Savvy and I are like two ships in the night. I haven’t seen her face in a week and a half. She usually goes with me to Sunday dinner if she’s not working at the bar. She worked last Sunday and I was just way too busy to go. I feel really bad for not connecting with my family, or with Savvy.
I open the door and enter my condo at three in the morning, just as Savvy’s bedroom door closes.
Missed her again.
This case is totally kicking my ass. In the past two weeks, I think I’ve survived on Pop-Tarts and coffee, and a total of twelve hours of sleep. Oh, and wine. I survive my nights with a glass of wine, alright, maybe a half a bottle of wine each night. Reagan does her best to slip in a healthy meal here and there, when she can. Thank God, I haven’t heard from Jax, either.
So far for the case, bail was denied, which was a total surprise. The jury has been selected, and opening statements begin Monday. Every time I think about the outcome of this case, my heart sinks. There’s just no evidence. I feel it in my heart that he’s guilty, but a feeling doesn’t get you anywhere in court. It’s based on facts. And the fact is there’s just no evidence. I feel like I’m about to fight the biggest losing battle of my life.
My cell phone vibrates in my briefcase; I take it out on my way to the refrigerator. I open the door and find pretty much what I expected, nothing. I don’t think Savvy eats here either. I walk back to my briefcase, take out the other half of the Pop-Tart from this morning and put it between my teeth as I slide the bar across my cell phone. It’s from Kyle. It says, “Go to bed.”
How does Kyle know I’m not in bed fast asleep to begin with? So I text him, “How do you know I’m not in bed sleeping right now?”
He texts back, “I just drove by your condo and saw the light on. And you’re texting me, so you’re not sleeping. See you Sunday.”
He must be on his way home from a late shift at the hospital or something. My sister’s husband, Kyle, is an OB/GYN. I wonder if he had a late night delivery? I missed seeing all my cute nieces and handsome nephews last Sunday.
I can’t believe how much my family has grown in just the past four years. My brother, Asher, and his wife, Willow, have two beautiful children, Abbey and Aaron. My sister, Amelia, and her husband, Kyle, have a son, Noah. My brother, Adrian, and his wife, Shay, have two beautiful adopted kids, Micah and Makayla, and are now pregnant. The thought of me and probably never having my own children hits me hard. I’ve chosen to put my career above everything else. It’s a choice I still stand firmly by.
I toss my phone on the table, take out my paperwork and my laptop, and get to work munching on a stale Pop-Tart.
I wake up Friday morning in my own bed. I’m not sure how I even got here, but that’s progress from waking up with my laptop keyboard indented on my face. I take a quick shower and race out the door, completely forgetting to make coffee. In what universe does me forgetting my coffee, even exist in? I pass my favorite coffee house and long for the days when I didn’t go because I was trying to avoid Jax. Now, I’m just too busy and don’t have time.
I have several more texts from family members, each one becoming more threatening. If my presence is not made, they will hunt me down. There is one concerning one from Max, but I don’t have time to read it all. I’ll go and make an appearance at Sunday dinner for an hour and see what he wants. If things go like I think they will with this case, this will be the last Sunday I can manage for a few months.
I look up at the clock above my office door and it says midnight. Where has the time gone? My office looks like a bomb went off in it. Case files, books, and papers occupy every square inch of my office. I don’t work well in clutter. I’ll come in tomorrow and organize everything. I wave to Gus on my way out of the building with my keys in my hand, and head to my car.
I’ve always felt safe in the parking garage; it’s monitored by surveillance cameras, and security guards are always walking the grounds and the garage. For some reason, though, my senses go on high alert. I quicken my pace and check my surroundings. The garage is mostly empty except for a few cars. Then I spot it. Jax’s H3 parked directly across from my car. I see his large frame sitting in the driver’s seat, but as I get closer I see his head is leaning back on the headrest.
He’s sleeping.
I wonder how long he’s been sleeping in his car, and I wonder why security hasn’t kicked him out?
Gus.
Damn it.
Along with my diet of Pop-Tarts and coffee, I also have an obsession with Swedish Fish. I buy the oversized, no-one-should-eat-this-by-themselves bag from the warehouse store and keep one on me at all times. I reach into my briefcase and take out a handful. I chuck the entire handful at his windshield. Several of them hit his windshield with a tiny thud, then slide down and rest on the top of his wiper blades. As light as they were, he must have cat-like hearing because he darts awake. His eyes lock with mine and zero in.
Oh shit.
His door opens and his large frame slides out rather quicker than I think it should. I turn around and sprint to my car on my tip toes. One of these days I’ll look into wearing flats. Does Louboutin even make drop dead killer flats? As I argue with myself over choices of footwear, he catches me even before my second footstep hits concrete. His arm snakes around my stomach and with a thud my back crashes into his front.
“Did you just throw gummy bears at my truck?” he asks.
“No,” I answer truthfully.
“No? Well, let’s go check it out, shall we.”
He picks me up off my feet and carries me back to his overgrown on steroids vehicle. He reaches over and takes one of the red, yummy, delicious fish from his hood, and now that I think about it, why did I waste perfectly good fish on him?
“Then what’s this?” he asks, holding one in front of my face.
“A Swedish Fish,” I answer.
He sets me back on my feet, then turns me around to face him and looks into my eyes. Again, I swear to God, they’re dancing with fire. His hand comes to the side of my face, he takes a deep breath, then his lips crash down on mine. He backs toward his truck and opens the back door. He grabs me by the waist and sits me on the back seat.
“Wait, I’m not doing this again. I’m not just a booty call,” I say, breaking our kiss and pushing his chest slightly away.
“New beginning,” he says, then starts to kiss me again.
“What?” I respond, breaking the kiss.
“The meaning of the yellow orchid I sent you. It means new beginning.”
“But, I looked it up and it said friendship,” I clarify.
“I guess there are two meanings, but the meaning I was trying to say to you is new beginning.”
I look into the fire roaring in his eyes and the tingle starts at my ankle and works its way up the back of my legs. I grab his face and kiss his warm, soft lips. His hand snakes around my back and he lifts me farther into the truck. He lays me down on the bench seat, turns around and closes the door. He removes his shirt, tosses it in the front seat, then starts kissing me again. His hand comes down my arm, over to my stomach; he pulls my shirt out from under my skirt, then lifts it up and over my head. I fist my hands in his hair and lift my left knee between his thighs, and apply slight pressure to the bulge in his jeans.
My hands leave his hair and travel down to his muscular arms. He’s built like a powerhouse. A tapping noise on the window breaks our kiss. We both look toward the noise and see a security guard tapping his flashlight on the window. Jax covers my chest with his and pulls my head in the crook of his neck. “Give me twenty more minutes, Dave,” he says.
“I’ll give you thirty,” Dave offered, then turns around and walks away.
Well, that’s just great, first Gus, now Dave.
Jax sits up in the seat, putting his feet on the floor, then pulls me up facing him in his lap. My skirt rides up my thighs; his hands come to the center of my back and he unhooks my bra. There’s no other feeling that can match being skin to skin w
ith Jax. I kiss down his neck, down his chest, then grab his belt and undo it. I get off his lap and sit on the floor between his feet, and it’s surprising the amount of space in this back seat. His hands go in my hair as I unbutton and unzip his jeans. He lifts up his ass slightly, enough so I can pull his pants and boxers to his ankles. I sink my mouth down on him; one of his hands leave my head and grips the edge of the seat, the other stays threaded in my hair.
I love the feeling of him in my mouth. Coming down, I take him all the way to the back of my throat, coming up I unsheathe my teeth from my lips and gently rake them to the tip.
“Oh, Ava,” he whispers.
Every muscle in his body is rock hard. Softly, I take him in my hand and cup his balls. I wrap my hand around him and separate his balls with my thumb, and rub the very base of his penis up and down. He draws air in between his teeth while his whole body shudders.
“Up, I need your lips on mine, now,” he demands.
Placing my knees to the outside of his thighs, I plant my panty clad core in his lap and I give him my lips. His hand goes to the floor in search of his jeans. He leans me forward as he finds them and digs in the pocket. He takes out a condom, rips it open with his teeth, then glides it on. His hand goes from his cock to under my panties. At his touch, I moan and find his lips again. He rubs small circles and I pant in his mouth. I ache for him to be inside; it’s pure torture, but exquisite heaven at the same time.
“Jax,” I plead.
“Are you going to ignore me ever again?” he asks.
“What?” I moan.
“When I send you something, are you going to ignore me again?”
“No. Please.”
“Please, what?” he challenges.
“Please, I need you inside, right now,” I beg.
“Are you going to throw Swedish Fish at my car again?” he asks.
At this point I don’t know if he’s riding my sex or if I’m riding his fingers. My body is moving up and down as his fingers draw small circles up and down. Two fingers slip inside every few seconds and I’m close to letting go. But at his second question, I stop.
“Yes,” I answer.
“Yes, what? You’re going to throw fish at my car again?” he asks to clarify.
“If you keep stalking me, yes, but it may also be a Pop-Tart.”
His fingers start to move again and I sink my teeth in my bottom lip. He pulls my panties down my thighs and I take one leg out, then he rubs my entrance with his tip. I lift up and sink myself on him with relief. His hand and his lips come to my nipple as I move up and down. I put my palm to the roof of his car and push with every downward stroke. The harder I push down, the closer I get to the edge. He moves his hands to my ass cheeks and sinks his fingers in, sending me into my release. He lifts me up and down, until I completely ride it out. His hands come up my back, his fingers wrap around the front of my collarbone, then he stills me seated on his lap.
“Ava,” he groans in my ear with his own release.
“What was in the ketchup?” I ask panting.
He chuckles at the timing, then places his forehead in the center of my chest. He kisses between my breasts, then looks in my eyes.
“How about if you come to the restaurant tomorrow and I give you a tour? I’ll show you how I make my ketchup.”
“You make your own ketchup, from scratch?” I ask surprised.
“We make pretty much everything from scratch,” he says. He picks me up off his lap and places me in the seat next to him. “And before you can tell me you’re too busy, that answer is unacceptable. You can come to the restaurant for an hour. You’ve been working a lot of hours lately and you need a break.”
“How do you know I’ve been working a lot of hours?”
He puts a smirk on his face, while he deals with the condom and his pants. He’s not going to give up his source.
“Is it Reagan? I’m going to kill her!”
First Gus, then Dave, now Reagan, who’s next?
He leans in and gives me a kiss, backs away, then smiles at me and hands me my clothes. I get dressed and we exit his beast. My briefcase is still sitting by the front tire. Swedish Fish are scattered around on the ground and on his vehicle. He backs me up against the driver side door and kisses me.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at ten. I can show you around and show you how to make a few things before the lunch rush.”
He takes my hand and the shoulder strap to my briefcase, then walks me to my car. He holds open my Prada top zip briefcase for me to retrieve my keys. He reaches in and snags the bag of Swedish Fish.
“Hey, I need those!” I object.
“I’ll replace these with something healthier tomorrow at the restaurant,” he promises.
I unlock the car with a groan, he opens the door and holds it open for me and I slip into the seat. I pull out of my spot and head out of the garage. I eye him in the rearview mirror, then it hits me. My Prada bag was on the dirty garage floor and I never gave it a second thought.
Jax
I watch Ava drive away in her little red car. I climb into my vehicle excited knowing I’ll see her again in only a few hours. I pop some Swedish Fish in my mouth and wonder how in the hell can she eat these things. I drive home and enter my house like I do every night. As I enter the kitchen, I see Quinn walking up the stairs. She was waiting up for me again. What the hell is her problem?
I head straight to the basement, knowing my bed and sleep are just not going to happen. I drop and start with pushups. I alternate between standard, one arm pushups then finally, handstand pushups. The next set, I switch up and do the other arm for the one arm pushups. I use pedestals to do the inverted pushups and by the time I’m done, my arms are burning. I head to the weight bench and hit it hard until my entire body is screaming for mercy. I hit the shower, and then climb the stairs. I peek in the girl’s room, and then head to my own where I fall into bed and instantly to sleep.
The next morning, I’m woken by the house phone ringing. I look at the display and see that it’s Scarlett’s parents. I answer on the second ring so it doesn’t wake the rest of the house.
“Good morning, Ruth,” I answer.
“Good morning, Jax. I didn’t wake you, I hope,” she says worried.
“No, I’m up, I was just making the girls breakfast, and then I’m heading into the restaurant early today,” I partially lie.
“Oh, good. Hey Mark and I were wondering if we could have the girls this week and next?” she asks.
Every summer since we moved back, Scarlett’s parents get the girls over summer vacation for two weeks. Ruth and Mark spend their summers at their cabin on Lake Stevens. The girls love spending time with their grandparents.
“Yeah, that will work out great. I’ll drive them to you tomorrow. They’ll be excited to hear the news.”
It’s about an hour drive to the lake, and I usually spend the afternoon with them, then leave after dinner.
“Wonderful! Mark and I will hit the grocery store and stock up. See you tomorrow, Jax,” she says and hangs up.
I peel the covers off and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I rub the heels of my hands in my eyes and mentally tally another day to the growing number of days that Scarlett’s been gone. First, it was single numbers, and then it grew to double digits. The day it grew to a triple digit, I broke down and cried. You can push your problems and sadness temporarily aside. You can go for a run and leave your baggage at your doorstep. But the loss of a loved one is like your shadow; it’s always attached to you. That’s one reason I like to run at night sometimes after a hard workout. By then I’m exhausted and in the dark there is no shadow. I get dressed and head downstairs to make everyone breakfast.
Quinn and the girls are already in the kitchen and she’s made them oatmeal. I head to the coffee pot and instantly think about Ava. I’ve never met someone who loves coffee as much as she does.
After I fill my cup, I turn around, rest my butt against the counter and fac
e the girls.
“Girls, Nana and Papa just called asking if they could have you for the next two weeks.”
The shrieks and shrills coming from two little girls, who are beyond excited to spend time with their grandparents, could shatter eardrums. Both girls ditch their oatmeal and run upstairs to start packing.
“I’ll be up in a little bit to help you guys. We’re not leaving until tomorrow morning, though,” I yell up the stairs.
“You could have at least waited until they finished their breakfast to tell them that,” Quinn snaps.
“You don’t want to go toe-to-toe with me, Quinn,” I warn.
She walks to the sink and drops her bowl inside. Her spoon rattles around in the bowl from the force. “I’m going to stay at a friend’s house for the next two weeks,” she says, and starts to walk away.
“Wait a minute. What friend?” I ask.
“I’m twenty years old Jax, I don’t need to tell you where I’m going or with whom,” she says to the stairs in front of her.
Seriously, if I had the time this morning, I’d rip her a new one. She lives in my house and she does owe me explanations. Instead of getting into it with her, I finish my coffee and head up to the girls’ room to help them pack before they pack everything they own. Maybe Quinn and I spending some time apart from each other will be a good thing.
After I have the girls mostly packed, I give them a kiss and walk by Quinn’s room. She’s sitting on her bed listening to music, thumbing through a magazine. Her eyeballs pop up and instantly roll in the back of her head. When she gets back from her friend’s house, she and I are going to sit down and have a little chat.
I refill my coffee cup and head to the restaurant. Gabrielle arrives minutes after I do. I head to my office while she preps the dining room. I print off today’s lunch and dinner specials, then head out to the dining room and give them to Gabrielle so she can put them in the menu holders. I head into the kitchen to help Parker prep today’s food. I glance at my watch; Ava should be here any minute.
Running Into Love - The Complete Box Set Page 76