Chapter 7
Jaxon
“Oh my God, really? Noah is that afraid of spiders?” Rowyn asks, laughter bubbling up as I pull back into traffic.
Her laugh is contagious—warm, melodic, the kind that makes even exhaustion feel lighter. I can’t help but grin, though I’m running on fumes and my body’s screaming for bed after our game tonight. But as tired as I am, I’m not quite ready for my night with Rowyn to be over.
“He is. I swear.”
She wipes a tear from her cheek. “He didn’t really strip in public, though. You’re making that up.”
“I wish I was.” I yawn mid-sentence, the kind that starts in your bones and ends behind your eyes.
“We were out playing pool one night, and he felt something on his neck. Rip told him it was a spider and—boom—next thing I know, Noah’s flailing around like he’s on fire.
Shirt gone, jeans halfway down. He was two seconds from dropping his boxers before Ash tackled him to the floor. Saved us all from trauma.”
“Trauma?”
I cock my head. “No one wants to see another guy’s junk, Row.”
Her laughter fills the car again, bright against the quiet hum of the heater. “Junk,” she repeats between giggles. “Please tell me someone recorded that. That’s gold.”
“I’m sure one of the guys did,” I say, rubbing a hand over my face, trying to blink away the fatigue. “Probably uses it for blackmail.”
“How did that not go public?”
Her question makes me think back to the other PR disasters we’ve barely survived. Penn punching Santa. Jaylynn’s #GobbleGate. The chaos that comes when one stupid thing gets caught on camera.
“We had the place to ourselves,” I tell her. “And none of us are the type to leak that kind of footage. When we can, we protect our own from the media.”
The words hang in the air, heavier than I mean them to be. Maybe it’s the late hour or the way her voice softens when she talks to me, but I find myself watching her out of the corner of my eye.
Do I trust Rowyn?
Yeah. I do.
Her hand slides across the console, brushing mine, a quiet touch that pulls me out of the fog in my head. “Thank God. That would have been horrible for Noah.”
That’s when I remember we were talking about Noah’s fear of spiders.
My heart pinches, liking that she feels protective of my teammate.
She turns toward the window, watching the city lights smear across the glass like watercolor.
“I can’t believe Rip’s grandfather owns the Hart Hotel.
” Her voice sounds as tired as mine. “That’s where the WAGs are all going after the playoffs. ”
“So you are going?”
“Thinking about it.” She laughs again, the sound soft and tired and still somehow full of life.
I’m dead on my feet—every muscle heavy, my mind foggy—but being here with her? Yeah, I could drive all night.
“What?” I ask, my voice rough with exhaustion and something else I can’t name.
“I was just thinking about that story Gabby told me about Roman dressing up as Mrs. Roper from that old seventies show. You work with quite the fun bunch.”
“I really do.” I smile, thinking about my buddies, and the lives they’ve built here in Boston.
Most of them live near me in Beacon Hill, and I see their kids on bicycles, or at the neighborhood playground.
Tonight, the place is washed in the soft orange glow of the streetlights, and I’m pretty sure my brain’s on autopilot as I head home.
Rowyn’s phone rings, breaking the cozy silence. She shoots me an apologetic look.
“Sorry, it’s work. I have to take this.”
“Go for it.” My voice is low, scratchy with fatigue, and maybe something else, something that might be loneliness.
While she talks in that low, professional voice, I focus on the road and try not to listen.
Her tone shifts between clipped and careful, and I know whatever’s happening isn’t good—or my business.
My eyelids feel like sandpaper, and for a second I think about how nice my bed will feel—then the thought of her voice keeps me from fully drifting into that half-dream state.
When she finally hangs up, I glance her way. “Everything okay?”
“Ah…” She stares straight ahead. “Not really.”
There’s something in her tone that makes my stomach tighten. “You okay?”
She hesitates, then looks around. “Um… are you kidnapping me, or does this fake dating come with benefits I don’t know about?”
It takes me a beat to register what she means—then I look out the windshield and realize where I’ve stopped in my driveway.
“Oh, crap.” I drag a hand over my face, yawning hard enough to blur my vision. “Jesus, I’m sorry, Rowyn. I’m so tired I basically let the car drive itself home.”
I reach for the gearshift to back out, but she stops me, her hand sliding gently over mine. Her touch is warm, soft, reminding me I haven’t felt anything like it in a long time. “No, you’re actually too tired to drive. I’m going to get an Uber.”
“I don’t like the idea of you in an Uber alone.”
She gives me that look, the one that’s equal parts exasperation and fond amusement. “Jaxon,” she says, her tone teasing but firm, “Weren’t you the one who said I can take care of myself?”
I rest my head back against the seat, eyes half-closed, and let out a low laugh.
“Yeah, well…” I turn toward her, my voice softer now.
“Listen, I might be a big-city hockey player, but you and I both know I’m still a small-town boy at heart, with small-town values.
And I know it’s old-fashioned, but I invited you out tonight, so that makes me responsible for getting you home safe. ”
She opens her mouth to argue, but I lift a hand. “Either I drive you home after I’ve had five minutes to wake up, or you come in and crash in one of the spare rooms. You can take the one furthest from my bedroom, if you’re worried about me trying to consummate this fake relationship,” I tease.
Her lips twitch like she’s trying not to smile. “So you’re saying you’re not going to try?”
“I’m too exhausted.”
“If you weren’t?”
I eye her and she playfully nibbles her bottom lip. “If you’re messing with me, the answer is, even if I weren’t tired, I wouldn’t try to consummate anything. If you’re not messing with me, I suddenly feel wide awake.”
She laughs out loud and I grin, because for some reason my words have lifted her up a bit, lightened the load she always seems to be carrying. Why this woman doesn’t see what I see is beyond me.
Maybe I should show her just how attractive she is.
No, bad idea, dude.
Right. She’s after hot coffee shop guy, not me, and this teasing banter is just that…teasing banter.
After a moment her eyes flick to my front door, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “I don’t have—”
I cut her off with a half-smile, voice soft and a little raspy from fatigue. “I’ve got spare toothbrushes, and you can borrow some of my clothes. But if you’d rather not… I’ll back out of this driveway and take you straight home.”
She tilts her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Maybe I do want to see how the handsome hockey player lives.”
I arch a brow. “Curious journalist in you, huh?”
“Exactly,” she says with a grin.
“Then come on in,” I say. I unhook my belt, circle the car and open the door for her. Hand extended, I add with mock ceremony, “After you, Rapunzel.”
I catch her shake of the head. “That junior high play was a long time ago, Jaxon. I’ve cut off all my hair since then.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I tease, as she hugs herself to ward off the chill of the night. “You’ll always be Rapunzel to me.”
She laughs, the sound warm and easy, filling the still night air. “Why did you choose Chester the squirrel with the lisp instead of the prince?”
I grin. “Are you saying you wanted me to climb into your tower?”
Her nose crinkles, like she’s trying to decode my words, and I fish my key from my pocket. My breath fogs in front of me as I guide her up the walkway, and that’s when I realize just how sexual that might have sounded after our teasing exchange. “Sorry… that might have come out all wrong.”
She chuckles, brushing off my awkwardness. “You actually climbed into my tower the other night. Rescued me when I was without a date.”
“I owed you one,” I murmur, rubbing the back of my neck, which is sore after taking a hard hit. My body aches in the best way, tired from a hard game, but satisfied.
“You didn’t, but thank you anyway,” she says, widening her arms like she’s taking in the sheer size of my house. “And somehow after all that we’ve ended up here.”
I slide the key into the lock, making a little more room for her to step inside. She pauses, and I catch the soft light from the hallway catching her features. “You would have made a great prince,” she says quietly.
I shake my head, a wry half-smile tugging at my lips. “I’m no one’s prince, Row.”
Her expression softens, earnest. “A guy who always does the right thing. That’s everyone’s prince, Jax.”
I let her words hang, but the corners of my mouth tighten slightly. Maybe once, that was true. But life’s knocks have left me hardened in ways that keep people at a distance. Trust doesn’t come easy anymore, and being anyone’s “prince” feels like a luxury I can’t afford.
I step aside, gesturing for her to enter. “Well… come on in, then, Rapunzel. Tower’s cozy tonight.”
She laughs, stepping past me, brushing lightly against my arm. I feel a jolt—tired as I am, her presence wakes something inside me I can’t name, something lighter than the exhaustion pressing down on my shoulders. I shrug out of my coat and she does the same. I hang them in the front closet.
“Come on, I’ll show you around. But first let me get you a drink.” We walk down the long hallway and into the kitchen. “Coffee?” I offer, fumbling a little with the kettle. “Or tea. Or… wine?”
She smirks, leaning against the counter like she owns the place already. “Wine. Coffee will keep me awake. But before I go to sleep, I need to explore your big tower.”
My big tower.
Cripes, that takes me back to earlier when I pulled her against me and boom—instant boner.
I had to hold her there, before every patron in the busy pub saw it, and at the same time, somehow hide it from her.
I’m not one hundred percent sure I was successful in the latter.
Fortunately she didn’t bring it up, but now I wonder if that big tower comment might mean something else entirely.
I give an easy laugh, going with the theory that it’s my house she wants to explore, I say, “I can give you a tour.”
I pour her a glass of wine and grab a beer for myself. As designated driver, I only had one earlier. We sip as I give her a tour of the main level and she glances around with an appreciative eye.
“It’s really actually nice, Jaxon. I love the family pictures.”
“Mom had a hand in helping me decorate. It’s her thing.”
“Oh, I know it. I’ve been inside the Snowberry Inn a number times.” But then she stiffens, and grips her stemware tighter.
“What?”
She glances around, looking at the ceiling. “I’m not going to find a mistletoe alarm in here am I?”
“Not a single one,” I assure her.
She grins as I turn on a lamp and the soft glow falls over the room. For the first time in forever, this house feels less lonely, less like a house and more like a home and it has everything to do with Rowyn being here with me.
“I suppose you don’t need an alarm.” She playfully pokes my stomach. “The women you bring back here don’t need any gimmicks to get them to kiss you.”
He gives me a playful wink. “Are you saying you don’t need a gimmick? I mean, you are a woman and I brought you.”
“Yeah, I get that, but I’m not what the papers call a bunny.”
“For the record, the only bunny I’ve ever had in my place was Poppy.”
My stomach tightens. I do not want to know anything about this Poppy bunny, or what they’d done, but hey, I’m the one who brought it up, so this is on me.
He puts his hand on the small of my back and my traitorous body quivers. Dammit, I hope he didn’t feel that. I glance up at him, and he has a slight grin on his face when he gestures to the big staircase. “Now come on, let’s go get you out of these clothes.”