Chapter Four
Jax
I couldn't stop thinking about her.
Three days since I'd seen Estelle Moore in that classroom, and she'd taken up permanent residence in my mind like some sort of beautiful rose that bloomed there.
Those honey eyes haunted me. The way they'd barely acknowledged my existence, like I was just another parent picking up their kid.
Me.
Jax fucking Easton. The undefeated. The untouchable. The man whose bed had seen more runway models than Milan Fashion Week, whose smile had graced magazine covers, and whose body had been voted "Most Likely to Cause Spontaneous Ovulation" three years running.
And this woman, this beautiful, understated academy teacher who wore thrift store jeans like they were couture, had looked right through me like I was invisible.
I eased the Bentley into Seaside Academy's circular drive, deliberately early for pickup. The engine purred beneath me, responsive and powerful, just like everything else in my life.
Everything except the one thing I suddenly couldn't stop thinking about.
The steering wheel was warm leather under my palms, the afternoon sun streaming through the windshield and catching the gold of my Rolex as I drummed my fingers in restless anticipation. Fifteen minutes until dismissal. Fifteen minutes until I might see her again.
The thought sent a ridiculous surge of anticipation through me. What the hell was happening to me? I'd never waited for a woman in my life. They waited for me —in hotel lobbies, at VIP sections, outside my prep room after fights, lined up like eager disciples hoping for a moment of my attention.
Yet here I was, sitting in a school parking lot like some lovesick teenager whose balls hadn't dropped yet, all for a fucking glimpse of Estelle Moore.
Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. And yet...
I ran a hand through my hair, irritated at my own fixation but unable to shake it. She was perfectly, beautifully natural, with those cool eyes that seemed to look right through my charm like it was smoke.
And somehow, it only made me want her more.
She'd dismissed me so easily. The memory still stung, even three days later. The polite smile that never reached her eyes, the careful distance she maintained, the protective stance she took with Leo, as if I were some sort of threat she needed to guard against.
I wanted to crack that armor. I wanted to see what was underneath all those careful defenses. I wanted to be the one who made her cheeks flush, who made her breath hitch, who made her look at me like I was the only man in the room.
Like I was worth looking at in the first place.
The security nodded as I stepped out of the car, and I slipped my sunglasses on to mask the intensity I knew must be visible in my eyes. The last thing I needed was Rick seeing me looking like some sort of deranged stalker.
"Mr. Easton, good to see you again," he nodded with the respect I'd grown accustomed to.
"Rick.”
I excused myself from his proud father monologue and made my way inside, Italian leather shoes clicking against marble floors that gleamed like mirrors.
The usual parade of recognition followed me, parents doing double-takes, staff members offering respectful nods, the occasional whispered "Is that really him?" that I pretended not to hear.
I was used to the attention, had built a career on it, but for once, I wasn't interested in the admiration of strangers. There was only one woman whose attention I wanted, and she seemed determined to pretend I didn't exist.
Through the classroom door's window, I caught sight of her before she saw me.
She was kneeling beside a little girl with pigtails, helping with a jacket zipper that had clearly staged a rebellion.
Her profile was illuminated by afternoon sunlight streaming through the tall windows, turning her brown hair gold at the edges.
Fuck, she was beautiful.
Not manufactured, no fillers, no calculated angles designed to photograph well. This was something real, something that hit me every time I looked at her. The delicate line of her jaw, the way her lips pressed together in concentration, the gentle curve of her neck as she bent to help the child.
She looked tired today, the shadows under her eyes more pronounced, and I wondered if she'd eaten lunch, if she ever took breaks, if anyone was making sure she took care of herself.
The thought of her skipping meals, of pushing herself too hard, made something protective and possessive rise in me like a tide.
I wanted to take her home. I wanted to sit her down, watch her eat a proper meal, and see her cheeks flush with health instead of exhaustion .
The intensity of the urge shocked me. I'd never felt this way about a woman before, this strange mix of desire and protectiveness, of wanting to possess, of wanting to nurture .
I wanted to be the one who provided for her. Who made sure she had everything she needed.
The thought was so foreign to my usual MO that it stopped me cold. I'd never wanted to take care of anyone before. I'd never felt this strange mix of desire and responsibility, of wanting to claim and cherish.
But with Estelle, it felt right. Like I'd been waiting my whole life to find someone who needed exactly what I suddenly wanted to give.
I pushed the door open with practiced nonchalance, leaning against the frame with the casual confidence that had become my trademark. Several little heads turned, including hers, and for a heartbeat, our eyes met across the classroom.
There it was again.
That life-altering jolt, the one I'd been chasing all week like some sort of addict looking for his next fix. She had the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen—brown like warm honey, framed by lashes that cast shadows on her cheekbones.
Those eyes held depths I wanted to explore, secrets I wanted to uncover, exhaustion I wanted to ease.
I forced myself to remain still, to maintain my charming smile, when all I wanted to do was cross the room and kiss her senseless. To see if her lips were as soft as they looked, if she'd melt against me or fight back with that same quiet strength she carried like armor.
"Jax!"
Avery spotted me from the hallway, racing toward me with the unbridled enthusiasm that only five-year-olds possessed. I caught her with a laugh, swinging her up like usual, her giggles echoing off the classroom walls.
My pumpkin would throw a much-deserved fit if I ever forgot our routine.
I was pleased to see her excitement, even as part of my attention remained focused on the woman across the room. "Ready to go home?"
Over Avery's shoulder, I watched Estelle straighten, smoothing her hands over jeans that had seen better days but somehow made her look more beautiful than a designer dress ever could. She didn't approach, but she didn't look away either.
Progress.
I set Avery down and strolled toward Estelle, keeping my movements relaxed, unthreatening.
Everything about her screamed caution. She held herself like she was ready to bolt, maintained a careful distance, and wore a polite smile that felt like armor.
Someone had taught her to expect the worst from people. Someone had made her build these walls.
The thought filled me with a protective rage so intense I had to consciously relax my fists. I wanted to find whoever had caused this wariness, whoever had made her so careful, and feed them their dick.
But more than that, I wanted to show her that not all men were the same. That I could be different. That I could be what she needed, even if she didn't know what that was yet.
"Ms. Estelle," I greeted her, my voice dropping to the register that usually made women's pupils dilate with want. Not calculated seduction, just the natural warmth that came from being genuinely pleased to see her.
A flicker of surprise crossed her face, followed by something softer that made my heart fucking speed up like I was sixteen again.
"Mr. Easton."
I nearly fanned myself. She remembered my name.
"Avery tells me you're friends with the dinosaur expert around here," I continued, leaning against a desk to give her space while maintaining the connection. The casual pose just so happened to show off my divine physique, though I pretended that was entirely accidental.
Entirely .
Another flicker of surprise passed through her pretty face, this one tinged with something that might have been curiosity. “That’s Leo, my nephew.”
Her nephew. Thank fucking god. Not like it would have been difficult to stage an accident for her husband, but… This was easier.
Her voice was even softer than I remembered, with that same rough edge that suggested she didn't waste time with idle conversation.
It sent a shiver down my spine, and I wondered what she sounded like when she forgot to be careful, when she let her guard down and just... existed.
"Still, I'm impressed," I said, offering my most charming smile. "Most of us stop at T-Rex and call it a day. How's he doing, by the way? Leo?"
The question seemed to catch her off guard, and I watched her study my face as if trying to determine my angle. The suspicious look should have been insulting, I was Jax fucking Easton, after all, not some creep prowling elementary schools, but it made me want to earn her trust more.
No one outside the ring had ever looked at me and seen a potential threat instead of an opportunity .
"He's well," she answered finally, her tone careful. "Thank you for asking."
Fuck, she was beautiful when she was suspicious.
I had to fight to keep my expression neutral. Her eyes had sharpened, her posture straightened into something more defensive, and somehow that only made her more appealing.
What was it about this woman that had me so twisted up? She wasn't playing games, wasn't trying to entice me—in fact, she seemed to be doing everything possible to keep me at arm's length. And somehow, that only made me want to get closer.