The woman must have felt our stares because she looked our way. She said something to Jax and he glanced up at us across the room. His eyes met mine, wide with surprise. Shock flitted across his face, but not unhappy shock. That was Jackson West. Confident even in the face of leaving his last romantic interest without a word to go back to his real family. He seemed like he didn’t want to look away, but finally, he glanced at the super model next to him and tilted his head in the direction of our table. He said something to her, and then he looked at us, totally self-assured. I couldn’t have been more furious.
“I think he might be coming over here,” I whisper-hissed at Brynn.
She turned slightly, watching him stare at me like a stalker. “His eyes are on us like a laser, so I’m guessing that’s a pretty good assumption.”
“What do I do?”
She lifted her hands, palms up, like she wasn’t sure. “Say hi?”
I frowned. “I think I’d rather punch him. In the balls.”
Brynn snorted. “You could always do that, but maybe you should find out who the woman and kid are first.”
This was an introduction I was totally caught off guard by, and completely unready for. I needed time to gather my thoughts. I needed time to figure out if I even wanted to talk to him now that I knew what he might be hiding. A restaurant was not the place to do that. I grabbed my purse and keys off the table. “I can’t do this, Brynn.”
Her mouth gaped. “You don’t want to talk to him? At all?”
“Yes. No. …Maybe.” I shook my head. “I can’t deal with it right now. I need some time to think. I’ll meet you back at the house later.”
Brynn nodded. “Okay,” she said, looking back at Jax. “I don’t think he’ll be too happy you left and ignored him.”
“Good. He should know how it feels.”
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
It had been two days since the pizza incident, and he still hadn’t called, texted, or contacted me in any way. Brynn had talked to Jax after I’d so hastily run out of the restaurant. She’d made an excuse for my leaving. She said he’d seemed disappointed, but he hadn’t offered any other details about what he wanted, or his love-child and model wife. I was going completely off assumptions, but without any other information, assumptions—crazy or not—were all I had. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And I certainly couldn’t call and ask for an explanation. I couldn’t go clinger after only one official date.
And truthfully, I had no idea what I’d say. I was still working through my feelings about the whole thing. In my head, the scenario played out with us having a civil conversation, and Jax telling me I’d totally misread the situation and if any gorgeous woman was going to have his babies, it would, of course, be me. The reality of that—and a much more probable scenario—would include a lot of yelling, and Jax disappointing me in every possible way. So, I’d chosen to avoid him until I could figure my shit out. I got the impression he was doing the same.
Operation Avoid had been going so well until Thursday afternoon—the day my fuel filter died. I cursed it, and the manufacturers who made it, then called Red. I waited for the tow truck, my stomach in knots. It was afternoon. It was a weekday. Jax was working. I briefly considered selling my car so I wouldn’t have to deal with Jax anymore. New Camaros were sexy, and didn’t come with the threat of constantly seeing a man my brain wanted to slap, and my hands wanted to fondle. It was a problem. I shook my head, telling myself to get a grip. I wasn’t the type to run from my problems. I’d suck it up and deal.
Plus, maybe Jax wouldn’t even be the one to come get me. Even as I thought it, I knew that wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted him to show up, tell me the girl and kid were just friends, that he’d been wrong, and that he was ready to let me in, and do it all while fixing She-Ra. He’d sweep us off our feet and tires, and we’d live happily ever after, never fighting, disagreeing, or having another problem in the world. Ugh. Stupid Disney movies. They’d really warped my perceptions of happily ever after.
My heart started to race when the tow truck pulled up. He wasn’t even out of the truck before I recognized his sexy brown curls peeking out from under the ball cap on his head.
He sauntered over to me, assessing the situation. His cocky swagger and smirk made me PMS-level annoyed—irritated enough that he probably should have brought some protective gear. The more he stood there and said nothing acting like that, the more agitated I got. We stared at each other, neither of us saying a word for a good thirty seconds, then he looked at She-Ra. “Red said you think it’s the fuel filter?”
Seriously? Not even an acknowledgment of everything that had happened since our “date,” and the lack of resolution? My annoyance was quickly turning to pissed off. “I don’t think,” I said through my teeth, “I know. It’s happened before.”
“If you’re so sure of what’s wrong, why don’t you fix it?”
I cocked my head to the side and narrowed my eyes. “Do you think I carry spare fuel filters in my purse? Because I don’t.”
“Well, if it happens this often, maybe you should consider it. You have a whole trunk with space for parts.”
My hands fisted at my sides. “Or I can take it to my mechanic—who, aside from when it comes to hiring certain employees, usually has excellent instincts—and he can tell me if I’ve misdiagnosed the problem and fix it.”
A vein in Jax’s forehead pulsed. “Are we going to talk, or are you just going to stand there getting more and more pissed off?”
“So now you want to talk?” I widened my eyes. “And I’m not pissed,” I ground out.
He tilted his head and gave me a look. “Why do girls do that? It’s completely obvious that you’re mad and probably thinking of ways to kill me with your shoe, but you lie and say nothing’s wrong. How does that help the situation?”
Shock crossed my face. “This from the king of deflection and evasion?” He said nothing. “Quid pro quo, Jackson. I’ll be honest when you are.”
He breathed out a long-suffering breath and muttered something I couldn’t understand before going around to the back of the truck and loading She-Ra. I waited until he was done, providing super helpful instructions like he’d never towed a car before, then got in the passenger seat and we went back to the shop.
The atmosphere was icy when I stormed into Red’s, totally ignoring Jax following me. I plopped down in one of cushioned seats in the waiting area, and pulled out my bag, making sure to show the cover of the book I was reading. A fantasy novel with a six-pack wielding alpha male on the cover. Red was standing at the counter, watching me. “What are you reading?” Red asked, probably wondering why I was waving the book around.
I glared at Jax as I answered. “A romance novel. And you know what? This hero is WAY better than a werewolf.”
Jax smirked as he rolled his eyes and turned to Red. “We have the filter in stock. I’ll be done with it soon.” He walked out.
Red leaned his forearms on the desk in front of him. “I assume you don’t want to go out there with him and help fix it?”
I snorted. “Absolutely not.”
“What’s up with you two?”
I slitted my eyes again just thinking about it. Why was this pissing me off so much? I mean, aside from the fact that Jax hadn’t opened up to me, he’d made no attempt to contact me for over a week, he hadn’t explained his secret family, and he still wasn’t admitting he was wrong or trying to do anything to fix the problem—oh yeah, all of those things were why I was so pissed. “Absolutely nothing.”
Red held up his hands in defeat. “Well, I hope you work it out. He’s been moody as hell for the past week or so.”
My eyes brightened. If he’d been moody, maybe that meant he felt bad for being an ass and keeping secrets. Maybe it meant he was going to apologize for his assholery.
Hmm, probably not, though, if he thought I was still pissed. I decided I’d try to be less ornery when he came back in.
The
filter change took less than twenty minutes. I paid Red, then went out to the front of the store where Jax had pulled She-Ra. He was leaning against the car, his legs crossed in front of him, hands in his pockets as he watched me.
I’d spent the last twenty minutes thinking he might be willing to talk and tell me he was sorry. That gave me plenty of time to feel bad for being so mad instead of trying to talk to him in the first place. As I got to my car, I ducked my head down, unable to meet his eyes. I didn’t want to fight with him. I wanted him to talk to me. I wanted whatever this was between us to get better, not worse, and the anger wasn’t helping anything.
“How was your week?” he asked, completely relaxed. He exuded such a calm demeanor, but inside, I had a feeling that calmness came at the price of a carefully managed exterior—the only one he’d let people see. That kind of control must be exhausting.
I dropped my bag in the backseat, and leaned back against the car, mimicking his posture. More than anything, I wanted to ask him why he refused to open up to me. But I knew it would just get me more answers in the form of questions that led nowhere. He needed to be the one to initiate that conversation. Instead I said, “Fine. How was yours?”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Fine. I got to scare some girls.”
I ran my tongue over the inside of my cheek. “Really? Did you threaten to take off your shirt or something?” He communicated in jokes and surface conversation, so maybe this would help me break the ice.
“If I had, they wouldn’t have been running away from me, now would they?” He paused. “You didn’t run when I took off my shirt. In fact, I’d say you were downright captivated.”
“I was in shock that you had no problem stripping down in front of me, and wondered how many other people had been graced with the view.”
He shrugged. “I don’t have anything to be ashamed of.”
“Again, self-confidence is definitely not an issue for you.”
“Nope.”
“So, why were you really scaring girls?
He looked at me sideways. “Think about it, sweetheart. This one’s not hard.”
I felt my heart beating faster as I immediately got defensive. “Don’t be condescending to me. You could be scaring them for any reason.” Was he talking about the girls at the pizza place? Why would he scare a toddler?
“It’s Halloween tomorrow. Where do you think I’ve been scaring them?”
I widened my eyes, realization dawning. “So now you’re going to admit you were playing Jason at the haunted mine?”
“You already knew.”
That didn’t matter. I wanted him to admit it—and tell me he’d kissed me and couldn’t stop thinking about it—without my provocation. “So, you’re a drama nerd? I wouldn’t have pegged you for that. You’re more of a throw-someone-across-a-field-and-steal-their-ball guy than a sing-dance-and-act type.”
He lifted a shoulder. “I’m a mystery.”
I snorted. “No shit.”
He picked up a pen from his pocket and started weaving it absently back and forth through his fingers. “So, who was the asshole you were with at the mine who left you alone with a murderer holding a chainsaw?”
Ah, he had the same opinion of guys named Drew that I did. I shrugged. “A friend.”
His eyes slitted as he looked off in the distance. I kind of wondered if he was even going to respond, when he said, “Surface?”
I studied him, surprised he’d remembered the conversation in the mountains at all since we seemed to be avoiding every possible topic related to getting to know each other on a level that didn’t involve jokes and inappropriate sexual references. “I’m not sure. We’d only just met. He bought me hot chocolate, so that gets him points. If he brings me Swedish Fish next time he sees me, he might be a contender.”
He stopped fiddling with the pen and looked over at me. “I’d say you’re low maintenance if Swedish Fish are all it takes, but considering how uptight you are, that’s probably the first in a long list of things you want from a man—and life in general.” He slowly licked his lips, holding my gaze. “He won’t be able to measure up.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m glad you think you know me even though we haven’t had a real conversation in, well, ever.” I could feel my anger simmering. “And as for my date, I’m not too worried. He doesn’t have anyone to measure up to.”
I straightened my back, standing tall, and shifted my attention to She-Ra—she needed to be washed, waxed, and detailed. I was acutely aware that Jax was still standing less than a foot away, and I could feel his eyes on me. But if he wanted to continue talking, he was going to have to lead. I was sick of always being the driver of conversation with him and getting non-answers.
A minute later, Jax’s voice interrupted me. “I guess you think he’ll go deeper.”
I lifted my lips in a knowing smile. “It’s not difficult to find someone willing to go deeper than you.”
A muscle twitched at the side of his neck. I figured this was Jax’s version of anger…a bit more reserved than mine since there was no yelling or throwing of things. His irises darkened like the sky right before a storm. He leaned into me, moving his head down next to mine, breath hot on my neck. “Not many can go deeper than me, sweetheart. In any way.”
I could tell I’d hit another nerve. Maybe if I hit enough of them, he’d actually communicate with me. “What’s your definition of going deeper, Jax? Because ‘deeper’ definitely hasn’t been my experience when it comes to you,” I said. “You’re not even willing to dip a finger in.”
He exhaled a slow breath and scrubbed his hand over the stubble on his chin, making a rasping noise that was oddly attractive. I immediately thought of what that same stubble would do to me naked, and the air suddenly felt like Phoenix in July. I unbuttoned my jacket, realizing how quickly the atmosphere had shifted from anger to sex—or some combination of the two. I looked at him, his gaze a dark sapphire, tan skin over bulging muscles and sinew. His tight expression made me wonder if he was thinking somewhere along the same lines as me: that angry sex sounded pretty damn fantastic right now, and his apartment wasn’t very far away. I felt sweat starting to bead on my chest, my breasts heavy. He was so male. My eyes dragged over him again, getting stuck around his belt—so very, very male. An ache pulsed between my thighs as I tugged off my jacket, “It’s warm today.”
His eyes softened as he took in my white and grey low-cut v-neck sweater. “It’s hot everywhere you are.”
I held his eyes, entranced by his magnetic pull. I literally had to shake myself to stop getting hypnotized by his gaze, words, and his sexy, earthy smell. He had been with another woman and child two days ago! And now he was here flirting with me, no explanation? What the hell? This was so not okay, and I couldn’t let myself get drawn in. “No, we’re not doing this.”
“Not yet, but we could be in less than three minutes if you drive fast.”
I shook my head. “Sex doesn’t make up for a total lack of communication in every other area.”
“You only think that because you haven’t had sex with me—yet.”
My stomach fluttered. Comments like that weren’t helping me stay on track. I wasn’t having sex with Jax until he was willing to do more than just get naked. “Who was the woman and little girl, Jax?”
He sucked in a labored breath and immediately shut down. He looked away, saying nothing. We stood there in silence again. No explanation. I was pissed. “You’re so good at flirting. But you’re not great at emotions.”
“Not true,” he said, shaking his head. “I just don’t see a reason to let many people in.”
“Is there anyone you ever have let in?”
Silence stretched as he played with the cap of the pen he’d been holding.
“Even that question is too hard for you to answer.” I shook my head. “You’re having fun now, sleeping around, joking and being a general ass—hell, maybe even having kids—but in ten years when yo
u’re still alone and have no connections with anyone, I think you’ll regret your choices.”
He pursed his lips, an angry flush rising in his cheeks. “And what about you, Syd? Do you think you’ll be happy in ten years with your shiny new car, various degrees, and great job, but only a dog to come home to at night? Does that sound like a fun future to you? Because that’s where you’re headed. You’re so afraid of not meeting your goals that you’re terrified to deviate at all. I might seem like I have no direction and I’m unwilling to let people in, but that’s not the case. Those perceptions are based off of calculated decisions I’ve made. My experience informs my choices. But you,” he paused, shaking his head, “you’re wound so tight, you wouldn’t know how to let go and enjoy yourself if you tried.”
I gasped, shock and hurt warring inside me as my face fell. He’d just articulated the fears I’d kept locked so deeply inside me that I hadn’t even dared write them in my journal. My goals were important—and not just to me. My parents had been through so much, and more than anything, I wanted to make them proud and become the best attorney possible—just like my dad had been before my mom got sick and he had to pull back to take care of her. I wanted my parents to see that they’d made a difference in the world, and that I’d been one of their achievements. But lately, I’d started to wonder if I would achieve everything I’d ever wanted only to regret not experiencing more while I had the chance? Was I missing the best time of my life because my grades and future were more important to me than my social life? Jax seemed to think so.
Either Jax didn’t register my deflated expression, or he didn’t care, because he kept going. “You’re great at judging other people’s lives and assuming you know what they need and how to get it, but you’re not so good at examining yourself, Sydney.”
Tempting Sydney Page 11