17. Ava
Ava
My stomach lets out the most embarrassing growl just as the mountain road starts winding tighter around us.
I press both hands over it like that’ll somehow muffle the sound, but it only makes things worse.
Dinner time has definitely arrived, and my body isn’t shy about reminding me that running for your life burns a ridiculous number of calories.
“Um, Jax?” I say, trying to keep my voice light and not at all like I’m about to faint from hunger. “Any chance we could pull over somewhere soon? I’m starving. Like, I-might-start-nibbling-on-the-seat-belt starving.”
He glances over at me, those intense eyes softening just a fraction at the corners. “Yeah. There’s a spot a few miles up. We’ll stop.”
His voice is dark and velvet-rough, the kind that always makes something deep inside me tighten. I nod quickly and settle back against the leather seat, trying not to notice how good he smells.
Jax has gone extra quiet for the past few miles.
Not the grumpy kind of quiet exactly, but the thinking-hard-about-something kind.
His jaw keeps flexing, and every so often his fingers tighten on the steering wheel like he’s working through a problem only he can see.
I want to ask what’s on his mind, but I don’t.
Instead I just watch the way the fading sunlight catches the sharp line of his profile and try not to imagine tracing it with my fingertip.
Bad Ava. Focus on not getting murdered, not on how ridiculously hot your US Marshal protector is.
A big wooden sign appears around the next bend, carved to look like a snarling boar wearing a tiny chef’s hat. Alpha Pig BBQ. The parking lot is packed with trucks and a few motorcycles, and the smell of smoked meat hits us the second Jax cuts the engine. My mouth waters so hard I almost whimper.
“This place looks amazing,” I breathe, already unbuckling.
Jax comes around and opens my door before I can do it myself. His hand settles on my lower back as he guides me toward the entrance, warm and steady and way too possessive but I like it.
Inside, the restaurant is pure mountain magic.
Exposed log walls, strings of twinkling lights that look like fireflies, and long picnic-style tables made from thick slabs of reclaimed barn wood.
A massive stone fireplace crackles in the center of the room, and the air is thick with the scent of hickory smoke, tangy sauce, and fresh cornbread.
Mounted on one wall is the most ridiculous taxidermy boar I’ve ever seen.
It’s wearing sunglasses and holding a tiny American flag in its trotter.
A hand-painted sign underneath reads: “Oink If You’re Hungry. ”
A cheerful waitress with a name tag that says “Peggy” and two long braids bounces over. “Y’all grab a seat anywhere. Menus are on the table. Tonight’s special is the Full Trough Platter. Trust me, you’ll need a nap after.”
We slide into a booth near the window. Jax takes the side that lets him watch both the door and the parking lot. Of course he does. I pick up the menu and my eyes go wide.
“Oh my goodness. Listen to this.” I clear my throat dramatically and read in my best librarian story-time voice.
“The Alpha Pig Platter: half rack of honey-chipotle ribs, sliced brisket, pulled pork, smoked sausage, and a quarter chicken. Comes with two sides and a mountain of cornbread. Or go big with the Trough For Two: everything above plus mac and cheese, collard greens with bacon, sweet potato fries, coleslaw, and skillet cornbread with honey butter. Warning: may cause spontaneous marriage proposals.”
Jax’s mouth twitches. Almost a smile. “Get the trough. You’re gonna need your strength.”
Heat rushes into my cheeks. I fan myself with the menu. “Are you trying to make me blush or are you just naturally lethal at this?”
“Both,” he says, voice thick and rough around the edges.
His eyes lock on mine across the table and for a second the noisy restaurant fades away.
There’s something hot and animalistic in the way he looks at me, like he’s already decided I’m his to protect and maybe something more.
My stomach does a happy little flip that’s got nothing to do with hunger.
Peggy comes back and we order the Trough For Two to share, plus sweet tea for me and black coffee for him.
While we wait, I trace the wood grain on the table with my finger.
“This place is so cute. I bet they have a whole story behind that boar out front. I should write it down for the library’s local lore section. ”
Jax leans back, stretching one long arm along the back of the booth. His fingers brush my shoulder and stay there. “You always this cheerful when cartel hitmen are after you?”
“Fake it till you make it,” I admit with a little shrug. “Plus, barbecue helps. Everything feels less terrifying when there’s cornbread involved.”
The food arrives on two giant platters that barely fit on the table. The ribs glisten with sauce, the brisket is sliced thick and smoky, and the pulled pork is piled high next to golden cornbread squares dripping with honey butter. I dive in with zero shame, moaning around my first bite of rib.
“Oh wow. This is better than any book I’ve ever read. The sauce has a little kick but then it mellows out with the honey. I’m in love.”
Jax watches me lick sauce off my thumb and his eyes darken. “Careful, Ava. Keep making sounds like that and we’re not making it back to the SUV anytime soon.”
My face flames. I point my fork at him. “You can’t say things like that while I’m covered in barbecue sauce, Marshal Hartman. It’s unfair.”
He reaches across the table and wipes a tiny smear of sauce from the corner of my mouth with his thumb. Then he brings that thumb to his own lips and tastes it. “Tastes better on you.”
I nearly drop my fork. The tension between us crackles hotter than the fireplace. I want to climb across the table and kiss him. I also want to hide under it. Both seem equally likely.
We finish most of the enormous platter between playful jabs and long heated looks. By the time we step back outside the night air feels cooler, the stars brighter against the mountain sky.
Back in the vehicle, my belly is full and happy, but the quiet returns as Jax pulls onto the road. His hand finds mine on the center console and holds it, warm and sure.
“Get some rest,” he murmurs. “You’re safe.”
I squeeze his fingers and let myself lean toward him just a little. The road stretches ahead into the dark, but for the first time since this whole nightmare started I feel safe. And maybe a tiny bit excited about whatever comes next.