6. Jaxon
JAXON
Ican’t believe I made a dick joke to Della.
Even my questionable self knows that was shotty.
But things defaulted to comfort so quickly, my filter was suspended.
And even though she’s the one that leaned into me earlier, extending the time my arm was around her was questionable behavior, too.
Granted, I’m sure she needed the hug after running like she did.
While Della and Hazel are chatting, another truck drives up. Because, of course it does.
My oldest brother, Everest, would never miss a show.
He hops out and introduces himself to her before looking at me with a shit-eating grin.
Granted, he didn’t travel far because he lives on the ranch; we all do.
Each of us, including my parents, have four acres and a house on the far east side of the property, removed from all the chaos and daily ranch living.
But make no mistake, it is a family compound.
I keep up my uncle’s place behind his mechanic shop, so I have a little bit of space to myself.
My family gets along better than anyone I know, and I love them dearly, but distance makes the heart grow fonder and all that stuff.
“Here’s the keys to the East Cabins,” Hazel says, holding them up. “I can take you to cabin three.” Initially, when I told Hazel that Della was coming, I thought it might be more comfortable for a woman to take her. But now, I weirdly want to be the one to do it.
Before Hazel can get into her golf cart, because Della will soon find out that’s how we get around here, another car pulls up. For fuck’s sake. Cayson jumps out to open the back doors, and immediately my three-and-a-half-year-old twin niece and nephew are loose.
“Hi everyone! Look at my lovie,” Mazie, my niece, shouts, skipping over with a bear in the air. My nephew, Luke, and Cayson trail behind, both wearing serious faces that make me laugh.
“Looks like it’s a party,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, Della, the fact that these people are the nosiest people in the world has been left out of our information pamphlets.”
Della looks around at everyone with a huge grin on her face before bending down to ask my niece about her bear. When she tries to talk to Luke, he doesn’t say much, but smiles at her. My nephew doesn’t say much of anything to anyone at all, but especially strangers, so a smile is a big deal.
She stands up, and the five of us play a speed round of get-to-know-you.
Della continues to answer the slew of questions being lobbed her way, while I use my time stealing glances at her.
My biggest takeaway? How much she has going for her.
She’s beautiful, no doubt, but first impressions also include brave, intelligent, funny, and social enough to roll with my family essentially cornering her.
It leaves me wanting to learn more. And that’s the stupidest thought I’ve ever had because she is a runaway bride on her way to Driggs in seventy-two hours or less.
Regardless, I find myself not saying much, just taking in Della Tatroe from Chicago on my ranch, looking fucking divine. Her attention keeps drifting back to me, and with each catch of her sparkling eyes, I can’t help but feel this inexplicable familiarity.
When I see her yawn, I take over. “Alright, welcoming committee, it’s time to take Della to the East Cabins. You ready?” I ask. She looks at me, then nods her head with a smile. “Hazel, you got the keys?”
Hazel snaps her head toward me, confused, but when I hold my hand in the air, she complies with my request and tosses them my way.
“It was so wonderful meeting all of you. Thank you for your incredible kindness in letting me stay here tonight. I’ll be out of your hair soon,” Della says.
“Hopefully not too soon,” Hazel replies. “The lodge has breakfast starting at six am. Don’t miss the sunrise. You also have a full kitchen in your cabin. Plus, I grabbed a couple of things from my house so you have something to eat, but I can take you into town tomorrow, too. Here, take my number.”
Della’s mouth drops open. “I… thank you,” she stammers before punching the numbers into the phone.
“Alright, Della, let’s go,” I put my arm around her shoulder again, and she follows my lead to the car. “Ready to see your humble abode?”
She nods. “Are you guys this nice to everyone?”
“Although I like to think we’re nice people, it’s not every day that someone in your situation breezes into town.” Which I think is better than saying no fucking way. “Let’s check out cabin three.”
She gets in the car, and I close the door for her before sliding into my truck and leading her to the cabin my sister has already illuminated. Della hops out quickly and starts milling around in the back.
“Can I help you?” I ask, walking over.
“I’m usually not this messy. Well, not this bad,” she tries to defend herself as she’s taking handfuls of clothing and shoving them in a bag. “I don’t even know what I have in here. I mean, I kind of do, but I left a lot in the penthouse.”
“It’s a small town, yes, but I promise we have stores,” I chuckle. “Hope you like cowboy chic.”
She laughs and looks down, “Do my yoga pants not work?”
“Oh, they work, alright,” my mouth drops open at my flirtatious comeback.
I should have let Hazel bring her because that comment was downright creepy.
It doesn’t matter that I have enjoyed how those tight pants cling to every perfect curve she has.
“I mean, it’s not all chaps and hats. We also have a stunning array of flannels, boots, and clothes with a touch of fringe if you’re looking to get a little saucy.
Hell, you can even find a wedding dress here. ”
The air stills between us and it’s my turn for my mouth to drop open. The fact she’s supposed to be at her wedding has been hanging out on the forefront of my mind all day, so that just slipped out, just like the dick joke.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. Anything goes. Your pants are fine.” I stumble over my words because my big-ass foot is jammed so far down my throat I’m choking. I can’t remember the last time I fumbled words like that.
She laughs at my folly. “Well, that’s more appreciation than I’ve gotten in years, so I’ll take it.”
It’s not often I’m stumped on where to go with a conversation, but that did it.
I want to tell this stranger that, although I have no idea how things came to be with her and the ex, he sounds like he sucks.
Anyone who doesn’t, at the very least, appreciate how gorgeous she is, is missing some screws.
She could still be loony, but so far everything seems pretty normal.
“Well, can I help you take this bag inside? I’m kind of worried it will explode,” I joke.
“First, a comment about a wedding, and then a dig at my emergency packing. I see you, Jaxon Wills.”
I laugh, and adjust my hat before I reach into the trunk to grab the bag.
“This way, madam,” I hold my arm out to guide her.
After climbing the three steps, she looks back at me, “This is, I mean, Jaxon, this is not a humble abode; it’s insane. I don’t know if I can cover the cost right now.”
“It’s not costing anything. These aren’t being rented at the moment. Besides, only a jerk would offer you a place to stay and then shake you down for payment. I think that’s more Chicago-mob behavior, no?” I ask as I open the door to her cabin.
She laughs, but it stops as soon as she steps inside the threshold.
Our luxury cabins are just that. They’re thousand-foot A-frames that embody rustic chic, and their impressiveness is evident as soon as you walk in.
They have open floor plans, so people see the kitchen, living area, three-season room, and cozy nook before their eyes are drawn to the bedroom door and the stairs leading to two more bedrooms.
“Wow,” she says, looking around.
“These are pretty nice,” I admit.
“Pretty nice? Um, these are beyond.”
“Do you want a tour?”
“You don’t have to, I can do it myself. I’ve already taken up so much of your time today,” she replies.
I try to decipher if that’s a polite way of dismissing me, or if she is feeling like she’s been too much. But I’d much rather stay.
“I have nowhere I have to be,” I say, testing the waters. “In fact, if I know Hazel, she probably put a bottle of something to drink in the fridge, so I might be crashing your party of one. I’ll go grab the other things from your car if you want to check.”
Stepping back into the night air, I walk to her car to gather the remainder of her things.
As I sling a backpack over my shoulder, a wedding program falls out of it, and I can’t help but pick it up.
There was clearly no expense spared on this event, so one of them has some money.
Although Hazel handles the weddings, I have some basic knowledge of what things cost, and this bad boy has some gold foiling, embossing, and color ink.
Plus, it’s multiple pages. The front is your typical join in the union of bullshit, then I notice the name: Della Elizabeth Tatroe.
That’s why she initially introduced herself as Elizabeth when we first met.
Maybe that was her way of starting completely over.
But marrying a Tripp Worthington? Oof. The guy already sounds like a douchebag.
Opening to the first spread, there’s the usual order of events, but after that, there’s a page of the bride and groom, in color.
In every photo, she’s more gorgeous than the last, and I wonder how this guy was banging his groomsman and another chick when she looks like this.
I don’t think any woman could be prettier than her.
I can’t stop looking at a particular photo of them from some swanky event.
He’s in a tux, and she’s in a dress that I bet was made for her.
Anyone who saw this would think they were a perfect power couple.
But her smile? It doesn’t reach her eyes.
They’re missing the sparkle they had when my niece showed off her ratty teddy bear.
Even if I knew nothing up to this point, I’d question the union based on how she looks when she’s standing next to him.
In fact, as I page through the rest of the pamphlet, in each photo she is in with a friend, she’s beaming.
But with him, she just looks… flat. Gorgeous, but flat.
Tripp’s wedding party looks about as douchey as he does.
I find the best man, and he is wearing a gaudy belt with a cigar hanging from his lips.
He looks like a headache. I can’t imagine her walking in to catch him screwing this guy.
Flipping to the back, what I see tugs at my heartstrings even more.
It’s a memorial page for her mother. Based on the dates, a quick calculation suggests her mother was forty-six when she passed.
That was five years ago. Shit, I don’t know her age now, but I can’t imagine she’s over twenty-five.
I wonder what happened? Below the quote, there’s a photo of her with her parents, and Della is the spitting image of her mother.
Before I can turn to the next page, she opens the door, and I drop the pamphlet like it’s on fire.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Yeah, sorry. Some things fell out of the bag, though I can’t say I’m surprised,” I laugh nervously, joking with her to cover my snooping.
“I’m never going to live that down, huh?” she asks.
“No. The next seventy-two hours are going to be brutal for that, Tatroe.” Although she said she is going to leave tomorrow, that’d be dumb to pack and unpack. My sister could convince her to just ride out the storm here.
I take one more look at the photo before I close the trunk and head inside, more curious about this woman than I was five minutes ago.