Chapter 13
thirteen
“What are you wearing tonight?” Noia calls from my closet, rifling through clothes I’ve finally managed to unpack.
“I was thinking maybe black jeans and my sparkly green top?”
“Ooh, yeah!” She pokes her head out, grinning. “Those jeans make your ass look amazing. Not that you need any help in that department.”
“Thanks.” I shake my head, recapping my mascara. “I need to look hot. Like, ‘make every guy in the bar want to fuck me’ hot.”
“Trying to make Jax jealous?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively as she tosses my jeans on the bed.
I roll my eyes. “Nope. Just trying to get laid by someone who isn’t Jax. Preferably someone I’ll never see again if I can help it.”
“Okay. Keep telling yourself that,” she sighs, voice dripping with sarcasm as she disappears back into my closet.
“I’m serious!” I huff. “After what happened with Jax in the bathroom at Summit, I need to... reset. Find someone else to focus on.”
Stomping back into the room, she looks at me in surprise. “The bathroom? What the fuck happened in the bathroom?”
A vision of Jax on his knees in front of me flashes through my mind. I can feel my neck turning red, which doesn’t escape my best friend’s attention for a second. “Nothing.”
“Your neck says otherwise.” She tosses my top onto my bed and takes a seat. “Give it to me.”
With a groan, I spin around to face her. “I went to the studio to fix the leak in the women’s bathroom, but I ended up breaking the pipe and water went everywhere.”
“Oh, no!” she laughs, pressing her fingers to her lips when I cross my arms with a huff.
“Yeah, well. It gets worse.” I grab my jeans. “Jax showed up.”
Her eyes widen, brows rising in question.
“He… heard me scream.” My cheeks burn as I recall the intensity of his gaze. “My white T-shirt was completely soaked. Down to my white lace bra.”
“Oh. My. God.” Noia’s jaw drops. “So he saw...”
“Yup,” I confirm with a grimace. “And then he, um...” I trail off, not sure how to explain what happened next.
“What?” she demands as I zip up my jeans.
“He kind of... put his mouth on me?” I cringe. Just saying the words out loud sends a fresh wave of heat up my neck.
My best friend’s eyes nearly pop out of her head. “No way!” she shrieks, bouncing on the bed.
“He was actually going to pull my leggings down right there in the freaking bathroom!”
“You know that’s smut-level hot, right?”
Clearing my throat, I grab my top and pull it over my head. “When I shut him down, he told me it’s going to happen, and it’s just a matter of when.”
“Okay. I need to start writing this shit down.” Noia starts bouncing again, this time clapping her hands.
But I’m done talking about Jax. “And, Ryan emailed me today.”
Her expression instantly shifts from excitement to one of concern. “What did that asshole want?”
I pick up my brush and run it through my hair. “He wants to sell Summit to Sub Zero Fitness.”
“Why the fuck would he do that?”
“Because he’s a greedy bastard,” I tell her as I set down the brush. “They’re offering eight figures. He thinks I should sell, but I told him to go fuck himself.”
“Good for you.” She flops back onto the bed.
“I sent an email to my attorney outlining the whole situation.”
“Smart,” she nods, sitting up. “Let’s focus on having fun tonight. Operation: Get Sasha Some Dick, is now underway.”
I can’t help but laugh. “If you weren’t my best friend, and I wasn’t strictly-dickly, I would tonsil hockey you so hard right now.”
“Damn straight you would,” she grins, hopping off the bed to grab her purse. “Ready?”
“Almost.” Slipping on my favorite black ankle boots, I take one last look in the mirror and make a promise to myself. The last thing I’m going to do tonight is let Jax Riley get in my head, or my pants.
“So, I should probably tell you,” Noia says a little too casually, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel as we wait at a red light. “Ryder’s meeting up with us after he gets done with work.”
I snap my compact shut. “Okay, cool.”
“And where Ryder goes...” She gives me a sideways glance.
“Jax follows,” I finish, dropping my head back against the headrest with a groan. “Shit.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she says as she pulls into the parking lot. “It’s a big place. You can totally avoid him if you want.”
“Oh, I plan to. And then some.”
The bar is already packed when we walk in, the Friday night crowd in full swing. The rustic interior with its exposed beams and brick walls is bathed in warm amber light. A local band is setting up on the small stage in the corner, and the air smells like beer and fried food.
We spot Claire and Lizzy at a table near the back, and make our way over.
“Ladies.” I slide into an empty chair. “I need a drink. Something strong.”
“I got you,” Claire says, signaling the waitress.
After I order a rum and coke, Lizzy excuses herself to play darts with a blond guy I’ve never seen before.
I scan the room while Claire and Noia get into a conversation about some romance novel they’re both reading until my drink arrives.
Just as I take my first sip, Jax walks in with Ryder.
Wearing dark jeans and a black button-up, his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing tattooed forearms. His hair is styled in that goddamn new sexy mohawk, which for some reason makes me want to clench my thighs together. Both of them are laughing.
Nope. Not going there. Not tonight.
I drain my glass and stand. “I’m getting another drink.”
Deliberately taking a path that I hope will keep me out of Jax’s line of sight, I make my way to the bar. Time to put my plan into action.
The bar is crowded, but I manage to squeeze my way in. I order another rum and coke and strike up a conversation with the bartender, a cute blonde guy named Tyler who’s more than happy to flirt back.
After a few minutes, I make my way around the room, stopping to chat with a couple of guys playing pool. One of them—Jason or Justin, I can’t remember which—offers to buy me a drink, but I’m just not feeling it.
But what I can feel is someone’s eyes burning into the back of my head. I side-eye our table, and my breath hitches when I see Jax, drink at his lips, raise an eyebrow.
Whatever.
By now I’ve had a few drinks and I’m feeling pretty good, but not good enough to ignore Jax’s eyes following me around all night.
To keep out of sight, I settle at the far end of the bar where a dark-haired guy in a flannel shirt is sitting alone.
His name is Brexton Saint, and he’s a local firefighter and helicopter pilot for Lakeside’s Fire, Search and Rescue team.
He’s got kind eyes and a nice smile, and more importantly, he’s the complete opposite of Jax.
We talk for a bit before he asks, “Can I get you another drink?” He nods at my nearly empty glass.
“I’d love that.”
He smiles, and I can feel myself starting to relax. This is exactly what I need—a nice, normal conversation with a nice, normal guy who isn’t driving me crazy with mixed signals and heated looks.
After signaling the bartender, he leans in close. “I bet all that yoga makes you pretty limber, huh?”
I give him a flirty giggle. “It sure does.”
No more than two seconds after those words leave my mouth than a strong hand clamps around my upper arm and yanks me out of my seat.