Chapter 7
7
mr. wilde brew
I picked up an overpriced, organic apple and gave it a squeeze.
I was trying not to think about Jax, but what should’ve been a quick trip to the hippie-dippie market near my shop was becoming an all-day thing.
It had to be my brain’s fault. I was overstimulated, that was all. It had nothing to do with Jax, aka The Blade.
The fluorescent lights were blinding, and the smell of patchouli had my stomach ready to roll.
Oh, and the Indie music that blared from the overhead speakers? I was seconds away from buying a pair of eco-friendly earplugs from the pharmacy section just so I didn’t have to hear it anymore.
Fine. All of that was true, but it was also Jax.
Three days.
It had been three days since the break-in at Wilde Brew, which meant three days since my regular customer had revealed himself as a vigilante hottie—in spectacular fashion, I might add.
And ever since that night, Jax had the audacity to act like nothing had happened. He’d just lounged in his usual spot, casually brooding into his laptop.
Jax Thorne: Vigilante by night, and by day? He was just a guy who pretended not to know I existed beyond being a free Wi-Fi provider with excellent coffee.
I tossed the apple into the basket hanging from my arm with way more force than necessary.
I couldn’t stop replaying that night in my head. Not the part where he’d saved me—though, okay, that too—but the part after, when the cops had shown up, and I was forced to recount the evening’s events while leaving out some very important, very secret details.
It was a good thing I’d only been tasked with telling them a half-truth, however, because I was spectacularly bad at lying. Like, award-winningly bad.
But The Blade and Jax were the same person... and the fact that I knew that?
That was what had me nervous as they stared at me with their little notebooks open and their pens at the ready.
Cue the overthinking:
What if I slip up and accidentally say his name?
What if I admit that The Blade was there in time to stop it because he’d been sitting at the same table for hours as one of my regulars?
I didn’t know how good their interrogation tactics were—or if they’d even interrogate the victim—but if they’d hooked me up to a polygraph that night? I totally would’ve failed.
In the end, I’d obviously settled for nervous rambling.
No, The Blade didn’t use any weapons on him. Why? I don’t know. You’d have to ask him. Not like you know him. I don’t either, so it’s not like I can help with that. Also, would you like a coupon for a free latte? It’s our way of saying thanks for protecting and serving. It’s probably better than the stuff you get at the station, amiright? Sorry, yours is probably fine.
They’d looked at me like I was either hiding something or super ditzy.
Likely both.
And one of them—a detective with the bushiest eyebrows I’d ever seen—had warned me, “If you saw his face and you’re helping him stay under our radar, you’re operating outside the law, same as he is.”
It should’ve scared me. Should’ve made me rethink everything.
Instead, it had sent a little thrill zipping down my spine, like I was suddenly part of some underground world-saving mission.
Me.
Luna Wilde. Coffee shop owner. Accidental plant killer. Vigilante-adjacent.
I wandered past the rows of colorful bottles of kombucha, letting out a dramatic sigh that startled a woman inspecting gluten-free crackers.
She gave me a look.
I gave her a look back.
She blinked first.
Victory.
Anyway, I wasn’t obsessed with this whole Jax-is-The-Blade revelation. That would be ridiculous. His double life was simply a puzzle, and I liked puzzles.
But that wasn’t what had me wandering these aisles like my shopping list was written in Ancient Greek. What got me was the way he’d been acting as if nothing had changed and that I didn’t know his big, dangerous secret. As if I didn’t know that he wandered the streets of Slate Habor with a hidden stash of throwing knives and two giant swords strapped to his back.
You know what? Tomorrow.
When he showed up at Wilde Brew, I’d head straight to his table and speak my mind. With cookies to butter him up.
I knew he liked them.
He didn’t fool me one bit.
I grabbed a box of mac and cheese—because sometimes even a mac and cheese snob needed the version without too many steps—and made my way to the checkout, mentally rehearsing all the things I was going to say to Jax.
It was going to be epic. Bold. Assertive.
Assuming I didn’t chicken out, of course.
And it was that worrisome thought that had me not paying much attention as I rounded a corner, causing me to gracelessly collide with something—or some one —solid.
Cue the slow-motion disaster: almond milk tipping roughly against a bag of chips, which launched my box of mac and cheese from my basket in an Olympics-style somersault.
I scrambled, managing to catch exactly nothing but empty air between my hands.
Only… the box didn’t clatter to the ground.
Instead, in a move too fast to track, it was snatched out of the air and returned to my basket.
“You okay?” a low, familiar voice rumbled above me.
Slowly, I looked up—straight into the sharp, dark eyes of Jax Thorne.
Of course.
He would be the one to make me fumble my mac, only to rescue it with his super speed like it were a rectangular damsel in distress.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite Wi-Fi leech.” I forced an awkward laugh. It was very cringe. “Funny running into you here. Are you secretly a fan of chia seeds?”
Jax didn’t smile. His expression was tight, eyes scanning the aisle like he was expecting danger to leap out from behind the gluten-free pancake mix.
My snark deflated slightly. I squinted at him, tilting my head. “I’m not coincidently running into you here, am I?”
He looked at the box of mac and cheese in my basket, then down at himself, and then finally at me.
I knew he was insinuating that I had just run into him , but that was not what I meant, and I shot him a look that told him so.
He sighed in reply. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you.”
I blinked.
He shifted from foot to foot as if admitting that simple, strange truth physically pained him.
“But... Why? ”
This time, he met my eyes with a little too much intensity for my liking. “In case that guy who broke in wasn’t just some random robber.”
My heart flipped over, and I wasn’t sure if it was because he thought I was in danger or because he cared.
Both, if we were being real.
“Do you think he was after me? As in, not after the cash in my register, but like... me? ”
He shook his head, just once, and with force. “Doesn’t matter.”
“I kinda feel like it does...”
“Not with me around.”
So simple and yet so profound.
I bit my lip, suddenly very aware of the way my basket was making deep, red marks on my arm. “Thanks,” I murmured. “That… actually means a lot.”
He gave me a short nod, jaw still tight, like whatever was happening right now was as foreign to him as it was to me.
How had I not anticipated how weird it would be to interact with my crush post-vigilante exposure?
Well, not the indecent kind of exposure, but?—
Yikes . See?
Maybe it was a good thing he’d been avoiding me.
The silence stretched, and I shifted my basket to my other arm, realizing it was up to me to prevent this moment from getting any more awkward.
“So,” I said, breaking the tension with a grin, “does this mean I should start charging you for bodyguard services? Because my rates are pretty steep. As in, at least two mac and cheese dinners per week.”
His mouth twitched—just the barest hint of a smile, but it was there.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
And then, since my words suddenly failed me, we just stood there in the middle of the aisle like two people who had no idea how to wrap up a conversation without making it weird.
I adjusted my basket as it cut into my forearm again, but Jax looked perfectly unbothered, like he hadn’t just casually admitted to low-key stalking me for my protection.
He cleared his throat, then leaned in. “You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”
“Tell anyone what?”
His jaw tightened, that signature Jax Thorne grumpiness slipping back into place. “About me .”
“Oh.” I smiled wide, unable to help myself. “Nope.”
He gave a curt nod like that was the end of it. But then, he added, “That include Chris?”
I froze for half a heartbeat, studying him carefully. And then, slowly, deliberately, I raised an eyebrow. “Wait… is that jealousy I’m detecting?”
His head snapped back like I’d threatened to lob my organic apple at him. “No, because I’m not.”
The words were hoarse, defensive, and about as nothing-to-see-here as a cat landing on its feet after falling off a counter.
“Well, good. Because that would be silly.”
He squinted at me. “How so?”
“Because Chris is my cousin. Slash-brother. Slash-best friend.”
His eyes flicked to mine, just for a second, and I swear I saw it—a tiny flicker of relief, gone as quickly as it appeared.
But not quick enough to escape my notice.
Oh yeah , I was filing that away for later. Right next to the fact that he ate every last crumb of those unsolicited baked goods he claimed to hate.
I stepped just a little closer. I was feeling bold, and it was fun watching him squirm. “But don’t worry, Jax. If I ever do have a boyfriend, I’ll make sure it’s clear. Maybe even with matching T-shirts.”
“Not necessary,” he said quickly, then cleared his throat again like his voice had betrayed him.
“You sure? His could say, ‘Mr. Wilde Brew.’”
His eyes went sharp, and I met his gaze head-on, my heart doing that annoying flippy thing again.
How did he do that without saying a word?
“Also,” I started, my voice firmer than I felt, “while we’re on the subject of making things clear to you, I’m done pretending nothing happened the other night.”
His mouth quirked up, surprising me almost as much as the short, breathy laugh he let free. “Told you.”
“What?”
“That you weren’t one to be bossed around.”
I evaded the double-entendre this time. “I accept that. But the other night was big. So, from now on, talk to me like I didn’t hallucinate the entire thing, or find yourself a new coffee shop. Capiche?”
For a second, Jax just stood there, all stoic and stubborn, giving me nothing. And then, he put his hand over his mouth. He swiped down, but his attempt to hide his smile was an absolute fail.
I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Actually, I take it back. If you don’t let me join your crime-fighting team, then you’ll need to find a new coffee shop.”
Now, that got a bigger reaction.
His head snapped toward me, his eyes narrowed into slits. “I don’t have a team.”
I grinned. “You do now.”
His expression didn’t change, but I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes. “Why would you even want to do that?”
Now, it was my turn to rear back. What a weird question. “Why wouldn’t I?”
He angled his head, studying me with that quiet, unreadable intensity that had my stomach flipping over itself. “You own a coffee shop, Luna. You wear a different pair of colorful and sometimes bedazzled sneakers every day, and you ride Malibu Barbie’s skateboard around the neighborhood.”
I opened and closed my mouth like a fish. Was he dissing my shoe collection? And not only was my pink and teal skateboard adorable, but it was also a perfectly eco-friendly way to get around town.
“My point is,” he went on, stealing my focus again, “you don’t seem like someone who wants to spend her nights in dark alleys, taking out Slate Harbor’s trash.”
“Slate Harbor’s trash? ” I echoed, squinting up at him. “Okay, Batman, relax.”
Jax smirked. “Figured you’d appreciate the dramatic phrasing. Back to the topic—I’m not saying you can’t handle any of this. I’m questioning why you’d want to.”
I scoffed. “Well, for starters, I have a very particular skill set?—”
“Talking?” he cut in, one brow lifting. “Flirting?”
Heat crept up my neck. “First of all, rude.”
He waited a second, and then he pulled his lips to the side. “Is there a second of all?”
Oh, there was definitely a second of all. Several, actually. I just couldn’t remember a single one because my brain was now a web browser with too many tabs open.
Internet Explorer, by the way, not Safari or Firefox.
I am fully unwell.
“Yes,” I said, nodding. “And I will get back to you on that.”
His eyes dragged over me, slow and assessing, as if seeing way more than he should.
New superpower unlocked?
“Luna, of all the people I’ve helped, you’re the first person to ever chase me down and ask to join my team.”
I adjusted my basket, grasping for something light and dismissive to wave him off. “How do you know? Maybe you’re just too fast for them to catch you.”
His lips twitched. “Maybe.”
And then he just watched me, silent and unreadable, waiting. Like he already knew the answer, but he wanted me to be the one to say it.
I snapped out of it, eyes narrowing.
He thought he won this round? Absolutely not.
“Well, since I have caught you,” I teased, “just know that I’m excellent at multitasking. I can make a killer latte and help you fight crime. This is basically destiny.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, probably rethinking his mission to keep an eye on me. “I work alone.”
“But do you have to?”
The silence stretched again, but then it seemed to settle into something different—more fragile.
Humor was one thing, but this felt raw and vulnerable in a way that had me treading carefully. “All kidding aside, I just think it’s probably exhausting, you know? Keeping a secret that big, living in two worlds. Hiding, even when you’re sitting in plain sight.”
He gazed at me like I’d peeled back a layer he wasn’t ready to expose. His lips parted, then pressed into a thin line, like he was weighing the consequences of letting me in.
“It’s not about me,” he admitted, gaze dropping to the floor before flicking back to mine.
“Maybe not, and I think that’s amazing. What you’re doing is... Well, I know I’m grateful for it, and I’m sure others are, too. But I can’t imagine it’s easy to carry all that alone, and now that I know, maybe you don’t have to do that anymore.”
I wasn’t sure if he’d reply, judging by how hard his lips were pressed together.
But then a cash register beeped somewhere at the front of the store, and I decided not to push more than I already had. I could tell the door was open... and while impulsive blabbering was my toxic trait, there was no need to knock that door right off its hinges.
“I need time to think about this,” he finally replied.
“Fair enough.”
With a nod, Jax turned to walk away, and for half a second, I thought that was it. Just a weirdly intense conversation in the midst of quinoa and chia seeds.
Because of course he’d leave it like that—all abrupt and intriguing, with zero closure.
It was basically his brand.
But then he stopped.
Paused mid-stride, in fact, like something had physically tugged at him.
He didn’t turn around right away, just stood there with his back to me, spine straight in that rigid, tough-guy way of his.
And then, slowly, he glanced over his shoulder, the look on his face landing somewhere between exasperation and amusement. “While I’m thinking, I won’t have time to find a new coffee shop.”
I blinked, processing.
Then, as if he hadn’t just lit a fuse, he added with the faintest, most infuriating smirk, “Guess you’ll just have to deal with me for now.”
And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving me clutching my box of mac and cheese like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to the Earth.
To be fair, it kinda was.