Chapter 18 Rowyn #2
Before he can finish, Billy sticks his head into my office, grinning like a fool. “Say hello to Lumber-Jax for me,” he booms. “Tell him he was right. Those cinnamon rolls were to die for.”
He walks off laughing, leaving me blinking. “What the heck was that about?”
“I’ll explain later,” Jaxon says, his voice tightening just enough for me to notice again. “You better get going.”
There’s something strained there, something that makes my stomach dip. A flicker of worry rises, the kind that whispers he might be rethinking whatever this thing is between us.
“Why don’t I pick you up instead of you driving?” he adds quickly. “No sense taking two cars.” There’s finally a teasing hint to his voice when he says, “We’ve got to think of the environment, you know.”
“Wow,” I tease, the tension easing again. “Didn’t realize you were so environmentally conscious.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know.”
“True. But I’m learning.”
“I’m learning too,” he says, voice dropping into that low, familiar tone that reminds me of how he taught me last night—with his hands, his mouth, his cock.
I take a quick breath, trying not to sound as flustered as I suddenly feel. “Then you’d have to drive me all the way home, and that’s in the opposite direction of your place.”
“Or…” His pause is deliberate. “You could stay at my place. Look at all the conserving we’d be doing.”
Heat curls low in my belly. “If you’re sure it won’t interfere with your sleep,” I murmur.
“I’m sure it will,” he says with a husky laugh, and for a split second, I worry that whatever this is between us could somehow interfere with his career. The kind of worry that creeps in when feelings start to feel like more than just fun. “I’ll get lots of sleep on the road,” he assures me.
“Okay, if you’re sure,” I reply, keeping my voice steady even as my pulse picks up.
“Pack some clothes,” he adds, a sly note in his tone. “So you don’t have to rush off before I can give you a proper breakfast.”
The words hang in the air, and I feel that little thrill again, the kind that curls warm and dangerous in my stomach. “Proper breakfast, huh? Are you forgetting how much I love your moist muffins?” Just like I’d hoped my words pull a guttural growl from his throat.
“Jesus,” he groans. “On that note, I’m hanging up.”
“I’ll text you when I get home.”
After we hang up, I gather my things, careful to avoid running into Billy as I slip out into the night.
The air is cool, just enough to wake me up, and I find a small comfort in how the days are staying lighter a little longer.
Sometimes it’s the little things, or the…
big things. That thought pulls a laugh from me.
Oh my god, what is happening to me?
I glance around to see if anyone is staring at the crazy lady laughing out loud as she walks to her car by herself.
Only a few people, which makes me laugh harder.
Honestly, the day might have been long and grueling but deep inside, as I think about Jaxon, and visiting friends, and being a little more domestic, well, it fills me up in a way I’m not used to.
I hurry to my car and pull into traffic.
Once home, I take a quick shower, letting the hot water wash off the day. When I step out, I pull on another pair of new panties and matching bra I’d bought just for moments like this.
My mind wanders, half laughing at itself.
Will he tear them from my hips and keep them as a souvenir?
Or am I being completely presumptuous, hoping for things that I want to happen?
He didn’t say anything about sex. The conversation was strictly about not taking two vehicles, right?
But yeah, I’m not na?ve enough to think tonight isn’t going to lead to more.
I pull on a soft blue sweater and jeans, something comfortable but still, well, date-night adjacent, and toss a few things into an overnight bag.
Toothbrush, hairbrush, moisturizer. The toothbrush makes me pause.
There’s something deliciously naughty about it.
Like I’m sneaking around, doing something scandalous, and the thought sends a thrill through me.
By the time I swipe on mascara and a hint of lipstick, my nerves are dancing.
The doorbell rings, and my stomach swoops like a rollercoaster cresting the top.
God, I’m acting like a teenager on prom night.
Not that I’d ever had such a prom night.
I grab my lipstick again just to buy a second, and swipe it across my lips before I hurry to the door and open it.
Jaxon stands there, looking unfairly good, jeans hugging his hips, a dark sweater stretched across his shoulders, hair slightly mussed like he just ran his hands through it before knocking. My heart does this ridiculous little somersault.
Damn, girl. Be careful.
“You look beautiful,” he says, voice low and certain.
There’s no teasing in it, no performance.
Just honesty. And before I can say thank you, before I can even think, he steps in, wraps me up, and kisses me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
His body is big and warm and solid, and I breathe him in—cool night air, fresh soap, a hint of something earthy that’s just him.
“You clean up good, too,” I murmur against his mouth, smiling. Truth is, I like him in all versions—hoodie and sweatpants, or looking like he just stepped out of a men’s fashion ad.
“All set?” he asks, eyes glinting.
“Just need my jacket and bag.”
He waits patiently by the door, one hand in his pocket, watching me with that easy half-smile that makes my pulse skip. When I lock up and step outside, he scrubs a hand over his jaw, glancing toward the street. There’s a shadow in his expression, and it gives me pause.
“Rough day?” I ask gently, even though he’d said earlier it had been a good one. Because I’ve learned, sometimes people say ‘good’ when what they mean is ‘I’m tired but trying’.
He chuckles, that deep, rumbling sound that always makes my stomach flip, and takes my overnight bag from me like it weighs nothing. “Not too bad,” he says, brushing it off.
“I appreciate you taking care of the wine and salad,” I tell him, meaning it. It’s such a small thing, but the gesture warms me. He just shrugs, like it’s no big deal. But for me, it is. I’m so used to handling everything on my own—work, errands, meals, my own company in bed.
Okay. Not going there right now. Definitely not.
He opens the car door for me, and the simple chivalry of it does something strange to my chest. I slide in, trying to act casual while my pulse tap-dances beneath my skin.
When he rounds the hood and gets in beside me, the interior feels smaller, filled with his quiet energy.
I angle my body slightly toward him, eyes tracing the long lines of his frame as he backs out of the driveway.
I inhale and wrinkle my nose. “Something smells good.”
“Oh, that’s just me,” he deadpans, flashing a grin that makes me want to roll my eyes and climb into his lap.
“Maple and cinnamon,” I tease. “Is that your new cologne, Mr. Smells-Delicious?”
He laughs, easy and unbothered. “Nah. I grabbed some cinnamon rolls at the Nook this morning. I swear, Gina must put crack in them.”
I grin. “You’ll have to try making some yourself.”
“She won’t give up the recipe,” he says, mock-frustrated.
“Maybe you’ll have to sneak in the back while she’s baking and do a little recon.”
He scrubs a hand down his face, the humor dimming slightly. There’s something in that motion—restless, thoughtful—that catches at me. My stomach tightens. He’s got something on his mind, and the longer he doesn’t say it, the more my nerves start buzzing.
Maybe I should help him out. I open my mouth to tell him it’s okay, that we don’t have to do this, but before I can get a word out, he speaks.
“Speaking of the Nook,” he says, eyes fixed on the road, voice casual but not quite. “I ran into Billy there this morning.”
“Really?” That takes me by surprise. Everyone knows the Nook is the Bucks’ unofficial hangout, and Billy’s not exactly welcome.
Besides, he’s a Golden Grinds loyalist. I didn’t go inside this morning, so I assumed that’s why I didn’t see him.
Apparently, that’s not the whole story. “Why would he go there?” I ask slowly, suspicion flickering to life.
If he’s poking around looking for gossip, I swear—
“He said your usual spot was packed,” Jaxon says, glancing at me briefly.
“It was packed, actually.”
“He said he heard good things about the Nook. Thought he’d check it out.”
There’s a beat of silence, the hum of the engine filling the space between us. I tilt my head, studying his profile. “Why do you sound so suspicious?”
He exhales through his nose, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “Sorry if I do. I just… I don’t really trust the guy.”
“I can understand that.” It’s not just Billy he doesn’t trust. It’s reporters, and I actually fall into that category.
He gives a humorless half-laugh. “I know you work with him, and I don’t want to say anything negative. But it felt like he wanted to get under my skin, like he wanted me to know you were talking to some guy who brought coffee to your car. He said it like he was testing me, waiting for a reaction.”
Okay, so Billy was at Golden Grinds long enough to see that. “I was chatting with Matt.” That should make him happy right. That’s why we’re doing this. But wait, maybe that made him jealous. When I don’t get a reaction, I explain. “Matt. You know, hot coffee shop guy.”
“I know who Matt is,” he says, eyes still on the road, voice steady but low.
Okay, so it’s not jealous. This is something deeper, older. His issue with being watched, with stories being twisted. His history with the media, and how easily they could turn something normal into something salacious.
“I’m sorry, Jaxon.” My voice softens. “This is too much, and we should end it right now. You’ve had the media breathing down your neck for years. I don’t want to be the reason you start looking over your shoulder again. That’s not fair to you.”
He doesn’t answer right away, but his jaw works, muscle flexing. Streetlights flash across his face, light, shadow, light again, and I can almost see him trying to find the right words.
“Are you saying you want to end this?” His voice is steady but careful, like he’s treading fragile ice. “And if you are… are you talking about the lessons, or the friendship?”
My stomach twists into a tight knot. The thought of losing him—losing this—physically hurts. Being here in Boston, in his world, meeting his colleagues, the WAGs…it’s been incredible. For the first time in forever, I don’t feel like I’m wandering alone.
“Tell me the truth,” he urges.
“I’ll always tell you the truth,” I say, my words firm, but inside, I falter.
I can’t tell him that maybe, just maybe, my curiosity about Matt isn’t what it was a week ago.
That tiny confession could ripple into something that threatens the fragile balance we’ve built.
I can’t risk it. “I… I don’t want this to end, Jaxon,” I finally whisper, the words tasting heavy but necessary.
“I just want what’s best for you. And if I brought anyone, or any kind of chaos, into your private life, I’d never forgive myself. ”
He glances at me, eyes softening, jaw relaxing. “I want what’s best for you, too. That’s why we’re doing this…and why we’re going to keep doing this.”
A quiet sigh escapes me, the tension easing slightly. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about with Billy. He’s just looking to stir things up, but we’re not going to give him a story.”
“No, we’re not.” His tone is low, resolute, a promise wrapped in those words.
I tilt my head, trying to read him, feel him.
“Tonight, we don’t even have to pretend,” I murmur, a small, teasing lilt in my voice.
The truth is, I like pretending. His kisses, those soft touches that tease just enough, the way he leans in like the rest of the world doesn’t exist… it’s intoxicating.
He smirks, just enough to make my pulse quicken. “I forgot to tell you. Gina and Ash are joining us. Gina’s been run off her feet, and everyone thought she needed a night to relax. So yeah, pretending is still on.”
I glance down, feigning disappointment. “Damn.”
But even as I voice the words, a traitorous little part of me is entirely too happy. Thrilled, really. About his presence, about the closeness, about the way this game we’re playing somehow makes my heart pound like it’s breaking all the rules. If I were smart, I’d shut that part down immediately…
…but I don’t.