14. Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
T he ponderosa pines’ emerald needles rustled in the breeze, still green even in mid-October. Although, the forest floor was covered in fallen yellow needles. If this year’s monsoons had been generous, the ground would bear more saplings. Still, some were pushing through the lack of moisture and Carson silently cheered for them, hoping the baby trees would grow as big as their ancestors.
“We need another rainstorm. It feels too dry this year,” Carson said.
“I wonder if we’re going into another drought.” Jax wiped his hands together, ridding them of peanut dust, and took a swig of water. Carson drank as well, swishing the electrolyte-infused liquid around in her mouth, remoistening her tongue from the hot air.
They relaxed in the bed of his truck, leaning against the back of the cab. This ride hadn’t been as grueling as the first time they’d gone out. They’d taken a scenic trail through Thumb Butte’s forests. Luckily, no unseen wire had been strewn up to behead them.
Their dirt bikes rested just beyond the tailgate. The difference in size was almost comical. Carson’s looked like a children’s motorcycle compared to Jax’s beast of a machine.
Taking another chug of water, Carson thought about her attempt to go to counseling the day before. It was pathetic. Maybe if therapists held their sessions in beautiful forests like this one, she’d be more willing to go.
“Did Luke ride dirt bikes?” Jax asked, drawing her attention back to him.
“No,” she said, cracking a smile. “He tried to get into it, but couldn’t.”
“When did you start riding then?”
“When I was a teenager. I taught myself how to ride.”
“Your parents didn’t care?”
Shaking her head, she said, “It was just my mom and I. And she didn’t care what I did. As long as I paid my portion of the rent, she didn’t ask questions.”
Disgust flashed across Jax’s face. “She made you pay rent?”
“It was better than sleeping in a car,” Carson said, unconcerned.
“Do you still talk to her?” His blue eyes grew in size, abashed at his question. “Dammit. I asked you an insensitive question. If my ma was here, she would smack me.”
The thought of Jax’s mother smacking him for something he said made Carson grin. “It wasn’t insensitive,” she assured him. “And no, I don’t talk to her. As soon as I turned seventeen, she was gone.”
“Oh.” It was clear that hundreds of questions were sitting on the tip of his tongue, trying to escape his lips. Carson indulged him.
“I was an accident. She was young and . . . exploring. Never did figure out which guy was my father. It wasn’t easy for her to raise a baby on her own.”
Jax pressed his lips into a thin line, displeased. Hoping to relieve him of his worry, Carson digressed. “What about you? When did you get your first dirt bike?”
The flat line of Jax’s lips curved up, creating slight lines on the outside of his eyes. Carson could see memories filling his mind. “I think I was eight when my brother Beau found a little Honda 50cc. We had no idea where he found it.” Then he leaned closer to her as if telling her a secret. “He probably stole it. The four of us boys took turns racing it around our front yard.”
She couldn’t help but match the grin that grew on his face. “Do your brothers still ride?”
“All but my youngest brother, Wyatt. When I was still living in Texas, Beau, Billy, and I would go all the time. I really miss it. I miss them.”
“It sounds like you have a close relationship with them,” she said.
Jax’s face grew serious. No, not serious; humble. “I do.” He spoke those words with reverence, as if he knew how blessed he was to have his family.
A bird whistled for its mate somewhere above, and the branches wrestled as another breeze blew in. Jax was picking at the water bottle’s label with his thumbnail when Carson spotted a tear in his jersey, near his shoulder. With the sewing kit at home, she could stitch it back together.
“I hope you get the chance to meet them one day,” he said, quietly.
The colors around Carson grew more vibrant. “Me too.”
Jax met her gaze, eyes trailing up and down her face. Then in unison, they shifted. He sat the bottle of water down and turned while Carson straightened her back. Reaching his hand up behind her head, he pulled her in to kiss her lips.
Instantly, Carson caught fire. The flames engulfed them, swallowed them whole. The sensation was tender and sweet. It was yearning and need. It was fire and ice.
She wanted more. Needed more. Like a cactus craving the sun.
Jax was happy to oblige because soon Carson was straddling his lap, gripping the back of his neck and head and running her fingers through his shaggy hair. At first his hands were firm on her thighs, but as they continued to kiss, his grip slowly made its way to her hips. The few healing cuts where his not-so-gentle hands touched whined in protest. She tried to ignore them.
Then his hands started to slide up her sides. That was harder to ignore. Would he feel her uneven skin under her riding jersey? She pushed those thoughts out of her mind and focused on him instead. His mouth tasted like peanuts; salty, just like the sweat on his skin. As he trailed his nose up and down her throat, she breathed in his dusty hair.
Jax’s fingers were dangerously close to finding the edge of her jersey, Carson writhed with discomfort, causing him to pull away. She looked into his eyes. So much fire. So much ice. Again, she pushed her fear down and found his lips once more.
How she wanted to be touched. To feel his hands on her bare skin. What would it feel like for her ugly skin to be caressed and loved with his pure hands?
It was going too far. Carson was losing control. Suddenly all she could focus on was the placement of Jax’s hands. They were on her ribcage, sliding back down to her hips. What would happen if his hand slipped up her shirt and—
“I—I can’t.” Carson gasped, pulling away.
They were both panting hard, apparently having forgotten how to breathe. She took advantage of his lack of oxygen and slid off his lap. Jax didn’t complain, sitting up to cross his legs and rest his forearms on his knees.
“Yeah, that was . . .” he rasped.
He didn’t understand why she’d stopped. To be honest, if her scars weren’t holding her back, Carson would have continued. Probably to the point of getting a high five from Raegan. Letting the flames thaw, she pulled on the bottom of her jersey to readjust it for maximum coverage.
It was getting dark. How long had they been kissing? One of Jax’s hands raked through his hair before he looked at her. Something he saw amused him.
“What?” Now Carson ran her hands through her own hair. Was there a twig? Did she have peanuts in her teeth?
“I think I gave you a hickey,” he said.
In the heat of the moment, Carson hadn’t noticed what he was doing. Her hand shot to where his mouth had been on her neck seconds ago. “Is there really a hickey?” she squeaked.
Jax moved her fingers out of the way to inspect the area and let out a small whistle. “Definitely a hickey.”
“Shit.” Carson grabbed her neck again, trying to hide it. It was already hard enough having to hide her scars.
Jax grinned impishly. “I’m not even sorry.”
Then her eyes grew wide. “I have a status conference at the courthouse tomorrow.”
“Still not sorry.”