Ava
The SUV rumbles in the back of the Alpha Pig parking lot, and I can’t stop the little flutter in my chest even though my body still hums from everything that happened in the back seat.
My thighs feel deliciously sore, my skin warm where Jax touched me.
He looks even more intense now, jaw set, eyes scanning the lot like the perceptive marshal he is.
We’re not hungry after dinner earlier, but the idea of sitting somewhere warm and normal for a little while sounds perfect.
Jax comes around to open my door. His big hand settles on my lower back as he guides me inside.
The moment we step through the door the rich smells of slow-smoked meat and sweet cornbread wrap around us like a cozy hug, even though the late-night crowd has thinned out.
The twinkling lights overhead still sparkle like fireflies, and that ridiculous taxidermy boar in sunglasses watches us from the wall with its tiny flag.
I can’t help smiling at it. This place feels like a character in its own right.
Peggy, our cheerful waitress from before, waves us over to the same booth near the window. “Back so soon, y’all? Couldn’t stay away from that cornbread, huh?”
“We’re back for dessert,” Jax says in that deep, rough voice that sends little shivers down my spine. “Something sweet for her. Coffee for me.”
I slide into the booth, the reclaimed barn wood cool and smooth under my palms. “Do you have apple pie with that honey butter crumble on top? And maybe some warm peach cobbler if it’s not too much trouble?”
Peggy winks. “Coming right up, sugar. Extra scoops of vanilla ice cream too.”
Jax excuses himself after we order, stepping outside for a few phone calls. I watch him through the window, his broad shoulders tense against the cold night as he paces on the road. While he’s gone I let my eyes wander around the restaurant, admiring every tiny detail.
The walls are covered in old license plates from all over the mountains, hammered into patterns that look like wild boars running through the trees.
Mason jars filled with fairy lights hang from the ceiling beams, casting a soft golden glow that makes everything feel magical.
There’s a whole corner dedicated to hot sauce bottles from tiny local makers, each with handwritten labels promising everything from “Mild as a Kitten” to “Burn Like Hellfire.”
I trace a finger along the wood grain of the table, thinking about how my life has flipped from quiet library days to this wild romantic suspense adventure.
My heart feels full and scared and excited all at once.
Jax comes back inside a few minutes later, bringing a rush of cold mountain air with him that makes me shiver.
He slides into the booth across from me, those intense eyes locking onto mine immediately.
“Everything all set?” I ask softly.
He nods once, reaching across the table to grab both my hands in his large, warm ones. His thumbs stroke over my knuckles, sending little sparks of heat through me. “It’s moving. I’ve got us covered. Trust me.”
I squeeze his hands back, loving the way his rough calluses feel against my skin. “I do. Completely.”
Our desserts arrive steaming and perfect.
The apple pie has that golden crumble topping glistening with honey butter, and the peach cobbler bubbles with juicy fruit and a buttery crust. I take a big bite and moan softly around the spoon, the warm cinnamon and sweet fruit exploding on my tongue.
“Oh my goodness, this is heavenly. The ice cream is melting just right into the crumble. You have to try some.”
Jax watches me with dark, heated eyes, making my cheeks flush.
He takes a slow bite from my spoon when I offer it.
The tension between us crackles hotter than the fireplace, even after everything we did in the SUV.
I shift in my seat, still feeling him between my thighs, and he notices. His grip on my hand tightens.
We linger over dessert for another half hour, talking in low voices about little things that make the danger feel farther away.
I tell him about my favorite romance sections at the library, the ones with the protectors and mountain men that always made me sigh.
He listens like every word matters, his thumb never stopping its gentle strokes on my skin.
The pie disappears slowly, each bite rich and comforting, the coffee for him strong and black like his presence.
The bell above the door jingles, and a man walks in wearing a rumpled jacket and carrying a notebook. He spots us right away and heads over. Jax gives a small nod, confirming this is who we’ve been waiting for.
“Mike Delaney,” the man says, extending a hand to me with a professional smile. “You must be Ava Simpson. Pleasure to meet you.”
I smile back, shaking his hand warmly even as nervous butterflies dance in my stomach. “Hi, yes. That’s me. The accidental witness turned… whatever this is.”
He slides into the booth beside Jax, the wood creaking under his weight. Peggy quietly refills Jax’s coffee without asking, giving us space.
Mike flips open his notebook and asks a few careful questions. Nothing too deep, just enough for his story. “What did you see that night in the parking garage, Ava? And how has life changed since testifying against Carlos?”
I keep my answers steady, describing the shock of witnessing the exchange, the fear that followed, and how Jax appeared like my own personal hero straight out of the books I love. I don’t give away too much.
Mike nods along, scribbling notes. “This’ll run big. It should help shift some attention the way you need.” He closes the notebook after about fifteen minutes, thanks us, and stands. “Stay safe, you two. I’ll make sure the story points exactly where you want it to like we discussed.”
He leaves as quickly as he came, the door jingling behind him.
I let out a long breath and look at Jax across the remains of our desserts.
The pie plate is nearly empty, crumbs and melted ice cream the only evidence left.
My heart races with a mix of adrenaline and that deep, glowing love I feel for this man.
Jax squeezes my knee, his voice edged with control. “You did good. I’ll be right back.” He leaves the booth to chase after Mike.