Chapter 4 Sloane
SLOANE
Ishouldn’t be setting up a cozy movie night with a man I just met.
But here I am, arranging blankets and pillows on the couch like we are old friends having a normal evening in.
Like I’m not running from my imploded life.
Like my heart is not still bruised from finding Chett balls deep in his assistant.
The memory makes me reach for the wine bottle.
I pour myself a generous glass. Very generous.
Screw it. I’m stuck in a ranger station during a blizzard with the hottest man I have ever seen in real life.
If there was ever a time to drink my feelings, it’s now.
I hear the shower turn on in the bathroom, and my traitorous brain immediately conjures images of Jax naked under the spray.
Water running over those shoulders. Those arms. That chest I was not staring at earlier.
Stop it, Sloane. You are here to find yourself, not fantasize about that man.
I take a long sip of wine and focus on setting up my laptop.
Christmas movie, cozy fire, perfectly platonic evening.
I can do this. I am a grown woman who can absolutely spend an evening with an attractive man without making it weird.
That is when I hear it.
A sound from the bathroom. Low. Rough. Almost like a ... Oh my god. Was that a moan?
My face flames hot. The walls were thin. Really thin. And if I can hear that, then .... Oh, God. Oh no. Was he ...?
I grab my wine and down half the glass in one go.
Nope. Not thinking about that. Absolutely not thinking about what Jax Reid might be doing in that shower.
Definitely not thinking about his hand wrapped around .
.. I pour more wine. This is fine. Everything is fine.
He is a man. Men do that. It’s natural. Normal.
Nothing to be weird about. Except now all I can think about is Jax in that shower, water running over his naked body, his hand . ... More wine. I need more wine.
My phone buzzes, saving me from my spiral.
RILEY: How is it going with the hot stranger?
SLOANE: It’s fine. We are watching Christmas movies.
RILEY: Together?
SLOANE: On my laptop.
RILEY: Sloane. This is your chance. Rebound. Move on from Chett. Get under someone new to get over someone old.
SLOANE: I am not rebounding with a stranger.
RILEY: A hot stranger who saves people for a living.
SLOANE: He is being nice. That is his job.
RILEY: His job is to keep you safe. Not to watch Christmas movies with you. That is called interest.
SLOANE: You are reading too much into this. Plus, he likes Christmas movies, he watches them with his grandmother every holidays.
RILEY: The man likes Christmas movies, hangs with his grandmother, and looks like a fricken God. You have hit the fantasy lottery. If you don’t fuck him, we can’t be friends.
SLOANE: Riley!
RILEY: No. I am being a friend. A good friend. Screw that man’s brains out.
SLOANE: No!
RILEY: I am ashamed to call you my best friend. Tell me he has a brother because I will happily climb a man like him.
SLOANE: He has five.
RILEY: Sloane! That’s it, I am checking out his socials to see what these five brothers look like. Fingers crossed the hot gene runs deep with the family.
I roll my eyes at her.
RILEY: Jackpot. Holy shit. They are all hot.
*Incoming screenshot of the evidence.*
My eyes widen, each of the brothers is equally as hot as Jax.
RILEY: If you don’t marry this man so I can screw his brothers what’s the point of our friendship?
I hear the shower turn off, and panic rises in me.
SLOANE: I have to go, he’s getting out of the shower.
RILEY: Why the hell were you not in there saving water or something?
SLOANE: He needed alone time.
RILEY: That’s a weird thing to say.
RILEY: Sloane Winters!
SLOANE: I heard some weird noises coming from the bathroom.
RILEY: What kind of noises?
SLOANE: Moans.
RILEY: You think he was jerking off in the shower?
SLOANE: That’s what guys do, don’t they?
RILEY: Yes. But usually something has turned them on enough to do that. They don’t just do it.
SLOANE: I should never have said anything.
RILEY: Oh yes you should have. He was jerking off over you.
SLOANE: No, he wasn’t.
RILEY: Yes, he was.
SLOANE: The man is hot. He wouldn’t think a girl like me is hot. I’m a disaster. He pities me.
RILEY: I’m saying this with love. Chett fucked you up. He made you think that you weren’t good enough for anyone so you wouldn’t leave his sorry ass. Babe. You are hot. Like if I swung that way, I’d be jerking off over you too.
SLOANE: Thanks…?
RILEY: I love you. You know what I mean. You’re hot. But Chett made you believe all these years that you couldn’t do any better than his sorry ass. You can do better.
SLOANE: Thanks. Guess I’m just realizing how much time I wasted with Chett.
RILEY: Chett was your lesson to make sure you never fall for that kind of bullshit ever again and to show you what a real man is like. Jax Reid is a real man.
RILEY: I’m going to do some more digging about him just in case.
SLOANE: Nothing is going to happen. I’m going to drink wine and watch Christmas movies during a blizzard.
RILEY: Have your Christmas movies not taught you anything?
SLOANE: Goodnight. I will message you in the morning.
RILEY: With news that you climbed that fireman’s hose.
SLOANE: GOODNIGHT!!!!!!
I can hear my bestie’s maniacal laughter from here.
I shove my phone away and take another sip of wine.
Riley is insane. Jax is not interested in me.
Maybe the moans from the bathroom were from the hot water.
I don’t know how long he had been standing outside in the cold.
I bet it was just my overactive imagination and Riley’s texts making me think there’s something more.
The bathroom door opens, and Jax emerges in sweatpants and a fitted T-shirt that should be illegal.
His hair is damp and messy, and he smells like soap and something masculine and clean.
I take another sip of wine as I try not to stare at the muscles daring to escape through the fabric of his shirt.
“Ready?” I ask, patting the couch beside me. Trying to sound normal. Trying not to think about what I had heard. Trying not to imagine ...
Wine. More wine will help.
He settles onto the couch, maintaining a careful distance. Professional distance. See? He’s just doing his job. Being polite. I hit play on the movie and take another sip. The wine is going down easily. Too easily. I don’t think the soup was enough for dinner to soak up all this wine.
Oh well.
The movie starts. Small town baker. Big city executive.
Instant chemistry. Predictable plot. Exactly what I need.
Except I can’t focus. I can’t stop being aware of Jax beside me.
The way he laughs at the jokes. The way he makes comments under his breath about the unrealistic timeline.
The way his presence seems to fill the small space.
I refill my wine glass. Then refill it again.
“Are you okay?” Jax asks, glancing at me with concern.
“I’m great. Perfect. Never better.” The words come out too fast. Too bright. Slightly slurred.
“How much have you had to drink?” he questions me.
“Not enough.” I laugh, but it sounds wrong even to my own ears. “Or maybe too much. Hard to tell.”
“Maybe you should slow down,” he says.
That remark triggers something inside me and I lash out. “Maybe you should mind your business.”
Silence falls between us. Shit. He was just trying to be nice. And here I am being a bitch.
He holds up his hand in surrender. “You’re right. Just trying to make sure you don’t hate yourself tomorrow.”
“Too late for that.” I take another sip. “I have been hating myself since I walked in on my fiancé screwing his assistant on our kitchen counter.”
The words hang in the air. Too honest. Too raw. Too much.
“Sloane ...”
“You know what the worst part is?” I continue because, apparently, wine makes me chatty.
“It’s not even the cheating. I mean, it is.
But it’s more that I wasn’t even surprised.
Deep down, I knew something was off. I just ignored it.
Ignored all the signs because I was so desperate to make it work.
To be the perfect girlfriend. Perfect fiancée.
To prove I could do it right.” I hiccup.
“You did not do anything wrong.” His voice is gentle. “He cheated. That is on him.”
“But I chose him. I ignored my gut. I made myself smaller to fit into his life. I gave up my dreams for a marketing degree because he said it was more practical to take a job I hated because it looked good on paper. I became someone I did not even recognize because I thought that was what love meant.” Tears stream down my face.
“That is not love. That is losing yourself. And that is not your fault,” he says softly.
“He cheated on me for six months. And who knows how many other times over the years that I never caught him doing. Six months while we were planning our wedding. While I was picking out flowers and cake flavors and trying on dresses. How pathetic is that?”
“It is not pathetic. It means you trusted him. That is not a flaw.”
“It feels like a flaw.” I grab the wine bottle, but Jax gently takes it from my hand.
“I think you have had enough.” Those hazel eyes look at me with pity. Of course they are, look at me, I’m pathetic.
“I think I’ve not had nearly enough.” But I do not fight him. Just slump back against the couch. “Please don’t pity me.”
“I don’t pity you, Sloane, far from it.”
I roll my eyes. He most certainly does. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Because I think you deserve it right now.”
“You don’t even know me.” I pout.
“No, but I know enough. I know that you’re stubborn. Love Christmas movies. Wine. And unhealthy amounts of cheese. That you’re determined. Independent. Your laugh lights up a room. That you smell like … fucking vanilla and …”
“You have really pretty eyes,” I hear myself say. “Like, really pretty. Has anyone ever told you that?”
He smiles, amused. “You are drunk.”
“Maybe, but the wine just makes me brave enough to say it.”
“I should get you to bed.” He stands and offers me his hand.
I take it, letting him pull me up. But the room tilts and I stumble forward, crashing into his chest. His arms come around automatically, steadying me.
And suddenly we are close. Too close. I can feel the heat of him.
Can smell his soap and that masculine scent underneath. Can see the way his eyes have darkened.
“Sloane,” he says, his voice rough. “You should ...”
But I don’t let him finish. Don’t let myself think. Listening to Riley’s words of encouragement, I kiss him.
Or try to. My aim is off, and I mostly get the corner of his mouth. That was a fail.
But then his hand comes up to cup my face. “Fuck it,” he growls as he guides me toward my intended target, his lips finding mine.
And oh.
Oh.
He tastes like mint and something darker.
His lips are firm and soft at the same time.
The kiss is gentle, questioning, like he is giving me every chance to pull away.
But I don’t pull away. I press closer, my hands fisting in his shirt, and he makes a sound low in his throat that sends heat pooling through me.
Then he pulls back, his breathing ragged.
“You’re drunk.” He pants.
“I’m aware.” I bite back, embarrassment kicking in.
“This is not ... we cannot ...” He looks pained. “I cannot take advantage of you like this.”
Shit.
My drunk stupidity could cause him trouble at work. He’s at work, Sloane. “You didn’t take advantage. I did,” I tell him, hating that I make him feel like he’s in the wrong here.
“You’re going to hate me tomorrow,” he says softly.
“I’m going to hate myself tomorrow regardless.”
He looks at me for a moment and shakes his head. “Come on. Bed. Now.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, giving him a salute which makes him laugh.
Next thing I know he scoops me up. Scoops me up like I weigh nothing, and cradles me against his chest. “Don’t want you stumbling again,” he says.
True. With the amount of wine I’ve consumed tonight, I probably would. “I could get used to this,” I mumble against his shoulder, feeling safe and secure in his strong arms. He carries me to the bedroom and sets me gently on the bed. I immediately miss his warmth.
“Do not move,” he says firmly as he grabs me a glass of water from the kitchen and brings it back. “Drink this.”
I obediently drink, and he watches to make sure I finish it.
“Sleep it off. You will feel better in the morning,” he tells me.
He turns to leave, and panic flares in my chest. “Wait,” I call. Jax stops his steps and looks at me. “Stay.” The word comes out small. Vulnerable. “Please?”
“Sloane ...”
“Not like that. I just ... I don’t want to be alone. And the couch is terrible. You will kill your back. The bed is big enough for two. We can build a pillow wall or something. Please?” I beg again.
Jax stands there, clearly warring with himself. This is a bad idea. All my ideas are bad ideas. That is kind of my thing.
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. A pillow wall. And you stay on your side.”
“Deal.” I smile as I curl up on my side of the bed.
He grabs pillows and builds a surprisingly impressive barrier down the middle of the bed. Then he lies down on his side, fully clothed, on top of the covers.
“You are being ridiculous. Get under the blanket at least,” I tell him.
“This is fine,” he grumbles.
“Jax.”
“Sloane.”
He finally climbs under the covers, and I feel the bed shift with his weight.
“Goodnight,” he says firmly. “Sleep well.”
“Goodnight, Jax.” I close my eyes, the room spinning slightly. The wine is hitting hard now. Everything feels fuzzy, warm, and safe.
“Jax?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For not taking advantage. For being kind. For being ... you.”
He grunts. “Get some sleep, Sloane.”
I drift off with a smile on my face and hopefully no memory of what happened tonight.