Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Lauren
I bounce up from my spot on the bed and Jax gives me a look. He doesn’t say anything, but I can tell he’s suspicious of me springing up after claiming to be too tired.
The truth is I don’t want to be left alone yet. I know sleep won’t come easily, and I don’t want to lie there by myself, stewing in my thoughts.
I quickly run through a shower and change into my pajamas. I brush my hair and then lean against my bathtub, groaning.
“What’s wrong?” Jax creeps into the doorway of the bathroom, gaze averted like he’s afraid of invading my privacy.
“I have to braid my hair or it’s going to be all tangled in the morning. I spent all day lifting bales of hay, and I don’t think I can hold my arms up long enough to do it.”
He chuckles. “I’ll braid it for you if you want.”
“You know how to braid?”
“No, but it can’t be that hard.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Do you even know what one looks like?”
“I was raised by two women. Of course I do. Now sit still and let me braid your hair.”
This should be interesting.
He sits next to me on the edge of the tub, gently brushing his fingers across my hairline as he gathers the locks back, then breaks it into three sections. I’m impressed.
“Now what?”
“I’ll do it.” I giggle, reaching back for the strands of hair he separated and ignoring the ache in my shoulders. “I’m sure I can do a better job than you, even if I can only lift my shoulders halfway.”
When our fingers tangle, a spark jolts up my arm. I pause what I’m doing, meeting his gaze, which only makes everything worse. My heart races in my chest. This is new.
It’s been so long since I’ve allowed myself to acknowledge his good looks and charm, not to mention the occasional soft side that makes me want to snuggle up in his arms.
I break eye contact and focus on crisscrossing the chunks of hair over one another. He carefully studies my technique, making it nearly impossible to focus, but I get through the braid with only one minor mistake.
I twist a band around the bottom and inspect my work in the mirror. Turning to Jax with a smirk, I note, “It’s still better than you would’ve done.”
“Ouch.”
I give him a mischievous grin, and he returns it with his own smile that stops my heart from beating.
For the second time tonight, I see glimpses of sixteen-year-old Jax.
I picture him holding his hand out to me as he tries to convince me to get on the rope swing he and Charlie built over the river out back.
I remember the pride he wore on his face when he slipped his good luck bracelet onto my wrist at the state game.
I pushed aside all these happy memories when I built my life with Austin, but in this moment, they’re front and center, and I can’t shake them.
“Time for my skincare routine!” I clamor off the tub, humming as I crouch by my cabinets and collect what I need, decidedly ignoring what just happened between us. “You should do it with me. Your skin could use a little extra care,” I say as I pop back up.
“What does that mean?”
“I just think it’d help bring out the natural shine of your skin if you used toner and moisturizer like I do.” I press my hand below my chin, putting my face on display for him.
As I place my bottles of product on the counter, he picks them up, reading the labels. “No way am I letting you put this on me.” He folds his arms and leans against the doorjamb. “I’ll just watch you do it.”
I grab my cleanser, doing my best not to stare at his biceps. “Don’t make me say it, Jax.”
“Say what?”
“I could use the distraction.”
He groans, tilting his head back. “I’ll do a lot for you, Freckles, but I have to draw the line somewhere. It’s not happening.”
Not willing to accept his answer, I place a dollop of cleanser in my hands, swiping it across my skin as I explain what I’m doing.
“This is an oil cleanser, so I rub it on for about one to two minutes. It’s important to rub down my neck and around my lymph nodes to help with lymphatic drainage and circulation.
Then I’ll wipe it off with a warm washcloth. ”
“That was a lot of words I don’t understand. You don’t need to explain it to me. I already told you I’m not—” Before he can reject me again, I apply some of the cleanser to his cheeks, rubbing it around. “Lauren!”
I draw back from him with a wild grin on my face. “Now that it’s already on there, you might as well rub it around for a couple minutes.”
He gives me a scowl but, to my satisfaction, does it anyway. After about thirty seconds, I reach over, grabbing his hand and guiding him along.
I hand him a warm washcloth, but instead of setting it aside when he’s done, he turns it over, grabbing my waist. He tugs me toward him and lifts my chin with his other hand. At his touch, chills echo down my spine.
“What are you doing?” My words are barely above a whisper.
“I’m helping you remove your cleanser. Please let me do this. You asked me to stay so you wouldn’t be alone, but it feels more like you wanted me here to take away my masculinity and force me into doing your skincare routine.”
“I’m not taking away your masculinity by giving you nice skin.”
He gives me a stern look that reminds me I’m supposed to be holding still for him, so I stop what I’m doing and stay quiet as he takes over.
His motions are gentle and methodic, and they lull me into noticing how blue his eyes are. Deep, like the ocean.
When he draws back, I don’t move, still looking into his eyes. It’s only when he speaks again that I realize I’m staring.
“Okay, what’s next?”
“Toner, followed by my magic serum, and then moisturizer to finish.”
He tsks. “No wonder you don’t have time to read a book or ride Lucky. This must take up two hours of your day.”
“It’s only ten to fifteen minutes tops. Here.” I drip some toner onto his fingertips and show him the motions to rub it in, then guide him through the last two steps.
When we’re done, he turns to me. “Is my skin shining yet?”
“No, you have to do it daily.”
“I don’t think I can.”
I shrug. “I guess you’re just not dedicated enough.”
“I’d need your help to stick with it.”
My heart speeds up inside my chest. I can’t believe how much I like spending time with Jax.
I appreciate that he willingly sat here with me through this elaborate process.
I like how gentle he is with me, the way he teases me, and the softness in his gaze.
He makes me think maybe, with the right person, moving on won’t be as complicated as I’d thought.
“Is it bedtime now?” he asks, breaking me from my thoughts.
“Yeah, I’m tired.”
He heads toward my bedroom door, saying good night over his shoulder, but watching him walk away only unsettles me further.
“Wait!”
He turns, a look of concern laced in his brows. “What’s wrong?”
I search for an excuse. “The guest bedroom gets pretty cold at night. You should probably just stay in here.”
He assesses me for a moment before nodding and heading toward my linen closet, gathering a pillow and some blankets.
When he’s made a bed on the floor, guilt floods me.
I should be able to be on my own, and Jax shouldn’t have to sleep on the floor.
He’s already done enough for me tonight. I’m asking too much of him.
What has gotten into me? I shake my head and blame the alcohol I ingested earlier.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay down there?”
“Yup.” He pulls the sheet up below his chin.
“It doesn’t look very comfortable.”
“At least this way I can make sure you don’t try to kiss me again,” he teases.
I throw my pillow at him. “I changed my mind. You should sleep on the floor.”
He chuckles. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
Even though Jax is on the floor, I can hear every time he rolls over and every time he takes a deep breath. Still, I sleep like a baby knowing he’s there.
When I peek my eyes open in the morning, I’m surprised to see the sun shining through the seam where my curtains meet. I’m usually awake before the sunrise, even after a late night.
Jax is gone, and I start to think last night was a figment of my imagination until I roll over and find a glass of water and Advil sitting on my nightstand. The list Jax and I created is taped to my wall just above it.
I take a sip of water, leaving the Advil. Surprisingly, I feel okay. I grab a sweatshirt and as soon as I swing my door open, my nose is greeted by the scent of bacon and—is that pancakes?
I pad down the hallway and into the open area that includes the kitchen and living room.
Leaning my forearms against the kitchen island, I take in Jax, shirtless and flipping pancakes on the griddle.
He still has a lingering tan from the summer, and his abs look like they’re sculpted by God himself.
His Spidey senses must be tingling because he pauses, mid-whistle, and spins around to face me.
“Hey! How are you feeling?” He grins.
“Actually, pretty good.”
“That’s great because I was hoping we could check an item off your list today.”
“Already?” I draw back from the island, my nerves building. I no longer feel as brave as I did last night.
“Sure. Why not?”