Chapter Two
H arper sighed, brushing a strand of hair from her face as she stood next to her car, its hood propped open in a futile gesture of hope.
The late afternoon sun beat down on her and she could feel a thin sheen of sweat forming at her temples.
Her blouse clung to her skin, uncomfortable and damp, but it was the least of her concerns.
She stared at the engine as if willing it to miraculously fix itself, though she knew next to nothing about cars.
The car had sputtered to a stop a few blocks from her bookstore, a situation she had no idea how to resolve.
She should have called a tow truck, but that would’ve meant relying on someone else, and right now, she couldn’t afford to ask for help.
The bookstore had closed an hour ago, and all Harper wanted was to get home to Mia.
To get back to her little bubble of safety and routine.
The only bright part of her day had been hearing Mia’s giggles earlier, the way her daughter’s bright energy filled the house.
But that moment felt far away now, just out of reach as she stood alone by the roadside.
The engine of her car was completely dead, and she was about to start walking home when the low, familiar rumble of a motorcycle made her stop in her tracks.
The sound grew louder as the bike approached, the roar of the engine vibrating through her chest.
Harper’s heart skipped a beat, a flutter of something too familiar stirring deep inside her.
She’d been doing her best to push all thoughts of Jaxon out of her mind, but the universe clearly had other plans.
She turned toward the sound, her breath catching when she saw him.
Jaxon.
He was riding his usual bike, a black, custom Harley, sleek and imposing.
As if everything about him had been designed to stand out.
He slowed as he neared, his gaze locked on hers, his expression unreadable.
For a fleeting second, Harper considered ducking behind her car, pretending she hadn’t seen him, that this wasn’t happening.
But it was too late.
He was already here.
With a soft whirr, the engine cut out, and Jaxon dismounted in a fluid motion, his movements smooth and practiced.
He didn’t look at the car, his focus was entirely on her.
And that gaze—those sharp, dark green eyes that seemed to see right through her—suddenly felt too heavy to bear.
His presence, as always, was overwhelming.
Like a storm she didn’t want to face but couldn’t avoid.
“Harper,” Jaxon’s voice was low, familiar, like the rumble of his bike.
“Need a hand?”
She swallowed hard, her mind racing.
What was he doing here?
Did he know she’d been avoiding him?
Had he figured it out somehow?
There was a part of her, the part that still remembered the heat between them, that wanted to step forward, let him hold her, take the burden away.
God, they’d been so good together, in and out of bed.
She remembered how solid he felt, the demanding press of his mouth on hers.
The possessive way he held her, the way he looked at her, like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.
But another part of her—the part that had learned to protect herself—wanted to shut it all down before it even started.
“Jaxon,” she replied, her voice a little too sharp, though she couldn’t help it.
He had a way of making her feel exposed, like he could strip her of all the layers she’d carefully wrapped around herself.
She ran a hand through her hair, glancing at the car and then back at him, feeling the weight of the silence stretching between them.
“Car’s dead,” she added, the words coming out too casually, but she had no idea how else to fill the space.
Jaxon’s brow furrowed as he glanced at her car, then back to her.
“Mind if I take a look?”
She hesitated.
She had never wanted to need help, especially not from Jaxon.
Not after everything.
But something in his expression—the softness beneath his usual ruggedness—made her heart twist.
She knew he wasn’t offering out of obligation.
He had always been like that, protective in a way that made her feel both safe and uncomfortable.
But letting him help?
Letting him back into her life?
“It’s fine,” she said, her words tight, and she forced a smile she didn’t feel.
“I was just about to walk home.”
Jaxon raised an eyebrow, his stance widening as he looked at her with that unwavering intensity.
“In those shoes?” he asked, his voice dry but amused.
Harper glanced down at her sandals, suddenly acutely aware of how impractical they were for a walk.
“I can manage,” she said, her voice more clipped than she intended.
She tried to walk past him, but the movement felt stiff, like her body was betraying her.
“Harper,” Jaxon’s voice was firm now.
He dismounted then stepped in front of her, blocking her path.
He searched her face like he was trying to decipher a puzzle.
Harper was being ridiculous and she knew it.
“Let me take a look,” he repeated.
After taking a deep breath, she relented.
“Sure, if you want. I’m not sure what’s wrong.”
Jaxon moved to the front of the car and peered under the hood, his hands deftly checking connections and wires.
Harper couldn’t help but watch him, the way he moved with purpose, his focus entirely on the task at hand.
“Looks like a dead battery,” he said after a few minutes, wiping his hands on his jeans.
“I’ve got jumper cables at the clubhouse, but it’s a bit of a ride. I can give you a lift, or I can call someone to help.”
Harper’s first instinct was to refuse.
The idea of being so close to Jaxon again, of sharing that space, was overwhelming.
But the alternative—walking home—was honestly less appealing.
And besides, Mia and the babysitter she hired were waiting for her.
Harper also knew deep down that she had to face this sooner or later.
“A lift would be great,” she said, forcing a smile.
Jaxon nodded, a small, almost relieved smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
He grabbed a spare helmet from the back of his bike and handed it to her.
Harper slipped it on, feeling an odd mix of anticipation and dread.
She climbed on behind him, her hands hesitating before she placed them on his waist.
The moment they made contact, a spark of familiarity jolted through her.
His solid back felt so warm.
It had been years since she’d been this close to him, yet it felt as if no time had passed.
The bike roared to life beneath them, and Harper tightened her grip as they pulled onto the road.
The wind rushed past her, whipping her hair out from under the helmet.
She focused on the rhythm of the ride, the steady pulse of the engine, and the warmth of Jaxon in front of her.
The tension between them crackled in the air, unspoken but undeniable.
****
W hen they arrived at the clubhouse, Jaxon parked the bike and helped her off.
She removed the helmet, smoothing her hair back into place.
The silence stretched between them, filled with all the things neither of them was ready to say.
“I’ll grab the cables,” Jaxon said, breaking the tension.
Harper watched Jaxon disappear inside the clubhouse, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.
This was the closest they’d been in years, and it was stirring up feelings she had spent so much time trying to suppress.
Every glance, every word exchanged brought back memories she wasn’t sure she was ready to face.
She had always intended to tell Jaxon about Mia, but each time the opportunity arose, fear held her back.
What if he reacted badly?
What if he wanted nothing to do with them?
The weight of that secret had grown heavier with each passing day, pressing on her like a physical burden.
Jaxon returned with the cables and a small tool kit, his expression unreadable.
The ride back to her car was cloaked in a heavy silence, one that felt louder and more telling than any conversation could have been.
It was as if they were both teetering on the edge of something momentous, too afraid to take the plunge but unable to turn back.
He worked quickly, efficiently attaching the cables to her battery and starting his bike to charge it.
Harper watched him, her heart pounding in her chest.
The sound of her car roaring back to life filled the air, bringing an almost overwhelming rush of relief.
“Thank you,” Harper said.
“Anytime,” Jaxon replied.
For a moment, it felt like the years between them had vanished, leaving them as they once were—Jaxon and Harper, two people drawn together by an undeniable connection.
Harper’s gaze dropped to the ground, her mind racing.
She knew she needed to tell him about Mia.
He deserved to know.
But the words felt heavy on her tongue, weighed down by years of uncertainty and fear.
What if he was angry?
What if he felt betrayed?
The thought of losing whatever fragile connection they had managed to rekindle terrified her more than anything.
“Jaxon...” she began, unsure how to continue.
He stepped closer, his hand brushing gently against hers in a touch that was both comforting and electrifying.
“Yeah?” Jaxon asked, voice a little rough.
Harper’s heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself enough to speak the truth that had been locked away for so long.
“There’s something I need to tell you. About why I left.”
Jaxon knitted his brows together, concern flashing across his face.
He nodded, his gaze softening as he tried to reassure her.
“You can tell me anything, Harper. You know that.”
The sincerity in his voice only made the lump in her throat grow larger.
She opened her mouth to speak, the truth teetering on the edge of her lips.
But then the familiar wave of fear crashed over her, drowning her resolve.
What if this ruined everything?
“Not here,” she managed to say, her voice barely steady.
“Can we talk somewhere else? Another day?”
Jaxon’s eyes searched hers, as if trying to understand the turmoil she was going through.
He nodded slowly, his expression gentle.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
Harper exhaled, a mixture of relief and anxiety tightening her chest.
“Thank you.” It was all she could manage.
They stood there for a moment longer, the hum of the now-functioning car engine filling the space between them.
Harper’s mind raced with thoughts of how to approach the conversation, of how to explain the choices she had made and the reasons behind them.
But for now, she was grateful for the reprieve, however brief it might be.
As Jaxon stepped back to give her space, Harper’s heart ached with the knowledge that this moment, this fragile peace, was only the beginning of what could either mend or break them.