Chapter 4 Familiar Eyes
Familiar Eyes
The bar was packed—shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow, heat in the air that had nothing to do with the weather.
Claire and Sara made their way through the crowd, finally sliding into the only open spot at the far end of the bar.
Not ideal, but with a line forming behind them, it was either this or nothing.
Claire leaned her arms on the bar, already trying to catch the eye of a bartender, but it was Sara—of course—who handled it her way.
“Excuse me!” she shouted over the noise, raising a hand like she owned the damn place. “Can we get some help down here?”
A head turned. And just like that, the bartender was in front of them—fast. “How can I help you ladies?” he asked, voice easy, grin sharper.
“Well,” Sara started, leaning forward on the bar with a smirk, “we can start with four mojitos until we figure out how else you can help us.”
Claire groaned. “Wow, Sara. Subtlety? Ever heard of it?”
The bartender laughed under his breath. “Coming right up.”
Claire used the moment to look around. The place had a coastal charm without screaming “tourist trap.” Weathered wood floors, faded teal shutters on the wall, string lights overhead that gave it a kind of magic. She liked it. It felt... honest.
Just as she turned back, Macie and Taylor appeared behind them. Macie was already frowning. “What’s taking so long for our dri—”
She stopped dead when she spotted Sara practically flirting over the bar.
“Can you leave the man alone long enough to let him work?” Macie asked, exasperated.
Sara rolled her eyes, flipping her hair as the bartender set down their drinks. “See? He can multitask.” She winked.
Claire laughed, despite herself. She wrapped her hand around the cold glass and lifted it for a sip—when the bell above the front door chimed.
And everything in her stopped.
Macie noticed the change in her first. “What is it?” she asked.
Claire didn’t answer. She just stared.
A tall man had stepped into the bar. Ball cap pulled low, black t-shirt stretched across a tan, lean frame, casual confidence in every step. Sun-kissed. Easy. Dangerous in a way that didn’t try to be.
“Damn,” Macie whispered. “Who is that?”
Then the bartender grinned and shouted across the room, “Holy shit, Jax finally made it back from Atlanta!”
Claire’s heart dropped into her stomach.
“That’s him,” she breathed. “That’s Jaxon. The guy from the plane.”
Macie’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s him? Are you sure?”
Claire didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Because Jaxon had just looked up.
And he was looking straight at her.
Twenty feet away. A room full of people. And somehow, it still felt like the only thing between them was the air she couldn’t seem to pull into her lungs.
She wasn’t ready for this. Not now. Not here.
The bartender leaned toward them, catching the tail end of their conversation. “You saw him on a plane?” he asked, grinning. “Then you saw the uptight version of him. Sweetheart, you haven’t seen anything yet.”
Claire blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
But she barely heard the answer. Jaxon was moving through the crowd now. Calm. Collected. People calling his name. Reaching for him. The kind of man who didn’t walk into a room—he took it.
He came to a stop right beside Macie, resting a hand on the bar. Didn’t look at Claire. Didn’t say a word.
And that was worse than if he had.
Claire leaned closer to Macie, her voice low. “Can you believe he looked at me like that… but didn’t even speak?”
Macie just gave her a knowing glance. “He’s playing a game. Question is—are you going to play back?”
Before Claire could answer, Jaxon finally turned—his profile sharp beneath the brim of his hat. “Beer,” he called.
The bartender didn’t hesitate. “On your tab, yeah?”
“Thanks, Mike.”
And just like that, he turned to Claire.
His eyes locked on hers. “Where are you headed?” he asked, low and smug and infuriatingly familiar.
Claire arched a brow, resisting the smirk threatening her lips. “Wasn’t sure you recognized me. And if you did… I didn’t know if you’d bother to speak.”
Jaxon’s mouth quirked, almost a smile. “Yeah… sorry about that. I know how I left things at the airport. I’m just not used to flights like that. When we landed, I figured I wouldn’t see you again. So I left it there.”
She studied him for a second—every line of his face, every bit of casual armor he wore so damn well. Then she shrugged.
“Well, you figured wrong,” she said. And smiled.
He opened his mouth to say something else—but Taylor’s voice cut through the moment like a knife.
“Claire! You girls coming? We’re ready to order!”
Claire blinked, caught between two worlds. She turned back to Jaxon, her mind still spinning. She wanted more. She wanted to stay. But—
She caught a glimpse of the waitress walking past with a tray of food, and her stomach made the decision for her.
“I’m starving,” she said, grabbing Macie by the wrist. “That food looks amazing. Come on.”
She turned to Jaxon once more, the faintest glint in her eye.
“Guess I’ll see you around?”
“I guess so,” he replied with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
But as she walked away, Jaxon stood frozen at the bar—beer untouched.
Brows lifted. Jaw tight.
She left?
She actually fucking walked away?
Women didn’t do that. Not to him. Not ever.
Surely, it’s because of the airport, he thought. She’s making me pay for that.
But deep down?
It wasn’t just about the airport. It was about her. About the fact that—for once—he didn’t have the upper hand.
And he fucking hated it.