Chapter 8
Jaxon
The hint of fresh coffee started to flow through the shop and sunlight slanted through the front windows, catching dust motes in the air and lighting up the blue-black walls.
It should've been a beautiful start to my day—peace and quiet.
I should’ve been at ease.
Instead, I was crawling out of my skin with one woman doing a marathon in my mind ever since Monday night.
I was standing behind the coffee pot, phone in my hand, staring at Savannah’s name like it might bite my finger off. We hadn't spoken since that date night—since our almost-kiss—and it was driving me insane.
Even that was an anomaly in and of itself.
I was Jaxon Cage. I didn't get nervous or antsy about women. But everything that happened between us Monday night was on a constant loop in my head. The way her voice softened when she talked about her dad. The way her guard went back up when she said Chase’s name—fucking asshole.
The way she looked at me when I told her she deserved better, like no one had ever said it to her and meant it.
And that almost-kiss.
Fuck.
She was a siren that night, and her lips were singing a silent song, pulling me into dangerous waters. For two days, she'd been running a marathon in my head. For two days, that woman had haunted my very soul.
And now I was looking down at my phone wondering what the fuck to say to her.
Why the hell am I afraid to text her?
Because it matters, a quiet voice answered.
That pissed me off.
She kept her distance from me the entire time after that, and barely said goodbye when I dropped her off. Whatever cracks I made in her walls that night were covered up in cement from that one shared moment. I had a feeling we were back to square one, and that sucked.
I dragged a hand down my face and leaned back against the counter, a heat starting to simmer inside me.
Whatever I sent her had to immediately reel her in.
Otherwise, it would be game over.
I shoved the thought aside and unlocked my phone, scrolling up to our last messages.
Nothing since Monday night. No “I had fun.” No “looking forward to the next one.” Just silence—and it shouldn’t have bothered me.
But it did.
Okay. Opening line.
I typed. Deleted. Typed again.
Too flirty.
Too serious.
Too obvious.
I locked my phone and paced, only stopping when the coffee was done. Once I poured my cup and walked to my office, I flopped down in my chair and stared at the screen.
“What could I say to…” I trailed off when I found a familiar document poking out from under my sketchpad.
Cue lightbulb moment.
A smirk came to my lips as my fingers tapped against the screen.
JAXON
I’d like to formally propose an amendment to our contract.
Sent.
I tossed the phone on top of the desk and reached for the contract, flipping through the pages until I got to the final page with my signature on the dotted line.
Thirty seconds passed.
A minute.
Two.
Buzz.
I grabbed the phone too fast.
SAVANNAH
What?
I smiled despite myself.
JAXON
I think you'd agree that Monday night was… productive.
We got to know each other.
Couples do that shit.
I’m suggesting we add dates. Nothing wild—could be indoors or public. Whatever makes your lawyer brain relax.
But it will be easier to sell this story to your ex if we really got to know each other outside of the pressure and drama of the wedding.
I leaned back in my chair, sipping on my coffee with a pleased smile on my face.
There was no way she could deny any of that.
Date night was productive, and if I had my way, we'd have more of it.
Was it wrong to use the excuse of “selling the story” as a way to get closer to her?
Questionable at best, but not wrong… I hoped.
My phone buzzed again.
SAVANNAH
You’re impossible.
I chuckled under my breath, then decided to push my luck.
JAXON
I'm just saying what you're thinking, trouble.
Besides, I've already consulted legal counsel on this and added my section to the contract.
I grabbed a pen and quickly jotted down the terms, then snapped a picture and sent it.
The image showed the last page of her beautifully formatted document—tight margins, numbered clauses, professional font—now defaced with my handwriting.
Section 6. Date Nights
Both parties agree to date nights within these three precious weeks, all in the spirit of getting to know each other and having fun.
6.1 Food is mandatory (offered by yours truly—obvs)
6.2 No backing out without reasonable cause (cowardice is not acceptable, trouble. I mean it)
6.3 Savannah smiles more = Jaxon happy.
It took a full three minutes before she started typing. I stared at the screen like it might’ve combusted. Then—
SAVANNAH
You are unbelievable.
JAXON
But it makes sense right?
SAVANNAH
No, it doesn't.
I told you we don't need to do that
JAXON
Be honest, Savannah
Did you have fun when we went out?
I waited.
Didn’t breathe.
And just when I was about to toss my phone down and charge everything, another message came through.
SAVANNAH
…Fine.
Dates are added.
But we will revisit the terms if you cross a line.
I grinned—slow, wide, dangerous. The chime outside alerted me that I had company, so I pushed out of my desk and started making my way out of the office, mug in hand.
JAXON
Never gonna happen, sweetheart
SAVANNAH
No.
No more cute little nicknames. Trouble is bad enough
I laughed under my breath, shaking my head as I walked.
JAXON
Ahhh, so you agree you're trouble
Good to know
SAVANNAH
* eyeroll emoji * goodbye Jaxon
I slipped the phone into my pocket just as the front doors swung open and Ari and Jesse breezed in, sunlight and noise following them like an entourage.
Ari was mid-rant, hands flying. “—and I’m telling you, there is no way that ref didn’t have money on the game. No way. I’ve seen cleaner calls at a peewee tournament—”
“Morning to you, too,” I cut in.
They both looked up.
“Jax!” Ari grinned, beelining toward me.
“There he is. Birthday boy in the flesh.”
“Still got a few days,” I muttered, narrowly escaping his hug and laughing.
Jesse nodded at me, calm as ever. “You look… annoyingly cheerful.”
Ari squinted. “Yeah. Why do you look like that?”
I shrugged, sipping my coffee. “Like what?”
“Like you just got laid or you’re about to,”
Ari said. “Or like you’re hiding something.”
I shook my head. “You always assume I’m hiding something.”
“That’s because you usually are,” Jesse said mildly.
Ari snapped his fingers. “Savannah.”
I nearly choked.
“Oh my God,” Ari continued, eyes lighting up like he’d cracked a code. “You did get laid. By the way, you sneaky bastard. Savannah. You’ve been sitting on that for weeks?”
“It wasn't serious until recently,” I said.
“But why did Benji know before we did?” he pressed, pouting. “I like knowing stuff, too.”
I leaned back against the counter, jaw tightening just a fraction. I hated lying to them. These were my guys. My people. But Savannah had made it clear—no audience, no commentary, no extra complications.
Three weeks. Clean. Simple.
“Not everyone's a gossip like you, man,” I said, chuckling and slapping his shoulder. “I don't date—you guys know this—so I wanted to feel this out before I made it a whole thing.”
Jesse studied me for a moment, then nodded once. “Fair.”
Ari opened his mouth to argue, then paused. “Wait—so she’s real-real, huh?”
“Very real,” I said, thinking of sharp eyes and full lips. Cinnamon lattes. Burgundy sweaters. Legs that ran for miles and would look good wrapped around my waist… or shoulders.
A woman who could dismantle me with logic alone.
Ari let out a low whistle. “Damn. Good for you, man.”
Jesse crossed his arms. “She coming to Sunset Creek this weekend?”
The question landed heavier than it should’ve.
Sunset Creek wasn’t just a weekend trip—it was tradition. Cabins, beaches, bonfires, too much alcohol, bad decisions, and my birthday rolled into one. In any normal relationship, the girlfriend came. It wasn’t even a question.
But this wasn’t a normal relationship.
A part of me wanted her there, but I knew having her there would be tempting enough.
A weekend getaway was the last thing I needed with where my mind was at.
Besides, she probably had exams to study for—or was too busy stepping over all the emotional landmines around us.
Then there was the wedding chaos starting next week.
It would be too much to handle.
And even if I did ask, would she want to spend a weekend trapped with my friends, pretending something she was still convincing herself not to feel?
I hesitated just long enough for Ari to notice.
“She’s got exams and stuff,” I said finally. “Law school doesn’t really take weekends off.”
Jesse nodded again, accepting it without fuss. Ari looked disappointed but didn’t push.
“That sucks,” Ari said. “Would’ve been fun.”
Yeah, I thought. It would’ve been.
I pushed off the counter and headed toward my station, the hum of the shop settling around me again.
Clearing my throat, I clapped my hands once and looked at them both. “Alright. Enough interrogating my personal life. What’s everyone working on today?”
Ari perked up instantly, like I’d flipped a switch. “Funny you should ask.”
Jesse groaned, running a hand down his face. “Here we go.”
“Remember I was telling you I landed a huge client?” Ari started, jumping up on the counter, smug as hell. “Celebrity.”
I arched a brow. “What celebrity client?”
He wagged a finger at me. “I knew you weren't listening. Bro, Skai Monroe.”
“Doesn't ring a bell.”
“She’s got three million followers on TikTok,” Ari said proudly, “and her single just hit a million streams. I'm in love with her.”
Jesse didn’t even look up from sanitizing his station. “Her socials don't make her a celebrity.”
“It makes her Skai Monroe,” Ari shot back. “And she’s gonna be the next pop star. Mark my words.”
I snorted. “Pop star? Did she ask for a crown tattoo or your phone number?”
“Both,” Ari said without missing a beat.
Jesse rolled his eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. “She didn't ask for your number.”
“Yes, she did!”
“She asked for the tattoo, and then you gave her your phone number.”
“Jealousy is ugly on you, man,” Ari said, grinning.
I was about to jump in with my own lineup when the front door flew open hard enough to rattle the glass.
Nerissa stormed in mid-argument, phone pressed tight to her ear, voice sharp and vibrating with fury.
“No, you don’t get to do that—are you fucking kidding me right now?” She stalked past us toward her station, pacing like a caged animal. “I’ve lived there for three years—three—and you’re giving me two days? That’s illegal and you know it—”
She stopped short, then snarled, “You know what? Go fuck yourself.”
The line went dead and the shop fell quiet.
She dropped her phone onto her station with a clatter and let out a low, feral growl that made Ari’s brows shoot up.
Jesse was the first to speak. “What happened?”
Nerissa blew out a breath, shoulders sagging as the anger gave way to exhaustion.
“My landlord. He sold the fucking building and now the new owners want everyone out.”
“What?” Ari scoffed. “That's bullshit! Just like that?”
“Just like that,” she confirmed. “Apparently, I was on ‘month to month’ so they couldn't give a rat's ass where I go now.”
“That’s bullshit,” I cursed.
Ari straightened, eyes lighting up.
“Well,” he said smoothly, “if you need a place, you can always stay with me.”
She breathed out a laugh, sharp and incredulous. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?” He spread his arms. “I’m charming. Low maintenance. Great in the kitchen… and other places.”
“You couldn’t handle living with me,” she shot back.
“I’d thrive,” he insisted. “We’d thrive.”
She shook her head, already moving past it. “I’ll just go back to my parents’ place.”
Jesse stiffened. “Nessa. That’s a terrible idea and you know it.”
She winced. “I know.”
“Then don’t,” he said simply.
She sighed, rubbing her temples. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”
The silence that followed was heavy, the kind that sat in your chest. Nerissa hated being cornered; hated needing help even more.
She straightened suddenly, like flipping a switch, and pointed at me. “Anyway. Enough about my dumpster fire of a life. You—” she narrowed her eyes, “—are you ready for that interview on Friday?”
Ari’s head snapped toward me. “Interview?”
“With the Westfort Globe,” she said, waving a hand. “Local arts feature. They reached out after that mural photoset went viral.”
I shrugged, playing it off. “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” Ari scoffed. “Bro, that’s huge.”
Jesse nodded. “You nervous?”
“Nah,” I admitted. “More publicity for the mural and also for the shop.”
Nerissa smirked. “Maybe your girlfriend will see it and congratulate you in full fashion.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, seeing the truth in her eyes, and her teasing smile broke free.
“Maybe,” was all I could say, because I was playing a part in front of the guys.
She started sanitizing her station, chuckling under her breath—the little she-devil, because she knew she planted an image in my head.
I wanted Savannah Bristow.
And that was the problem.