Chapter One #2
Either she didn't know, which seemed unlikely given my face was plastered across half the billboards in the city, or she didn't care. Both possibilities were foreign concepts.
"Nice to meet you, Ms. Estelle,” I said, letting her name linger on my tongue like expensive wine. "Avery's mentioned Leo quite a bit. Sounds like they've become good friends."
Something softened in her expression when she looked at the children, a warmth that hadn't been there when she looked at me.
The transformation was stunning. Her entire face lit from within, exhaustion falling away like a mask, revealing a beauty so raw and genuine it made me want to watch her forever.
"They have," she replied, and I caught the faint smile that ghosted across her lips as she watched Leo carefully zip his backpack. “They’ve been having lunch together.”
She knew who I was. She had to. But she didn't fawn, didn't flirt, didn't do anything but seldom meet my gaze with polite, practiced indifference.
It was like being doused in ice water while simultaneously being set on fire.
What the actual fuck?
"He knows EVERYTHING about velociraptors," Avery interjected, bouncing on her toes. "And T-Rexes and triceratops and?—"
"Brachiosaurus," Leo added quietly, a tiny smile playing at his mouth.
The kid was cute, I'd give him that. Reminded me of myself at that age, if I'd been quiet and bookish instead of charming everyone within a five-mile radius.
Avery was still talking, but I barely heard her. All I could focus on was Estelle, the way she moved, the careful way she spoke, and the protective hover of her hand near Leo's shoulder.
She looked at me like I was just another problem to solve, another rich asshole with nothing real to offer.
She finished gathering Leo's things, her focus never wavering from the task at hand, and I realized I was still watching her like a starving man at a feast .
I tried to recover, to flash her another smile, but she just nodded politely and turned away.
No invitation.
No lingering glance.
No hint of interest whatsoever.
I stood there, heart pounding like I'd just gone twelve rounds, feeling twelve kinds of foolish. What the fuck was wrong with me? Why did I care? Why did I want her to look at me again, to see me, to acknowledge that I was different from every other man who'd probably tried to impress her?
Estelle guided Leo toward the door. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the graceful line of her neck, the curve of her back beneath the jacket, and the way she moved like someone trying not to disturb the air around her.
"Ms. Estelle,” I called, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.
She paused, turning slightly, one eyebrow arched in question. The look was both challenging and dismissive, as if she'd already categorized me and found me unworthy of further consideration.
That eyebrow, that small gesture of skepticism, was sexier than any come-hither stare I'd ever received in VIP rooms and penthouse suites.
"Do you need help carrying anything?" I gestured vaguely at the classroom, aware of how lame the offer sounded even as the words left my mouth.
‘Do you need help carrying anything?' I sounded like a fucking loser.
The corner of her mouth quirked upward, not quite a smile, but close. For a split second, something flickered in her eyes—amusement, maybe, or pity for whatever the fuck was going on with me.
"I've got it, thanks," she answered, her tone polite but final. "Have a good weekend, Mr. Easton."
And then she was gone, leaving behind the faint scent of citrus and something indefinable that made me want to follow her like a fucking puppy .
I stood there, staring at the empty doorway, trying to process what had just happened. Or rather, what hadn't happened.
She hadn't flirted. Hadn't fallen to her knees. Hadn't given me that look women always gave me, the one that said they were already imagining how I looked naked.
She'd dismissed me. Me . Jax fucking Easton.
"Jax?" Avery tugged at my sleeve. "Can we go now? You promised ice cream and seeing Toffee.”
I blinked, forcing my attention back to my niece. Right. Ice cream. Normal uncle behavior. I could do that.
"Yeah, pumpkin. Let's go."
We walked to the car, and Avery chattered about her day, but my mind kept circling back to Estelle Moore. She was beautiful, yes, but not in the manufactured way I was accustomed to.
Her beauty was natural and devastating—sharp and soft at the same time, pulling me in like gravity.
And she'd dismissed me like I was just another parent picking up their kid.
The woman had balls.
I helped Avery into her booster seat, buckling her in the back while she continued her dinosaur monologue.
My movements were automatic, my mind still stuck in that classroom, replaying every second of our brief interaction.
"Is Ms. Estelle Leo's mommy?" Avery asked suddenly, only adding fuel to my thoughts.
"I don't know, pumpkin," I replied, starting the car and trying to sound casual. "Why?"
"Because she picks him up every day and helps him with his backpack and stuff. But he calls her Estelle, not mommy."
Interesting. I filed that information away, unsure why it mattered but unable to stop myself from collecting these crumbs about Estelle Moore.
"Maybe she's his aunt or something," I suggested, pulling out of the parking lot. "Like how I'm your uncle. "
Whoever that kid was to her, as long as she didn't have a husband, I could work with it. Hell, even if she did have a husband, that had never stopped me before.
As these thoughts drifted through my mind, I realized that nothing in my life, no fight, no victory, no woman, had ever hit me this hard.
Estelle Moore had walked into my world and, with a single fleeting glance, turned it upside down.
And I knew with certainty that I wouldn't rest until she was mine.
Women didn't walk away from me. They made it abundantly clear they were available, desperate for my attention, my touch, my money. And I took what was offered, enjoyed it thoroughly, then moved on without a second thought.
But Estelle Moore hadn't offered anything. And for some inexplicable reason, I wanted everything.
Everything.
By the time we pulled into Connor's parking garage, the sun was dipping low, painting the concrete walls gold. Avery was already half out of her booster seat, her excitement about seeing Toffee contagious enough to pull me out of my head for a moment.
She darted to the private elevator, calling for the cat, and I followed, rolling my shoulders to shake off the tension that had settled there like a physical weight.
When we reached the top floor, Connor opened the door before we could knock. Sierra slipped beneath his arm with Toffee in her arms, her smile as warm and sweet as always.
She'd always been gentle, but there was a strength in her now, a confidence that had grown since she'd become part of Connor's world.
She was the kind of woman men like us wanted to protect, even though she was stronger than she looked. Like how I bet Estelle was.
"Hey, cutie," Sierra greeted Avery, bending down so the cat could nuzzle against her cheek. "Toffee's been waiting for you all day."
Avery squealed and scooped the cat from Sierra's arms, already launching into a breathless explanation of her day at school. I watched Sierra for a beat longer, feeling something twist inside me.
She had that effect on people, made you want to be softer, better, just by being in the room. I wondered, not for the first time, how Connor had known. How he'd seen her and decided she was it, that no one else would ever measure up.
Was this what it felt like? That instant, world-tilting certainty?
Because that's what I felt the moment I saw Estelle Moore. The world had stopped, and I'd been left standing in the silence, yearning.
Connor remained in the doorway, his presence filling the space like a storm cloud. He gave me a look, half amusement, half challenge, and clapped me on the shoulder as I pushed inside.
"You look like hell," he grunted, but there was a glint in his dark eyes. "Rough day?"
"Something like that," I muttered, glancing at Sierra as she disappeared into the kitchen with Avery and the cat.
She returned moments later with a mug of tea, her movements graceful and sure. "Want some tea, Jax? Or something stronger?"
I managed a grin, letting some of my usual charm slip back into place. "Tea's good, bee. Thanks."
She handed me the mug, her eyes searching my face with that gentle perceptiveness that made her so perfect for Connor. "Are you okay? You seem... off.”
I hesitated, then found myself nodding. "Yeah. Just... met someone today. At Avery's school."
Her lips curved in a knowing smile. "Someone special?"
I shrugged, but the answer was written all over me. "Maybe. She was... different."
Sierra's smile softened, and she glanced at Connor, who was pretending not to listen while failing miserably.
"If she's meant for you, she won't care about the noise," she said quietly. "The fame, the money, all of it. She’ll see past it.”
I looked at her, really looked, and understood exactly what Connor must have felt the first time he saw her. That sense of inevitability, of fate. The realization that your whole world could change instantly, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.
"Give her time, Jax," Sierra added, her voice gentle but certain. "If she's the right one, she'll see you."
I hoped she was right.
For the next hour, I forced myself to focus on Avery, on the interactive books Sierra had found for her, on the brownies that appeared fresh from the oven.
But my mind kept drifting back to honey-brown eyes and that not-quite smile. To the graceful way Estelle had moved through the classroom. To the gentle authority in her voice when she spoke to the children.
Later, after Avery had exhausted herself playing with Toffee and fallen asleep on the couch, Connor cornered me in the kitchen. His eyebrows rose slightly as he handed me a beer.
"Who is it?"
I hesitated for a second, then decided fuck it. “A teacher at Seaside. Estelle Moore."
"And?"
"And nothing. That's it. Met her, she didn't seem impressed, end of story."
A slow smile spread across Connor's face, the kind that meant trouble.
"She shot you down."
"She didn't shoot me down," I protested, though even I could hear how defensive I sounded. "I wasn't hitting on her."
"Bullshit."
I didn't answer, which was answer enough.
He leaned against the counter, crossing his tattooed arms over his chest. "So the great Jax Easton finally found a woman immune to his charms. No wonder you looked like someone pissed in your protein shake."
"Fuck off," I muttered, taking a long pull from my beer .
"What's she like?" he asked, surprising me. Connor rarely showed interest in my revolving door of women.
I considered the question, trying to find words that would capture the essence of Estelle Moore.
"Perfect," I answered finally. "Not like the usual. She's..." I trailed off, unable to find any other word. "Perfect."
Connor nodded slowly, as if understanding what I meant without needing elaboration. "And that's got you fucked up."
It wasn't a question.
"I'm not fucked up," I insisted, though we both knew it was a lie. "Just... intrigued."
"Intrigued," he repeated, his tone making it clear he saw right through me. "You're obsessed."
I finished my beer, setting the empty bottle on the counter hard. "Don't project."
But even as I said it, I knew it was another lie. I was obsessed, and I would be seeing her again very soon.
Very soon.
For the first time in years, I wanted something I wasn't sure I could have, and I’d do anything to have her.