7. Jax
jax
I slam my truck door shut and work my way around the front of it, eyeing the dilapidated place in front of me.
This place was a shit show. It’s been like this for years.
The old woman who lived in it was in it for as long as I could remember before she finally passed away, leaving it to her son who lived out of state and didn’t really care what condition it was left in.
Graham called CT this morning, seeing if any of the hands on the ranch wanted some extra work, and I jumped at the chance to not have to fix more fences.
Now, I regret choosing this instead.
Graham makes his way out the front door, carrying what looks like an old carpet out to the dumpster on the side. “Hey! Taking me up on my offer?” he says as soon as he sees me.
I shrug, caught before I can get back in my truck, and slip on a pair of leather gloves. “Anything to get out of shoveling shit.”
He grimaces, hoisting the carpet onto the dumpster, and I rush to help him lift it over. “I’m afraid this isn’t much better.”
I follow him as he makes his way back inside the house, grimacing at the condition it’s in. From where he ripped up the carpet, there is hard flooring underneath, but it is impossible to see what kind of shape it’s in.
“This is quite the job,” I say, resting my hands on my hips and looking around.
Graham grins as if he’s happy about it. Given that this is part of his job, I guess that’s a good thing. “It is. We’re going to take out this wall here”—he gestures to the wall that separates the main living area from the kitchen—“so that it’s a little more open with more visibility.”
I nod along, listening to him explain all the work that he is doing. As he does, a few more guys show up to help. Some I know, some I don’t.
We get to work demolishing what we need to, to get fixing what’s broken. We tear out all the kitchen cabinets and find a hint of hardwood floor underneath, making Graham excited.
“If we can salvage the hardwood floors that would be awesome.”
“Is this house for you or something? I thought you guys had a little homestead.”
“No, it’s not for me.” Graham looks at me then, wiping the sweat off of his brow. “We love our place. This is for…” He pauses, looking around the room. “Uh, just a client.”
I shrug, nodding my head. “Brave client.”
“Definitely. But we need to keep moving on this. She was hoping it’d be done in a month.”
“A month? For all that work?” I ask, my tone rising as I look around. I mean, the bones of the house are good, but damn, it is going to take replacing almost everything to make it livable.
“It can be done.” Graham nods at me. “Your help will make it faster.”
“I can help out a few days a week,” I say, reaching out to pull an already falling piece of wallpaper down.
“I need to keep up my work on the ranch too. Stetson wants some help with some two- year-olds.” My little brother is the one who starts training on the baby horses.
Then, when they are ready, they move on to Logan, and depending on what they are going to be used for, CT will take over. They have a good thing going here.
“Whatever I can get, man. I’ll pay. I’ll be here almost nonstop until it’s done, so just drop by whenever.”
“Yeah, man, sounds good.” I slap him on the shoulder and make my way out of the house. As I do, I see a white SUV pull up along the road, right in front of the house, and pause, wondering which guy had that nice of a car.
When a blonde head that haunts my dreams rises above the car door, I stop and hold in a sigh.
I haven’t seen Felicity in nearly a week, and for the most part, I was doing a good job at avoiding any kind of place she may be. So what the fuck is she doing here?
She sees me, and her eyes get wider. She ducks back down behind the car, and I let out a deep sigh, wondering when it is going to feel natural to see her around again.
Don’t get used to it , my brain says. She doesn’t belong here.
Unfortunately, I can’t exactly hide from her, considering my truck is parked right in front of her car. And hell, who are we kidding? I don’t want to hide from her, pretend I didn’t see her, and walk away.
I move between our two cars, intentionally set on talking to her, and I actually have to bite back a grin at the sight of her hiding behind her car door.
“Stalking doesn’t suit you,” I say as nonchalantly as possible, leaning against the hood of her car. If I know her at all anymore, I know she’ll?—
“Stalking?” Standing abruptly from behind her door, she stomps around it. Her long hair blows in the light wind that’s coming down the mountain. “I am not stalking. If anyone is stalking, it’s you.”
“I was here first, so…” I shrug, holding back the smile that wants to cross my face. Dammit. I don’t want to flirt with her, but it’s so fucking easy. I move my gaze off of her face and down to my dusty boots and jeans.
“Well, that’s nice for you.” She comes to stand in front of me, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s got a light jacket over an old T-shirt. I swallow hard when I realize it is my old high school football one.
Felicity follows my gaze, and for a moment, she freezes. Her chest stops moving up and down, and her mouth stops. Her eyes lift back to mine, and I just give her a small, sad smile.
“I—” Her pause fills the air between us. I’m glad she doesn’t know what to say because I’m fucking clueless how to act or be around her anymore.
It hurts that that’s the truth.
“I’m here to help Graham on this house.” I break the tension, nodding back to the house behind me.
“Oh.” Her voice is soft, and she turns her head from me, but if I didn’t know any better, I would have almost sworn there were tears in her eyes. Her hand comes up to touch her lips, and she nods, stepping away from me.
“Well, that’s nice.” She steps further away and back toward the back door of her car.
I lift a brow at the dismissal and scoff. “That’s it? No explanation for what you’re doing here?”
Felicity looks to me, like she knows I’m asking about more than just her being at this house. Was I? I don’t know. I’d love to know why, after so many years, she finally came back home, why she was here instead of out on the road, touring the world. She was successful, famous, rich, and talented.
Why the fuck would she come back here?
“I’m just here to give Graham and his crew something.” Her hands come out of the car, and in it is a pink bakery box I recognize as Belle’s Bakery goodies.
“Well, I’m part of the crew. You got something in that box for me?” I don’t know why I ask. I don’t know why I’m pushing for us to continue talking. But I was still leaning against her car, still staring at the woman who got away, and still fucking pining after all these years.
It was hard to let her go.
She walks toward me, her hands opening the box and picking out something before holding it up for me to see.
A bear claw.
Something I loved when I was in high school.
I look at her with a curious expression, and a light shade of pink covers her cheeks, making her look much younger than thirty.
“Anytime I see a bear claw, I have to grab one.” A little shrug to her shoulders. “Old habit, I guess.”
Gently, I take the treat from her hand and take a big bite out of it, groaning when the flavor hits my tongue. Her eyes widen slightly, and that blush deepens as she looks away toward the house.
I wait until her gaze hits mine again, and when it does, I wink and say, “Delicious.”
Felicity closes the lid to the box, clearing her throat, though I see a hint of a smile curving on her lips.
I remember that smile. It was the same one that I caught every day when I picked her up from school, when I’d see her in the hallways, when we would have dinners or dates together, when I was in the high school rodeo club, and she would come to my exhibitions.
The bear claw’s sweet taste dissipates on my tongue as the memories flood me, and I take a step back, nodding toward my truck. She watches me warily, as if she already knows that I’m pulling away.
Maybe she does.
There was a time when Felicity knew me better than anyone in the world.
That time has long passed now.
“I gotta get back to the ranch.”
She smiles, and I can tell just by the way it doesn’t bring that spark to her eye that it’s her fake one. It was perfected now, probably from years of practice in the spotlight.
“Got it. Good seeing you, Jax.”
Her soft voice pulls at me, and I war with myself.
Part of me wants to step into her space, to press her body against the car and feel her lips against my own again.
The other part, the one that is currently in charge of my feet, tells me it isn’t worth the inevitable heartache when she leaves again.
Because that was what she did. She left.
This time would be no different.