store. What an angst fest.
“Great.” Jax snorts and leads me to the register, where luckily the line has thinned out, despite the store being packed. “Then you can use this brush to practice for when you buy the real thing.”
“I have brushes, ya know.” God, I’m a painter. It’s not like I don’t own a single brush.
“Okay, we can put it back.”
“No, no,” I gasp hastily, before clearing my throat and assuming my usual chill and reserved tone. “I mean, it’ll be perfect for my collection. That’s what I meant to say.”
Jax chuckles. “Great. I hope you show me one of your paintings sometime.”
Oh God. Please tell me he didn't actually say that.
“Of course I will.” I stick my nose in the air. I want Jax to think I’m unfazed by his kind gesture. “Maybe I’ll even paint you something.”
Jax snorts. “Why would you paint me something?”
I shoot a nod towards the brush. “Because you’re making my dreams come true.”
I intend to say this ironically. The point is to make fun of myself, to let Jax know I’m not overwhelmed by his act of kindness, and that I can “brush” it off like it’s no biggie.
But my voice is so soft and fragile that it comes out way more earnest than I wanted, and for a second, it sounds like I’m going to bust out in tears.
Thank fuck Jax is too smart for that shit. “Okay, dude. You’re a good actor, but you don’t have to work that hard for a tip.”
I groan. “That was supposed to be a joke. Sometimes my voice doesn’t cooperate with my mind. I definitely wasn’t trying to charm you for a bigger tip.”
Jax snorts and puts his credit card back in his wallet. “A gargantuan tip, mind you.”
“Yes, Jax.” I can’t help but grin. “Gargantuan. Girthy. Giant as hell.”
I clear my throat. “Yes, I’m still talking about your tips. Don’t get any ideas.”
Jax hands me the gift in the plastic Hazel's bag. “I’ll see ya at Betty’s tomorrow.”
“See ya at Betty’s.” My heart is racing out of my chest. I want to kiss him. Literally.
It’s so damn emotional and yucky, but I want to kiss him in thanks.
I want to tell him how much this joke gift means to me, how I want him to stay in Bear Springs and ask me out, how I want to get to know everything about him — like why he went into trucking for instance and why he enjoys being on the road for such long periods of time — but the fact is we’re in a damn hardware store, and that’s totally too much.
Besides, he’s heading out again this weekend, and I probably won’t see him for another 2 months.
Saying these things to a man who’s leaving anyways is probably the worst idea ever.
Also, I have my mystery man in the Truck n’ Munch stall, so it’s not exactly like I’m out of options if he leaves.
Although truth be told, I haven’t exactly seen the mystery man in a while, so that option might be off the table… But that’s beside the point.
So I say See ya at Betty’s and pray he can read the unspoken meaning behind my words, even if I’m not sure I can read the meaning myself.
Damn, this man has me losin’ my mind.
10
Logan
I balance the plates on my arms and side-step Mary Beth on my way to the front of house.
Emotions swirl around
my head, but thankfully they’re not ferocious enough to drop Jax’s order of chocolate chip pancakes with a side of crispy bacon, thus shattering not only the plate but also my chances with him.
Thank fuck, because the last thing I need is to drop his order his very last day in Bear Springs.
I enter the diner room, and already the sight of Jax sipping coffee in his regular booth next to the neon Betty’s Biscuits sign stirs something hopeless and desperate within me.
It’s selfish, but I want him to stay in this very booth, chillin’ and sippin’ fresh coffee… I wish he didn't have to leave.
But all good things must come to an end.
I have one last move, however. Before I came to work today, I made Jax a special gift.
It’s in my work bag, and I’m going to wait until the perfect time to give it to him.
I wasn’t going to make him anything, but my horoscope said there was “someone special” in my life, and I should give them something to let them know how I feel.
There’s nothing more special than a homemade gift. But for now, I have to wait and pretend like everything’s normal.
“Here ya go.” My voice is chipper and upbeat as I slide the plates onto the table, where Jax accepts them with a thankful nod.
“Looks amazing, Logan. Not that I expected anything less.”
“That’s Betty’s for ya,” I say with a grin. It’s hell trying to focus on the present and ignore the fact that Jax is leaving tomorrow at the crack of dawn. Absolute hell. But I have to do it.
Putting on a smile and pretending nothing’s wrong is kinda my job.
Unfortunately, Jax cannot be so easily fooled. I know this about him, but I always forget, especially when I’m trying to pull the wool over his eyes.
Jax slices into his pancakes, but he sets his fork and knife down when he looks into my eyes.
The quick glance into his chocolate hazel eyes nearly knocks me off my feet, but I force myself to stay standing.
“Something’s wrong, Logan.” Jax furrows his brow. “Do you want to talk?”
I shake my head. “Nothing’s wrong,” I lie. “Everything’s fine and dandy.”
He’s not buying it. “You can tell me, ya know. Pull up a chair and have a seat.”
I snort, and shoot a quick glance at the kitchen. Though the diner isn’t busy today, Betty will have my ass if I sit and unload my worries on a customer.
I’m the one who’s supposed to listen to customers and assuage them, so they buy more food. They don’t listen to me.
But Jax does.
I shake my head and shove my hands in my apron pocket. “I can’t sit, Jax. I’m working.”
Jax snorts. “Jeez, he can’t even take a conversation break. You’re a workaholic,” he teases.
“I wish,” I jest. “If I was a workaholic, at least I’d get some enjoyment out of serving lame customers like you every second of the day. But no, I merely work to pay the bills.”
“Tough.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” I quip with a smile, always a smile, to let him know I’m joking.
But then I remember I brought something to give to Jax. “Oh my God. Wait here.”
Jax cocks an eyebrow at me, but does as told. I zip into the back room, and return with the tiny painting — it’s a two-by-four canvas — I brought in my dark blue work bag. It’s not much, but Jax will laugh.
The painting is a strip of bacon. Literally. A crispy strip of fresh-cut crispy bacon that I painted with the brush he bought me at Hazel's.
It’s not a work of art, but I hope Jax thinks it’s funny.
Jax’s eyes flash with amusement as I slide the canvas onto the table so he can see it. “Here ya go.” I fight back the butterflies in my tummy. “I painted bacon. I wanted you to have it.”
Jax bursts into laughter. He picks up the small painting and studies it as if it’s a bonafide work of art, before glancing up at me. “You’re fucking with me.”
“I’m afraid not,” I admit. I’m shaking with something I can’t quite put my finger on. “I was at home experimenting with the brush you bought me, and I decided to paint a strip of bacon. I wanted to hang it in the apartment, but Forest told me he hates bacon. He didn’t want it in the house. He suggested I give it to you. So here I am, giving it to you.”
Jax is shocked. His mouth is ajar, his eyes are wide. He glances back at the painting, and I think he hates or that I’m too forward, but then he flits his gaze back to me and gives me the most heart-warming smile that lets me know everything will be alright.
“I can’t believe this. It’s amazing,” he says.
I snort. “Believe it, sister. It’s for you.”
Jax turns to me with the most adorable expression on his face. “No, I mean I literally can’t believe the story about your roommate. Who doesn’t like bacon?”
It takes me a minute to piece things together, but I burst into laughter when I realize he called my bluff.
Apparently, lying about my roommate “not liking bacon” is a dead giveaway, because no one on this Earth doesn’t like bacon.
“Fine,” I admit with a shrug. “I lied about the painting. I didn't paint it for the apartment, and Forest didn’t say I couldn’t put it in the house. I’m a liar. But hopefully you’ll forgive me if I say I painted it for you.”
“Someone’s working hard for their tip money today.”
I groan and shake my head. “I didn’t paint it because I want a big tip. I painted it because you’re leaving tomorrow morning, and I wanted to give you something to remember Bear Springs, because God knows when you’ll be back. We’re going to miss you at the diner. Or at least I will. Anyways, that’s the story behind the painting. Maybe you can hang it in your truck or something.”
Jax is touched by my gesture. “This is… Really sweet?”
I nod. “Thank you. That’s the idea.”
Jax sighs and sets down the painting. He’s mulling something over in his mind, but he can’t bring himself to say it.
I can see the gears turning, but I’m not totally sure what he wants to say.
Does he want to offer to buy me the brushes again? That’d be reasonable, and I’d probably accept this time — he’s leaving tomorrow anyways.
But something tells me he’s got something else on his mind.
Jax hits me with a swoon-worthy pair of bedroom eyes, and I nearly melt, but I snap myself out of it at the last second.
“Logan,” he says after a pause, choosing the right words. “I’m not totally sure what’s going on here, but I’m doing some thinking, and I kinda want to ask you something.”
Oh God. My throat constricts, and I can barely breathe. A flicker of lust shoots through me. I have zero idea what he wants to say, but it sounds good.
Real good.
“Sure. Ask me anything.”
Jax exhales slowly. “You’re the best waiter I’ve ever had, bar none. Is that fair?”
“That’s fair,” I say with a shrug. I force myself to appear nonchalant and unfazed by his kind remarks.
I’m a great big puddle of melted chocolate inside, but no way in hell will I let him see.
Jax clears his throat. “But I’m also correct to say that this—” he holds up the painting “—goes a step beyond being a good server, right? I’m not crazy to think that?”
I seriously want to die. “You’re not crazy,” I mumble, staring at my toes. I’m so busted. Jax has seen right through my playful gesture for what it is: An attempt to win him over.
Oh well. Nothing I can do at this point. He knows I’m into him. That’s all it can be.
I mean for fuck’s sake, I painted him a goddamn picture of a slice of bacon. I’m not exactly hiding the fact that I’ve got a schoolboy crush on him.
Jax shakes his head in dismay. “But here’s the thing. I’m leaving tomorrow morning, which you already know.”
I do know this. He’s told me multiple times. “I know.”
“So thi
s, whatever this is, probably won’t work long-term. I’m a trucker, and you have a life in Bear Springs.”
“Yeah,” I grumble. I can go with you, if you like. Obviously I can’t say this, so I don’t.
Luckily Jax isn’t fazed by my mopey attitude. “I have a proposition,” Jax says, munching on bacon.
I’m a little bummed, truth be told. I was kinda hoping he was giving up his career to move in with me, or at least invite me on the road with him. Yeah, yeah, I’m a hopeless romantic, but I hide it well.
But not well enough for Jax apparently.
Still, I want to hear his proposition. I let him know I’m all ears, and that I’ll listen to anything he has to say.
Jax looks adorably shy as he prepares to pop the question. “I propose we go on a date tonight. A real date, at Tilly’s. We drink, talk, and do everything as if we were taking the next step, but with the knowledge that I’m leaving in the morning. That way, we can still spend one last night together, but we won’t have the wrong expectations when I inevitably leave.”
My cheeks are blazing, and my heart is racing out of my chest.
I stare into Jax’s eyes for any hint of dishonesty or deceit, but his steadfast gaze tells me he’s telling the truth.
Jax wants to go out with me. The only reason he hasn’t asked me out sooner is because he doesn’t want to hurt me or give way to false hopes in my heart.
I’m sad he’s leaving, but this is the kindest, sweetest, most generous thing he could do, under the circumstances, which is that he’s putting as much distance between himself and Bear Springs tomorrow whether I like it or not.
But his plan gives me the best of both worlds. I get the date, and he can’t hurt me.
I have a funny feeling he also doesn’t want me to hurt him, but I brush this concern aside.
I’m so damn excited.
The best way to respond is to cover up every sign of my excitement and pretend his offer doesn’t faze me. “Sure,” I say with a shrug, pretending that I’m not about to melt into a gargantuan puddle of pent-up nerves and horny anxiety. “That sounds cool.”
“Awesome.” Jax takes my hand and squeezes it. I should be thankful no one’s in the diner, but weirdly I want someone to see. “Well, I’m going to enjoy my pancakes now,” Jax adds.