Chapter 1
Prince Charming
? Drunk On You - Luke Bryan
Jaxon
A throat clears, pulling me from the vivid battle scene still playing out in my head. I peer over the cracked spine of a well-loved paperback in the quiet corner of my sanctuary, surrounded by the comforting scent of old books, wood, and leather.
It’s her.
I’ve studied that face for months: full lips and piercing blue-green eyes hidden behind wire-framed glasses.
Short, dark hair frames her rosy, heart-shaped face, and there’s a small gold hoop through her septum.
I’m not too proud to admit I’ve let my eyes wander lower, too; to the delicate book tattoo along her collarbone, the soft belly I wish I could rest my head on, and those thick thighs I’d love to…
"Jaxon, right?"
"Yeah. And you are?" I already know her name. I just want to hear her say it aloud, so I don’t mispronounce it. I’ve said it a million different ways in my mind since the first time I laid eyes on her, trying to work up the courage to approach.
She points to her name tag. "Callie. Like alley with a k."
"Nice to meet you, Callie."
"Sure. Um…" She crosses one foot then the other, uncertainty warring in her delicate features. It’s cute. She’s cute.
I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"We’re… closing."
My lips tip up at one side. "You don’t seem too sure about that."
She laughs, and it might be the most beautiful sound in the world. "Yeah. Sorry. Do you want to check that one out, or…?"
"Or?"
"Not? Honestly, there really isn’t another option."
I lean forward, the leather creaking as my body shifts. "We could invent another option."
Her eyebrows draw together, bringing my attention back to those eyes that are more green than blue today. "What do you mean?"
"I could help you close and take you for a drink after."
She opens her mouth to answer, but I don’t get to find out what she was about to say.
The owner of Chapters and Brews strides over and wraps Callie in a hug. "Hey, babe. This dipshit giving you any trouble?"
"Very funny, Mo," I say. "I was just offering to take Callie out for a drink after work. No harm done."
"Shooting your shot with my girl, Hayes?"
"Didn’t know she was your girl. My bad."
"Neither did I." Callie crosses her arms over her ample chest.
"Well, fuck me for trying to help," Mo says.
"Thank you for the unnecessary rescue, but I’m fine. Jaxon is basically a part of the furniture in this place. If he was going to kidnap or murder me, he’s had plenty of time to do so."
"So, you’ve noticed me."
"Hard not to when you’re all…" She gestures wildly over my body, and I wish she’d actually put those hands on me.
I quirk a brow. "Gorgeous? Devastatingly handsome? A work of art?"
"Full of shit," Mo quips. "But since you’re offering drinks, I think we should both take you up on the offer."
"I don’t do threesomes."
"Tattooed cowboys with overinflated egos aren’t really my type, either. But maybe you should try it. Might humble you."
"Oh. My. God," Callie grumbles, covering her face with her hands. "Let me close up, and we can all go for a drink. As friends."
She emphasizes the word ‘friends’ like she has a choice in the matter. Sure. I’ll stay in the friend zone for now, but someday soon, she’ll change her tune.
Mo takes a seat in the leather armchair opposite me and sighs as Callie takes her leave.
"Spit it out," I say.
"She’s not your type."
"How would you know what my type is?"
"You forgetting I knew you in high school?"
I give a humorless snort. "That was a lifetime ago. As you know, some things change."
That seems to get through to them, and they nod, their half lime-green, half black hair bobbing with each movement.
"Callie’s been through some shit. I won’t get into it without her permission—that’s her story to tell—but if you hurt her, I will kill you.
And I know plenty of ways to dispose of your body, so nobody ever finds you. "
I hold up my hands in surrender. "It’s a drink as friends."
"For now. But I saw the way you looked at her."
Before Mo can say any more, Callie returns with a book bag slung over one shoulder and a cardigan draped around her with some kind of fancy floral embroidery on the neckline.
Her short black skirt hugs her round ass, and I can’t help but let my gaze drift to the sliver of exposed skin at her cleavage.
I was never the type of guy who had a thing for the sexy librarian, but I’m starting to rethink my stance.
Mo smirks. "Yeah. That’s what I thought."
Callie
Be still, my heretofore untouched pussy. The nerdy tattooed cowboy speaks, and he’s even hotter up close. Hot isn’t an adequate word for this man. His long-ish, dark blonde hair has more curl to it than I realized, and those green eyes sparkle like emeralds behind his tortoiseshell glasses.
He snags his black cowboy hat from the side table and places it atop his head. If I thought he couldn’t get any fucking hotter, I was dead ass wrong. I’m not an equestrian, but… save a horse and all that.
"Let’s go before you two maul each other," Mo says derisively. They lead the way through the stacks, beelining to the exit. "I’m Mo, I’ll be your third wheel for the evening.
Feel free to follow me outside once you stop eye fucking each other.
Keep your hands and tongues to yourselves until I have at least one drink in my system, please and thank you. "
Jaxon chuckles, and the sound sends a chill coursing through me. What I wouldn’t give for that man to talk me through some self-care. I fleetingly wonder if he’s ever done something like that, or if he’s vocal in the bedroom.
My thoughts are short-lived when we step out onto the street, and the frigid winter air simultaneously smacks me in the face and steals my breath. It’s what I imagine a hurricane shot feels like but decidedly less sexy.
Jax rattles his keys and gestures to the vintage blue Chevy truck parked across the street. "If we’re all drinking, it’s probably best if we pile into one vehicle and Uber home separately."
"You think we’re gonna get in that?" Mo asks.
"She’s safe, I can assure you."
"The fact that you’ve gendered your truck at all is concerning."
"Will you two cut it out?" I say. "Come on, Mo. I’ll sit in the middle, so you don’t kill each other."
Jaxon grins. "Don’t worry. I don’t bite… hard."
As we pile into the tin can Jaxon calls a truck, I instantly regret my decision to sandwich myself in the middle. The three of us take up every bit of the front seat, and the entire left side of my body is pressed precariously up against Jaxon.
He throws his arm around the back of the oldest bench seat known to man, and I flinch.
Mo squeezes my thigh in a comforting gesture.
Once my mind has determined he’s not a threat, my muscles relax.
His fingertips brush my shoulder as he backs out of the parking spot, and my stomach does a weird little flip at the accidental contact.
I keep my gaze focused on the road ahead, fully expecting him to pull his arm back at some point, but he leaves it where it is.
It’s cozy—too cozy. If Mo weren’t here to play the very convincing third wheel, I might throw caution to the wind and do something I would regret in the morning, virginity be damned.
Something about Jaxon seems to have extinguished my finely tuned fight or flight instincts.
The drive to Oak Ridge takes far too long.
By the time we pull up outside the bar, I can’t get out of the truck fast enough.
There’s a sign on the door announcing the first-ever line dancing night at The Ridge, which explains the abundance of wannabe cowboys lining the bar, pressing up against women in brand new cowboy boots and denim skirts.
I stick out like a sore thumb in this crowd, and that makes it infinitely more difficult to remain invisible.
Mo gravitates toward a group of people I’ve never met.
I’ve always felt a bit out of place in crowds, but that’s where Mo thrives.
They run the most popular combination bookstore and cafe in the area, so it’s no great surprise they’re well-loved like the secondhand paperbacks they sell.
Jaxon’s hand presses against the small of my back as he guides me toward the end of the bar. The touch is featherlight, but it still makes my breath catch in my throat.
“Looks like it’s just you and me.” Jaxon pulls out a stool at the bar. “After you.”
“Wow.” I slide across the worn leather seat and adjust my skirt. “Didn’t take you for the Prince Charming type.”
He quirks a surprisingly well-manicured eyebrow and leans in. Whether it’s because the bar is loud as hell, or because he likes to throw me off my axis, I can’t be certain.
“I’m full of surprises,” he whispers into my ear. “Stick around long enough, you might discover a few more.”
I rub my forearms. Something about his voice makes my skin prickle. It has a familiar gruffness to it that I can’t seem to place.
The bartender arrives and slides a coaster across from each of us.
“What can I get you?” Her gaze lingers on Jaxon a little too long.
He doesn’t seem to notice her attention as he waits expectantly for me to answer first.
“Can I get a dill pickle martini?”
“You got it,” she says in a dismissive tone. “Jax?”
Her voice is almost sultry as her eyes rake over his body in a slow perusal. It sets my teeth on edge. I have no claim over this man, but it’s clear we came together. The overt flirtation is rude, at best.
“The usual. ” He slides his card across the bar. “Start a tab. Callie’s drinks are on me.”
I get a small thrill as she disappears down the bar without another word. Jaxon doesn’t so much as spare her a second glance.
“You hold open doors, pull out chairs, let your dates order first, and pay for the drinks. Why are you single?”