Chapter 16 Axel
Axel
Ipush through the door of Pike's Perk midmorning, the familiar bell announcing my arrival.
I wasn't planning to stop by today, I have a brewery meeting in an hour, but I've been thinking about Sadie all morning, replaying our night together on a loop.
The way she looked straddling my lap, her face when she came apart around me, how she rushed to Poppy without hesitation.
It's been three days, and I've kept my distance, giving her space while Poppy recovers, but I can't stay away any longer.
Doesn’t matter how crowded the café is. I see her the second I walk in.
Gray t-shirt stretched over her curves, ponytail pulled tight to keep her hair out of her face, but nothing can hide the way her mouth curves when she laughs.
My body reacts first with that same heat, tension, that ache in my chest and lower.
I watch her lips move and all I can think about is how they felt wrapped around my tongue three nights ago.
She’s laughing for someone else, not me, and that sets my teeth on edge.
I freeze. Some asshole in a thousand-dollar suit is leaning into her space, eyeing her like she’s the answer to whatever’s missing from his perfect life.
He’s got that slick, city confidence I fucking hate, the kind that thinks he can buy anything he wants.
He’s looking at her, not her coffee, and I want to plant my fist in his jaw just to wipe that look off his face.
I fight the urge to go behind the counter and remind her, with my hands, my mouth, exactly whom she belongs to.
My chest goes tight, something sharp and unfamiliar cutting through me as I watch him push a business card across the counter to her. She takes it, tucking it into her apron pocket with another smile.
What the hell?
I approach slowly, sliding into a spot at the counter a few feet away from Suit Guy. Sadie notices me, her eyes widening slightly before she composes herself.
"Morning," I say casually, leaning on the counter. "Busy day?"
"The usual." Her tone is professional, but there's a new wariness in her eyes. "What can I get you?"
"Just coffee. Black." I glance at Suit Guy, who's still hovering. "Unless you're recommending something special today?"
"The Ethiopian is excellent," Suit Guy offers before Sadie can respond. "I'm having it with almond milk. Life-changing."
I raise an eyebrow. "Is that right?"
"Absolutely." He extends a hand. "Craig Donovan. Just passing through on business."
I shake his hand, matching his firm grip. "Axel Slade. Live here, actually. Family owns Slade Brewing Company."
"No kidding?" His eyebrows lift with genuine interest. "I've had your IPA. Great stuff."
"Thanks." I turn back to Sadie, who's watching this exchange with a slight frown. "I'll take that Ethiopian, then. But regular milk. I'm a traditionalist."
Her lips twitch, almost a smile. "Coming up."
Craig leans toward me conspiratorially. "You're lucky to have this place in town. I've been traveling through Colorado for a week—and this is hands-down the best coffee I've found."
"The owner has high standards," I say, watching Sadie work the espresso machine with practiced efficiency.
"I was just telling her she should consider expanding," Craig continues. "I do small business development consulting—and this concept could really take off in the right markets."
My jaw tightens. So that's what the business card was about. "Pike's Perk is pretty special because it's one of a kind," I say lightly. "Some things aren't meant to be franchised."
She brings my coffee, her fingers brushing mine intentionally, or maybe I’m just desperate enough to imagine it.
Electricity, sharp and hot, jolts up my arm.
I lock eyes with her, let her see what touching her does to me.
If we were alone, I’d pull her across the counter and show her exactly what I want.
But here, I let my thumb graze her wrist. Slow.
Deliberate. I want her to feel it in her bones.
"Craig was just telling me about his consulting business," she says, her tone neutral.
"Fascinating," I deadpan, taking a sip of coffee. It is damn good actually.
Craig doesn't catch my tone. "I was saying you could easily expand to Boulder or Denver. The right investor, the right locations, you could triple your revenue in eighteen months."
I watch Sadie's face, curious about her reaction. There's interest there, but also wariness.
"It's an interesting thought," she says carefully. "But I'm pretty attached to this location."
"Think bigger!" Craig enthuses, leaning toward her. "You could still run this flagship store while overseeing the expansion. I'd be happy to walk you through the numbers sometime. Maybe over dinner?"
And there it is. My fingers tighten around the mug as something possessive and primitive surges through me. I've never considered myself the jealous type, but watching this guy smoothly transition from business to pleasure makes me want to dump my coffee in his lap.
I cut in, voice low. “Sadie’s nights are already spoken for.” I make sure the guy hears it, make sure Sadie feels it."
She shoots me a look, surprise mixed with something else I can't quite read.
Craig's smile doesn't falter. "Well, lunch then. Or coffee. I'm flexible."
"I'll think about it," Sadie says, already turning to help another customer.
Craig checks his watch and sighs.
"I should get going. Meeting in twenty." He picks up his cup and nods to me. "Nice meeting you, Axel. Let me know if you're ever interested in discussing distribution expansion for the brewery."
"Sure thing," I say, not meaning it.
As he leaves, Sadie returns to my section of the counter, eyebrow raised. "What was that about?"
"What?" I ask innocently.
"'Sadie’s nights are already spoken for'?" she mimics, but there's a hint of amusement in her eyes.
I shrug, taking another sip of coffee. "Just making conversation."
"Uh-huh." She leans on the counter, close enough that I can smell her shampoo. "Didn't realize you were keeping track of my evening schedule."
"Just looking out for a friend," I say, the word 'friend' feeling entirely inadequate for what we've become.
"Is that what we are?" she asks, her voice dropping lower. "Friends?"
The question hangs between us, loaded with everything we haven't said since that night. I lean forward, our faces inches apart across the counter.
"I think we're a bit past friendship, don't you?" My voice comes out rougher than I intend.
Her cheeks flush pink, but she doesn't back away. "Axel—"
"How's Poppy?" I ask, changing the subject before we get too deep in a public place.
The tension in her shoulders eases slightly. "Better. Fever's gone. She's been sleeping through the night again."
"That's good." I reach across the counter and brush a strand of hair from her face, letting my fingers linger against her cheek. "And you? How are you sleeping?"
Her breathing slows, eyes going darker.
"Not great."
"Me neither," I admit, my thumb tracing the curve of her jaw.
We're too close, the counter between us the only thing keeping this appropriate for a public café. I can see the quick rise and fall of her breathing, the slight part of her lips. All I can think about is how she tasted, the soft sounds she made when I was inside her.
I want to kiss her right here, right now, customers be damned.
I want to climb over this counter and finish what we started that night.
The force of the desire stuns me. It's not just physical; it's something deeper, more possessive.
Something that makes me want to stake a claim that everyone can see.
My control snaps. I can’t listen to her talk about us like we’re just friends, not after knowing how she tastes, how she falls apart in my hands.
The world drops away. I lean in, haul her close by the back of her neck, my lips on hers hard, claiming, hungry.
Just enough to let her know she’s mine. I don’t care who’s watching.
She’s shaking when I let her go, but I’m not sorry.
I want the whole damn town to know whom she belongs to.
Sadie freezes, her entire body going rigid. She jerks back like I've burned her, eyes wide with something I've never seen in them before, pure, undiluted panic.
"What are you doing?" she hisses, glancing frantically around the café.
"I'm sorry, I just—"
"No," she cuts me off, voice sharp as glass. "Not here. Not like this."
The rejection stings, hot and immediate. "I didn't think—"
"That's right. You didn't." Her hands are shaking as she wipes them on her apron, her breathing shallow and quick. "You can't just— I have customers. I have staff. I have—"
She stops abruptly, turning away to compose herself. When she faces me again, her expression is locked down tight, professional mask firmly in place, but I can see the tremor in her hands.
"I think you should go," she says quietly.
Annoyance flares in my chest. It was just a kiss, for God's sake. But as I study her face, I realize this isn't about the kiss at all. There's real fear in her eyes, something deeper than embarrassment or workplace propriety.
"Sadie," I say, keeping my voice low. "What's wrong? What did I do?"
She shakes her head minutely, eyes darting to a table of customers watching us with interest. "Not now."
"Then when?" I press, leaning closer. "Talk to me."
"I can't do this here." Her voice cracks slightly on the last word. "Please."
The vulnerability in that single "please" deflates my frustration instantly. Something is seriously wrong, and I've just made it worse by acting impulsively.
"Okay," I say, stepping back to give her space. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."
She nods once, still not meeting my eyes. "I need to get back to work."
I should leave. I know I should. But I can't walk away with that fear still etched on her face.
"Sadie," I say softly. "What did I do wrong?"