Chapter Fourteen
Jovie
I make it three steps up the stairs to my cabin before Axle’s voice stops me.
“Hey, Doc.”
I glance over my shoulder.
He’s standing on his front porch, river water still dripping from the ends of his dark hair, one hand resting on the railing. The porch light highlights the sharp lines of his jaw, and for a brief, ridiculous second, I imagine running my fingers through that hair while kissing along that jawline.
I blame the hypothermia.
“Yeah?”
“I promised you hot chocolate.”
I blink at him, then lean on the railing, wrapping my arms around myself against the evening chill. “Are you telling me that you actually have hot chocolate in your kitchen?”
His grin appears. “Nope.”
“I didn’t think so.”
He steps toward me and braces his arms on the wood at my sides.
“I got milk,” he says. “I got a stove. And I got chocolate bars.” His smile widens. “I figure if I chop them up small enough, I can make it work.”
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “You’re gonna make me homemade cocoa?”
He shrugs. “A promise is a promise, and a man’s only as good as his word.”
“Okay,” I say.
He stands. “Okay. Go change, and it’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”
I hesitate, and my heart chooses that moment to start thumping again.
“Okay,” I repeat.
Then I fish my keys from my bag.
The second I get inside my cabin, I head straight for the shower.
The hot water feels amazing after the freezing river.
I stand beneath the spray for longer than necessary, trying to wash away the memory of strong arms wrapping around me underwater.
Trying to forget the sight of his chest and the ink that curled up his ribs and around his shoulder.
The way he held me close until my body settled.
The way his mouth hovered inches from mine.
My stomach twists.
Maybe I imagined it.
All of it.
Even the massive hard-on I felt against my stomach.
“Just a reflex.”
That seemed like a reasonable explanation.
It was adrenaline.
Involuntary.
I’m a medical student.
I know exactly how easily heightened stress can trigger a biological response, and an erection is simply a spinal reflex, caused by stimulation, that can occur automatically without conscious input from the brain.
It happens all the time, I tell myself as I shut off the water and grab a towel.
Axle isn’t attracted to me. It’s just science.
I point a finger at my reflection in the foggy bathroom mirror. “Science.”
My reflection looks unconvinced.
I quickly dry off.
Then I pull on my favorite sleep shirt.
The faded black Bryce Raintree world champion tee hangs almost to mid-thigh.
I pair it with black biker shorts and run my fingers through my damp hair.
Then I stare at myself again.
My cheeks are pink.
“Oh, get a grip, Jovie.”
I turn off the bathroom light and slip out my back door.
I cross onto Axle’s deck and knock.
The door swings open.
Sweet Lord.
He’s standing there in those damn gray sweatpants. His hair is still damp, and a charcoal T-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders.
Not fair.
“Hey.”
“Hi.” His gaze slides down to my legs and lingers for a second before he clears his throat.
Instead of inviting me inside, he steps out, carrying two steaming mugs. “Figured the view was better out here.”
That’s probably a good call.
He hands me one of the mugs, and our fingers brush.
Neither of us reacts to the sensation, but we both feel it. I’m sure of it.
Ugh, why is this weird? I’m making it weird.
“This should help you sleep better than soda,” he says.
I smile. “Thank you.”
The mug is warm against my palms.
I bring it to my nose and inhale. The smell is decadent.
Chocolate. Real chocolate.
I glance down. “I can’t believe you made this.”
I blow across the surface and take a careful sip.
The second it touches my tongue, I let out an involuntary moan.
Axle freezes with his mug halfway to his mouth.
My eyes widen.
Because I know that sounded as bad as I think it sounded.
His expression darkens, just slightly. “That good, huh?”
Heat rushes straight into my face. “It’s really good.”
A grin tugs at one corner of his mouth.
I take another sip.
For a second, neither of us says anything.
The silence stretches as we settle on the railing that separates our decks and watch the mountains turn gold beneath the setting sun.
Close enough that our shoulders almost touch.
My entire body seems aware of that tiny space between us.
Axle studies me over the rim of his mug.
Then his gaze drops. “What’s that shirt?”
I set my cocoa aside and cross my arms.
His eyes narrow. “Doc?”
“What?”
“Drop your arms,” he commands.
“I don’t want to.”
His dimples appear.
Which is really annoying at the moment.
“Jovie.”
“No. You’re just gonna make fun of me.”
He sets his mug on the railing and reaches over before I can stop him and gently catches my wrists.
The contact sends a ridiculous spark racing up my arms.
He lowers them. “Let’s see.”
I roll my bottom lip between my teeth as he examines the shirt.
“Oh wow.” His eyes light up. “You have got to be kidding me. Bryce Raintree?”
I drop my face into my hands and groan. “Oh God.”
“You’re a Bryce Raintree fangirl?”
My head snaps up. “I am not.”
He laughs. “You absolutely are.”
“I am a rodeo fan,” I correct.
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s true. I love the rodeo. I love the animals. The cowboys. The arenas. And I love watching all the events.”
“Sure you do.”
I shove his shoulder. “I got this shirt in Cheyenne seven years ago.”
“Seven?”
“Yes.”
“Long before I ever met Bryce. Long before Charli started dating him. Long before any of this,” I say, gesturing around us.
Axle nods thoughtfully. “Sounds exactly like something a fangirl would say.”
I gasp. “You are the worst.”
The sunset paints gold across his face as he teases me.
For a moment, I forget to breathe.
He’s so annoyingly handsome. I’ve spent the last week pretending I didn’t notice. But there’s no denying it.
All the Trust boys are, but Axle’s smile makes my pulse race.
His eyes meet mine, and his smile slips. Like he can read my thoughts.
Neither of us looks away.
Neither of us speaks.
And suddenly, all I can hear is my own heartbeat.
Then he clears his throat. “So …”
I blink. “So …”
He lifts his mug. “When I win the world championship—”
My eyebrows rise. “When. Not if? Awfully cocky there, aren’t you, cowboy?”
He shrugs. “Confident.”
I roll my eyes.
“When I win,” he repeats, “are you gonna wear my shirt to bed?”
I stare at him.
He stares back.
Neither of us is smiling now.
My heartbeat pounds against my ribs. It’s so loud that I know he must hear it too.
The moment stretches heavy between us.
The evening breeze stirs my damp hair.
His gaze follows a strand as it brushes my cheek.
I swallow. “Maybe.”
His eyes darken.
I pick up my mug and take another sip of chocolate to buy myself a second.
Then I smile. “We’ll just have to wait and find out.”
Something hot and possessive flashes across his face, making my stomach flip, but it’s gone in a blink.
For a second, I think he might say something else.
Do something else.
Instead, he looks toward the mountains. “It’s getting late.” He looks back to me. “I need to get some shut-eye. Cabe’s got us on ranch duty in the morning.”
Just like that, the tension eases.
“Right. He mentioned that when he brought Micah by the clinic yesterday. Lucky you.”
“Yeah, lucky me. Getting bossed around by my baby brother. Should be a fun weekend.”
“I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”
He gives me a look.
“Well, I should probably get some sleep too. I think between the hypothermia and the warm chocolate, I might actually be tired.”
“Good.”
I stand, and so does he.
The moonlight catches his eyes as I hand him my empty cup.
“Thanks for the cocoa.”
“Anytime, Doc.”
I smile. “Good night, Axle.”
“Sweet dreams, Jovie.”
I turn toward my cabin.
Halfway across the deck, I glance back.
He’s still standing there, waiting for me to slip safely inside.
Our eyes meet for a second, and then I quickly look away and close the door.
But long after I crawl into bed, I can still taste chocolate on my tongue and remember the way Axle looked at me when he asked if I’d wear his shirt.
And God help me …
I liked it.