Chapter 6
Jaxon
The Dirty Rabbit was in its usual buzz tonight.
Red and cobalt-blue lights flirted along the exposed bricked walls, with loud chatter competing with the live band at the head of the rustic room.
The air smelled like whiskey, citrus, and the faint sweetness of spilled cocktails.
A place built for trouble—or forgetting it.
I nursed my drink, watching Ariyo and Jesse argue about last night's hockey game.
“I’m telling you,” Ariyo insisted, jabbing his beer bottle at the table, “Cole is fucking overrated.”
“Bro, what? Cole is the king of the league right now. Man scored the smoothest—”
“One play doesn't make you the king.”
“It was two whole seasons!”
“Barely, and it's just because he's daddy's little golden boy.”
I sighed. “You two realize you have this exact same argument every other week, right?”
Ariyo pointed at me. “And will continue to have it until Jesse admits he’s wrong.”
“I’m never wrong,” Jesse said, dead serious.
“So you just have a hard-on for Cole, then?”
“Fuck you.” Jesse rolled his eyes and took a swig of his beer. “You know if Benji was here, he'd say the same thing.”
Ari shrugged. “Just proves that you both love Landon Cole's dick.”
“You're just mad that he went pro and you didn't,” I teased.
He leaned back and flipped me off, making me laugh.
It was how nights like this with the guys always went—loud, stupid, easy. Just the right distraction I needed after the beautiful mess called Savannah Bristow.
“How far is she?” I asked Jesse.
Jesse checked his phone. “You know how she is, man.”
I rolled my eyes.
Right now, we were waiting on Nerissa—who’d texted about fifteen minutes ago saying she was “two minutes away.” Two minutes my ass. We'd been sitting here for half-an-hour now. But it was just classic Rissa; she couldn't show up early if her life depended on it.
“Are we really surprised?” Ariyo asked, stretching. “The woman lives in a different universe.”
“She better—” As if summoned, Jesse’s eyes flicked up toward the door. “Speaking of the devil, there she is.”
I dragged my attention toward the entrance, watching Nerissa strut in without a care in the world.
“About time, dammit. I'm hungry,” Ari grumbled.
“When aren't you hungry?”
“Are we doing this, Jax?” Ari narrowed his eyes. “Because I can take it there if you want to take it there.”
I threw a smirk at Jesse, who just shook his head and maneuvered to look at the live band. My eyes drifted back to the door as I lifted the beer to my lips, and I froze. Everything shifted the second my eyes drifted to the woman walking in.
Savannah.
I watched as she slipped out of her coat and talked with Nerissa, giving me every opportunity to take her in.
Her hair was loose tonight, falling over her shoulders in soft waves.
She wore a short black dress that looked like it existed solely to torture me—long legs, smooth skin, that shy way she kept adjusting the strap on her shoulder.
Tonight she wasn’t the stuck-up, polished law student or the library nerd I knew years ago. No, tonight she was the definition of sensuality—warmth tucked into curves, doing things to my concentration.
Nerissa said something as she hung their jackets, and Savannah’s gaze lifted—straight to me.
She froze.
My chest tightened.
Emotions tumbled over each other in her eyes, moving quickly from recognition, to shock, to panic, and settling on annoyance. Those beautiful eyes narrowed on me before she finally turned back to Nerissa.
Ariyo let out a low whistle. “Dude. Duuude. Guess who finally got Skai as a client?”
“Yeah?” I heard Jesse ask.
My eyes followed Savannah, watching her go back and forth with Nerissa, watching the way her eyes kept darting in my direction. Under that initial annoyance, I could tell she was nervous by the way she was subtly fidgeting with the ends of her dress.
Nerissa must've said something right, because she was dragging Savannah to the bar.
“—and then things kind of fell into place. Bro, she loved the piece I showed her. Jax, did you… Jaxon?”
“Huh?” I forced my gaze back to the table.
“You didn't hear a word we said, did you?”
“Course I did.” I downed the last of my drink in one swallow and stood. “Next round's on me.”
Ariyo shouted something about the waitress coming over, but I was already moving.
My focus narrowed to her like the rest of the room had gone underwater.
She stood at the bar with her back to me, posture straight, ankles crossed, fingers tapping nervously against the counter. She was trying so hard to look composed when I could practically feel her nerves humming through the air.
I slipped through the crowd, stopped just close enough that my chest nearly brushed her back, and planted a hand on either side of her—caging her in without touching her.
She went still. Perfectly, deliciously still.
“Hey, Rissa,” I greeted casually, then waved the bartender over and ordered the next round.
Nerissa shot me a knowing smirk. “Pretty boy.”
“Late as always.”
“Don't blame me.” Her hands raised in the air, eyes flicking over to her right. “Had to get your faux beau here ready.”
My brow arched.
“Is that right?” I dipped my head toward Savannah, leaning low enough to murmur in her ear—to feel the shiver that went through her. “You told her?”
She spun to face me, the cage around her making it next to impossible for her not to make contact with me. Her chest brushed against mine, and a jolt of electricity ran through me at the contact. I didn't miss the quick second her eyes darted to my lips before they connected with mine.
Savannah frowned. “I thought you would've told your friends.”
“Nope,” I chuckled. “I told you I was serious about helping you out with this. That includes playing the part in front of my friends. I was half expecting non-disclosure to be in that fancy contract of yours.”
“You—” She blinked, opening her mouth then shutting it again. “I should have put that in the contract.”
Her bottom lip tugged between her teeth, and I tracked the motion like a starving man.
“Mhm,” I murmured, stepping a fraction closer. “You probably should’ve. But you didn’t. So unless you want me to stand on this bar and shout This relationship is fake!—”
She gasped at me, her hand flying over my mouth to muffle my laughter. It was just too easy to wind her up sometimes. She snatched her hand back, glaring daggers.
“You're insufferable.” She jabbed her finger into my chest. “No one else should know about this, is that clear?”
“Bossy.”
“I mean it.”
“Yes ma'am,” I said, smirking.
I was sure she was trying her best to look intimidating, but standing there, all five foot six of righteous fury, she looked more like a bunny trying to snarl at a wolf. I liked it way more than I should have.
“Don't worry, my lips are sealed,” Nerissa added (and no, I did not forget she was there…
not entirely). When I looked at her, there was a devious spark lighting in her eyes.
“Hun, you don't understand how invested I am to see your shitty ex choke on a fucking revenge pie. Any help you need, I'm there.”
“Awe, look at that. You made a friend,” I teased.
“Fuck you.” She gave me the finger. “But also, you know I love a good getting-even-with-your-ex moment.”
I snorted. “Keying your ex's car isn't getting even, Riss.”
The statement earned me a punch in the side, and I grimaced at the impact. She may have been tiny, but she sure packed a solid right hook.
“Don't make me sound so unhinged, you dick!” Then to Savannah, softer, “I'm not unhinged. Bastard deserved it.”
“I'm sure,” Savannah laughed.
The bartender returned with our drinks and Nerissa scooped them up with both hands.
“I’m taking these to the idiots.”
“Right behind you. I just need to talk to my girl.”
She smirked but kept her mouth shut, sauntering off. When she was out of sight, I turned to Savannah.
“Hi trouble.”
She balked. “Trouble?”
“Showing up, dressed like this”—I let my gaze drag deliberately down her body, taking in every outline, every curve—“gives you two names in my book. One is trouble.”
She raised her perfectly arched brow at me. “And the other?”
“Fuckable.” I smirked.
She rolled her eyes. “Gross, Jaxon.”
God, the way she says my name…
“That isn't exactly the tailored response from a girlfriend to her boyfriend, now, is it?” I drawled.
“It is when my boyfriend is being crude,” she responded with a sarcastic smile. She crossed her arms, pushing her chest up just slightly. My eyes dipped for a second too long—what can I say? I'm only a man—before I pulled them back to her face.
My smirk widened. “Crude? That's the best you've got?”
She glared.
I chuckled. “It's good that you're here, though. We get a chance to fake it in public.”
“What? No.”
“If we can convince my friends that we're together, then we can convince anyone. Ah, ah, no objections—think of it as a pre-date.”
She looked visibly sick at the idea. “A pre-date? That's not necessary.”
“It is if you want to make this work.” I brushed my knuckles along the bar beside her hip—not touching her, but close enough she felt it. “They're my friends, plus it's a group setting, so no pressure or anything.”
“I told you already, we don't need to do anything outside of the scheduled events.” She broke eye contact as she mumbled, “The less I'm around you, the better.”
“You’re warming my heart with these love proclamations, trouble,” I deadpanned. “Really selling this relationship.”
She glowered. “A practice session isn’t necessary.”
“Honeypie, you can barely be in the same space as me.” I didn't wait for her to protest again.
“Savannah, it's one night. And you need to be comfortable with me.
That's what's going to sell this I'm-happy-and-I've-moved-on image to your ex.
That's what revenge looks like. If he doesn't believe any of this, then we may as well call it quits now.”