RIVAL: An Enemies to Lovers Why Choose Country Romance

Chapter 16

Carrying a basket of snacks around the construction site, I follow behind Mrs. Danielson as she offers lemonade to everyone working hard at their jobs. Jaxon hasn’t yet arrived this afternoon, and I find myself disappointed. Ruth offered me the explanation that he had an emergency at another job without me asking.

Since I’m not sure what I should be doing without him here, she enlisted me to assist with passing out snacks with her. As she chats with one of the regular church attendees, and a man who’s well over fifty and normally has a herd of children following him, I hear the growling rumble of a vehicle on the road.

Hoping it’s Jaxon, my eyes fly around to seek him out. Instead, I recognize my father’s friend Corbin’s truck inching past the land where the barn is going to sit. The glare from the sun is too bright as it reflects off the windshield, but I feel his eyes on me, nonetheless.

My suspicion grows, realizing it was Corbin who informed my father last week of my supposed infractions of flirting with “the enemy” as he phrased it.

Frowning at the food basket, I let those thoughts swirl in my head. A hint of betrayal is my underlying feeling, but confusion is there too. Why would Corbin care about my volunteering, and why is here again today checking up on me?

When I lift my head again to peer into the passenger window as he passes, I catch him jerking his head forward just before he presses the gas hard, causing his tires to squeal on the asphalt.

A small amount of worry fills me that he’s going to report back to my father, but what could he say? I’m standing behind Ruth, a basket in my hands, and speaking to no one. There’s nothing I could possibly be scolded for.

Moving on to the next pair of workers who are mixing a bag of concrete next to a framed out step, I hear another engine and this time my heart thumps excitedly as Jaxon pulls into the lot.

Keeping him in my line of sight so it’s not obvious I’m watching, my new friend hops out of his truck, a deep scowl etched in his features. My concern with Corbin checking up on me shifts over to Jaxon’s obvious mood.

He drops the tailgate and starts tugging boxes and bags from the back, never once glancing over in our direction.

Look over here, please.

I will my thoughts to reach him, but I’m jolted out of my head by a hand on my arm. “Let me take the snacks, Edith. Why don’t you go on over and give our Mr. Thorton a hand?”

“Are you sure?” I’m sure it’s obvious how much I want to go to him, but my manners urge me to not leave someone burdened because of me.

Her hand on my arm pats me gently before she grabs the basket and yanks it out of my hand. “I’m perfectly capable of handling granola bars.” She joins me as we watch Jaxon drop another box on the ground, not being gentle at all. “Oh boy, looks like he’s got a bug up his rear end. Go help the man, would ya?”

A giggle flies out of me at her refusal to say butt. Collecting myself as quickly as possible, I hurry over once I have myself under control. When I get to the side of his truck, I realize I’m not sure what to say as he continues dropping supplies on the ground, never once looking up at me.

He’s really upset about something, and as his friend, I’m not sure what my role is here. Clearing my throat, I keep my voice soft so not to annoy him. I’ve learned that with my father when he’s in a fouler mood than usual.

“I’d like to help if you need a hand, Jaxon. Is there something I can do?”

He flicks his eyes to me, and I catch a slight softening of the hard lines framing his mouth. My shoulders relax, knowing I haven’t added to his irritation.

“Sure. Why don’t you take some of these lighter bags into the barn for me?”

Nodding, I immediately start picking them up, gathering as many as I can until the weight becomes too much and hurry away. We spend the next ten minutes passing each other as we unload the fully packed truck. Finished with my last trip, Jaxon is shutting the gate, still seeming to have something on his mind.

“Jaxon, is everyth—”

“Shit! I forgot to grab my tool bag from my office.” He’s snarling his words, not specifically at me, but he’s definitely in a sour mood. I drop my chin and take a step back, ready to hurry back to Mrs. Danielson, but he stops me. “Sorry, Edith. It’s been a day. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” I wave him off, then hook my thumb over my shoulder. “I’ll just get back to it. I hope your day ends better than it started.”

The corners of his lips tilt up slightly. “You wanna ride back to my office with me? It’ll be quick.”

“Umm…” Chewing on my lip, I look back where everyone is working. “Am I allowed to just leave?”

Laughing, he presses a hand on my back to lead me to his vehicle. “It’s volunteer work. You can come and go as you please. Besides, I’m sure our dear Mrs. Danielson won’t give two shits. Come on, I could use some decent company after my morning.”

Pride swells in my chest that he’s seeking comfort by having me around, so I scramble into his truck with less assistance from him than the last time I found myself here. Buckling my belt, I roam my eyes around the area to ensure Corbin isn’t watching from a distance. Not seeing him, I decide I should still slouch a bit in the seat just in case as Jaxon climbs in and takes off.

“Do you want to talk about why your day isn’t going well?” That sounds like something a friend would ask, I think. There’s been a lot of times in my life where I wish I could have vented about a bad day, or shared something that made me happy. Anything, really. Talking can do wonders to distribute those burdens to everyone, easing the weight on a single person so they don’t have to shoulder it alone.

He’s drumming his thumb on the steering wheel before a stream of words come pouring out of him, unloading everything all at once. It shocks me, but I feel honored that maybe I can help, so I listen as intently as I can.

“It’s this bullshit with a former client. My dad ran our company for decades and practically built it from the ground up. We’ve always had a stellar reputation, but since I bought him out and took over last year, I’m finding a ton of discrepancies. Do you remember when Mason dropped you off last week and he got on me about an invoice they received?”

I nod, then panic. “I only know because he was pretty loud. I wasn’t eavesdropping or anything.”

Jaxon barks out a laugh and grins. “I don’t care if you were, and the thought never crossed my mind. I only ask so I don’t have to explain more. Anyway, turns out, my dad set up this job with his dad a few years back. Both of them saying the other one wasn’t holding up to their end of the deal. We keep pretty extensive notes in all our files, so if there ever are issues, we can back up our claims. Well, Mason sent me all the correspondence proving my dad fucked up. He lost a big job and I’m really bothered by all of it.”

I consider everything for a moment, then ask, “What bothers you? That you might have lost money? Or that your dad made a mistake?”

Jaxon’s brows furrow. “That dad made the mistake.” With a sigh, he relaxes into his seat. “And it was embarrassing. I knew dad wanted to retire a year or so before this, but I pushed him to stick it out longer. Maybe it’s just his memory and age getting to him.”

“Okay, so what’s the issue now? I might not totally understand.”

We’re just pulling in front of his office, and he leaves the truck running, just puts it into park and stares ahead. Drawing his words out slowly, he explains. “Not really anything, I suppose. I corrected the file and apologized to the Coopers in a letter. Nothing to say to dad. He’s retired.” Jaxon looks at me, still frowning deeply. “I just don’t like being in the wrong.”

Snickering at him, I quickly cover my mouth, then drop my hand into my lap and grin widely when he glares at me playfully. “That’s just ridiculous. Everyone is wrong from time to time. You corrected it and apologized. Now, just let it go.” I wiggle my fingers in the air, indicating something flying away.

“Let it go, huh?”

“Yup.” I’m still smiling when he drops his hand on my thigh and pats it twice.

Jerking his chin toward the office, he asks, “You want to come in and see the place?”

“Yes, please.”

He doesn’t say anything else, just turns off the truck and we both jump out. I stick close behind him, looking around as we walk inside. The room feels so much darker after being outside in the sun. There’s a young woman chatting on the phone, and she gives both of us a massive smile as we pass by.

“My office is just back here. But this is pretty much it. We’ve got reception out here, file room over there,” he points toward the corner with a close door, “and a conference room in there.” Again, he points toward a room with a large window and a screen mounted on the wall with a large table in the center.

“It’s really nice in here.” My compliment feels silly, but I’m not sure what to say. It’s really quite impressive to me. He’s got this amazing place that seems so organized and professional. A bit of jealousy slips in, but I don’t let it fester. It’s not jealousy that he’s successful, it’s more that I’ve never considered something like this as attainable for my life.

I slow, then stop in front of a large painting on the wall. It’s the only one in the hallway leading back to Jaxon’s office, and it’s absolutely stunning. It’s one of those abstract pictures where you aren’t quite sure what you’re seeing, but the colors are inviting and warm. Glancing at the corner of the canvas, I catch the initials JT just as Jaxon covers his hand over mine and tugs me away.

Does the JT stand for Jaxon Thorton?

The dark woods in his office distract me from wondering and my eyes fall on another half dozen paintings, each one with its own color theme. It’s as if the painter had an emotion and found one color to express it, but there are so many shades that the detail is extraordinary.

I’m left in the middle of his space while he collects his bag and I move to the first one to study it, then on to the next, and the next. Every painting has JT in the corner. Spinning around, I find Jaxon leaning against the edge of his desk, studying me as hard as I was the paintings.

There’s an array of emotions raging within his eyes, but the anger he had earlier seems to be gone. My eyes won’t stay away from the paintings for long and I’m drawn back to them.

“Did you do these? Is the JT for Jaxon Thorton?”

“No.” He’s not rude with the one-word answer, but I can’t tell if he doesn’t want me to ask more. My curiosity gets the best of me.

“Who—”

“My sister did them.” He picks up a photo on his desk before walking over to me, holding it out. There’s an absolutely stunning teenager grinning at the camera, her arms wrapped around a much younger Jaxon’s waist, a beach and water in the background. I take the frame and smile softly at how happy they are, their skin deeply tanned and glowing under the sun. He taps the glass. “She passed away a little over twenty years ago. At the end of the summer this was taken, actually.”

My head lifts when I hear the sadness in his voice, and my heart breaks for him. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Was she ill?”

“No.” This time his response is abrupt, and he plucks the photo from my hands, only to position it back on his desk carefully. He pauses after he moves it just right, then hikes his bag over his shoulder and gives me a forced smile. “You ready to head back? This is pretty much everything here. There’s not much more to see.”

Without waiting for an answer, I’m relieved when he takes my hand once more to walk me outside. I wave a small goodbye to the girl still stuck on the phone, and we climb back into his truck silently.

As soon as we’re driving, I can feel the tension pouring off him, just as frustrated as he was when he first showed up at the barn. I’m not great with words, but maybe just some comfort will bring him a bit of peace, since he’s obviously still affected greatly by his sister’s passing.

I undo my seatbelt and scoot to the middle of the bench, then redo the lap belt. Jaxon looks down at me, a bit confused. “What are you doing?”

Laying my head on his shoulder, I press my side against his and blow out a slow breath and relax. “I’m being a friend.”

He leans away for only a moment, but it’s to put his arm around my shoulder and tuck me into his side more firmly. I feel his lips graze the crown of my head just as he hugs me to him. “Thanks, Edith.”

“You’re welcome. I love the paintings.”

He chuckles softly. “I could tell. I love them too. She had a real gift in everything art related. My parents have a ton of them all over their house and I’ve got a few at my place as well.”

I want to ask what happened to her, but I think today I’ll just let him tell me what he wants. We finish the drive more slowly than our trip here, and the entire time I stay right against him, pushing my good thoughts in his direction.

It may take the full fifteen-minute drive for him to relax, but eventually he does, and we spend the rest of the afternoon chatting as if nothing changed from last week to this one.