Chapter Seventeen
Axle
The evening settles over Wildhaven Storm Ranch like a favorite old blanket.
The sun has dropped behind the mountains, and the air is cooling fast, carrying the scent of sagebrush, horses, and smoke from the bonfire crackling in the center of the yard.
This right here is my favorite kind of night.
Family.
Fire.
Good liquor.
And nowhere else I need to be.
I lean back in my chair and take another sip from the mason jar in my hand.
Dad outdid himself on this batch.
It goes down smooth enough to make a man forget how dangerous it is.
Around the fire, everybody is spread out in mismatched camp chairs.
Royce sits across from me, boots stretched toward the flames.
Micah is perched on a cooler.
Shelby is tucked against Waylon’s side while he has an arm around her shoulders.
Harleigh is curled up in Porter’s lap.
Matty sits between Caison’s knees while he absentmindedly plays with her hair.
And then there’s Jovie. She’s sitting beside Cabe, holding a mason jar that contains exactly one sip of apple pie moonshine.
Dad makes that less potent variety for my mother.
It’s the same sip she’s been swirling around for almost thirty minutes.
The woman is used to drinking those girlie wine cocktails she likes so much. I have half a mind to go open a bottle from my cousins’ stash and find some soda to put her out of her misery.
Cabe stands and announces to the crowd that he’s gotta take a leak.
“Bring me back a beer,” Micah calls after him as he walks toward the house.
“Are you actually drinking that, Doc? Or just keeping it company?”
Jovie looks up, and the firelight dances across her face as her eyes meet mine. “What?”
I nod toward her glass.
“I’m drinking it. I’m just pacing myself.”
“You had two shots’ worth, and you’re still nursing it.”
“It’s a little … strong for me.”
I grin. “You think that syrupy liquor is strong?”
She looks down at the amber liquid with a cinnamon stick floating in it. “It tastes like apple-flavored gasoline.”
“It’s supposed to.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Then I don’t understand the appeal.”
I hold up my jar. “The appeal is what happens once the gasoline soaks in.”
Micah barks out a laugh. “That’s probably the worst sales pitch I’ve ever heard.”
Jovie cuts her eyes to him. “Thank you.”
I chuckle. “You don’t have to choke it down,” I say. “You want me to ask Charli to open a bottle of wine? I’m sure we have some soda water around here you can flavor it with.”
Her lips curl into a subtle smile. “At least I don’t drink things that could strip paint.”
Micah raises his hand. “I’m with Axle on this one. Those wine sprinkle things you drink are weak.”
Jovie gasps. “It’s a spritz and … whatever. We can’t all be professional lushes.”
Cabe chuckles as he settles back beside her, passing Micah a can and tossing his arm over her shoulders. “Leave Jojo alone.” The nickname slips from his mouth naturally.
Jovie bumps her shoulder against his.
The movement is innocent. Completely innocent. Yet something unpleasant twists inside my chest.
I take a drink and try to ignore it.
Then Cabe reaches over and takes the jar from her hand and swallows the last of the moonshine.
“There,” he says and lays a kiss on the bridge of her nose.
Jovie smiles at him. “Thank you.”
And the tightness in my chest somehow gets worse.
Which is fucking ridiculous. We’ve only spent a handful of nights together. We’re not even really friends.
They are.
Micah stands. “Who’s getting their ass kicked in horseshoes?”
“I’m in,” I tell him as I stand, welcoming the distraction.
A few minutes later, we’re gathered near the horseshoe pits.
Royce and Micah take one side.
Cabe and I take the other.
The others stay near the fire, watching and heckling.
Especially Charli.
She treats every family competition like a professional sporting event.
I toss first.
The horseshoe lands close enough to earn an approving whistle from Charli.
Micah follows.
Ringer.
Show-off.
Trash talk follows naturally. As it always does.
Royce misses badly, and everyone lets him hear about it.
Cabe isn’t much better.
For a while, we’re focused on the game.
Then my attention drifts back toward the fire. Toward Doc. She and Shelby are laughing about something, and she has a hand wrapped around a coffee mug Grandma Evelyn brought out.
That’s not going to help her sleep tonight.
And all of a sudden, I wish we were back at our cabins—just the two of us, sitting on the deck, keeping each other company as the hours pass, protected by the blanket of darkness.
“Ax!”
My attention snaps back to Royce.
“Your turn, man. Make it count.”
The horseshoe leaves my hand crooked and bounces uselessly.
“Damn it,” I mutter.
Cabe glances over. “You all right?”
“Fine.”
“You seem distracted.”
I grab another horseshoe. “I’m just tired.”
“And that gasoline is finally soaking in,” Micah bellows.
He tosses another horseshoe, and it wraps around the stake.
Dammit.
The fire pops loudly in the distance.
Cabe’s eyes dance. “We’re about to beat your asses,” he says.
“Come on, Ax. We can’t let these assholes show us up,” Royce whines.
“Hey, Ax.”
I turn to see Cabe and Jovie approaching.
“You mind walking Jovie back to the cabins? I gotta help Dad hose down the fire.”
I blink. “Yeah,” I say casually. “Sure.”
Cabe grins. “Thank you.”
The guilt hits me instantly at his gratitude because I’ve spent the entire evening wanting to do exactly that.
Cabe wraps his arms around her before wishing her good night.
I have to look away.
Not because I’m jealous.
But because watching them together reminds me what a good man my brother is.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
He kisses the top of her head, and then she turns toward me.
“Ready?”
“After you.”
We start walking.
The bonfire and family noise fade behind us.
The academy sits quiet beneath a blanket of stars, and neither of us says much as we make our way onto the gravel path that leads down toward the clinic.
Unlike the chaos of earlier, it’s peaceful now. Crickets chirp from the grass, and a breeze rustles through the trees. The moon hangs low over the mountains.
Jovie tips her head back to look at the sky. “It’s beautiful out here.”
My eyes stay on her. “Yeah.”
We keep walking. Slowly. Neither of us in a hurry.
When we round the corner from the clinic, our cabins sit dark and quiet, as does the rest of the academy grounds.
The students were picked up on Friday evening, and the new group doesn’t arrive until midmorning tomorrow. Most of the staff traveled home for the weekend, and those who remain are already asleep.
Jovie stops near the steps leading to hers. “Thanks for walking me.”
“Anytime.”
Neither of us makes a move to leave.
“You tired?”
She thinks about it. “Yeah.” Then she shrugs. “Tired but not sleepy.”
I nod. “I know that feeling.”
Silence settles between us.
Comfortable.
Easy.
Then I open my damn mouth. “Anything I can do to help?” The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them.
What the hell kind of question is that?
Jovie’s eyes widen slightly, and she bites her bottom lip.
Fuck me.
I shove my hands into my pockets to keep myself from reaching up to tug that lip free.
“There is something,” she finally says.
“What’s that?”
Her mouth curls into a sheepish smile. “Queso and crime.”
I blink. “What?”
She laughs. “Queso and crime.”
“I’m not following, Doc.”
“It’s what me and my girlfriends do back at school—eat queso and watch true crime documentaries. Our favorite is serial killers.”
I stare at her.
She’s serious.
“You’re inviting me to eat cheese dip and watch creepy TV shows?”
“Yep.”
I bark out a laugh. “You’re fucking kidding, right?”
“Not in the least.”
I shake my head.
She folds her hands under her chin. “Pleeease.”
My eyes fall to her mouth.
Every instinct I possess says this is a terrible idea.
The last thing my ass needs is to be alone with her, in her cabin. Out on the deck is one thing, but this feels like crossing a dangerous line.
But her big blue eyes look so hopeful.
“Fine.”
Her face breaks into a victorious grin. “Great! You go get comfortable. And I’ll go heat up the queso.”
“Comfortable?”
“Yeah. Get into your sleep clothes.”
“I sleep naked, Doc.”
Her mouth falls open. “I thought you slept in sweatpants?”
I shake my head.
Her cheeks instantly bloom the prettiest shade of pink.
“Um, well, naked is probably too comfortable,” she mutters.
“Probably.”
She turns and climbs the steps quickly, and I watch as she bends and retrieves her key from under the doormat. The slit in the fabric of her dress riding up high on her thigh.
The woman should come with warning labels.
She stands, reaches for her door, and glances back. “Meet me in fifteen minutes?”
“Fifteen minutes.”
I watch her walk inside before climbing my steps.
The moment my door closes behind me, I lean against it.
What the hell am I doing?
I strip off my jeans and boots, pull on a pair of sweatpants and a faded T-shirt.
The entire time, I keep berating myself.
Cheese dip.
A fucking documentary.
Royce would laugh himself unconscious if he knew what I was doing.
Next thing I know, we’ll be drinking wine spritzers and painting each other’s nails.
God help me.
I drag a hand through my hair, and then I catch my reflection in the mirror. And I realize I’m smiling like a damn idiot.
For a split second, I consider forcing myself to go to bed.
But I know she’s over there in that oversize Pbr championship T-shirt that drives me absolutely crazy.
And knowing that is all it takes.
I grab a beer from the fridge and head for the door.
Lecturing myself the entire way.