Chapter Thirteen
Axle
I’m halfway back to the cabin when I change my mind.
The workout kicked my ass in all the right ways, and the twenty minutes I spent in the sauna afterward left every muscle loose and heavy.
Remembering what Jovie said about cold plunging, I cut across the back pasture toward the river, sweat still clinging to my skin.
I switched my workouts to the evening to avoid being alone with her and to try and tire myself out enough to sleep through the night. It hasn’t worked. I’ve tossed and turned most nights, wondering if she was out on the deck in the damn sleep shirt that showed off her legs.
I make a mental note to check in with Bryce on the progress of my original cabin. The sooner I move back across campus, the better.
The river sounds louder as I approach, hidden behind thick cottonwoods, aspens, and ancient pines. This stretch of water cuts through the eastern edge of the ranch and has been our favorite swimming hole since we were kids.
The second I step through the trees, I stop cold.
Jovie.
Well, hell.
She’s stretched out on a blanket near the riverbank like some kind of dangerous daydream.
A Raintree-Storm Rodeo Academy ball cap shades part of her face.
Aviator sunglasses cover her eyes.
Her blonde hair is braided into two ropes that drape over her shoulders.
And the tiny white bikini she’s wearing ought to be fucking illegal.
I remain perfectly still behind the trees.
Mostly because my brain has forgotten how to function.
The late evening sun glows across her skin. One leg is bent and the other stretched out.
She lazily turns a page in the paperback resting against her stomach.
Geezus.
Why can’t she be the girl I remember—with braces and skinny knees? The one who wore ripped jeans and oversize hoodies, not bikinis that barely cover her perfect, not-so-skinny, curves-in-all-the-right-places body.
Because this woman? She looks like she walked off the cover of a swimsuit magazine.
My jaw tightens.
I should turn around. Leave before she notices me. Because this is dangerous territory.
Very dangerous.
Not only does she belong to my brother, but we work together.
And nothing about the direction of my thoughts feels remotely professional.
Yeah, I should leave. Before I do something stupid.
I take one careful step backward.
Then another.
And promptly step on a fallen branch.
Crack.
The limb snaps beneath my boot, and one end whips upward like a damn catapult and slams directly into my shin.
“Son of a—”
Pain explodes through my leg.
I hop sideways, grabbing the nearest tree.
The branch falls harmlessly to the ground. Then I kick it across the woods.
“Axle? You okay?”
I freeze.
Jovie is already jogging toward me.
Great. Just fucking great.
I straighten. “Fine.”
“You sure? You’re hopping on one leg.”
“Yeah. I snapped a branch, and it stung my shin. Just needed to walk it off.”
She reaches me a second later.
Concern softens her features.
Up close, I can see the freckles sprinkled across her nose, and she somehow looks even prettier.
“Let me see.”
“I’m not injured, Doc. Just pissed off.”
“Axle.”
I sigh dramatically.
Mostly because I recognize that tone. It’s the same tone Grandma Evelyn, Momma, and every other woman in this family uses to get her way.
Sure enough, she bends slightly, lifts my pants leg, and studies my shin.
A red mark is already forming.
“Yep,” she says. “You whacked it good. But you’ll live.”
“Told you.”
The throbbing fades as she gently rolls the denim back down and stands.
“What were you doing, sneaking around in the trees?”
“I wasn’t sneaking.”
She studies me over the top of her sunglasses that have slid down her nose.
“I came down here for a cold plunge.”
“In the river?”
“Yeah. I got in the sauna after my workout.”
A pleased smile appears on her face. “Ah. You listened.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t see you in the gym the rest of the week. I hope it wasn’t because of me. I know I can be a little pushy with the advice.”
“It wasn’t,” I say quickly. “It’s just easier to get Royce in there in the evenings. I have to stay on him.”
“Ah, that makes sense.”
We stand there for a few awkward beats before she asks, “So, you gonna plunge or what?”
I glance over my shoulder to the trail.
“I was actually leaving,” I admit.
“Why?”
I shrug. “Didn’t want to disturb you.”
Her expression softens. “You wouldn’t have disturbed me. I’m just reading.”
She gestures toward the river. “I thought about jumping in for a swim myself, but the sun felt so good. I got comfortable.”
I glance toward the blanket.
It does look very comfortable.
For a moment, neither of us moves.
The air feels strangely charged.
Then I decide to stop being so fucking weird about it.
“I’m going in.”
I reach for the hem of my shirt.
Jovie’s gaze follows the movement.
The second I pull it over my head, her eyes widen slightly.
I toss the shirt onto the grass.
Her attention drifts slowly across the tattoos climbing my ribs and shoulder.
Like she’s studying them.
Heat curls low in my stomach.
When her gaze finally lifts and collides with mine, a flush spreads across her cheeks.
Caught.
I fight back a grin.
Then I reach for the zipper of my jeans and her eyes get even bigger.
I slide the denim down my legs and step out of them.
She actually gasps.
Then immediately spins around.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
“Relax, Doc.”
“I am relaxed,” she squeaks.
“You turned around so fast that I thought you might get dizzy.”
Her neck is bright pink. So are her shoulders. I enjoy that entirely too much.
Leaving my clothes in a pile by the tree, I take off running toward the water.
Ten long strides. Then I leap for the rope swing that hangs from one of the massive oaks leaning over the river.
My hands close around it automatically. And the momentum carries me out over the water.
Wind rushes past my face as I fly.
When I let go, the river swallows me whole, and the cold hits like a freight train, lighting up every nerve ending.
I resurface a moment later with a shout. “Holy hell!”
Water streams from my hair. I shove it back and look toward the shore.
Jovie stands exactly where I left her.
Still flushed and still watching.
I grin. “Your turn, Doc!”
“Nope,” she quips.
“Come on.”
“No.”
“You said you wanted to swim.”
“After the way you just cried out, no thank you. I’m not launching myself into an icy death.”
I bark out a laugh. “You’re chicken.”
Her eyes narrow.
“There it is,” I mutter.
“What?”
“Come on, Doc. You can do it.”
She shakes her head.
“Chicken,” I bellow again.
Her spine straightens instantly.
Got her.
She walks over to the blanket and removes her hat and sunglasses. Then she walks backward a few paces while eyeing the rope suspiciously.
“You sure that thing’s safe?”
“It hasn’t let us down in twenty years.”
She looks up nervously at the branch the rope is secured to.
“Come on, Doc. I won’t let you drown.” The words leave my mouth before I can think about them.
Something shifts in her expression.
A tiny smile.
I spread my arms. “I’m right here.”
For a second, she just stares at me.
Then she shakes her head and laughs. “Fine.”
My attention drops. Which is a mistake.
The white bikini leaves very little to the imagination as she walks toward the rope.
I drag a hand down my face.
She gives it an experimental tug.
Then another. Testing it, as if she didn’t just see it hold my two hundred and ten pounds.
“You need a running start,” I say.
She lets go of the rope and walks back toward the tree line.
“Kick off hard,” I yell.
“Yes, Coach.”
“Actually, I prefer boss.”
She snorts.
I point toward the shoreline. “Back up farther.”
She backs up several paces. Takes a breath. Then starts running.
The second she jumps, every teasing thought vanishes.
She sails through the air, screaming, and reaches out. The rope catches, and her stiff body swings out over the river.
Blonde braids flying. Legs kicking. Eyes wide.
“Let go, Jovie,” I shout.
“What?”
I watch as she swings back over the bank and then circles back.
“Let go!”
She squeezes her eyes shut and releases the rope.
Her arms pinwheel. Her legs flail.
And then … splash.
The impact sends water exploding everywhere. I laugh so hard that I nearly inhale river water.
“Axle!”
Her muffled scream disappears beneath the surface.
I start swimming, and by the time I reach the spot where she landed, bubbles are rising.
A second later, she bursts upward, gasping. Eyes huge. Braids clinging to her shoulders.
“Oh my God!”
I’m already beside her.
“The water is freezing!” she sputters dramatically. “Freezing!”
I catch her shoulders automatically. “Breathe,” I say.
“It’s arctic!”
“Breathe, Doc.”
“I can’t feel my toes!”
“Jovie, look at me.”
“I think I have hypothermia.”
I bark out a laugh. “You’ve been in the water for six seconds.”
She sucks in a breath. Then another. Finally, her eyes focus, and that’s when she realizes how cold she really is. With a startled squeak, she launches herself at me. One second, she was treading water. The next, her arms are around my neck, and her legs wrap around my waist.
And suddenly, I’m holding her. Every inch of her body pressed against mine.
My brain completely shorts out.
“Whoa,” I say, trying to pull away and create some space between us.
She clings tighter. “C-c-cold,” she stutters.
“Yeah.”
“So cold.”
“Isn’t that the whole point of the cold plunge?” I ask, trying to distract her.
The problem is that I can feel everything. The curve of her body pressed against mine. The tremble running through her muscles, causing her legs to flex against my waist. The goose bumps covering her skin.
The wisps of wet hair, loose from her braids, sticking against my neck.
The heat of her breath.
Every single one of my survival instincts decides now would be a fantastic time to stop working as I tug her in closer. Enjoying all of it.
“Axle?”
“Yep.”
She tilts her head back slightly. Water beads along her eyelashes, and the fading sunlight catches in her blue eyes.
I tighten my grip beneath her thighs to keep her above the surface. Big mistake. Because now I’m painfully aware of exactly how little fabric exists between us.
Jovie’s gaze drops to my mouth.
Then returns to my eyes.
And a different flush colors her cheeks. Not from the cold.
Ah hell.
The silence stretches, and neither of us moves as the river drifts around us and the cottonwoods rustle overhead.
It feels like we’re the only two people left in Wyoming.
I clear my throat. “Still freezing?”
She shakes her head, but her eyes never leave mine.
“Want me to drag you back to the shore?”
A smile appears. “Drag me?”
“Carry you?”
She nods and whispers, “Yes.”
The sound settles somewhere dangerous inside my chest.
I start toward the shore.
Slowly.
Mostly because moving too quickly would require acknowledging the erection pressing into her, growing despite the frigid water.
And I’m trying very hard not to acknowledge that.
Jovie remains attached to me, and neither of us comments on it.
When my feet finally touch the bottom, I stand. Water streams from both of us.
She’s still clinging to me.
Still looking at me.
And for one reckless second, I wonder what would happen if I leaned in.
Just a little.
She must read my thoughts because she closes her eyes and tilts her head forward, but before our lips touch, common sense punches me in the face.
Cabe.
I force my attention toward the shore.
“Cold plunge conquered,” I whisper.
Her eyes flutter open, and I see the disappointment before she schools her expression.
“Barely survived.”
“It was a heroic effort.”
“Do I get a medal?”
“You get hot chocolate.”
She smiles. “Deal.”
When we reach the blanket, she’s still wrapped around me.
She untangles her arms and legs, and I reluctantly set her on her feet.
Her eyes flick down to the boxer briefs clinging to my thighs and then quickly back to mine. “Oh my God, Axle!”
“What? You’ve never seen a dick before?”
“Yes. No. I mean, yes, of course I have. It’s just you’re …”
“Hard. Yeah, that happens when a practically naked woman climbs me like a tree,” I say.
“I didn’t climb you! And I’m not naked.”
My eyes skim down her body. “Close.”
She gasps. “You’re in your underwear.”
“I am. Another sight you should probably get used to. You’re gonna be treating horny little bastards on the circuit, Doc. They’re gonna get hard-ons when you start massaging cramped muscles and shit.”
“What?”
I shrug. “It’s biology. They won’t be able to help it.”
“So, you’re not attracted to me. That”—her eyes glance down to my cock, which is still standing at attention—“is just a reflex?”
I purse my lips as my eyes take her in once again. “Nope. Not attracted in the least.”
Her brows furrow, but I can’t tell if it’s from relief or disappointment.
“Good,” she says. “Sorry about that … situation.”
I shrug. “Just a reflex. It’d go down if you stopped ogling it.”
“I’m not …”
I grin.
“Whatever,” she says as she reaches into her bag and tosses a towel at me.
We dry off and dress quickly before loading up her stuff, and as we walk back to our cabins, side by side, I know one thing for certain.
I’m in trouble.