8. Chapter 8
Chapter eight
P erkinsville Road ran down the middle of Chino Valley, splitting the town in two. Jax’s truck rattled when the pavement ended and the dirt road began. By the time Jax pulled off onto the shoulder and parked the truck, the terrain had transformed from flat valley to rolling hills.
After they had unloaded their dirt bikes and put on their gear, Jax yelled through his helmet, over the roar of the engines, “I’ll follow you!”
Carson took off, settling into her seat, feeling stiff. Her movements were rigid as if her joints were made of wood. It took a while, but she fell back into the rhythm of controlling the machine, becoming less and less jerky.
They raced across the desert, dust pluming behind them, weaving through spiny shrubs and cacti. Their tires spit the soft sand as they wound through dried creek beds. Carson’s muscles worked as they climbed berms and descended hills. She was going to be sore tomorrow.
The sun beat down on them, making it hard to believe it was early October. The monsoons had dried up over a month ago to yield to the harsh, dry Arizona heat. October was supposed to be full of changing leaves, hot chocolate, and chilly weather, not sweat, dehydration, and dried-up vegetation. Today seemed like the hottest day of the year. Carson feared for the back of her neck, exposed to the sun.
When the trail split into a fork, she pulled over to the side, nodding for Jax to go first. He ended up taking a side path that snaked down into a small canyon. Following his lead, Carson maneuvered carefully around some sharp boulders. The shrubbery gradually became greener, and the trees thickened as they approached the Verde River. Braking, Jax came to a stop just before a rock face that hung over the murky, jade water. She rode up next to him, squeezing the clutch and downshifting into neutral.
Cutting his engine, Jax flipped out the kickstand with his heel and removed his goggles, motioning for her to do the same.
“You hot?” he asked, pulling off his gloves.
“Yes,” she said, taking off her own goggles.
“Want to take a dip to cool down?” He chinned toward the river, unbuckling his helmet and hooking it on one of the handlebars.
Carson’s eyes bugged out of her skull. “Right now?” she squeaked. “In our gear?”
“No, in our underwear.” Jax winked, teasing, as he swung his leg and dismounted his bike. Filthy from the day’s ride, his hair was chaotic from sweat. There was a line of dust on his forehead where his goggles hadn’t quite reached his helmet. Even more dust powdered his nose and cheeks.
Tasting dirt in her mouth and feeling the grittiness whenever she ran her tongue over her front teeth, Carson knew she was grimy too. She was hot and exhausted. Her muscles weren’t as strong as they used to be. Handling the heavy machine took more of her energy than she remembered. Dipping in the river sounded so refreshing. She peered down at the water, its cool liquid beckoning to her.
Underneath Carson’s riding pants and jersey were athletic shorts and a tank top. Swimming in her clothes wasn’t the problem, though. There were too many scars that would be exposed. She debated with herself whether she could just hide her arms under the water behind her back. Maybe Jax wouldn’t detect anything. Immediately, she rejected the thought. He would certainly notice how weird she was being.
Shirtless, Jax was already standing on the edge of the overhang scanning the ripples in the water, his skin shimmering in sweat. When had he taken off his roost guard and jersey? She gaped at how toned his back was, compliments to his career as a firefighter.
On his right bicep was a half-sleeve tattoo. Traditional-style designs—an octopus, a skull, and a ship were intermixed with roses—climbed their way up his arm and settled on his shoulder. At one point Carson had thought about getting a tattoo, thinking it could cover the shame of her self-harm. But at the rate she was going, not only her skin would be mangled, but the beautiful artwork as well.
Her palms grew sweaty, but not from the scorching sun. Quickly she averted her gaze, realizing that she was checking him out. Seeing Jax shirtless made Carson’s body react in an unfamiliar way. It was so unlike her. Why did everything seem so different and out of place when she was around him?
“Coming?” Jax was facing her again as he unclipped his boots and tossed them aside. The octopus’ tentacles reached around the front and covered the right side of his chest.
Removing her helmet and gloves, Carson hopped off the bike and set them on the seat, trying to smooth down her French braids. “I think I’m just gonna stick my feet in,” she said, arriving at the lip of the rock and bending over to undo her boot buckles as well.
“Oh, come on, the water’s not that cold.”
She guessed he was being sarcastic. The Verde River was well known for its frigid waters, even during the boiling summer.
“I’m just not dressed appropriately underneath,” she lied. More like her skin was not appropriate underneath.
“Oh. We can keep going if you want.”
There was an unexpected drop in her chest. She didn’t want to go. At least, not yet.
“No, I want to stay.” Carson plopped down on the hard rock, peeled her socks off, and let her bare feet swing close to the water’s surface, nodding toward the river. “Go ahead. Jump.”
“No way. You have to let yourself ease into it,” Jax said, sitting down beside her.
“Wimp.” She reclined back on her hands, the ground hot beneath her palms. Out in the distance she spotted the mesmerizing red rocks of Sedona.
“Says the girl not getting in,” Jax grumbled.
“Hey, I have an excuse. Just do it.”
“I thought my days of peer pressure were over.” Jax scooted closer to the edge to dip in his toe.
Unable to help herself, Carson leaned forward and gave him a teasing push on the shoulder. He was closer to the edge than she’d realized. With a yelp, he plummeted into the water, the cold liquid splashing Carson’s legs and feet. Her hands flew to her mouth as he came up, shaking the water from his hair.
“Jax! I didn’t mean to push you in, I swear.” Then laughter climbed its way out of her lungs.
“You think it’s funny, huh?” He reached up, caught her ankle, and yanked her down.
A shriek filled the air as she plunged into a river that could only be described as glacial. The chill knocked the breath from her lungs. Rising to the surface, Carson gasped for air .
“Son of a bitch, that’s cold!”
Practically howling from amusement, Jax grabbed and hauled her to him. She latched onto the same rock he was holding, kicking her numb legs.
“Still laughing?” Jax asked.
She glowered at him with chattering teeth.
“What? It was funny,” he said, innocently.
“So is this.” Carson slapped her hand across the top of the river, drenching his head with a wave of water.
“Hey!” Then he splashed back.
“No! It’s so cold!” she yelled, turning away and shielding her face behind her arm.
The water calmed, and when Carson lowered her arm, Jax was even closer than before. The smile was gone, but his eyes were on fire. Those twin blue flames heated the cold space between them as their bodies bobbed up against the rocks. He wasn’t shivering like she was. He was staring at her lips, which were probably purple. She peeked down at his mouth.
“Want to get out?” he asked.
Aching from the cold, she nodded, and they maneuvered their way over to the muddy bank and slopped up the shore to a large rock. Water seeped out as Carson wrung her braids, then the hem of her jersey. It surprised her that the water droplets didn’t sizzle when they hit the ground below.
“If that doesn’t cool you off, I don’t know what will,” Jax said, settling beside her on the stone and resting his elbows on his knees. The sun reflected off his wet skin.
The heat was already baking Carson’s dark hair and jersey, but her riding pants were still soaked. The water in the thicker material was going to take longer to evaporate. Thankfully it was hot enough they wouldn’t have to wait long for the both of them to dry out.
Pulling up a leg, Carson hugged it to her chest and relaxed her chin on her knee. “Thank you for inviting me,” she murmured.
“I’m glad you agreed to come,” Jax said.
“I really needed this.”
Secretly, Carson was proud of herself. She had opted to get out of the house, away from work, away from her nightmares. Away from the collection of sharp objects that held such power over her. Was this what it looked like to be free? Then she thought of how she couldn’t take off her gear to swim in the river. She wasn’t free yet.
Jax was eyeing her with the same expression he’d worn in the river. He sat up as Carson raised her head. Hesitating for just a second, he gradually gripped the side of her neck, his thumb on her cheek. Was she paralyzed or mesmerized by the intensity of his eyes? Like the wings of a hummingbird, the beat of her heart sped up, and her breathing stopped as his eyes dropped to her lips. Then he slowly leaned in.
At the last moment, before their lips could touch, Carson turned her head.
“Jax,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean . . .” he stammered, jerking his hand away from her.
Her hammering heart seized and fell.
“No. It’s not like that. It’s just . . .” Carson’s voice trailed off, unable to finish, and she peered down at her toes covered in dried mud, praying she hadn’t offended him. “I’m sorry.”
Stopping Jax from kissing her wasn’t because she didn’t like him. It was because she did like him, and that frightened her. A lot.
Was she ready to move on? Was she ready to open herself up to another person? Meeting Jax and being with him was something new, something that surprised her. But she needed to step back and evaluate what was happening. This was the first time since Luke that she had felt this way, and she wasn’t sure how to handle it.
“You don’t need to be sorry,” Jax said, standing and ruffling his drying hair at the same time. “I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you.” He seemed embarrassed.
“That’s not what I’m trying to say. I don’t want you . . . It’s not . . .” She was flustered. How was she supposed to communicate the torrent of emotions washing over her? “Nothing like this happened since my husband died. I don’t want you to think it’s you.”
“Oh.”
Gnawing on her cheek, Carson grabbed the ends of her braids and began to fidget with them, feeling as though she had ruined their day.
After a moment, Jax asked, “What was Luke like?”
The question made Carson’s chest swell, and she smiled. “He was everything . Thoughtful. Genius. A bit nerdy.” She laughed. “Funny. Especially when he would get together with Hunter. They were goofballs.”
“How did you guys meet? Was he also an attorney?” Jax had sunk back down to sit on a rock. Not the same rock as hers, though. He was keeping his distance.
“No, he was an engineer. We went to the same college and there was a bar across the street from campus that my friends and I loved going to. One night some tool kept bothering me. I guess Luke had enough and stepped in.”
It was one of Carson’s favorite memories of him. She remembered right when the man grabbed her arm, another bigger, much stronger arm had grabbed his, twisting it back .
“The lady said no,” Luke had said, “so I suggest you listen to her and get the hell out.”
When she had followed the arm up, she was pleased to find chestnut eyes shadowed under caramel curls, looming over them.
The jerk had tried to resist, but Luke twisted his wrist harder. Finally with a huff, the offender yanked his arm away and stomped off. The situation had lasted only seconds and gone undetected by the bar’s patrons as the dancing continued and the uninterrupted music bumped on.
“Are you alright?” Luke had asked, settling onto the bar stool next to hers.
“Yes, but you didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” he had said. “Can I buy you another drink?”
The memory always brought a smile to Carson’s face because even though Luke had scared the jerk off, he was the biggest teddy bear she knew.
“How long were you married?” Jax’s question pulled her out of her reverie.
“Four years. But we dated about a year before we got married,” she said.
“He sounds like he was an awesome person.”
“He was.”
A hawk flew overhead, its shadow flashing by. Carson reached out and squeezed Jax’s hand, noticing for the first time how worn the knees of his riding pants were. “Thank you . . . for asking about him.”
He squeezed back. “Are you dry enough to head back to the truck now?”
Putting on the rest of her gear, Carson straddled her bike and stomped down on the kick starter. The engine sputtered but didn’t start. She tried again. Nothing. Twisting the throttle, she tried a third time. The engine gave a pitiful cough.
“Damn it,” she grumbled. Before Jax had picked her up, she’d pulled her bike out of the shed for a quick inspection. The engine had started just fine back at the house. Of course, in the middle of nowhere it decided to give her trouble.
“Everything okay?” Jax called over the sound of his own bike, which was rumbling just fine.
“Won’t start,” Carson shouted back. Using her feet, she rolled her machine forward and backward, then tried kicking it to life again. This time, the engine didn’t even wheeze at her.
Jax turned his bike off and came to stand next to her. “Try it again,” he said, his voice muffled by his helmet.
Nothing.
Frustrated, Carson removed her goggles. “I think my battery is officially dead.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Jax said.
After Carson dismounted, Jax gripped the seat to reveal the battery. An initial exploration didn’t reveal anything to be wrong, like major corrosion or disintegrating wires.
“It’s an old battery that hasn’t been used in . . . a long time,” she explained. Five years, to be specific.
For a second, Jax poked around inside the dirt bike’s opening before saying, “We can go get the truck and come pick it up.”
“I can wait here with my bike.”
Even through his goggles, Carson could see him look pointedly at her. “I’m not leaving you here by yourself in the desert. ”
Snapping the seat back in place, Jax pulled the key out of the ignition and handed it to her. After shoving it deep into her pocket, Carson stepped out of the way so he could roll her bike under the shade of a nearby tree.
Once back on his machine, Jax kicked it on and scooted closer to the handlebars, gesturing for her to hop on behind him. She wavered before slipping her goggles back on and placing her hand on his shoulder for support. Swinging her leg up and over the bike, she adjusted herself until she was balanced behind him. When he took her gloved hands from his shoulders and guided them down to his waist, Carson stiffened. His hard muscles now rested under her hands, tempting her. If she raised his jersey she could feel them directly—
“Ready?” Jax called over his shoulder, snapping Carson out of her fantasy.
She gave him a thumbs up as she chided herself. It was totally normal to wrap arms around the rider in front for better balance and safety. And why were these daydreams even happening? If only she could smack herself.
Even still, during the ride back to the truck, with Jax literally in her arms, Carson thought about him and their almost-kiss. She felt stupid. He was obviously starting to like her, and she was a complete fool, possibly ruining a friendship with him.
A kiss, though? It was crazy to think about. After Luke’s death she’d sworn off anything of the sort, never wanting to have her heart ripped to shreds again. Yet less than an hour ago, she’d been face-to-face with a man, centimeters from his lips.
Carson knew she owed Jax more explanation of why she’d rejected him. It was important that he knew their relationship could not go any further. She wasn’t ready.
Was she ?
The only reason she’d stopped him from kissing her was because she couldn’t comprehend how comfortable she felt. In fact, her heart was still shriveled from when he pulled away. She shouldn’t be feeling like this. How could she move on so quickly from Luke? The ambivalence of it all made her exasperated.
It didn’t help that his body was pressed against hers. The touch only befuddled Carson’s thoughts even more. Her brain, heart, and body were sending mixed signals to each other. Forget mixed signals—it was more like an all-out war underneath her skin, and she was the collateral damage.
When they reached the truck, Carson was happy to get off yet sad she had to let go. Yep, she definitely needed to slap herself.
In the truck, Jax blasted the air conditioner, angling the vents to point at himself and Carson, the air smelling like its signature dusty scent.
Tilting the visor down, Carson looked at herself in the little mirror. “Oh, geez. That’s embarrassing.”
There was dirt caked on her forehead and nose. She tried to wipe it off with her hands.
“I like my girls dirty.” Jax laughed, then caught himself. “That was inappropriate. Please don’t tell my ma I said that . . . Here.” Reaching across her, he opened the glove box and pulled out a napkin, using a water bottle to wet it and handing it to her. Happily, she took it and attempted to remove the dirt.
“There,” she said, slapping the visor closed and turning to him for his approval. “How’s that?”
Jax inspected her. Carson became self-conscious; she probably resembled a train wreck. Reflexively, she smoothed her hands over her braided hair.
“I’d go out in public with you,” Jax teased, then wetted his own napkin, trying to wipe off as much of the grime as he could. “Now, what about me?” There remained a smudge above his left eyebrow.
“You missed a spot,” Carson said, sliding over and grabbing the damp napkin out of his hand. She bit her tongue as it took a couple of swipes to get it completely off.
It wasn’t until Carson glanced down from Jax’s forehead and met his gaze did she realize how close she was to him. Once again, his eyes were burning. By his expression, she knew exactly what he was thinking and wanting to do. It was the same expression he’d had right before he’d tried to kiss her by the river. But this time, he didn’t make a move. The air around them thickened, the air conditioner not making any difference.
Even as she dropped her hand, Carson didn’t back away. Blood raced through her veins as her gaze dipped from his eyes to his lips. Why wasn’t she moving away from him? Then a crazy idea flashed into her mind. When she peered back up at his eyes, they were bright with curiosity.
Before she could talk herself out of this second chance, Carson bent in and lightly kissed him. As soon as their lips connected, Jax’s body froze. Carson put a hand on his cheek, his facial hair pricking her palms, and deepened the kiss.
That was his cue. Putting a hand on the back of Carson’s neck, Jax kissed her back.
Spinning. Carson’s mind was spinning like the dust devils that swirled in her front yard. It was nothing like she remembered, but it felt right. It felt safe and electrifying. She expected it to feel wrong. It didn’t. Kissing another man after the death of her husband should have felt wrong . . . right?
It was a short, innocent kiss. That was all Carson could handle. She could tell that Jax was waiting for the end as well, because the second she began pulling away, he instantly released her.
Slowly, she removed her hand from his face, clenching it into a fist in her lap.
“That was . . . unexpected,” Jax breathed.
“It was unexpected for me too,” Carson confessed, her lips still tingling from the pressure. Embarrassed, she began to scoot back to the passenger seat. As Jax stared at her curiously, she sensed he wasn’t going to ask for an explanation for her erratic behavior or for more kissing or both.
Unsure of what to do at that point, Carson reached up behind her to put the seat belt on. With a chuckle, Jax shook his head, then put the truck into gear and pulled out onto the dirt road, back toward her dead dirt bike.