Chapter 11
Jaxon
After a long day of drills, scrimmages, and one too many ‘constructive chats’ with the coaches, all I want is a twelve-hour coma. My legs ache, my shoulders feel like I’ve been body-checked by a semi, and I could probably fall asleep standing up. But my mind? Yeah, my mind didn’t get the memo.
It’s wired. Buzzing. Because apparently, instead of counting sheep, I’m thinking about giving sex lessons.
To Rowyn Perry.
The straight-laced, rule-following girl I once carried off the playground when we were kids.
She’d fallen, broken her arm, and was bawling her eyes out until I scooped her up and took her to the nurse’s office.
My “heroic rescue”. In return, she brought me a chocolate chip muffin the next day.
Every day for a week, actually. Said it was her thank-you.
Holy hell. I hadn’t thought about that in years.
Muffins.
That’s our history. And, if tonight goes the way I think it might… our future.
Do not think about moist muffins.
I snort under my breath, earning a few side-eyes from the guys heading out of the locker room. Whatever. I can’t help it. The way she’d said “muffins” earlier today, all wide-eyed innocence and completely unaware of the double meaning, had nearly killed me.
At least, I think she was unaware.
Because honestly, with Rowyn, it’s hard to tell. She’s got this intriguing mix of confident, whip-smart journalist on the outside, but underneath all that polish, there’s this uncertainty, this curiosity that’s sexy as hell. The kind that makes me want to teach her… everything.
And of course, my dick has decided to choose this exact moment to make its opinion known.
Perfect.
I grab my towel, trying to cover my junk before anyone notices, and head for the showers. The locker room smells like sweat, soap, and the metallic tang of ice. The guys are mostly quiet — tired, sore, and ready to go home to their wives or girlfriends. I’m ready for that too.
Not that Rowyn is either of those things to me.
She’s a friend. I’m helping her out. That’s all this is. Two friends working on a mutually beneficial arrangement. She learns a few things. I, uh… supervise.
Still, my stomach tightens at the thought of her doing this for someone else. Some other guy. If that coffee shop douche doesn’t already see how incredible she is, he doesn’t deserve a second shot.
But that’s not my call, right? I’m not here to judge. I’m here to…instruct.
No questions. Just direction.
And damn, the way she’d responded when I got bossy earlier, the way her breath hitched, her eyes dilated… Yeah, that image is burned into my brain.
God help me, I liked it. A little too much.
I’m halfway to the showers, still lost in thought, when a hand slaps my shoulder.
“Dude, you good?” Penn’s grinning at me.
“What?” I blink once, and work to figure out what he’s asking me.
He laughs. “You just about walked into a wall, man.”
“Oh.” I glance up, realize he’s right, and correct my path like a guilty teenager working to hide a boner in class. “Yeah. Just thinking about the playoffs.”
Not a total lie. I am thinking about the playoffs.
And Rowyn Perry in my bed, learning things she definitely didn’t learn in journalism school.
Penn tosses me a look. “You heading home after this?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“You should come by for dinner. Jaylynn’s making lasagna. She keeps asking about Rowyn, She says she wants to get to know her better.”
Great. Dinner. Lasagna. Small talk. Exactly what I need when my head’s already a mess and my body’s plotting mutiny.
I pause halfway down the hall and turn to Penn. “You know this thing with Rowyn isn’t real, right? It’s all fake.”
He barks out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Been there, done that. You remember how that worked out for me?”
“Yeah,” I say dryly. “But unlike you and Jay, Rowyn and I aren’t faking it for our careers or to get back at any ex. She’s got her eye on another guy and we’re doing this so he’ll notice her.”
Penn gives me that look, the one that says he’s two seconds away from calling bullshit. “You do realize that never works, right?”
Before I can respond, Nicklas strolls past, towel slung over his shoulder, smirk in place. “You with your girl tonight, or do you think she might want to spend some time with a real man?”
My jaw tightens. I cock my head and raise a brow as I look at Penn. “See, that right there, my friend, is proof the fake thing works.”
Penn chuckles. “That’s just Nicklas being Nicklas. He’ll flirt with a fire hydrant if it gives him attention. Still, maybe keep him away from your girl.”
“She’s not my girl,” I say, probably a little too fast. “She’s my friend. I’m helping her out.”
“Sure,” he says, voice dripping with amusement. “So why don’t you and your friend come over for dinner tonight? You can relax, maybe play some cards. You know, as friends.”
“I can’t tonight,” I tell him. “Promised I’d make Rowyn dinner.” And a few other things that don’t need to be in the team group chat.
Penn just grins. “Fine, tomorrow then. Down time before the game. We could all use it.”
“I’ll check with her.” I think back to when she was in the box, chatting with the WAGs.
I think she might’ve actually had fun, and could probably use a friend or two.
Rowyn is normally reserved, but that night I’d caught her laughing, talking, her eyes bright.
“Might be good for her to get to know Jaylynn better.”
“Perfect. I’ll tell Jay.”
I shower fast, pulling on jeans and a hoodie, anxious to get out before anyone else invites me somewhere I’ll have to dodge more questions.
The air outside is warmer than it has been, a rare early-spring night that smells like fresh rain.
I tilt my head up, taking in the blue stretch of late day sky.
“Hey.”
I glance over my shoulder. Ash is jogging to catch up. “Where you off to in such a hurry?”
“Just meeting up with Rowyn.”
He slows beside me, brows raising slightly. “Rowyn Perry?”
“Yeah,” I say cautiously. “Why?”
He scratches the back of his neck. “Nothing. I just didn’t peg you as the kind of guy who’d hook up with a reporter.”
“She’s not doing a story on any of us,” I say, a little defensive. “That’s not her beat.”
“Yeah, I know.” He looks off toward the parking lot lights, face tightening. “I just thought… after what happened with Ember…”
He trails off, but he doesn’t have to finish. The name hits like a slap. Ember. The girl who’d blown my life with her fake pregnancy, followed by me breaking off the engagement.
I swallow the knot in my throat. “Rowyn’s different. We go way back. She’s not like that.”
Ash nods, sincerity in his voice. “I trust you, buddy.”
Trust.
The word sticks in my chest as he falls quiet. Because the truth is, I do trust Rowyn. I trust that she’s not here for a story or a headline. I trust that when she looks at me, she’s not seeing a scandal or a sound bite.
But she is using me.
My lips twist into a humorless smile as I unlock my car. Yeah, she’s using me to get a guy. Now, the messed-up part…it was my suggestion and no, I’m not all that okay with it anymore. But it’s too late to turn back now. Right?
But trust…
Yeah, that word comes with baggage. It makes my chest tighten, pulling up memories I’ve worked damn hard to bury. Ember’s deceit, the lies, the fallout. And, hell, the birth control thing.
I don’t know why Rowyn and I didn’t think to talk about it.
Probably because this whole sex lessons idea came out of nowhere.
It’s not exactly something you prepare for.
Still, I make a mental note to bring it up tonight, because if there’s one thing I learned from my past, it’s that trust without communication is a ticking time bomb.
“Hey, listen,” I say, shaking off the memories and changing the subject. “Rowyn mentioned you guys are short-staffed at the Nook. And something about needing childcare?”
Ash nods, his mouth twisting. “Yeah, spring always hits us hard. The college kids head home, and a couple of our regulars moved on. Makes it tough to cover shifts sometimes.”
“Sorry to hear that, man. If there’s anything I can do…” I offer, even though I know I can’t exactly step behind a counter and start brewing lattes. Sure, I might be a great baker, but still…
He gives me a tired smile. “Thanks, but we’ll figure it out.”
We say our goodbyes, and I head toward my car. By the time I slide into the driver’s seat, the weight of the day catches up to me. Muscles heavy, brain buzzing. I tug out my phone before starting the engine.
Me: Still up for tonight?
I don’t know why I’m holding my breath, but I am. Three dots appear. Then disappear. Then appear again. My pulse kicks up like I’m waiting on a draft pick announcement instead of a text from a woman I’ve known half my life.
Rowyn: I am.
Simple. Two words. But they hit me square in the chest.
Rowyn: Still at the office. Heading home shortly. Billy says hi.
What the heck. Why is she with Billy and why is he saying hi to me, like we’re old friends, or even new friends? We’re not. Wait, why does he know who she’s texting? Deciding to ignore all those questions, I text back.
Me: I have to run to the grocery store. I’ll be there in about an hour.
Rowyn: So domesticated. My offer to cook still stands.
I grin.
Me: Nope. See you soon.
I hover over the screen for a moment, thumb resting just above the keyboard. I consider telling her about dinner tomorrow night with Penn and Jaylynn, but I decide to wait and ask her in person.
Still, I don’t put my phone away right away. I just sit there, staring at the screen, a stupid half-smile tugging at my mouth. It’s weirdly… nice. Checking in with her. Having someone to text about groceries and dinner plans instead of travel schedules and game film.
I didn’t realize how much I missed that, the quiet, easy connection that sneaks up on you and takes root before you even notice. Finally, I drop my phone onto the passenger seat, start the car, and pull out of the lot.
At the grocery store, I grab the essentials: pasta, scallops, wine, garlic bread, the basics for dinner.
I head toward the cash register and pause, circling back to the pharmacy aisle.
Condoms. Christ when was the last time I bought them.
I don’t know, but it’s the responsible thing to do.
Even if she’s on birth control, she might not trust a guy who’s been with bunnies in the past.
I pay for my things, and get out fast, before I overthink things any more than I already have Back home, I put the food away, swap my sweats for dark pants and a soft gray sweater, and take one last look in the mirror.
I look… presentable. Maybe even like a guy who knows what he’s doing. Which is funny, because my heart’s pounding like I’m heading into overtime. I shoot her a final text.
Me: On my way.
I stare at the message for a beat, then slide my phone into my pocket and head for the door.
The night air hits me, cooler against my skin than earlier, but still carrying the faint scent of city rain and exhaust. I crank up the tunes in the car as darkness falls over the streets, letting the music try to steady my thoughts—which, of course, it doesn’t.
Instead, my brain goes rogue. Am I too dressed up? She’s used to seeing me in hoodies and sweatpants, not dress pants and a sweater that actually fits. Am I making a bigger deal out of tonight than it really is? Should I have stayed casual? Should I have… done anything differently?
By the time I pull into her driveway, my heart is hammering like I’m about to skate into overtime during the playoffs. I force my brain to shut off the chatter, telling myself to breathe, to act normal, to not trip over my own damn feet.
I climb out of the car and hurry to the front door, my palms slick with nervous sweat. Every step feels like it’s two inches off the ground. What the hell is happening to me?
And then she opens it.
Rowyn. Standing there. The soft light from the porch catches her hair, making it glow.
Her eyes wide, lips curved into that nervous little smile that has me weak in the knees every damn time she aims it my way.
She looks so beautiful, so innocent, so completely unaware of the storm she’s about to unleash in me.
I nearly stumble backward, words caught somewhere between my throat and my chest. My palms itch to reach out, to touch her, to steady myself, even though I know nothing in the world could make this simple moment feel steady.
Christ.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?