Chapter 14 Jaxon
Jaxon
I’m at the café ten minutes early.
Which is already out of character. I don’t do early. I barely tolerate on time.
But here I am, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled, coffee untouched, my leg bouncing with a kind of impatience I’ve never felt in my life.
I check my phone.
No message.
I don’t need one. She’s coming. I know she is.
I take a slow breath and look toward the door, and…
There she is.
Ruby walks in like she’s trying to convince herself she belongs here, when she’s the only thing in the room that feels like it makes sense.
She’s wearing a soft sweater and fitted trousers, nothing overly dramatic or intentionally seductive, but on her? It’s lethal. The morning light catches her hair, softening the edges. She looks tired, like she didn’t sleep.
Good. I didn’t either.
She steps inside, hugging her bag to her chest, scanning the room like she’s searching for an escape route.
Her eyes land on me.
Everything in her goes still.
Everything in me does too.
She hesitates for a second, the kind of hesitation that lives between fear and want, then walks toward me.
I stand before she reaches the table.
Her eyes flick down my body, then snap away quickly, as if she didn’t just check me out at 8:45 in the morning.
“Hi,” she says, breathless in a way she probably doesn’t realize.
“Hi,” I answer, and it comes out lower, warmer, more honest than I intend.
She sits. I sit.
The space between us hums.
“Hope I didn’t make you rush,” I say.
“You did,” she replies, deadpan. “But that’s fine.”
I smile. “You came anyway.”
She picks up her menu even though she’s not reading it. “I haven’t decided if that was smart or incredibly stupid.”
“Smart,” I say instantly.
She lifts an eyebrow. “Confident this morning, aren’t we?”
“Always,” I answer. “Especially with you.”
Her fingers tighten slightly on the menu. Not much. Just enough for me to notice.
She doesn’t look at me. Not yet. Not directly.
She’s avoiding my eyes because she knows what’ll happen when she meets them.
She’ll fall right back into the gravity we started last night.
I take a sip of my coffee just to do something with my hands.
She folds the menu shut and finally looks up.
And the moment her eyes hit mine, the world narrows to just the two of us again.
It hits her too, I see it. The sudden catch in her breath. The heat that sparks in her cheeks. The way her lips part like she forgot the next sentence she meant to say.
She’s trying so hard to play steady.
So damn hard.
But she’s shaking a little.
“You look tired,” I say quietly.
“I didn’t sleep much.”
“Neither did I.”
She swallows. “Right. Because of… business?”
“No, Ruby.” I lean forward, careful, controlled. Honest.
“It was because of you.”
Her inhale is sharp, like she wasn’t ready for that level of truth this early in the day.
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
Then she whispers, “Jaxon… we can’t keep doing this.”
“We haven’t even started,” I say.
Her lips press together. “You are not making this easy.”
“I’m not trying to make it easy,” I admit. “Just real.”
She looks down at the table, her hair falling forward. When she speaks again, her voice is softer.
“This is a problem.”
“Not for me.”
“Well, it is for me.”
I nod once. “Then we’ll solve it.”
“You make it sound simple.”
“It is simple,” I say. “You just don’t trust the outcome yet.”
She finally meets my eyes again.
And even though she doesn’t say it, even though she’s fighting it, I see it.
The want. The curiosity. The attraction she’s trying so hard to bury.
I see the choice forming in her expression.
Not yes.
Not yet.
But the beginning of yes.
She exhales slowly. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“That’s fine,” I tell her. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
Her eyes widen a little.
“And what is it exactly that you’re doing?”
I lean back, calm, steady, certain.
“I’m pursuing you.”
She freezes.
I watch her heartbeat pick up in her throat.
She whispers, “You shouldn’t.”
“Maybe not,” I say. “But I am.”
And then… she blushes.
Just slightly.
Just enough that I want to reach across the table, tilt her chin up, and make her look at me until she says my name without fear.
But I don’t touch her.
Not yet.
Instead, I let the tension settle, warm and charged, like a promise between us.
The barista approaches. Ruby jumps like she’s been caught doing something inappropriate. I hold her gaze.
“We’ll get coffee,” I say gently. “We’ll talk. Nothing more.”
She nods, though I can tell she doesn’t believe me.
Smart girl.
Because we both know, with her sitting across from me like this, cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes bright and nervous, there is absolutely going to be more.