14. Jaxon
JAXON
Because I’m the driver, I’m taking it easy tonight, and that means I’m sober enough to pick up on all the eyes that are staring at our table.
This is a local bar, and since the non-touristy town of Amberheart isn’t big; we all know each other.
I’m wondering who will be the first to approach us to find out about our new guest.
It’s my freaking brother.
After the girls are into their second drink, Everest appears at the table.
“What the fuck, Ev,” I say in equal parts surprise and agitation. For the second day in a row, he just can’t stay away.
“Hello, everyone,” he says, with an annoying smile on his face. “Hazie told me there was a party at The Lantern, and I couldn’t say no. Good to see you, Della.”
“Hi,” she squeals, indicating that she might be as much of a lightweight as my sister. Molly can hold her shit, but Hazel most definitely cannot.
But then I remember that this wasn’t supposed to be a drinking adventure, not at first, at least. I told her not to eat because we’d get food.
I thought it’d be funny for her to taste the tavern-style pizza they serve up here, but tavern-style is a misnomer.
It’s a frozen pizza they heat up for twelve minutes in a pizza oven from 1985 that has decades of burnt cheese caked in.
Don’t get me wrong, it is delicious, especially after you put down some drinks, but it has to be far from what she is used to.
Although I’m not exactly being fair. I don’t have a bead on what her childhood was like; maybe she grew up eating her share of dive bar food and frozen pizzas.
When I watch the three girls take a shot of something, I put my drink down to take steps to mitigate the alcohol with water and sustenance. Asking Everest to grab bowls of popcorn and peanuts, I go to grab the water and place the pizza order. The last thing Della needs is a raging hangover.
When I return, I set the cups of water down, encouraging her to drink them. She does without argument, but her eyes are glossy, and it tells me she’s at least feeling the alcohol. As she turns to laugh with my sister and Molly, Everest leans over to me.
“She’s pretty, Jax.”
Unsure of how to respond, I side-eye him. “I noticed.”
“Cliff thinks so, too. He hasn’t stopped staring,” he continues, intentionally stirring the pot.
Now I look out into the crowd, and he’s right.
Sure enough, Cliff Tolapin is practically drooling.
The man makes my bedroom escapades look prudish.
Not to mention, I think we’re supposed to be enemies.
I don’t particularly hate him, but I know he’s not the best guy.
His family owns the other ranch in Amberheart.
Ours is exponentially better, but lately they’ve been pulling in lots of business.
That is another reason I need my new social hire out here ASAP.
They have a stronger, prettier online presence, but Pine Spur Ranch is a bait-and-switch.
Though it looks nice in the photos, it’s not great.
Regardless, I don’t like or appreciate how he’s looking at Della.
When I bring my eyes back to her, I can’t help but smile.
Any guard she had up is down, and she is magnetic as she’s lost in some conversation with the girls.
It affords me a chance to take her in piece by piece.
I’ve looked at many beautiful women, but Della is hard to put a finger on.
Each time I try to tear my gaze away, I find something else to notice.
And I know I should look elsewhere, but instead, I find myself memorizing her features.
The way her dimple only pops out on her golden skin during a certain smile, or the way she shyly tucks her hair behind her ear.
She’s charming to watch. The next time she looks over, she looks with intention, waves a peanut shell at me, licks it, then tosses it over her shoulder, cackling like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever done.
I can’t help but shake my head with a quiet laugh.
I don’t know shit about this woman, but something tells me she’s having more fun than she’s had in a long time. I decide I’m going to up the ante. When I stopped at home earlier to change and get my truck, I grabbed a stack of singles that I save for nights like tonight.
“Hey Del, you up for some more authentic experiences?”
Her smile lights up the dim bar, and she nods her head.
I hand out the dollar bills and pull a cup of dice out of my back pocket to excited cheers from Molly and Hazel.
When I went to grab the water, I asked the bartender for the dice cup.
Ship, Captain, Crew is a popular game around here, and every place worth its salt keeps a couple cups of dice behind the bar to loan out.
I give Della the most basic rundown of how to play, and she nods as if she’s understanding everything I say.
When the game gets underway, six more people join, and she is pushed up against me.
One of my arms is reaching out to hold the table, and she’s tucked into it.
With the closeness, my mind wanders to what the hell is happening here.
Sexual chemistry? Physical compatibility?
Gravitational pull? Before I have time to land on the word for what my insides are doing, she rolls the Ship, Captain, Crew, and gets nine points on her first roll.
“That’s good, right?” She looks at the dice and then at me to make sure. “Like, really good?” She let’s out a happy laugh, and the crowd around us groans at her success. Chances of beating that roll are slim to none.
“Yeah, that’s real good, Del,” I say, smiling.
After officially winning the round, both her hands go up in the air, and she turns her body to me in unbridled excitement before wrapping her arms around my neck and jumping up and down as if she just won a new car on a game show.
In reality, it’s eight bucks. I don’t hesitate to put my arm around her waist and pull her in for the celebration.
“I really won!” she smiles, pulling away and pecking my cheek before turning back around to shit-talk one of the people that joined us to play.
My sister gives me a give me a break face before rolling her eyes, and my brother just shakes his head, laughing.
But they can’t be mad at me, that was all her.
Della collects her winnings just in time for two pizzas to be placed down.
Her eyes zero in on the food, and she can’t get into her purse fast enough to put on the hand sanitizer, which draws a laugh from us, before digging in. After taking a huge bite, she makes a noise of appreciation. “This is so fucking good,” she says.
“You liar,” Molly calls her out. “Isn’t Chicago known for its pizza?”
“Yeah, but I couldn’t eat it. As it stands, I was told not to gain a single ounce of weight for our wedding. In fact, my ex’s mother told me I could stand to lose ten pounds. Bitch,” she says, shoving a slice in her mouth in spite.
“Shut. Up.” Hazel says in disbelief.
“Oh yeah, I was bound by a lot of Worthington rules. I had to learn them real fucking quick.”
“That’s crazy. What were some of the other ones?” my brother asks. I admit, I’m curious too. Maybe Della has had her share of tavern pizza after all.
“Well, let’s see,” she puts her food down and holds up her hand to count on her fingers.
“Appearance over everything; so hair, nails, wrinkles, body shape, the whiteness of your teeth. Everything had to be meticulous. Today, I found dirt under my fingernail, and I almost panicked. Then I realized I don’t give a fuck anymore, so I picked up more because I could, and now I have dirt under a few of them.
” She holds up her nails, showing off her proud defiance.
Hazel, Molly, and Everest are hanging on her every word like she’s a zoo attraction, and to be fair, someone on the ranch who didn’t want dirt under their nails kind of is.
Then she continues. “In public, I was expected to be quiet, demure, never crass or loud. And I fell into that to some degree, but I could never quite keep that facade up completely,” she laughs as if it’s funny. But my heart breaks a little more for the woman in front of me.
“And above all, never… ever… air out your drama. Theres’s so much shit and drama in those high-society circles, but it’s especially important to be discreet and sweep it all under the rug.
The fact that I left Tripp the day of our wedding?
You guys don’t even know. There’s nothing discreet about that.
Everyone is talking about it, no doubt. I’m surprised he didn’t track me here and come beat me for the embarrassment I’ve caused him. ”
The record scratches, and I catch my brother looking at me out of the corner of my eye.
“Beat you? Della, did he hit you?” I ask. Awaiting her answer, I have already mentally begun heading to Chicago to find Tripp Worthington.
“Oh no, he never put his hands on me. That would mean he would have to touch me, and he made it abundantly clear I repulsed him,” she waves her hand flippantly, like it’s no big deal.
Before I can form words, my sister is already responding. “Who in their right mind could be repulsed by you, Della? You’re stupidly gorgeous.”
“Stop,” she says with her mouth full.
“No,” Molly chimes in. “Don’t downplay how beautiful you are. Not even a little. That man is a fucking fool. I mean, are you a weirdo? Let’s say you were staying here for months. What weird-ass things would we find out about you?”
“Molly,” I scold her because I’m feeling defensive of Della. That’s not an appropriate question at all. No one around this table has any right to know those things.
She looks thoughtfully at my sister, then at me, and shrugs.