Seven
LILY
“Oh, my God,” I whisper on a breath, leaning back against my apartment door after closing it and sliding to the floor in a blushing heap.
“Oh. My. God.” I bury my face in my hands.
Jax finally kissed me, and it was as earth-shattering as I thought it would be. Another wave of goosebumps breaks out across my skin, remembering the feel of his hands on me, how warm his mouth was against my neck, and the gruff sounds spilling out of him as I shamelessly writhed against his thigh.
I should be embarrassed by how quickly I escalated from kissing this man to riding any part of his body, but after weeks of the rising tension between us, I don’t.
We spend all week reading spicy romance books, texting one another, and then going toe-to-toe over what we love and didn’t love about said books.
Whenever Jax is around, the air is so thick with want I can hardly stand it. It feels like my head is floating in the clouds. And now, I know he feels it, too. I was worried I was alone in my feelings, but apparently not.
Forcing myself to my feet and padding to the tiny pocket kitchen, I swipe a bottle of water from the fridge. As I take the first sip, the icy water sliding through my system sends a shiver down my spine.
I grin to myself again.
If I were reading this in a book, I’d be screaming at the heroine to calm down. Unfortunately, I am the heroine, and calming down seems completely off the table at this point.
That’s the thing about reading romance novels.
You spend your whole life thinking, “Nobody actually gets kissed against a truck while an eighties power ballad plays in the background.” But then it happens to you, and suddenly all the romance authors out there start looking a lot more credible.
I see you, B.K. Borison. Well played.
“Oh, shit,” I mutter to myself, dropping onto my couch.
Because every romance reader knows the kiss escalation in the small-town, second-chance romance isn’t the happily ever after. It’s the beginning of the third-act emotional disaster. Statistically speaking, I should be terrified.
Instead, I’m sitting in my apartment grinning so hard my cheeks hurt, feeling like nothing in the entire universe could touch the way Jax makes me feel.
For the next two weeks, I live in a montage of perfect little moments with Jax. It’s a slow-motion passing of time that romance novels skip over because not enough people are arguing.
We spend our lunch breaks trading book quotes over text.
He starts leaving terrible doodles on my coffee sleeves every morning.
I learn exactly which afternoons he gets stuck waiting on parts deliveries because those are the days my phone lights up with complaints about bored mechanics and customers who think oil changes should take five minutes.
I have no idea how long an oil change is supposed to take, but five minutes definitely feels unrealistic, even to me.
It feels silly marking the passing of time by book club meetings, considering Jax and I are still the only two members who have ever shown up, but it’s something I started and am stubbornly committed to seeing through.
Jax stops by the library every day on his way to work to drop off a coffee from the café. We steal quick kisses at the front of the building when nobody is looking. It wouldn’t be very professional if the town librarian got caught making out beside the book return before nine in the morning.
This morning is no different.
At eight-thirty, a gentle rap against the front window snags my attention. I look up from the stack of papers on my desk to see Jax grinning and wiggling a cup of coffee like a bribe, as if he needs something else to tempt me into opening the door for him.
I abandon my paperwork and cross the library in record time. Instead of unlocking the door, I stop in front of it and rise onto my toes until we’re closer to eye-level through the glass.
Jax grins wider, crouching to meet my gaze.
“What’s the password?” I ask.
Jax immediately holds up the coffee.
“This should be the password.”
“Wrong,” I tease.
He makes a show of tapping a finger to his lips, thinking hard about what the password could be.
“Come on, Lil. I’m gonna be late.”
I pretend to consider it. “Still wrong,” I say with a casual shrug, before pretending to walk away.
A heavy palm thuds against the glass.
“Please, baby.” Jax’s voice rumbles through the glass as he bends down to set the coffee cup on the concrete beside the door. “Don’t make me go to work without kissing you good morning. Without touching you. I need it.”
I freeze on the spot. A pleading Jax is apparently my kryptonite.
Without any further teasing or hesitation, I turn and unlock the door, pushing it open in one rapid motion.
It doesn’t even have a chance to swing back fully on its hinges before Jax is inside, wrapping a rough hand around my waist and cradling the back of my head with the other, tilting my face toward his.
“You like it when I beg, huh?”
With my eyes closed, I nod enthusiastically.
“Good,” he whispers before his mouth finds mine.
Jax kisses me like a man starved, and I eagerly match the rhythm he sets, equally hungry for whatever it is that’s building between us. My hands trace the strong muscles of his biceps, reveling in the way he flexes beneath my fingers.
My heart races in my chest, and suddenly the library feels like a very inconvenient place to be having these feelings.
It’s hard not to wonder what this would be like if we weren’t standing in the middle of a public library.
Jax has been nothing but a gentleman—allowing me to set the pace, never pushing me beyond what I’m comfortable with.
But the way this man kisses me makes me crave everything else he has to give.
Jax slows the kiss, reluctantly pulling away.
“Book club tonight,” he says, lingering inches away from my face, brushing his nose up the length of mine and kissing me on the forehead.
“You mean our date disguised as book club?”
I’m rewarded with another one of his rich, booming laughs before he turns to leave. He tosses a quick wink over his shoulder, then pushes through the door, sauntering across the parking lot.
I don’t even try to avoid checking him out as he goes.
Thursdays at the library are usually slow. My shift slips by without anything notable, which is perfect because I can’t seem to focus on anything except the fact that I get to see Jax tonight.
Around six-thirty, I step outside for a breath of fresh air after setting up for book club. Much to my surprise, the Facebook event for this week’s meeting has two RSVPs.
Two.
As in, more people than just me and Jax will be attending the meeting tonight.
Which means the Hot Girls Read Book Club sign and little notebooks have to come out of retirement for the night. It also means Jax and I might actually have to discuss the book instead of flirting through most of the meeting.
“Hi, are you Lily?” A bubbly, energetic voice sounds from behind me, breaking the mental checklist I was running through in my head.
I turn to find a pair of women, who look to be around my age, walking up the sidewalk toward the library. Smiling, I raise a hand in a greeting.
“That’s me! Hi!”
“I’m Becca,” the blonde says, extending her hand. “And this is my best friend, Rachel.”
The brunette beside her waves. “Please tell me we’re not the first people to actually show up for this thing.”
“Technically, no.” I laugh, thinking about Jax.
“Oh?” Rachel raises her eyebrows in question.
“There’s one other regular attendee, aside from me.”
“Only one?” Two lines form at Becca’s brow.
“He’s very committed. He should be here any minute.”
The women laugh as we drift toward the front door.
“I saw the group on Facebook,” Becca says. “Honestly, I didn’t think we’d ever have something like this in Bellewood. I’ve read romance religiously since high school, so this is really cool.”
“That was exactly my thought when I started it.”
“You said one regular attendee, but you’ve had a lot of other members show up periodically, right?” Rachel asks.
I hum noncommittally, glancing at the stack of notebooks visible on the table in the community room through the front window.
“Well,” Becca beams. “We’re here now, and that’s all that matters. Every group has to start somewhere!”
For the first time since seeing the RSVPs on the Facebook event, I relax and allow myself to believe this might actually work. Maybe the Hot Girls Read Book Club is finally going to be a real thing.
The familiar rumble of an engine rolls across the parking lot. My head turns automatically, though, I don’t even have to look to know it’s Jax. I’d recognize the sound of his truck anywhere.
A smile spreads across my face before I can stop it. The truck settles into its usual parking spot near the edge of the lot. I lift a hand and wave at Jax.
“Who’s that?” Rachel squints to look in that direction.
“Oh. That’s Jax.”
Both women immediately whip their gaze toward the truck. Something unspoken passes between them—a look that says more than words ever could. It passes quickly, and most people probably wouldn’t have noticed. Unfortunately, things like that don’t slip past me.
“You know Jax?” Becca asks, eyeing me suspiciously.
“Yeah.” I smile. “He’s our other member. It’s actually super funny. He stumbled into the first meeting by accident a couple of months ago and never left.”
The truck remains parked, engine off, and I can see Jax sitting behind the wheel through the windshield. Probably checking his phone or tying up loose ends at the garage.
Neither of the women laughs at my story about how Jax joined my book club. They exchange another look, and my smile falters slightly.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Becca says quickly.
Rachel bites her lip, glancing at her friend warily.
“No, what?”
“It’s just…” Rachel shrugs. “I wouldn’t have pictured someone like Jax joining a book club.”
I laugh. “Trust me, neither would he.”
“No, I mean…” She hesitates this time. “He’s just the last person I’d picture showing up for something like this, you know?”
“Jax likes reading. Surprisingly, he really loves romance.”
The words sound ridiculous even to me. He’d probably hate hearing me say them. The town’s macho, man’s man mechanic surely has a reputation to uphold.
Becca and Rachel share another look that I can’t decipher. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck begin to rise because it’s clear there’s something going on here that’s completely over my head.
“How well do you know him?” Becca asks.
I smile, thinking about all the little moments that add up to equal my entire relationship with the man in question. I bite my lip to hide my smile. “Pretty well, I think.”
“Huh.” Becca hums, and something about the way she says it makes my stomach twist with nerves.
“Huh, what?” I cross my arms.
Rachel shifts uncomfortably.
“I mean… everybody knows who Jax is.”
“Okay?” I wait.
Neither woman says anything.
“Okay?” I repeat, gesturing with a hand for them to continue. Obviously, there’s something they want to say but are holding back for some reason.
“Look,” Rachel sighs, relenting. “Maybe he’s changed.”
My smile disappears completely.
“Changed from what?” I ask.
The silence stretches between us, the tension in my belly coiling tighter and tighter with every passing second. I need one of them to say something that means something before a panic attack fully sets in.
What could they possibly have to say? I’ve spent the better part of the last two months in Jax’s orbit, either in person or via text conversation. He’s one of the best people I’ve ever met.
“I’ve just always heard that Jax is trouble,” Rachel finally says, looking toward Becca.
“My brother said he’s always had a temper,” Becca confirms with a subtle nod.
“A lot of people talk about him,” Rachel adds carefully. “Not usually in a good way, either. Especially not after all the drama when his ex-wife left him.”
“She cheated on him with a doctor a couple of towns over.” Rachel relays with wide eyes. “When Jax found out, he lost it. Like, really went off the deep end. Drinking, sleeping with random people from the bar, fighting almost every single night.”
“I heard he put the guy Samantha left him for in the hospital,” Becca tags on, talking more animatedly with her hands.
I stare at them, unblinking, trying to absorb what they’re telling me, but the words don’t fit.
They don’t fit the man who brings me coffee every morning with a crooked smile.
They don’t fit the man who kisses my forehead before heading off to work.
They don’t fit the man who asks for permission before touching me.
They don’t fit Jax.
“People exaggerate,” I say a little too quickly.
“Like I said, maybe he’s changed.” Rachel halfheartedly agrees, though she doesn’t sound the least bit convinced.
I glance back toward the truck.
It’s still sitting there, but Jax hasn’t gotten out yet—strange. He’s usually early for book club, especially these past couple of meetings.
I lift my hand and wave again, bigger this time.
The headlights blink on.
I smile, still waving. Maybe he didn’t see me before.
The engine cranks to life, and the conversation beside me fades into background noise as I keep watching. The truck backs out of the parking space.
Wait—the truck keeps moving, front tires turning, and my heart starts racing as I realize what’s happening.
“Lily?”
I barely hear Becca.
The red glow of the brake lights flashes across the pavement. Jax turns onto Main Street and drives away without so much as a pause.
I stare at the empty parking lot long after the truck disappears from view.
“What the hell?” I whisper.