Chapter 2
Rowyn
I sneak a sideways glance at Jaxon as I take the last bite of my fish and chips, the salty tang still lingering on my tongue.
He’s in full storytelling mode, his deep laugh carrying across the table, and somehow he has every single person hanging on his words.
He makes it look effortless, like he was born to command a room.
Honest to God, I still can’t believe how quickly he clocked the situation I was in tonight—and how seamlessly he swooped in to save me. No hesitation. Just Jaxon being Jaxon.
I suppose he thinks he owes me. I did see what went down with Ember years ago when they were together, and then again, this last Christmas, when I played the part of his girlfriend long enough to shield him from her claws.
Pretending with him had been…fun. Too much fun.
But now, back in Boston, the big city has a way of reminding me that reality doesn’t bend to wishful thinking.
Reality is work. Reality is deadlines and long hours and the kind of ambition that doesn’t leave room for messy entanglements.
It’s not like I was expecting anything with hot coffee shop guy.
I learned early that love comes with sacrifice, and I refuse to carve pieces of myself away just to make room for someone else.
My mother gave up her dream career as a travel nurse when my father walked out, trading flights and freedom for stability and sacrifice.
She did it for me, and she never let me forget it.
That lesson etched itself into my bones: careers or families, choices or compromises—you don’t get to have it all, no matter what glossy magazine articles claim.
As if he senses the shift in me, Jaxon turns his head. Our eyes lock, his brow arching in that silent way he has of asking what’s going on inside me. God, when did he get so good at reading people—at reading me?
Billy snaps his fingers to order another round, and I stifle a yawn. Before I can excuse myself, Jaxon cuts in smoothly.
“We should probably call it a night,” he says, his voice pitched low but firm. “It’s been a long-ass day, and I’m looking forward to some quiet time with you.”
He leans toward me, presses a kiss to my forehead, and suddenly the world tilts.
My breath catches. I swear I can feel the heat of his lips radiate all the way through me, soft and steady, as if he’s branding me with a kind of tenderness I didn’t know I craved.
Then his arm slides around me, pulling me against his side, and it’s ridiculous how easily I melt into him.
Good God, what is happening to me? This is supposed to be pretend. Just a quick cover for the night. Yet the way he holds me—protective, like I belong there—is everything I’ve never let myself want. It’s nice. Too nice. Dangerous.
A soft sound escapes me, halfway between a sigh and a moan, and I mask it with a quick nod. “Good idea. I’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”
I dab at my lips with my napkin, trying to gather myself, and manage a polite smile for the others. “Thank you for inviting me. It was so nice getting to know you all.”
The table erupts in chatter, warm goodnights and teasing calls, and Jaxon takes the opportunity to rise. I reach for my purse, intent on paying my share, but his hand intercepts mine. Without breaking stride, he pulls a wad of bills from his wallet and drops them onto the table.
“This should cover it,” Jaxon says.
That’s when it hits me—he’s not just covering me, he’s covering everyone. My stomach twists. Dammit. He swooped in tonight to help me, and now the bill is on him too?
I’m about to protest, but is that what his girlfriend would do? That gives me pause, and something inside me tightens, because suddenly, strangely, I’m wondering what it would be like if this wasn’t an act at all.
We stand, and before I can argue, he’s already at my side, slipping my coat from the back of my chair.
He holds it open, waiting. Heat prickles my cheeks as I slide my arms into the sleeves.
The gentlemanly move doesn’t go unnoticed.
A ripple of silence passes over the table, followed by a few low whistles and smirks.
As we head toward the door, I catch the way his teammates track us, curious eyes following like they’re studying a brand-new play unfolding right in front of them.
I offer a small wave, and a couple of them wave back, grins tugging at their mouths.
I’ve watched these men on my TV for years, but now I feel like I’ve somehow stepped into the arena, into their world.
Jaxon pauses mid-step. “Do you want to say hello?” His voice is casual, but I hear the edge beneath it. Hesitant. Protective.
I shrug, trying to keep my tone light. “I mean, I think we should. If you do.”
“They all seem rather curious,” he mutters through clenched teeth.
We pivot, weaving toward their table. “Hey, guys,” Jaxon says, his voice dipping into something that’s both proud and territorial. “This is Rowyn. My friend from Snowberry. We grew up together.”
Nash pushes a chair out for me. “Well then, come have a seat by me.”
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll push that chair back in.” Penn shoots him a warning look.
I laugh at Nash’s antics, which according to the things written about him by the paper I work for, is expected. “Don’t worry, we’re not staying.”
Nash starts to push his chair back. “Well, in that case, let me walk you out—”
“Sit,” Nicklas snaps, dragging him back down by the sleeve as Jaxon cracks his knuckles, playfully, but…not. “Unless you want to be stopping pucks with one eye shut.”
The table erupts in laughter. I can’t help grinning, warmth spilling through me at the easy camaraderie.
“So you two must be…” Nash begins pointing a finger between the two of us. “Not just friends?”
“Shut the fuck up, Nash.” Jaxon shoots back. Then his hands are suddenly at my waist, pulling me against his side. “We’re friends, which is why I’m keeping her away from you.” He’s playing but damn, his touch burns through the layers of my coat.
Penn rolls his eyes but turns his focus to me. “Jaylynn’s been talking about giving you a call. Girls’ night. She’s still settling in, but you should connect.” He grabs a napkin and scribbles down a number before sliding it toward me.
“Wait, are you slipping her your digits, dude?” Nash cackles.
“She’s with Jaxon. And I’m engaged, you idiot,” Penn fires back.
I fumble for words, glancing over my shoulder to make sure the other table—the one where this whole charade started—can’t overhear. “I…we…we’re just friends.”
“Yeah, well, as soon as our boy saw you, he bailed on us,” Nolan, who’s been quiet up until now, calls out, his not-so-teasing tone making my chest go tight.
“Okay, we’re out,” Jaxon cuts in, his hand firm at my back as he steers me away.
I tuck the napkin into my purse. “I’ll give Jay a call. I’d love to get together with her.” Truth is, I don’t have many close friends in Boston, not really. Not the kind who shows up for you. The thought leaves a hollow ache I try to smother with a smile.
We push through the doors, and the wind hits like a slap. It’s been unusually cold this spring, and I’m really looking forward to summer.
“You driving?” Jaxon asks.
“I took an Uber.” I’m already fishing my phone from my purse, the app loading, when his hand comes down gently over mine, halting the motion.
“I’ll drive you home.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to put you out.”
“You’re not.” His answer is so simple, so certain. Then his arm slides around my back again, anchoring me to him, sheltering me from the wind like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
And dammit, I really hate how much I love it.
My chest tightens. Why does this feel so different? Is it just because I haven’t been touched in so long? Because my body is starved for even the smallest kind of affection? Or is it because it’s him—safe, steady, come-to-your-rescue Jaxon?
I have no idea why he hasn’t been snatched up before now. Okay, that’s not entirely true. Years ago, Ember pretended to be pregnant just to snag a marriage proposal, and then the whole fiasco went public—thanks to the snakes in my profession—it’s no wonder the guy is gun shy. Honestly, I’d be too.
We walk in silence for a moment, dodging pedestrians on the busy Friday night streets. The air smells faintly of roasted chestnuts and exhaust fumes, a weirdly urban mix.
“I’m right here,” he says, pointing to his car. A plug-in hybrid, modest and practical, yet somehow exactly Jaxon. I’ve seen the flashy rides the other players drive, but this one…fits him.
He opens the door for me, and I slide in. I catch myself studying him as he circles and climbs into the driver’s seat. He sits for a moment, eyebrows raised, like he’s just realized something.
“What?”
“I can’t believe I don’t know where you live,” he admits.
I laugh. “Yeah, we’ve both been here for years and…never hooked up.”
Oh. God. Did I just say that out loud? Freudian slip, much? My stomach does a weird twist. No, I am not saying I want to hook up. He’s my friend. I’m not about to ruin what little normalcy I have with some stupid impulse—something I might’ve imagined in the past.
I clear my throat, leaning down to unzip my coat a little, heat rushing to my face. Thank goodness it’s dark and he can’t see my blush. “I mean…we’ve never met up.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of crazy, isn’t it?”
I shrug, brushing off the tension as if it’s nothing. “We both lead very busy lives.”
“That’s true.” He adjusts the rearview mirror, and I catch his profile in the dim light.
“So…where to?”
“Back Bay.”
“Jeez. We’re practically neighbors. I’m in Beacon Hill.”
“Nice area.” I watch the way the streetlights trace his jawline as he starts the car, the warmth from the heater brushing against my fingers.
“Bought it as an investment,” he says. “A lot of the guys live there, but my place is too damn big for just me.”
I laugh softly. “Lots of space to grow into.”
His jaw tightens. He just nods, pulling into traffic. “I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve run into each other. I’ve never seen you at Kilting Around before.”
“I don’t go out much.”
We drive in companionable silence for a few blocks. Then he glances at me, and I feel my chest tighten. “So that guy at the coffee shop who stood you up…” His voice carries that low, protective edge. “Need me to pay him a visit?”
I snort. “No. I barely know him. Can’t really blame him.”
“Mm. I don’t know about that, Rowyn. If he said he was coming, he should’ve come. No excuses.”
“Maybe something came up. We didn’t exchange numbers, and he said he’d try.”
“You like him, huh?”
Wait. Did his hand just tighten on the steering wheel? Jeez, a guy I’ve known forever suddenly has my heart doing gymnastics?
Suddenly? Really Rowyn, are you trying to say you’ve never fantasized about him before?
“I thought he was cute,” I admit, “…but I really don’t know him. Other than that he’s a medical sales rep named Matt.”
He grins, and my stomach does a little flip. Cute? That’s barely scratching the surface of this man.
“So, you want to get to know him?” he probes.
Where is he going with this?
He takes one hand off the wheel and pinches the bridge of his nose, a loud exhale escaping him. “What?”
“I…can’t believe I’m going to suggest this.”
“You’re scaring me,” I joke.
Blue eyes lock with mine for a heartbeat, and warmth spreads through me like the sun breaking through a cloud. “You know, when I was home at Christmas, I watched this ridiculous Christmas movie with Mom and Dad.”
I smile, the tension in my chest easing just a little. “I love your mom and dad.”
I love my mom too, but I carry so much guilt. She gave up a life she wanted, a career, to raise me. Every time I visit there are subtle reminders that love means sacrifice and that in order to stay at the top of my journalistic game, I need to keep my head down and my brain focused on the job.
But…is sacrifice really all bad? My stomach clenches.
There’s a part of me, buried and hesitant, that longs for a family, a husband, a little chaos wrapped up in a cozy, predictable life.
I’ve never told anyone—especially my mom, who would only warn me that it brings unhappiness and resentment—but the thought sneaks up on me sometimes.
“Yeah, they’re the best. Except for their weird obsession with Christmas and mistletoe alarms at the inn,” he says lightly.
“I almost got caught under that alarm.”
He winces. “With who?”
“Your father.”
“Oh, Jesus,” he groans. “I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. I mean he’s handsome and all. You obviously get your good looks from him but still…”
He arches a brow, a cute playful grin quirking the corners of his lips. “You think I’m handsome?”