14. Jax
Jax
We stay wrapped in each other’s arms for another hour. Her skin feels like warm silk under my palm as I stroke slow circles along her spine. I could seriously do this all over again, but she needs food. Real food.
I press a kiss to the top of her head and ease out from under the quilt. The wooden floor cools my bare feet as I pull on my boxers and a pair of sweatpants. Ava stirs behind me, making that cute sleepy sound that hits me straight in the chest.
"Where are you going?" she asks, voice husky and breathy as she props herself up on one elbow. The quilt slips down, exposing the curve of one perfect breast, and I have to force my eyes up to her face.
"Breakfast. You need fuel after last night and this morning. Stay right there if you want. I’ll handle it."
She sits up fully, the quilt pooling around her waist. Her hair tumbles wild around her shoulders and those big eyes sparkle with something new.
Less shy. More sure. It looks damn good on her.
"No way, Marshal Hartman. I’m helping. I may not be a mountain man chef but I can scramble eggs without setting the cabin on fire. Probably."
I grin despite myself and toss her one of my clean t-shirts from the bag. It swallows her completely when she slips it on, the hem hitting mid-thigh. Fuck, she looks better in my clothes than I do. "Then get that cute ass in the kitchen, Ava. But if you burn the bacon I’m spanking you."
Her cheeks flush pink but she lifts her chin with newfound confidence. "Promises, promises. Lead the way, big guy."
We move into the small kitchen area together.
I pull out a cast iron skillet and set it on the propane burner while Ava rummages through the supplies.
Her movements are lighter now, less hesitant.
She finds eggs, bacon, some potatoes, and a bag of coffee beans.
The domestic sight of her barefoot in my shirt, hair messy from my hands, does dangerous things to my control.
I step up behind her at the counter, my chest brushing her back as I reach for the coffee grinder. My hands settle on her hips for a second. "You handle the eggs. I’ll do the bacon and potatoes. Teamwork."
She leans back into me just a little, that spark of confidence making her bold. "Yes sir. But I get to pick the music. Well, if we had any. Do you hum? I bet you have a deep growly singing voice hidden under all that alpha."
I chuckle low and start slicing potatoes into thick wedges. The knife thuds rhythmically against the cutting board. "I don’t sing. But I can whistle a tune if it keeps you smiling."
Ava cracks eggs into a bowl with surprising efficiency, whisking them with a fork.
The metallic scrape mixes with the sizzle of bacon I drop into the hot skillet.
Grease pops and the salty smoky scent fills the air fast. "Tell me something real, Jax.
Not the marshal stuff. What did you want to be when you were a kid? Before the badge and the growling?"
I flip the bacon strips, watching them curl and crisp.
The heat from the stove warms my front while her body heat warms my back.
"Honestly? A pilot. Thought I could fly far away from the shit I grew up with.
Dad was military. Strict. Mom left when I was eight.
Learned early that the only person you can really count on is yourself. "
She pauses her whisking and looks over her shoulder at me. Those eyes soften but don't pity. They understand. "That sounds lonely. I'm glad you found your way to protecting people instead. Even if it makes you all broody and territorial."
I lean down and nip her earlobe, making her squeak. "That works for me. Especially with you. Your turn, librarian. What's the wildest book request you ever got at the library?"
Ava laughs, that bright bubbly sound that cuts right through the tension I always carry.
She pours the eggs into another pan I heated for her.
The soft scramble begins to set, yellow and fluffy.
"Oh you're not ready for this. Someone once asked for books on taxidermy for beginners because they wanted to preserve their pet goldfish. Another wanted romance novels but only the ones where the hero is a sentient houseplant. I kid you not. I helped them find alien plant erotica. I guess it’s a thing. "
I bark out a real laugh, the kind that surprises even me.
The potatoes hit the skillet next with a satisfying hiss, oil popping as I season them with salt and pepper from the supplies.
The combined smells of breakfast make my stomach rumble.
"You're something else, Ava Simpson. Most people see the badge and shut down.
You just keep sparkling no matter what."
She bumps her hip against mine playfully, growing more confident with every minute. "That's because you make me feel safe enough to sparkle, Jax. Now stir those potatoes before they burn. I want crispy edges."
"Yes ma'am." I obey, stirring the wedges until they turn golden.
Steam rises fragrant with herbs. We work side by side in an easy rhythm.
She adds cheese to the eggs at the perfect moment, the sharp cheddar melting into creamy folds.
I plate the bacon on paper towels to drain, the crispy strips still sizzling faintly.
"Tell me more about your life before this mess," I say, voice quieter as I pour two mugs of fresh coffee. I hand her one and watch her wrap both hands around it, inhaling deep.
Ava takes a sip and hums happily. "Library was my sanctuary.
Mom raised me alone after Dad passed. She worked an accounting job but always made sure I had books.
I spent summers shelving and reading everything I could get my hands on.
" She glances up at me, eyes steady and warm.
"Until you showed up at the circulation desk looking like trouble wrapped in muscle. "
I set my mug down and pull her close for a moment, kissing the top of her head. The domestic feel of it sinks deep into my bones. "You're not just living it. You're rewriting the rules."
"What about you? Marshals don't exactly strike me as the type who let people in easy."
I'm quiet a second, weighing how much to give her. But she's already cracked me open wider than anyone has in years, so I figure I might as well finish the job. "You know Mason. My partner. Closest thing I've got to a brother."
"The gray-eyed one who looks like he's never lost a staring contest in his life."
"That's him." I almost smile. "About eight months back he caught a protection detail. Witness named Riley. Ran from her own kind of mess—different bad guys, similar nightmare to yours. He took her up to his cabin in the Steel Mountains, not far from here, and didn't surface for a while.”
Ava's eyebrows go up over the rim of her mug. “Really? That sounds suspiciously familiar."
"Yeah. I gave him hell for it at the time." I shake my head, remembering. "Told him he was breaking every rule in the book. Risking his badge, his pension, his neck. He just looked at me and said the rules stopped mattering the second he understood what losing her would feel like."
"And now?"
"Now they're together. He runs the field office clean, she's opening a bakery in Timber Creek, and he's about as insufferable as a man can get about it.
" I huff something that's almost a laugh.
"I used to think he was an idiot for it.
Reckless. Thought he'd torched his whole career over a few good moments in a cabin. "
Ava sets her mug down slowly, watching my face like she already knows where this is going. "And now you don't think that."
"Now I get it." My voice drops, rougher than I mean it to come out. "Now I'm the idiot standing in a kitchen falling for a witness who quotes alien plant erotica statistics at me over breakfast, and I can't bring myself to care what it costs."
Heat rushes into her cheeks, that pretty flush I've gotten addicted to fast. "That might be the most romantic thing anyone's compared me to. Alien plant erotica and true love in the same sentence."
"Don't let it go to your head, librarian."
"Too late." She bites her lip, but the smile underneath it doesn't go anywhere. "So Riley really understands. What it's like. Being the one in the crosshairs."
"Better than anyone. If—when—this is over, you two should meet. I think you'd like her. She's sharper than she lets people see at first. Kind of like you."
Something shifts in Ava's expression, something quiet and hopeful that she doesn't try to joke away this time. "I'd like that. It's nice to think there's someone else out there who didn't just survive this kind of thing, but actually got something real on the other side of it."
"You will too." I say it like a fact, not a wish, because I've already decided it's going to be true no matter what I have to do to make it that way.
She studies me for a second, then seems to decide the moment's gotten heavy enough. "Okay, but does Mason also make terrible dad jokes, or is that purely a you thing?"
I grin and flip the last of the potatoes. "Dad jokes? Low blow. Here, taste this." I spear a crispy potato wedge and hold it to her lips. She bites down, eyes closing in bliss as the salty crunch hits.
"Perfect," she declares, licking her fingers. The sight goes straight to my cock but I behave. For now. "My turn to feed you." She scoops a bite of cheesy eggs onto a fork and offers it up. I take it, savoring the rich flavor and the way her eyes light up watching me eat.
We plate everything together. Bacon piled high, eggs fluffy and cheesy, potatoes crispy on the outside and soft inside. The coffee steams beside it all. We carry the plates to the small table by the window where sunlight streams in across the snow outside.
Sitting across from her feels right. Natural.
She digs in with enthusiasm, making little moans of appreciation that test my restraint.
"This is amazing. Mountain man breakfast goals achieved.
So what happens after breakfast, Marshal?
Do we go back to bed or do you teach me how to chop wood like a proper mountain wife? "
I nearly choke on my coffee, laughing. "Mountain wife? Careful, Ava. Keep talking like that and I'll forget all about WITSEC and put a ring on your finger."
She leans forward, that confident spark shining brighter. "Maybe I want you to. I've spent my whole life hiding in books. With you I feel awake. Alive. Like I could face a cartel and still crack jokes about it."
We talk for a long time over breakfast. She tells me about her favorite romance tropes and how she secretly writes short fanfiction endings for books that left her unsatisfied.
I tell her more about the early days with Mason — rookie mistakes, the case that almost got us both fired, the long nights that turned a partnership into something closer to family.
The weight on my chest lightens with every word.
She listens without judgment, adding insights that make me see my own life differently.
"You know," she says between bites of bacon, "in all my books the hero always says he doesn't deserve the heroine. But you do, Jax. You protect with everything you have. That’s more than deserving."
Her words hit deep. I reach across the table and take her hand, thumb stroking her knuckles. "You make me want to be better. To fight for more than just the job. After this is over I'm not letting the system take you away. We'll figure it out. Together."
Ava squeezes my hand back, smiling soft and sure. "Together sounds perfect. Now pass the potatoes, husband material. I need seconds before we tackle whatever comes next."
We finish the meal with more laughter and easy conversation. She helps me clean up, bumping hips at the sink while we wash dishes. Suds fly when she flicks water at me playfully. I retaliate by wrapping my arms around her from behind, nuzzling her neck until she giggles and melts back against me.
The domestic warmth fills the cabin as much as the woodsmoke. For the first time in years I let myself imagine a future that includes more mornings like this. More of her confidence blooming under my hands. More of us.
"You're mine, Ava," I murmur against her lips. "And I'm yours. We got this."
She kisses me back with growing boldness, hands sliding up my chest. "Damn right we do."