Chapter 11
11
HAZEL
T here’s probably a fancy, super-long German word meaning “the feeling of hoping something wouldn’t happen but kind of being afraid that it might”. And another for “the way your blood runs cold when it takes place”.
They’ve got long words for everything.
“It’s wonderful to see you, Hazel.” Fern’s smile is a bit too wide, like it always is when he’s networking.
This is awful. There’s no way that Axton is going to believe that I didn’t ask Fern to come here.
His hands are still around my waist. Gross. I adjust my coat and purse as I step back, wondering if Axton has noticed. I’m not positive he’s the possessive type, but given how single-minded he seems to be, my guess would be yes.
All I can do is hope that he doesn’t act like too much of a caveman. If that got back to Dad, he might call in the freaking National Guard to rescue me, or some other dramatic crap.
I can feel Axton approaching from my left as he walks around the truck. I glance over, almost audibly gasping when I see the hard, dangerous look in his eyes. Somehow, I already know that this is closer to his usual expression when I’m not around. It says he is walking, talking trouble, and not to be trifled with.
Swallowing hard, I try to smile slightly. “I thought I told Dad we should reschedule for next month when the weather is better.”
Fern shrugs. “I’m not a patient man. I’m sure you know that by now.”
My left ear picks up a low mutter that might have been, “Not a man at all, for fuck’s sake.”
“Fern, I’d like you to meet…” Axton steps closer, towering over Fern by four or five inches. It’s not just the height. It’s the width. The bulk. The sheer size of my mountain man.
Not to mention the way his mouth has settled into a grimace, the tightness of his square jaw, and the imposing, raw power emanating from him.
He grabs Fern’s hand. Hopefully he doesn’t crush it, although Fern definitely winces. “Axton Turner. Yes, Hazel told me about her… father’s friend’s son. ” He spits the words out as if they taste like dirt.
Fern’s eyes are huge as he looks back and forth between the two of us and watches Axton slowly place his hand on my lower back in an intimate gesture that suggests we’re together.
Okay, he is possessive.
A slow, sinister smile overtakes Fern’s narrow face.
Please don’t let this turn nasty, I silently think to myself. Several of the men I was forced to chat with at New Year’s Eve were quick to get angry. I can’t stand the thought of another fight.
“Axton!” We all jump, the tension breaking as we look toward a man rushing toward us as fast as he can with his noticeable limp.
“Thank Christ you’re here,” the older man puffs. “There’s a problem with one of the ski lifts, and we need somebody your size. Should take less than ten minutes.”
Axton glances at me, and I nod. “Go. Help him. I’ll be in the lobby.”
He squeezes my hand, then nods to Fern. “You. Think you can manage to get her inside before she catches a chill? I’ll be right back.”
He leaves, and Fern hurries me into the lobby of the chalet. I don’t think it’s concern for my warmth that propels him. It’s his fear of Axton.
He leads me over to a banquette by the window and we sit, awkwardly facing each other. “So.” His lips are a straight line, his eyes flat. “Slumming it with some of the local color , are we?”
“Axton and I are together, if that’s what you’re getting at.” I desperately hope my words are true. There hasn’t been any concrete talk of the future, but I’m hopeful.
Yes. I’m not just deluding myself. There’s something between us. I can feel it.
“All men sow their wild oats,” Fern murmurs. “Yet most of us stay out of the public eye when we do so. And ladies…they just don’t.”
I want to say, Ick . Instead, I just ask sweetly, “I assume it was you in that helicopter?”
His chin lifts. “Of course. You know how I hate traffic.”
“Why did you come here?”
I’m not sure what to make of the look he gives me, his face is so utterly bland. He’s only twenty-nine or so, yet his light brown hair already looks to be fading to gray. Everything about him is lifeless, except for his dark blue eyes. They’re sharp and piercing.
“Miss Anderson?” A server appears, politely holding out a mug. “Coffee, with just a little milk. Mr. Turner didn’t want you to be chilly.”
“Thank you.” I blow on the steaming coffee before taking a small sip. How sweet of Axton to call the restaurant. “See, Fern, this is what I really crave. Comfort. Care. Someone who knows what I want to do for a living and supports me in it.”
Fern blinks at me in shock. “What – you actually want to work outside your dad’s business?” He snorts dismissively. “You have no idea what it’s like in the real world. You would never succeed in your own career without your father’s name behind you.”
“I already have. And it has nothing at all to do with…whatever Dad does.”
He stares at me for what feels like a full minute. “You don’t pay any attention to your father’s business?”
“No. His business is not my business.”
“Even though he could make you part of the company?”
I barely stifle a laugh. “Dad would never offer me anything beyond a receptionist position. Or maybe office manager. But the real point is, it doesn’t interest me in the slightest.”
He reaches out to pat my hand, as if I were a child. “Don’t be selfish, Hazel. As an only child, and a daughter at that, you have to think of the lineage. Marry well and produce sons to take over the company.”
My mouth actually falls open. He’s speaking as if our families were the Vanderbilts or royalty or something, not just a bunch of self-important businessmen.
I stare out the window for several moments, at the gorgeous snow topped mountain. “Hope Peak is absolutely gorgeous,” I murmur, trying to collect myself. “Since I can work anywhere, I’d rather stay where it’s truly beautiful.”
“That’s why I had to choose you,” Fern continues. “You’re my mother’s bet for the most attractive children. Not to mention, when our fathers merge their companies, my family’s shares are going to go through the roof.”
My skin crawls from the thought of it. I take another sip of my coffee, as a smile slowly tilts my lips. “That’s never going to happen.”
“It has to.” Fern looks at me, scandalized. “Your father has already decided. Did he not discuss this with you? It’s already all been planned and arranged.”
“I don’t give a flying rat’s ass.” The moment I stand up, I can sense Axton’s huge frame coming toward us. “I would never have children with a man who doesn’t even know what I want to do with my life.”
“What is that, anyway?” Fern snaps. “Puppies and rainbows or some crap?”
A thick arm wraps around my waist. “On the contrary. Hazel wants to bring top-quality literary short stories to the masses. People used to be able to read them in magazines and journals, but trends have shifted. She wants to bring them back through a wonderful podcast that’s been running for the last year and a half. I doubt you’ve even heard of it, though.”
Axton’s rough voice is level, yet I detect a slightly strained note. I can’t see his expression since he’s beside and a little behind me, but by Fern’s comical reaction, I assume daggers are being shot.
My shoulders lower slightly from the feel of Axton’s warmth. Not to mention, his attention to detail. He must have looked up the podcast at some point, which I find touching.
I’m still worried he’ll be angry with me at Fern’s intrusion. Lack of respect, and all that.
The server appears again, taking my empty coffee mug. “Mr. Turner, are you ready to be seated?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Axton reaches out to clap Fern on the shoulder so hard that it makes him stagger slightly. “Hope Peak is beautiful this time of year if you want to do some sightseeing. But more snow is rolling in fast. If you don’t want to stay too long, you’d better be in the air in the next ten minutes.”
Fern shoots me a look of pure frustration. “I’ll be reporting every single word of this to your father,” he spits. He doesn’t even say goodbye as he stomps away, texting furiously.
Axton takes my arm and we walk through the lobby and into the restaurant. Strolling past the couples and groups, the only empty table is in the snug in the back corner. Which means he definitely called ahead to make a reservation before today.
I pull out my phone and send a quick text to my father.
I cannot believe you sent Fern here. How many times have I told you that I’m NOT marrying someone you select for me? I’m furious with you. We’ll discuss it in a week or so. Now leave me alone.
Axton sits very close to me, but I know I’m going to have to explain. To apologize. Tell him that I didn’t want any of this crap to happen on our special night. Let him know that Fern means less than nothing to me.
He stares at me, stone-faced. Then his eyes begin to sparkle, and he presses his lips together, trying not to laugh.
“A flying rat’s ass?”