Then, in our sophomore year of high school, Jax cornered me next to the old oak in his mother’s front yard that we must have climbed a thousand times to sit in the tree house perched in its branches—and he straight up asked if I liked him. Of course, I lied. I said I was totally in love with Miles Frampton from history class, and that if he ever cornered me with that I’m-going-to-land-you-horizontal look in his eyes again, I would have Miles tear his hairy little balls off. That, right there, launched us onto a rocky road that we have never recovered from.
Jax didn’t seem too afraid of my quasi-violent verbal exchange. Instead, he happily starred in a parade of vaginas—an entire sisterhood of girls who fell to their knees and worshiped at the altar of his boxers.
I know what you’re thinking. Why the lie? I wish I knew that myself. But sex, lies, and vagina parades aside, Jax has morphed from the sweet, kindhearted boy whom I once made mud pies with, to an obnoxious sex machine that sees prospective bedmates as nothing more than walking unruptured hymens and pillowy boobs he can bury both his face and junk in. Jax Stade is not the boy I grew up with, and that’s too bad because I actually miss that boy on occasion.
“Oh, hon”—Sadie shakes her head in his direction—“if I know one thing about Jaxson Stade—it’s that there will be no marriage bed.”
“And if you’re lucky”—Mack holds her drink in the air—“you’ll both escape that thorny matrimonial cage yourself.”
Both she and Sadie whoop it up in honor of their shared disdain for the diamond-clad union.
Mack shudders as she downs the shot in her hand and lets out a howl that nearly pierces my eardrum. “Who’s in for another round? I’ve got you covered, girls.” She takes a few dancing steps away as she edges toward the bar. “We’re going to get M.C. Hammered tonight!”
“Nice.” I frown over at my lush of a sister. It’s clear I’ll be the designated driver of the evening. Hunter, my old buddy who owns the Starry Nights Bar and Grill, actually has a system in place to make sure there are no drunk drivers on the loose in Oak Grove. There’s an entire volunteer force ready and willing to pick up the sloppy drunks as they stumble out of the bar.
“Nice?” Sadie nudges her shoulder up against mine. “Or is it naughty thoughts infiltrating your undersexed brain? That boy has it going on, Poppy.” She lets out a deep, unruly moan. “You do realize you are the sole reason I haven’t pounced on that Christmas package he’s got tucked away in those tight in all the right places, naturally distressed Levi’s. This is the first night I’ve seen him in anything but a suit, and, dear God, you have not lived until you’ve seen Jaxson Stade in a well-sculpted Italian masterpiece.” She swoons on cue, and as much as I hate myself for it, I swoon right along with her.
“I’ve seen him in a suit plenty of times.” True. And I can attest to the fact he’s just as sexy and swoon-worthy as she claims.
“Not lately. Not with that new body of his. Jax has been hitting the irons like a prisoner. He’s practically a fixture on the main road as he jogs that rock-hard, shirtless, glossed with sweat body of his. Mmm...” She gives a wistful shake of the head. “You should see the backup on that two-lane stretch from seven to nine.”
“Seven to nine in the morning? I see he’s going after the MILF demographic.” Not surprising since everyone knows he’s just about raising his sister’s son ever since Jules’s husband ran out on her. Jules is a few years older than us, and my heart broke when I heard her oaf of a husband took off for the concrete pastures of Manhattan.
“He doesn’t care about the MILFs, Poppy.” Sadie cocks her head as if she wants me to read between the MILF-fy lines, but I refuse to do it. There is absolutely nothing to read at all. Jax and I simply aren’t happening.
And then, just like that, his clear blue eyes settle over me, and he rises a notch out of that crowd of estrogen enough for me to see his dimples digging in on either side of his cheeks, and both Sadie and I lurch a bit.
“He’s spotted you in the wild!” she squeals.
I open my mouth to protest the idea, but it’s too late. She’s right, and he’s headed this way.
“Oh my God!” Sadie does a quick tap dance in her ruby red slippers, and suddenly I’m feeling like there’s no place like home. Why did I think showing up at Starry Nights was a good idea, again? “He’s coming over! He’s parting the sea of redheaded skanks, and he’s coming to see you! Oh my God, this is so exciting! And to think, all those girls have waited all night to see where his penis compass would lead him, and here it’s been pointing to you all along. I bet that needle-dick of his has been pointing hard your way for the last five years—not that he has anything as minute as a needle-dick. It’s just a play on—”
“I get it!” I give her a quick swat over the arm, but oh my God… It’s as if the world takes life down a notch, and suddenly everything is unfolding in slow motion.
Jaxson Stade walks steadily toward me with that cocky grin curling up his lips, those dangerous sapphire eyes fixed over mine, holding me hostage right where I am, helpless to do anything but wait for him to close the distance between us. His flannel is split open down the front, revealing a white T-shirt stretching taut over his chest, the contours of which demand that the cotton adhere to every sculpted ridge. Damn, that boy is sexy as hell. A breath gets locked in my throat as he swoops in so close I’d swear those lips were coming in for the kill far earlier than midnight.
“Poppy Montgomery.” He pulls me into a tight embrace, his heavy chest presses to mine as I take in the spiced scent of his thick cologne. Those strong, heavy arms, those thick fingers pressing into me, evoke a choking sigh from me. I try to tell myself that I’m not interested in his basic bad boy persona and those basic unearthly good looks. That the fact I’m shuddering from a spontaneous orgasm is just an aftereffect from the rather prolonged dry spell I’m currently enduring, but Jax’s stark sex appeal demands I tell the truth. His heart-stopping looks, those cobalt bedroom eyes, coupled with the fact his rock-hard girth is pressed tight against me, have my body quivering in all the right places.
“Jaxson Stade.” I try to sound equally as jovial, but it comes out more of a whimper after a long wild romp. Something I’m sure he’s accustomed to—both the whimper and the long wild romp.
He pulls back, his arms slipping down toward my waist, and our eyes lock a moment, and there it is—that unspoken secret we have lingering between the two of us about as welcome as head lice, but neither of us is willing to give in to it.
“Good to see you.” His fingers press in over my arms just enough, and a part of me wonders if that’s sexual code for let’s hit the sheets later. It wouldn’t surprise me at all to learn that he and his hussies have established their own perverted language through a series of clicks and whistles. “I hear you’re killing it in L.A.” He winces a little when he says it as if it pained him on some level. “I always knew you would.” He offers a congratulatory tap to my back before taking a step away, his arms hanging awkwardly at his side as if that were the last place they wanted to be.
“Of course, I’m killing it.” I am so not killing it. Unless, of course, you categorize fetching coffee and flagging down Uber drivers as a success. In that case, I am totally killing it. I avert my eyes to Sadie. My little blonde nymph of a friend is the only one I’ve divulged the truth to so far. I was too afraid if I told Mack, she’d tell Mom who would understandably tell Dad and they’d both veto my very adult decision to stay on the West Coast sans friends and family as I venture daily to the beach for a sand nap. The horrible truth is, I recently quit my job. As soon as my boss made it clear he wanted me on the mattress more than he wanted me decorating the mattress, I told him he could bend over and suck his own fat dick because I wasn’t about to do it. I believe his parting words to me were you’ll never decorate in this town again! And true to his prophetic utterings, I’ve yet to find a firm that will take me. I put out the feelers far and wide, and I’m still hoping against hope I come up with somethi
ng fast because my bank account is running on fumes and my roommate already has a pair of Russian twins in the wings who make a steady living down on Hollywood Boulevard dressed as Wonder Woman and Supergirl ready to replace me.
“And now you’re killing me.” Jax steps back enough to take in the rest of me. “Bringing L.A. back to Oak Grove, I see.” He shakes his head at my ensemble of choice. “The boys better watch out.” He tips his cocky yet impossibly gorgeous head my way. Those dazzling eyes of his latch onto mine once again. “So you’re here for the big birthday slash announcement, I take it.” His lips twitch as if he’s holding back a laugh, and the thought of Jax having a good chuckle at my expense enrages me. I’m sure he’s been laughing at me all along. I can’t shake the feeling he sees through my façade, right down to the dirty glorified Starbucks’s secretary details.
“Exactly that.” I swallow hard. It’s only partially a lie. Yes, our mothers are set to announce something they promise will knock our socks off in just a few short weeks at their shared sixty is sensational birthday bash, but I’m also hoping to score a small personal loan from my father that will get me through the spring.
“Mmm.” He gives a quick moan while drinking down my features as if he hadn’t seen them one too many times already. But there’s something about hearing that moan—watching the way his left eye came just shy of winking as if he were indulging in something far too delicious for words sends my thighs trembling once again. In the five years since I’ve seen him, he’s grown into a full-blown man. His chest has filled out, his face is that much more comelier, and those lips, those cutthroat deep flame blue eyes—God Almighty, someone call the fire department. This boy has set my panties on fire.
Just as I’m about to tell him to stop with the waking wet dream, Mack shows up with a tray full of shots that promise to take this night from tolerable to memorable.
“Jaxy Jax!” Mackenzie squawks with delight as she nods us to the table just a few steps away. “This is perfect. Now we can finally discuss that fabulous sixty fiasco and how we’re going to show up those high jinks heroines once and for all.”
“Prank the pranksters?” Sadie winces. “And risk enduring their formidable wrath for years to come? Count me in—but I’m watching from the sidelines.”
Jax and I exchange a brief glance.
“Lord knows we have more than enough reasons to exact revenge.” I pick up my tiny glass and toast my sister. “But Sadie is right. They’ll come at us ten times harder. Each time we’ve tried to malign the mavens of mischief, we’ve ended up on the wrong side of a very humiliating act of foul play.”
Jax scoots his seat in, and his knee brushes against mine for a moment. “Don’t tell me you fear a couple of middle-aged women—and I say that as a fact, not a putdown—who have made sure that every highlight of your juvenile years was not only recorded but as toxically degrading as can be?”
I’d call him out on his use of the word toxic, but it happens to be true. If anything, Char and Deb take toxic to a whole new level.
“Of course, I fear them, and, if you were wise, you would, too. Face it, there’s no one else on this side of the continental divide who can strike the fear of payback in you the way they can. Besides, what prank would even be worthy to take on the divas of damaged psyches? Let’s be realistic. Those old gals are twisted, and I shudder to think what their devious minds might conjure up in the name of retribution.” Although it would be fun to watch Jax, the casual billionaire boy, squirm as a little good old-fashioned recompense is doled out via his mad maven of a mama.
His bedroom eyes wince my way as he leans in. “Why are you grinning at me that way?”
“I thought you were used to women falling all over you with a greasy smile.”
“I am.” His knee gazes over mine once again. “And usually when they’re bearing their fangs, they’re getting ready to bite. See anything you’d like to sink your teeth into?”
“Down, boy,” I’m quick to reprimand.
“Not so fast, Pops.” Sadie gets that squirrely look in her eyes. “I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss a good naughty invite.”
Mack pushes Sadie aside. “Down, girl.” She opens her mouth to say something else, but all that manages to eke out is a small choking sound. She draws another breath and gasps. “Oh my word! You did it, Sadie!”
“I did?” She scoots my way a notch, in the event the Fireball my sister just imbibed has inspired her to test out her uppercut on my sweet pixie friend.
“Yes! You just gave me the brainstorm of the century.” Mack’s eyes swirl like pinwheels. “I’ve got the ultimate prank we can pull on those mischievous mavens as they get ready to turn a sexy sixty.”
“Give it to me,” Jax says while looking at my sister, but his knee rubs over my own, warm and lingering, and I can’t help but think he’s throwing out the perverted invite once again. Something tells me Jax isn’t one to hear no very often, and the thought of sending him home without a vaginal pocket to place his penis brings a dark smile to my face.
“The two of you”—Mack slides a shot of liquid gold to both Jax and me—“are going to pull the ultimate prank on our mothers.”
I avert my eyes at the thought. “Well played, Mack. So when the ax falls, you’ll be safely on the sidelines with Sadie. Right. There’s no way I’m pulling anything on those two beady-eyed biddies, unless you enlist yourself along with Jules and Kali, too.” Jules and Kali are Jaxson’s sisters—one older, one younger, both far more affable.
Mack bounces in her seat, giddy with excitement. “No can do. What I have planned only the two of you can pull off.”
Sadie knocks back her drink and slams the shot glass to the table. “Don’t keep us in suspense. Midnight is nearing—and I’ve got a loose set of lips to wrangle up.”
“Okay.” Mackenzie closes her eyes a moment as if summoning all her strength for the effort. “You know how Mom and Deb have been after the two of you to get together ever since you were in the womb? Well, I say give them what they want.” A tiny dimple in her left cheek digs in as she indulges in a self-gratifying smile.
“I don’t get it.” I look to Jaxson, who seems to be warming to the idea, wetting his lips, chest expanding like a sexed-up baboon. “Oh, wait”—I sit up straight—“you don’t mean…”
“Yes.” Mack clasps my hands tight. “The two of you pretend to be knock-down, drag-out head over heels in love. And then, once their sixtieth birthday bash slash huge announcement settles down, you lay it on them—whamo!” She slaps both hands down on the table so hard, half the bar turns to see if shots were fired.
“That’s cruel, Mackenzie.” I’m the first to protest. “That’s heartless.” That’s brilliant is what it is.
“It’s a heart stopper,” Jax adds in that low octave that makes my girl parts bounce on cue. Dear God, this man is a hormonal weapon of mass destruction.
“It will kill them.” Now it’s my knee rubbing up against his. Take that, Mister Women-in-My-Presence-Don’t-Require-Personal-Space.
“It will kill them.” Jax bears those luminescent eyes into mine, and I’m prisoner to his haunting good looks. It’s not fair. The universe knows I’m a sucker for black hair and blue eyes, those dimples that I actually once stuck my finger in while Jaxson did his best impersonation of an electrical socket. I used to get thirsty for a tall glass of water just looking at his eyes, and now I’m just thirsty for him.
Sadie clears her throat, but neither Jax nor I am willing to break our stare. “You can always let them down easy. Haven’t they earned something just this side of heart stopping? I mean—showing up at prom? That was pretty brutal. And the time they held a surprise birthday party for you, Pops—and yet the invites they sent out were actually to your faux engagement party? Remember the lines at the return counter? I was with you. It was brutal.”
“I forgot all about that.” My entire body burns with something just this side of anger as a sense of self-righteous revenge percolates in me anew. �
�I was thirteen for shit’s sake!”
Jax taps the table with a dead look in his eyes. “My mother made me pick out a ring.”
“They deserve it.” Mack inches those shot glasses toward the two of us, and Jax and I each glom onto our own.
“They deserve it.” He lifts his glass as if toasting the idea.
“They deserve it.” I touch my glass to his, then Mack’s and Sadie’s.
“To love!” Mack raises her suspiciously empty glass a little higher, and we do the same.
“To love,” we cry out as a group.
Mack is quick to excuse herself, citing the fact she needs to check on Dave and the kids before disappearing. Sadie outright blows us a kiss before trotting off to the deep end of the bar where there’s enough testosterone and cologne to drown in.
Jaxson Stade brazenly runs his knee over mine with those oven-heated eyes searing me from the inside. “You in this, Eight Ball?”
Eight ball. Now there’s a blast from the past. Jax thought up that pool-based moniker after I insisted that the eight ball was demonic and we should banish billiard games from our after-school repertoire. In my defense, I was seven, and he went right along with it until his father almost tore him a new one for falling for something so idiotic. Jax actually had a great father whom he lost just as we were about to leave for college. And as far as I know, it’s still a pretty sore subject, so I don’t dare contest him on the silly name just yet.
“That’s right, Gordo.” A cheesy grin glides over my face. Jax was Gordo to my Lizzy aka Lizzy McGuire—the show I enjoyed best during my storied childhood with this panty-dropping prankster seated before me. Those were the good old days. I have no idea where they’ve gone.
Jax holds out his hand, and I place my palm over his and we reinitiate our once secret handshake, two pats, a firm shake, and a knuckle bump. That’s what best friends do. They have great monikers that outlast collegiate life and secret handshakes that imbed themselves into our muscle memory. His hand is thicker, stronger than I remember it. Everything about Jaxson Stade is far more heart-stoppingly masculine than I ever remember.
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