Chapter 35
Chapter thirty-five
Jaxon
“Date mode activated.” I jerkily move my arms in an impersonation of a robot as I take in the curves of Izzy’s body. She looks absolutely, fucking delicious.
I’m early to pick her up for our second official fake date. I have to keep reminding myself about the fake part.
We’re grabbing dinner with her sisters, their significant others, and Lila and JT.
“Do your fans know how big of a nerd you actually are?” she asks, hands sitting on the dip of her hips—the spot where mine long to be.
I shake my head. “Turns out, nerd with bad dad jokes doesn’t exactly fit my carefully curated image.”
She rolls her eyes. “Boo. I have never disliked your fans more. And there was a time when I was not a fan of your fans.”
“Don’t hate on the Steelies,” I say, standing. “They’re the most loyal in the business.”
She hums, unconvinced, but her lips twitch like she wants to smile. “The Steelies is a terrible name for your fan club.”
“I tried to get them to go by the Jax Pack, but it just won’t catch on.”
We make it to Cattlemens just a few minutes before the time we all planned to meet. The place smells like stale beer and steak, and the hostess waves us through before we give her our name.
The rest of the group is already gathered around a big corner booth. JT is flanked by Jameson and Lila, and Kelsey and Carter are snuggled into the opposite side. Bryn waves us over.
“Look who finally showed up,” Bryn says, raising an eyebrow at Izzy.
“We’re exactly on time,” she retorts. “How did you all get here so early? Kelsey is never on time. Mom used to threaten to leave her home at least once a week.”
Kelsey snorts. “Worked great. I still got to go, and I never had to be anywhere early.”
“Are any of us really on-time-is-late and early-is-on-time people?” Bryn asks with a grin. “We just happened to all be out at Wild Bluffs Country Club golfing before this, and Carter made us leave way too early to get here.”
“I have no regrets,” Carter says, taking a sip of his beer.
JT claps. “Can we talk about the fact that the last time we were all here, Izzy and Jaxon were barely speaking to one another. Now look at them.”
“That’s not awkward at all,” Jameson says dryly.
JT’s grin is so large it has to hurt his face. “I just wanted to get it out there in the open.”
“Oh yeah?” Izzy asks. “Like how open you were when you and Lila were sleeping together in her brother’s house without telling him?”
JT shakes his head. “I’ve learned from my mistakes and am trying to pay it forward.”
Izzy laughs, and I follow her lead as she slides into the booth next to Lila. I take the open seat beside her, letting my hand settle on top of hers. She gives me a look—like she’s not sure if it’s for the act or something else.
Truthfully, neither am I.
Kelsey launches into a story about their new client—someone with enough fame that even I recognize the name, which means they’re probably a big deal.
“They found us through a referral,” she says, practically vibrating with excitement. “Said he liked how we managed the Loren Kline campaign and thought our vibe fit his.”
“You’re being modest,” Carter cuts in. “They said Kelsey and Lila’s proposed security plan was the most comprehensive they’ve seen all year.”
Izzy’s smile is wide as she says, “Look at you. That’s amazing.”
The waiter comes by, and we start rattling off our orders. I graze the outside of Izzy’s thigh as I lean in to tell the server I’ll take the porterhouse, medium rare.
Her eyes flick to mine for half a second, the corner of her mouth twitching like she’s trying not to smile. I leave my hand resting there.
The conversation shifts to JT and Jameson’s upcoming tournament, which, judging by JT’s expression, is not exactly a cause for celebration.
“We’re on a four a.m. flight,” he groans, rubbing a hand over his face like just saying it out loud physically hurts him.
“As fun as it is being at dinner with you all tonight, flying out today would’ve been better.
At least then I’d be in a hotel bed by now, not prepping for sleep-deprived, first-day-of-the-tournament hell.
My dad would be so disappointed if he knew. ”
Jameson rolls his eyes. “I wanted to spend one last night with my fiancée before wedding chaos fully sets in. We’re just over two weeks out, and things are officially...spiraling.”
“You’ve got three planners, six spreadsheets, and two overly organized bridesmaids. What’s spiraling?” JT deadpans.
I catch a glimpse of something that crosses Izzy’s face, but I’m not sure what it is.
I would’ve said it was hurt, but I can’t imagine why.
Is she insulted she’s not being called overly organized?
She’s always been the easiest of the three Harper sisters to get along with, and clearly that has carried over into adulthood.
I’d definitely consider it a compliment.
Jameson levels JT with a look. “The emotions, man. The emotions are spiraling.”
“Can’t you just FaceTime him, Bryn?” JT says. “That was my plan for the things I wanted to do with Lila.”
Jameson’s jaw tightens. “Can you not? She’s still my little sister.”
“And yet, shockingly still allowed to have phone sex,” Lila cuts in with a smirk, lifting her wine. “Though probably not this weekend. Our parents are flying out, and we’re spending the weekend in Denver getting their clothes for the wedding.”
JT dramatically places a hand over his heart. “I’m devastated. I hate missing Walker family events.”
According to Izzy, Jameson and JT have been friends for so long that JT was practically part of the family before he ever started dating Lila—something that made the summer they got together a landmine of awkward dynamics.
Izzy laughs beside me, a soft sound that vibrates through my ribs like I’ve swallowed one of those buzzers at a restaurant. It settles deep, in a place that feels like home. Like maybe it has always belonged there.
Shifting slightly in her seat, Izzy’s thigh presses against mine. Could be accidental. Could be the wine. Could be wishful thinking on my part. But then I catch her sneaking a glance at me over her glass—cheeks pink, eyes bright and dancing—and I know I’m not imagining it.
She looks alive. Gorgeous.
Not runway-model, retouched beautiful. Not the curated, filtered pretty that trends on social media. No, she’s real. Radiant in the kind of way that makes you want to write songs about her.
And I have.
More than one.
I glance around the table—at Lila rolling her eyes, at Jameson whispering in Bryn’s ear, at Kelsey and Carter in conversation about some text Carter just got from one of their security team, and I wonder what my dad would think if he saw me now.
Sitting here. Laughing. Glancing sideways at a woman who makes me want things I’ve never considered before.
Sometimes I think that, if I’d just stayed home, worked the farm, kept my head down, I would have friends like these.
I’d have people who cared about me, not because I’m paying them a paycheck.
And would my dad be proud?
Or would he use this as another example of how I’ve failed? Proof that my life should’ve never been traded for my mom’s, even if I never had a say in the matter.
Maybe he’d say that if I’d stayed, Izzy would already be mine.
But I didn’t. And she’s not.
I’ve only been back from Nashville for a little over a day, so I haven’t had time to clean out my dad’s room.
That’s my excuse anyway. The truth is—I’m not ready.
Not ready to see what he left behind. Not ready to find out what pieces of him still linger in the dusty corners and creaky dresser drawers.
Hopefully just some old clothes. Maybe a bed.
Ideally, nothing that still carries the weight of his voice. His resentment. His anger that after all he gave up for me, I couldn’t just stay around and at least take over the family farm.
But being here again—in Wild Bluffs, next to Izzy, surrounded by the people she calls family—it’s stirring something old. Something raw. Something I thought I buried with the first album I ever recorded in Tennessee.
My chest aches at the thought that maybe home isn’t a place. It’s a person. Or maybe, for those who are really lucky, it’s a table full of idiots who won’t stop bickering about flower arrangements and private jet snacks.
Izzy’s knee bumps mine.
I turn to say something—anything—but she beats me to it.
“You okay?” she asks softly, her words just for me.
I nod. A lie.
Tonight is fun and enjoyable…and real.
And being here is making me realize just how unreal my life in Tennessee can be sometimes. And how much I don’t want to hear that I’m needed back—even though Andre already asked me if I could leave before the sale.
The rest of the meal is a blur of perfectly grilled steak, shared baskets of fries, and far too many jokes at JT’s expense—specifically about his reading habits.
“I’m telling you,” he says, completely unbothered as he dips a fry in aioli. “You haven’t lived until you’ve read about a tentacled alien who time travels when he comes.”
Izzy chokes on her wine. I pat her back, maybe lingering a beat too long…to convince her sisters, obviously.
“Why are you like this?” Jameson groans.
JT just shrugs. “I like a good story.”
“I’m never going to recover from today,” I mutter, eyes wide. “I learned there are entire romance subgenres devoted to monsters. Actual monsters.”
“Monsters with extensive anatomy,” Kelsey deadpans, raising her brows. “Some of which is…forked?”
“Double-barreled,” Izzy corrects, a little too helpfully. Her face turns scarlet the second the words are out, and so, for the sake of our fake relationship, I lean over and kiss her soft cheek.
“Seriously?” Bryn says, looking scandalized. “A shark shifter? Going down on you? How is that sexy? He’s got hundreds of sharp teeth. No one’s having a good time when there’s the constant threat of bloodshed.”
“Some people are into that,” Lila offers, smirking over the rim of her glass.
Jameson makes a strangled sound. “Lila, please. I'm begging you. Tell me you are still referring to the books and not telling us about your kinks.”
“No comment. Plus, it’s not my fault JT turned this dinner into a deep dive on monster anatomy.”
“I’m just saying,” JT offers, “if the monster knows how to communicate and makes her feel safe, he deserves a shot. That’s real romance.”
Izzy leans toward me, voice low and conspiratorial. “The best part is, he’s not even joking.”
“I got that,” I say, biting back a laugh. “Though I’m now terrified to ask what’s on his e-reader.”
“Only the good stuff,” JT calls out, like he knows we’re talking about him. “Don’t knock it ’til you’ve read Courting the Kraken King.”
“I hate how catchy that title is,” Bryn says. “I feel like I need to expand my reading now.”
The conversation rolls on, unfiltered and full of life, laughter crackling between us like it’s been building up for years.
As we all begin gathering our things, Izzy touches my hand. It’s a small gesture, one no one else at the table seems to notice. Her fingers slide between mine for just a second.
I look at her.
And she gazes at me with a soft smile, and it feels like maybe, just maybe, we’re not pretending anymore.
I know I’m supposed to keep my distance. We agreed this was all fake. Temporary. But I also know it’s not that anymore. At least not just that.
The way she leans into me when she laughs. The way she searches my face when she thinks no one’s looking. The way her hand fits perfectly in mine.
As we walk out to the parking lot, I hold her close, my hand at her lower back again. I tell myself it’s for show. But I know better.