Chapter 51
FIFTY-ONE
Iloved the convenience and luxury of Jaxon’s place—but it’s nice to be home, back in my soaking tub.
It’s been a long day, one I kept full on purpose—mostly reading through scripts from movies and shows in case Next In Line falls through. Fingers crossed it never does. That’s exactly what I told Jaxon.
He chuckled in solidarity. We’re on our second call of the day.
This morning, he called to make sure I got home safe, driving his SUV.
He insisted I take it. I was supposed to leave yesterday, but I told Kat to turn the car around and send the driver back to L.A.
I ended up sleeping the entire day in Jaxon’s bed. I was wiped.
“Oh, and I’ve been thinking,” I say, something from the drive home bubbling up again. “Remember that comment you made about the ladies watching their figures?”
“Yeah,” he groans. “And you tore me a new one. But I didn’t mean it the way you thought.”
I let out a soft laugh. “I know that now. Especially now that I’ve gotten to know you better. When you said you had three sisters—it all clicked. You make sense.”
“I do?” He sounds amused—and kind of pleased.
“I know how we women are. We obsess over our weight, our looks…”
“Yes!” he says, like I just won a game show. He tells me how nearly every day, one of his sisters would ask, Do I look fat in this? And to him, they never did. As an athlete, he says, too skinny means too weak.
“I was just trying to connect with the women,” he says, “and I said something stupid. I regretted it the second it left my mouth. You had the right reaction.”
I adjust the phone against my ear. “Nah, I could’ve been kinder.”
“We’ve learned our lessons, haven’t we?”
His ability to forgive—gently and with humor—hits me straight in the chest. I had assumed the worst about him back then. Now I know how wrong I was.
Gosh, am I falling in love with Jaxon Wilde? Or is it just the sex talking?
“Hey,” he says softly.
“Yeah…” I purr back.
“Umm…” He groans a little. “I miss you. But I’ve gotta go—game day tomorrow. You watching?”
I smile so wide it actually hurts. “You better believe it.”
“Good. Be on the lookout for our signal on the Jumbotron.”
“I will,” I promise.
We say goodnight. There’s a pause. One of those long, lingering silences that’s this close to becoming a confession. But I won’t say it. And I’m pretty sure Jaxon thinks it’s too soon, too.
So instead, I say, “See you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight,” he says again.
“Goodnight.”
As always, he waits for me to hang up first. Jaxon Wilde—a true gentleman.
Phone still in hand, I stare at the screen, caught up in the warmth of our call. I want to tell him how I feel. Just… see what he does with it.
I type:
I think I love you.
But I delete it.
I try again:
I think I’m falling for you.
I let it sit there. Read it over. And over.
The truth? I’ve already fallen.
No. No, no way. If deep down Jaxon’s a commitment-phobe, even that might scare him off.
So, I delete the message. Set my phone down.
And stare into the depths of my bathwater, willing all these messy, impulsive declarations to disappear.