Chapter 9
nine
I love rain, but, fuckin’ A, I freaking hate thunder. Have ever since I was a kid. Not sure why though. Probably because it was so traumatic, I blocked it out.
The rain is coming down hard, so I jump out of bed to close the window I’d left open to let in the cool night air. Large puddles are already starting to form in the street and small sections of my front yard.
BOOM!
The lights go out and I let out a shriek, covering my ears as I rush downstairs to the kitchen to find a flashlight and some candles.
Nearly tripping over a box I haven’t unpacked yet, I fumble through the dark. The kitchen seems impossibly far away, but I make it there without breaking my neck, which feels like a win.
“Stupid thunder,” I mutter, yanking open a drawer near the sink. “Goddamn storm. Fucking power outage.”
My fingers brush against something that feels like a candle, and I pull it out triumphantly. A few more seconds of rummaging produces three more. Thank god for my obsessive need to be organized.
“Ha!” I set them on the counter, arranging them in a row before digging through another drawer for some matches. Lightning flashes again, illuminating the kitchen just long enough for me to spot the flashlight on top of the fridge.
“Thank god,” I whisper, stretching up on my tiptoes to grab it.
Just as my fingers close around the plastic handle, another boom of thunder shakes the house. I let out a squeal and nearly drop the flashlight, fumbling to turn it on with shaky fingers.
The beam cuts through the darkness, and I let out a sigh of relief.
Suddenly, someone is pounding on my front door, and I can hear Jax yelling over the storm on the other side.
Rushing across the room, I yank it open.
The Adonis from next door is standing on my porch shirtless and barefoot, wearing a pair of basketball shorts—which seems to be an ongoing theme with him. Not only is he soaking wet, but he’s out of breath and his chest is heaving from running over here.
My eyes stay glued to the water droplets trailing down Jax’s bare chest, following one particularly lucky drop as it slides over his abs and disappears into the waistband of his shorts.
“Hey, you okay? I heard you scream.”
“I… um…” I swallow against the nervousness stuck in my throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. The thunder just startled me, and then everything went dark.” I wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to stop the shivers. “Sorry if I woke you.”
Another crack of thunder has me jumping again, and I drop the flashlight with a squeak.
“Fine, huh?” He bends over to pick it up, and when he straightens, I have the sudden urge to stick out my tongue so I can catch the fat drop of water currently threatening to drip off his chin.
A chuckle snaps me out of my daze. “Can I come in? Or would you prefer we continue this conversation with me drowning on your doorstep while you eat me alive with your eyes?”
“Sorry.” I step back, waving him inside. “Yes, please come in. God forbid you catch pneumonia.”
Jax hands me the flashlight as he brushes past, bringing the scent of rain and something woodsy that I’m sure is coming from him, inside. I take a cleansing breath as I close the door.
“Let me get you a towel,” I say, pointing the flashlight toward the couch. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
I scurry down the hallway to the linen closet, grateful for a moment alone to catch my breath.
When I return with the biggest, fluffiest towel I own, Jax is still standing in front of the door, water pooling at his feet onto the tile.
“Here.” I toss him the towel. “Sorry about… screaming. You didn’t have to come running.”
Catching it with one hand, he swipes it over his face and chest, mohawk pulled back into a flat ponytail at the back of his head. “No worries. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
In a half-hearted attempt to keep myself from gawking as he continues to dry off, running the towel over his bulging biceps, I concentrate on lighting the candles and placing them around the room.
Needing something else to do with my hands, I ask, “I think this calls for whiskey. You want one?”
“Wouldn’t say no.”
In the kitchen, I grab a bottle of Jameson and two glasses from the cupboard. When I return, I find him sitting on the couch on top of the towel.
“So,” he says as I pour each of us at least three fingers. “You’re afraid of storms, huh?”
I hand him a glass and sit at the opposite end of the couch, tucking a leg underneath me. “No. Just thunder.” I take a sip, welcoming the burn. “Thanks for coming to check on me.”
“No problem.”
We sit in silence for a moment, sipping our drinks as the storm rages outside. Another flash of lightning illuminates the room, and I twitch, bracing myself for the thunder that follows.
“So what made you decide to move to Lakeside?” he asks, breaking the silence. “Besides Noia and setting up another Summit Studio, I mean.”
Swirling the amber liquid in my glass, I contemplate my answer.
“Honestly? I just needed a change. Portland was starting to feel... suffocating. Too many memories, you know? And, I’ve always loved small towns.
There’s something about knowing your neighbors and being part of a community that appeals to me. ”
“Even if one of those neighbors happens to be me?” he teases, a half-smile playing at his lips.
I snort out a laugh. “We’ll see.”
Jax shifts in his seat with a wince and reaches down to rub his knee.
“What’s wrong?” Before I can stop myself, I’m sitting next to him on the couch.
He shrugs. “Just an old injury that acts up anytime a storm rolls in.”
“Let me see.”
“It’s fine,” he growls.
Setting my glass down on the coffee table, I move to kneel in front of him. “I studied sports medicine in college,” I say, gently pushing his hand away. “May I?”
He hesitates, then nods. Stretching out his leg, he rests his bare foot on the coffee table with a huff.
Heat radiates from his skin as I rest my hand on his knee. “Tell me if this hurts.” I begin gently manipulating the joint, pressing my thumbs into specific pressure points.
“Fuck,” he hisses when I hit a particularly tight spot.
“Sorry,” I murmur, easing up slightly. “ACL?”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah. How’d you know?”
“The scar is pretty distinctive.” I reign in my focus, trying to ignore how intimate this feels. “What happened?”
He stays quiet, and when I look up, he’s watching me with an intensity that makes my stomach flip.
“Baseball, senior year of college,” he finally says. “I was headed for the draft when I blew it out during the championship game.”
“I’m sorry,” I say with a frown. “That must have been devastating.”
“It is what it is.” His voice is tight and I can hear the pain just below the surface. “But I managed to find a new path. Turns out, tattooing was my true calling.”
Feeling him start to relax under my touch, I continue to massage his knee, doing my best to work out the knots.
“That feels amazing,” he murmurs, his head falling back against the couch.
Pleased I can help, I smile. “You still rehabbing it?”
“Not like I should. It mostly acts up when the barometric pressure changes.”
“Hmmm.” I want to scold him for ignoring the aftercare on his knee, but I let it go. Seems like a sore subject. “So how did you get into tattooing?”
“I’ve always loved drawing. After the injury, I spent a lot of time in rehab, sketching to pass the time.
My roommate was covered in ink, so he introduced me to his artist. I apprenticed with him for a while before I met Claire.
” He lifts his head to look at me. “What about you? How did Summit Studio come about?”
I hesitate, hands stilling for a second before I continue. “My ex-boyfriend Ryan and I started it right out of college. I had the sports medicine background; he had the business degree. Seemed like a perfect match.”
“Had?”
I sigh, focusing on what feels like a particularly tight spot. “Yeah. Turns out he was more interested in screwing our instructors.”
“He cheated on you?” Jax’s voice hardens.
“Multiple times,” I confirm. “Found out he’d been sleeping with three different women from our flagship location. When I confronted him, he didn’t even try to deny it.”
“What a dick.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well. I was stupid enough to have already made him a partner in the business. He owns forty-nine percent.”
“Why not fifty-fifty?”
“It was my idea,” I shrug.
“That’s rough,” he says softly. “I’m sorry.”
“It is what it is,” I say, echoing his words as I look up. “I learned my lesson. Never mix business with pleasure.”
His eyes hold mine for a beat too long, and I suddenly realize I’m still kneeling between his legs, my hands on his thigh.
Suddenly, the air between us feels charged, heavy.
Unsure how I feel about it, I shift my eyes away, and they land on his chest. He has his nipples pierced? I know he didn’t have those a few months ago.
I’ve seen him shirtless more than once since I moved in, so how have I not noticed them before? I distinctly remember shoving my hands up under his shirt and running them over his chest that night in the alley, and those bad boys were virgins.
“You didn’t have those before,” I say, nodding toward his chest. “When did you get them done?”
His lips curve into a dangerous smirk, making my stomach twist. “A few months ago.” His eyes darken as they hold mine. “Got another one too. But you haven’t earned the right to see that one yet.”
My mouth goes dry and heat floods my shorts as my mind instantly conjures up one very explicit possibility.
“How’s it feel now?”
“Better,” he says, flexing his knee. “Much better, actually. Seems you’ve got magic hands.”
Clearing my throat, I stand and return to my spot on the couch; the compliment warming me more than it should.
We fall into a comfortable silence, sipping our whiskey as the storm continues outside, though the thunder seems to be moving farther away now.
When I look up, I catch his gaze lingering on my mouth, eyes darkening before they quickly snap up to meet mine. Just as quickly, he looks away and drains the last of his whiskey.
“Looks like the rain is letting up.” He turns in his seat to glance out the window. The rain has lightened to a gentle patter, and the time between lightning and thunder has stretched considerably. “Do you need me to stay? I could crash on the couch if you’re still nervous.”
Part of me—a bigger part than I’d like to admit—wants to say yes. But I know better.
“I appreciate you coming to check on me, but no. I’m a big girl.” I stand and collect our empty glasses. “But thanks for the offer.”
Jax nods, rising to his feet. “Anytime.” He stretches, and it takes every ounce of strength I’ve got not to stare at the way his muscles flex with the motion. “Guess I should head back so you can get some sleep.”
Unfortunately, sleep is the last thing on my fucking mind right now.
“Yeah.”
He follows me to the door, and I’m suddenly more than aware of how little I’m wearing. His eyes seem to be making the same realization as they drift over me.
“You sure you don’t need me to stay?”
A shiver runs through me as I nod. “I’m sure.”
“Lock up behind me.” His voice is close to a growl, and it makes my belly clench. “And if you need anything—” He jerks his thumb in the direction of his house. “—you know where to find me.”
“Good night, Jax.” I open the door.
Down to a light drizzle now, the rain has almost stopped.
He steps out onto the porch, then turns to look at me over his shoulder. “Night, Sasha.” His eyes linger on mine for a moment longer before he jogs across the yard toward his house.
I watch until he disappears inside. After locking my door, I lean against it with a sigh. My heart is still racing, and it has nothing to do with the passing storm.
This is bad. So very bad. Because despite all my protests and better judgment, I want him. And judging by the way he looked at me tonight, not only does he know it, he wants me too.
I blow out the candles and make my way back upstairs to bed, knowing sleep will be elusive. Between the fading storm and thoughts of Jax’s warm skin beneath my fingers, I’ll be lucky if I get any rest at all.
As I climb under the covers, I notice I forgot to close my curtains. Across the way, I can see Jax, looking at me through his bedroom window. For a brief moment, our eyes meet through the glass, and my breath catches.
Raising his hand in a small wave, he gives me a slow smirk, then gently draws his curtains closed.
Heart pounding in my chest, I do the same.