Saxon's Soul (Haven, Texas Book 5)

by Laylah Roberts

Jesus. Stop talking. She needed to shut up before she really pissed him off and he pulled over and kicked her out. Although they were now close enough it should only take her ten minutes to walk home.

  “Yes. With me.”

  Silence fell after those ominous words. She probably should have told him to get lost. Instead her mind was filled with images of him taking her over his knee, pulling up her skirt and—oh, hell, what was wrong with her?

  “You need to take the next left,” she told him quietly.

  “Where do you live? This is the middle of nowhere.”

  “You mean there’s something you don’t know?”

  He just gave her a look.

  “I live in a cottage in back of Roger Peterson’s place.”

  “Old man Peterson? That crazy old coot that likes to take potshots at people who get too close to his house? That’s where you live?”

  She winced. “He hasn’t actually hit anyone in years.” Mainly because his eyesight was going. “And if people would stop trespassing on his land he wouldn’t have a reason to shoot at anyone.”

  “Has he ever shot at you?” There was a darkness to his voice that made her shiver.

  “No, of course not. I guess it might be different if I’m ever late with my rent,” she attempted to joke.

  He’d tightened his hands on the steering wheel, the knuckles white. “If he ever shoots at you, ever threatens you, I want you to pick up the phone and call me. Right away. Promise.”

  “Why?”

  “Jesus, Aspen, do you have to question everything? Can’t you just say yes, sir.”

  “I’m not one of your subs.” Her heart raced at the thought. Did she want to be?

  “No. That is abundantly clear. If you were, you’d be over my knee right now getting your butt roasted.”

  “For what?” Outrage gave way to intrigue. She tried to stifle that feeling. She wasn’t submissive. She didn’t want anyone telling her what to do.

  “I’m trying to protect you and all you can do is question me. I don’t believe it’s an unreasonable request that you call me if Old Man Peterson starts taking potshots at you.”

  “Shouldn’t I call the cops?”

  “Yes,” he said with exaggerated patience. “Call the police first then me.”

  “But why?”

  She heard him take a deep breath in then let it out slowly.

  “I don’t mean to keep questioning you. I just don’t get why you care.” She meant nothing to him. Other than a short conversation when she’d spilled expensive scotch down his shirt, he’d never even noticed her.

  “Yeah, you and me both,” he muttered.

  They both fell silent after that. By the time they reached the cottage, the sun had almost set. The lights were on, and, as soon as they pulled up, the front door opened and her mother appeared on the porch.

  “Well, shit.”

  He turned, one eyebrow raised. “How do you go eight hours at work without swearing at a customer?”

  “I imagine them all with big hairy moles on their faces,” she muttered.

  “What?” He spluttered out a laugh. “That’s imaginative.”

  She shrugged. “Puts a smile on my face. The other day, Mrs. Sanders had one right on the end of her nose.”

  “I couldn’t imagine it happening to a nicer person.”

  They shared a grin, and it was almost normal. Not a word she’d use to describe him. Then she glanced back to where her mother was marching towards the car.

  Well, fu—fudge.

  “Thanks for the ride, I’ll see you around,” she said.

  “Wait there, I’ll come around and open your door.”

  “No need. Bye.” Yeah, she was being rude but the last thing she needed was him sticking around. She quickly jumped out, hoping he’d take the hint and leave.

  “Where have you been?” her mother demanded. “You’re late. I’m supposed to start work in twenty minutes. I’ll never get there on time now. I’ve looked after your kids all day and I don’t even get a few minutes to myself.”

  Work, right. If it could be considered work to sit in a bar and make illegal bets.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” she said tiredly, knowing it was better than arguing. “Are the boys in bed?”

  “Yes. Can’t keep them awake just to see you.”

  Misery filled her. She already felt like crap for not being around enough. For not being the mother they needed. For not providing them with more than this crappy cottage over their heads and her caustic, selfish mother as a babysitter. At least she didn’t drink while she was looking after them. Aspen checked the house regularly for booze. When she wasn’t drinking, her mother was a mostly-decent human being. She knew that at the first sign she was neglecting Caleb and Jamie, Aspen would kick her out. She had nowhere else to go and her “work” lost her more money than it brought in. Especially since she drank away any winnings.

  This wouldn’t be forever, she promised herself. Somehow, she would give her boys a better life than she’d had.

  “Where’s the car? And who’s this?” Suddenly, her mother started preening. She pushed out her chest, which was pointless considering her boobs were practically non-existent, and patted back her thinning, badly-dyed hair.

  Aspen tensed. She turned to discover that, rather than leaving, Saxon had climbed out of the car and was now leaning against it.

  Shit.

  She gave him a smile. “Thanks for dropping me off, I’d invite you in—”

  “Thank you, I’d love to come in.”

  She glared at him. He knew full well she’d been going to brush him off and had invited himself in anyway. Damn smug jerk.

  “Well, Aspen, aren’t you going to introduce us?” her mother’s two-pack-a-day voice had dropped to a purr.

  She grimaced then hoped the encroaching darkness hid her expression.

  “Joel Saxon, this is my mother, Mary.”

  “I had her so young, though, we’re more like sisters.”

  Eew. She hadn’t been that young. Most of the time it felt like Aspen was the parent and Mary the rebellious teenager.

  “Nice to meet you, Mary.” Saxon stepped forward and shook her hand.

  Her mother tittered. Aspen rubbed her stomach. Definitely headed towards an ulcer.

  “It’s very kind of you to give Aspen a ride home.” There was a pause as that seemed to sink in. “Hey, I asked you where the car is.”

  “It wouldn’t start,” Aspen told her tiredly, bracing herself for dramatics.

  “What? How the fuck am I supposed to get myself to work?”

  “Could you keep your voice down, please?” Aspen said quietly. Could this night to get any worse? She couldn’t look at Saxon, didn’t want to see disgust on his face. Although it was his own fault for sticking around.

  “Mary, if you’ll wait for a few minutes while I see your daughter inside, I’ll take you to work.”

  Shit. Fuck.

  Her mother giggled and Aspen cringed. “That would be lovely. I’ll just wait in the car. Don’t take too long, though, I don’t want to be late.”

  “I’ll only be a minute.”

  “Mom, you can’t expect him to drive you into Freestown.” She turned to Saxon. “She doesn’t actually have work. Thank you for the offer, anyway.”

  “Hey!” her mother protested. “He offered, and I have important things to do tonight that don’t include sitting in this dump!”

  “It’s fine,” Saxon told her. “Climb on in, Mary.” He walked around and opened the passenger door. “I’ll be out in a minute,” he told her then shut the door.

  He moved forward and took her hand, putting it into the crook of his elbow. She was too surprised to protest or pull back. Old-fashioned manners. It was something she’d noticed the other men in Haven had as well. She’d never had a man open a car door for her before she’d come here.

  She was pulled out of her shocked state when they reached the front door. He held out an arm, gesturing for her to
go first. Embarrassment welled, but she pushed it back. So what if she lived in a run-down cottage filled with old, worn furniture? It was nothing to be ashamed of, right?

  Although the messy state it was currently in was slightly horrifying. “Sorry about the mess. My mom isn’t much for housekeeping. Taking care of two small boys kind of takes up all her time.” She moved around, picking up the pieces of clothing lying on the floor and over the puke-green couch. Luckily this place came furnished. Unfortunately, the furniture was nearly as old as the cottage itself. The velvet sofa had probably once been the height of fashion, now it was faded and rubbed completely through in places. The dining table was scratched and partly covered in stickers from a previous tenant. She’d tried to remove them but it was like they’d been attached with superglue.

  The small kitchen wasn’t any better with its apricot-colored cabinets and ancient oven she was too scared to even use. Arms filled with dirty laundry, she walked out to the porch where the washing machine sat.

  When she returned to the living room, Saxon still stood there. He looked like an expensive, exotic plant that had found its way into a forest filled with dying pine trees. Completely out of place.

  “I’m sorry about my mom. I’m sure you don’t really want to drive her—”

  “Stop.”

  She looked up at him, surprised by his firm voice. “Sorry?”

  “Stop saying sorry. There is no reason to apologize. For your mom or any mess. If I didn’t want to take her, then I wouldn’t have offered. And we both know I invited myself inside.”

  “Still, I can go tell her you have better things to do than drive her around—”

  “Aspen, stop.” This time his voice was pure steel, and she felt herself obeying immediately, her heart racing.

  “I’m not sure what you’re so worried about. I’m happy to take her.”

  “She’s not always . . . I mean . . . she can be kind of troublesome.”

  “Aspen, look at me.”

  She raised her embarrassed gaze to meet his green one. “Do you really think I can’t handle your mother?”

  “It’s not that.” She was pretty sure there wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. “I just feel like I should apologize in advance—”

  He let out a loud sigh then shook his head. “If I hear you apologize to me one more time I’m going to have to find some way of silencing you.”

  What did that mean? She opened her mouth to ask him then closed it, fairly certain she didn’t want to know. “Fine, so—” she caught his gaze. “I mean, I’ll stop.”

  “Good. As to anything she says, it is not your concern.”

  “She’s my mother.” How could it not be my concern?

  “Meaning you’re responsible for her?”

  “Yes,” she said simply.

  He studied her for a moment. “I promise I won’t hold anything she says or does against you.”

  “Sure.” She’d been burned too many times by her mother’s actions to believe that. As a child, she’d known better than to invite anyone home. She’d stopped trying to make friends with each move. It had been easier to keep to herself rather than have people ask too many questions about her home life. Or worse, get attached to someone then have to leave them behind.

  “Aspen, come here.”

  She found herself moving towards him before she even realized it. Damn, his voice held some power.

  He grasped her chin, and warmth filled her. He stared into her eyes, and she stood frozen to the spot, completely mesmerized. She waited for him to say something.

  “You look tired,” he murmured.

  Boy, that was a letdown. She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I have twin six-month-old boys, I always look tired.”

  He frowned slightly. Why did he look grumpy? Because she’d brought up her boys? They weren’t some dirty secret.

  But he just brushed his thumb over her lips. They parted of their own volition.

  “Such a pretty mouth.” He ran his thumb over her lower lip. “I don’t want you to worry, all right? I’ll get your mother to her work and I can handle anything she throws at me. I’m a big boy.”

  Jesus, she hoped so.

  Oh my God, where had that thought come from? She blushed bright red. Bad, Aspen.

  Both eyebrows rose as he stared at her. “Hmm, what was that thought, I wonder?”

  “Nothing.” She pulled back. “You’re right, I’m tired. I’m going to tidy up then go to bed. Thanks for driving Mom to work.” She couldn’t help but sneer as she said that last word.

  “Do I want to know what sort of work it is?”

  “No, you don’t.”

  He nodded calmly and, to her surprise, didn’t question her any further about that. “How will she get home?”

  “She has her ways. Or she’ll stay with a friend.”

  “She stays out most of the night?”

  She shrugged. “She’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.” Although she fully expected that one day she’d get a visit from the cops to say her mother had drunk herself into a coma. Or worse.

  She placed her hand on her stomach. That ache was intensifying.

  “She looks after your sons while you work?”

  “She doesn’t drink while she’s taking care of them,” she snapped back defensively. There was no way she’d let anyone accuse her of not taking care of her boys. “She only goes out on the nights when I have the next day off. And Mrs. Peterson comes over to check on them regularly. Unfortunately, she can’t take care of them on her own.”

  His eyes widened. “Old Man Peterson has a wife?”

  “Actually, it’s his mother.” And if she wasn’t getting on in years, she’d ask her to do more.

  “Never knew he had a mother.”

  “Everyone’s got one, right? Some are just better than others.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t taking care of your sons, Aspen,” he said quietly.

  She nodded.

  Saxon had turned to look at the door. “There’s no deadbolt? Just this lock?” The last word was said with scorn. She understood how he felt. The lack of security had given her a few nightmares, but this place was so isolated, and it wasn’t like they had anything worth taking.

  “Nothing of value here to steal.”

  “You’ve got children to protect,” he pointed out. “And it sounds like you’re here alone with them at night. I’d say that warrants something more than this flimsy lock.”

  Guilt filled her. He was right.

  He opened his mouth to say something when the car horn beeped.

  Mortification warred with anger. “Oh, God, she’ll damn well wake the boys.” She rushed towards the front door, but he grabbed her arm.

  “I’ll go. You stay and make sure they haven’t woken.” Then he shocked her by placing a kiss on her forehead. “Go to bed. Get some sleep. And as soon as I shut that door, lock it. It’s better than nothing.”

  She stood in that same spot as he walked to the door. The spot where he’d touched her tingled, sending heat throughout her body.

  Yet, the kiss wasn’t the slightest bit sexual. He was just doing what any male resident of Haven would do. Looking out for her. He wasn’t interested in her. She needed to squash her budding attraction before it became anything more.

  He turned back at the door. “And make sure you call Matt about your car. If you need a ride anywhere, you call me. I left my card on the kitchen counter. Oh, and Aspen? Try to hitch or walk and you’re going to find yourself over my knee.”

  She gaped at him.

  “Good night, Aspen. Sweet dreams.”

  Oh, they’d be sweet all right, considering she intended to dream about wiping that smug grin off his face. Over his knee, indeed.

  2

  “That man is a complete ogre. He’s a temperamental, egotistical and a prick. I quit!”

  Saxon watched in resignation as his pastry chef turned and stormed out of his office. That was the third one in two
months to quit. All because none of them could stand to work with his asshole head chef. He was beginning to think that opening a restaurant was not his smartest idea ever.

  Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the soft leather of his chair. He guessed he needed to consider ordering in baked goods and desserts. He squeezed the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache starting to form. He was probably crazy for keeping Renard on, but the man was a culinary genius. Even if he was the grumpiest bastard to walk the Earth. How was he going to manage to keep any staff with Renard running them all off, though? Even genius had its limits.

  He was going to have to put his foot down. He grimaced. Normally, he didn’t hesitate to make tough decisions and act on them. But there were special circumstances here.

  He headed towards the restaurant, which was next door to the club in what had been a run-down, clapboard, two-story house. He’d had it gutted, and it was now being renovated into an attractive, upscale space for a restaurant. Originally, he’d considered opening something just for the members of the club, but it had gradually grown bigger than that.

  If only he could rein in Renard. Too bad he wasn’t an unruly sub he could threaten to put in the stocks. He could imagine Renard’s reaction to that. The other man was a sadist, but he hadn’t played for a long time. He was letting the demons from his past get in the way of truly finding the peace he desired.

  Thinking of punishing a sub brought up the image of a tiny, dark-haired female with blue eyes too big for her thin face, her nose wrinkling as she chewed worriedly on her lip.

  His body heated. He shook his head. Aspen wasn’t someone he could get involved with. He was kind of surprised by his reaction to her. He’d even invited her to the club. But, as a Dom, it was hard for him not to react to an unattended sub. He was pretty certain that, given some training, she would thrive under a Dominant’s care. Structure, boundaries, and rules were something she would benefit from.

  As well as a few decent night’s sleep and several good meals. He frowned as he thought of her living conditions. That mother of hers was a piece of work. He was guessing her “work” consisted of drinking until she was legless then going home with whomever was desperate enough to find her attractive.