CHAPTER 5
Anna
"There you are!" Connor's voice rang out in relief as I pushed through the front door, his frame unfolding from the kitchen table where he'd clearly been waiting. "Where were you? I looked all over but couldn't find you."
I made my way to the sink, tossing a reassuring smile over my shoulder as pleasant memories of the afternoon replayed in my mind. "I went out on a trail with Choco," I replied breezily, completely missing the look of shock that flashed across Connor's face.
"You should've waited for me," Connor countered immediately, worry tempering his tone as he leaned against the granite countertop a few feet away. His honey-colored eyes swept over me, searching for any sign of injury. "Just in case something happened while you were out there alone."
A low chuckle slipped from my lips as I shook my head, already working the taps to scrub away the dirt from my ride.
"It was completely fine, Connor. More than fine, actually," I assured him, my eyes sparkling with the memory of that freedom I'd felt.
"We just explored one of the trails through the woods for a while, and it was. .. well, it was great."
My smile faltered, pulling into a scowl as I scrubbed at the grime on my fingers with more force than necessary. The echo of stormy blue eyes and arrogant dismissal flashed through my mind, dousing my earlier euphoria.
Connor's brow furrowed at the sudden shift in my mood, his gaze silently demanding elaboration as it continued to assess me, stubbornly hunting for some hidden injury to justify his protective instincts.
"What do you mean? What happened out there?
" When I didn't immediately answer, his frown deepened. "Did Choco give you some trouble?"
"God, no—don't be stupid." I huffed out an exasperated sigh, rolling my eyes as I turned off the tap with a dramatic twist. Snagging a clean towel, I dried my hands and whirled to face him, every line of my body radiating pent-up frustration.
"Choco was an absolute angel. We just went out on one of the trails, wandering through the trees.
.." My words trailed off with a sneer, my features twisting in contempt.
"Well, right up until we reached the end and apparently wandered onto someone's 'private property.
'" I raised my fingers in derisive air quotes, the memory of that boorish, arrogant man reasserting itself with infuriating clarity.
Confusion flickered across Connor's face, but then understanding dawned. A slow, amused smile crept across his lips, and I knew immediately he'd figured something out.
My eyes narrowed as I watched that Cheshire-cat grin take form. Planting my hands on my hips, I fixed him with a piercing look. "What? Why are you making that face right now?"
Connor simply chuckled, the sound rumbling from his chest as he shook his head.
"Well, it sounds like you had the pleasure of meeting my best friend, Jaxon Mercer, on your little trail ride today," he said, sinking back into the kitchen chair and propping one boot on the adjacent seat.
He regarded me with a thoroughly entertained air.
"You'll see him around from time to time.
He may not work here officially, but the man practically lives on my couch most nights while we drink beer and demolish frozen pizzas. "
He paused, brows bouncing impishly as he gave me an assessing once-over, clearly searching for visible scars from what must have been a memorable encounter.
"I've gotta say, I'm kinda surprised you came out of that particular introduction still swinging.
" Another chuckle escaped him. "Jax definitely has his rough edges, but the guy's not so bad, really.
Just a total introvert who keeps to himself most of the time. "
"Not so bad?" The scoff that burst from my lips could probably have been heard all the way out to the back forty. I couldn't believe him. I rolled my eyes skyward and shook my head, utterly disbelieving that the decidedly unpleasant man I'd encountered could ever be considered "not such a bad guy."
"I'm going to go shower," I said, tossing the words over my shoulder. "Did you want me to figure out something for dinner when I'm done? I am the guest here, after all." I threw him a pointed look, silently reminding him of his role as host.
Connor seemed to mull over the question, tapping his finger against his chin as his eyes danced with barely concealed mirth. Then, as if he could no longer contain whatever devilish idea had taken root, his lips curved into a decidedly foxlike grin.
"Don't worry about dinner, Anna," he chuckled, not bothering to look up from where his thumbs were flying over his phone screen. "I've got an idea already brewing on that front."
A tendril of reluctant curiosity wormed its way through me. What did he have up his sleeve? And why did that impish grin suggest he was taking far too much delight in it? I shook off the nagging unease as I climbed the stairs to my room.
My mind wandered back to the afternoon as the hot spray of the shower sluiced over me.
Specifically, to my unsettling encounter with Connor's so-called best friend.
Try as I might, I couldn't shake the imprint of Jaxon's blatant hostility.
The unbridled disdain blazing in those startling blue eyes as he'd confronted me, coiled power and gruff arrogance, had been more than a little unnerving.
My cheeks burned with the unbidden recollection of the way his body had moved, all rippling muscle and sinewy grace as he'd wielded that axe. I swallowed hard, forcing my thoughts back into line as I rinsed the shampoo from my hair.
I'd come here seeking a new start, not to embroil myself in some emotional entanglement.
I wouldn't allow any rebounding or indulgence of misplaced curiosity where this Jaxon guy was concerned.
Not if I wanted to protect the independence I was fighting so hard to earn.
Still, Connor's cryptic remarks about dinner could only mean one thing: more involvement with his unconventional friend.
The thought alone made my shoulders sag with weary resignation.
After dressing in a fresh set of well-worn sweats that hung comfortably off my frame, I heard the faint murmur of the television drifting up from the den.
Curious despite myself, I descended the staircase and peeked into the empty kitchen, noting the oven's cheerfully glowing light.
Connor was clearly at work preparing dinner, but heaven only knew what kind of spectacle he had in mind.
I shook my head and turned toward the den, oddly hesitant about what I might find. But the moment I rounded the corner into the dimly lit room, I stopped short—all thoughts fleeing as the blood drained from my face.
There, lounging on the plush sectional as though he owned the place, was Jaxon himself. His broad shoulders spanned the entire sofa, forearms draped casually along the backrest as his penetrating blue stare met mine with chilling indifference.
You've got to be kidding me. The words slipped past my lips before I could stop them, my eyes swinging toward Connor in mute accusation.
Connor simply shrugged, the picture of nonchalant innocence, as a slow grin stretched across his mouth. "Good thing I had enough pizza for three, huh?"
I closed my eyes briefly, willing myself to remain composed despite the mortified flush creeping up my neck.
This had to be some sort of sick joke, right?
Surely Connor wouldn't be so brazened as to actually invite Jaxon over for dinner after everything I'd told him about our disastrous first encounter.
But the flicker of Connor's expression suggested otherwise.
.. as did the quiet scoff from the currently unwanted houseguest sprawled in a proprietary lounge against the cushions.
As much as I wanted to politely remove myself until the situation resolved, I recognized that particular stubborn set to Connor's jawline.
No. This impromptu reunion was happening whether I liked it or not.
Steeling myself beneath the weight of his expectant stare, I lifted my chin in defiance and strode purposefully into the den. If he wanted a show, so be it. I would play the unruffled guest.
When Connor disappeared into the kitchen, the weighted silence that followed felt almost oppressive, a tangible cloud of awkwardness and unspoken tension.
I perched rigidly on the opposite end of the sofa from Jaxon, my body angled subtly away as I diligently avoided so much as glancing in his direction.
For his part, the brooding man seemed equally intent on ignoring my existence, blue eyes narrowed and jaw tight as he stared down at his phone.
The silence stretched on, each passing second amplifying the crackling tension in the room. My nails picked ruthlessly at an invisible pill on my sweats as I struggled to think of something, anything, neutral to say. Anything to cut through the unbearable quiet before it smothered me completely.
At last, I couldn't bear it any longer. Drawing a steadying breath, I finally broke the ice, my tone carefully modulated to sound remorseful.
"I'm sorry for showing up at your place earlier. I wasn't trying to bother you." The words emerged softly, almost hesitant, as if I were still wary of how the volatile man might react, no matter how well-intentioned my overture.
As if on cue, Jaxon's head snapped toward me, eyes widening in surprise before narrowing into flinty slits of suspicion. His assessing gaze raked over me in a single, unhurried sweep, lingering where my damp hair spilled over my shoulders.
When our eyes met, my breath hitched. The way his gaze bore straight through me—unguarded, unreadable, shimmering with something I couldn't name—sent my pulse slamming against my throat.