Chapter 3 #3
“I wasn’t aware you were interested in working at that bar.” Jaxson’s voice could have frozen Hell over. Twice. Each word was precise, controlled, but the tension beneath them was palpable, like a storm brewing just below the surface.
I could feel the weight of his disapproval from across the table, pressing against me like a physical force.
But for once, I held my ground. Independence was my ticket out of this emotional purgatory, my chance at a normal life where I didn’t spend every day fighting inappropriate feelings for my stepbrother.
“The pay is really good,” I mumbled, suddenly finding my French toast fascinating, tracing patterns in the syrup with my fork.
Xander, bless him, jumped to my defense.
“He’d only work with me, Jaxson. Bob already promised to keep our shifts matched.
Plus, it’s just until midnight, and you know I’d watch out for him.
” His tone was reasonable, placating, though something flashed in his eyes when he glanced at me—something almost…
possessive? No, that couldn’t be right. Xander was just being protective, the way all my brothers were.
“Like a hawk,” Colt added dryly. “Along with every other person in that bar, I’m sure.” His fork scraped against his plate, the sound sharp in the tense silence. “That place is a meat market on weekends.”
Wei snorted into his coffee, the sound drawing my attention. “Well, he does have that Shrine Maiden appeal. Might boost business.” He gestured toward me with his mug, his expression infuriatingly smug. “Put him in a fitted t-shirt and watch the tips roll in.”
“That’s not helping,” I hissed at him, kicking his shin under the table. He didn’t even flinch, the bastard, just grinned wider.
“Just stating facts.” Wei shrugged, clearly enjoying the show, his dark eyes dancing with unholy amusement.
“Though I seem to recall a certain someone else working bars during college…” His meaningful look at Jaxson made me curious, a new piece of information I hadn’t known.
The image of Jaxson behind a bar, mixing drinks with those capable hands, made my mouth go dry.
“That was different.” Jaxson’s jaw clenched, a muscle jumping beneath the skin. His expression had closed off, becoming the stern big brother face I both resented and secretly found ridiculously attractive.
“How?” I challenged, feeling braver than usual.
Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe I was just tired of being treated like spun glass, like some delicate object that needed to be wrapped in cotton wool and kept on a high shelf.
“You did it. Xander does it. Why can’t I?
” The words came out sharper than intended, years of frustration bubbling to the surface.
The look Jaxson gave me could have melted steel. Those amber-hazel eyes burned with an intensity that made my breath catch, pinning me in place more effectively than any physical restraint. “We’ll discuss this later.” The words were final, his tone making it clear the conversation was over.
Which was how I found myself practically bolting from the table fifteen minutes later, muttering a hasty, “I’m heading out.”
“See you later,” came the chorus of replies, followed by Wei’s too-amused, “Don’t forget your knight in shining armor is driving you, Lan’er!”
His emphasis on the diminutive made my eye twitch.
In our language, adding that little ‘-er’ was supposed to be an endearment, a way to turn a name into something soft, tiny, and precious.
It was a verbal reminder that I wasn’t just Lan; I was their “Little Lan,” a delicate thing to be tucked away and guarded.
I could hear the grin in his voice without even looking.
The morning air hit my face like a blessing, cooling my heated cheeks as I made my escape.
The apartment building’s concrete steps were cracked and worn, but I took them two at a time, desperate for space and oxygen that wasn’t saturated with tension and Jaxson’s scent.
Of course, said escape involved being trapped in a car with Jaxson, which was like jumping from the frying pan into a very attractive fire.
Still, anything was better than enduring more of Wei’s knowing looks and Xander’s lingering glances.
I slid into the passenger seat of Jaxson’s sensible sedan, immediately fascinated by the dashboard like it was displaying secret government codes instead of just the time.
The car dipped slightly as Jaxson got in, his presence filling the small space like a physical thing, making the air feel thick and charged.
Why did he have to smell so good? It should be illegal to smell that good before nine in the morning—a mixture of expensive cologne, coffee, and something uniquely him that made my head spin.
The engine purred to life, and we pulled away from the apartment.
The drive was quiet, the usual morning traffic giving me an excuse not to make conversation.
I stared out the window, watching the city slide by in a blur of concrete and glass, focusing on the pedestrians and storefronts rather than the man beside me.
The silence stretched between us, not uncomfortable exactly, but heavy with things unsaid.
Ten minutes later, Jaxson pulled into the convenience store parking lot, choosing a spot away from the other cars. The engine died with a soft purr, leaving us in a silence broken only by the ticking of the cooling engine and the distant sounds of traffic.
I didn’t move to get out. I could feel his eyes on me, that intense gaze that made my skin prickle with awareness, like every nerve ending was suddenly alert and waiting. Don’t look, don’t look, don’t—
I looked.
“What?” I meant it to sound annoyed, defensive. Instead, it came out breathless, barely more than a whisper. Fantastic. So much for maintaining any semblance of dignity.
His hand came up, and suddenly those fingers I’d definitely not been thinking about in the shower were threading through my hair, his thumb brushing my cheek in a gesture so tender it made my chest ache.
The touch was gentle, almost reverent, and completely destroying what was left of my sanity.
His palm was warm against my skin, calloused from years of practical work despite his white-collar job.
Those hands had built bookshelves for my room, had taught me to change a tire, had held me when I cried after nightmares—and now they were touching me like I was something precious, something valuable.