Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 44725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 224(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 224(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Oh, and also… the sky isn’t blue. I’m so full of crap.
What seems like a short time later, the doorbell rings. I pause in the hallway mirror, brush down my hair, then answer the door.
I thought Jaxson would seem shorter since I’ve gained a few inches, but he looms over me. He’s wearing a casual shirt with sleeves rolled up and his top buttons undone. His torso is even bigger than I remember. His hair glistens as if he’s recently showered. That thought gets jettisoned. I can’t think about Jaxson is the shower. He stares at me for a long moment, seeming pissed, his eyes even more penetrating than in his author’s photo.
“Hey,” I say. I’ve got to say something.
It must annoy him at being here, having to babysit an overreactor, and returning to the place with so many memories—where he betrayed his best friend by getting with my mom.
“Hello, Zoey,” he says. “It’s good to see you again.”
He might tell his face that.
“I feel silly for calling you.” I gesture into the house, and we walk into the living room together. “I know it’s probably nothing. I didn’t want to call the cops.”
“They wouldn’t assign her as a missing person until she’s been gone for twenty-four hours, anyway,” he says. “You did the right thing. What’s the name of her ex?”
“Axel Todd.”
Jaxson nods. He’s standing behind the couch, looking at my laptop, the page with one paragraph sitting at the top.
“Are you a writer?” he asks.
There are more important things to consider, but I welcome his interest even if I probably shouldn’t.
“Trying to be. I’m studying English lit at college.”
“So, you’re going to write fancy, wordy novels, eh?”
His tone is teasing, but I snap, “Yes, I am, actually. Not everybody has to write action thrillers.”
He smirks, turns, and walks right up to me. He’s standing way too close. Not that I’m complaining, but I’m just wondering why. He stares down with a smirk playing on his lips.
“When did you get so sassy? I remember a shy girl who wouldn’t look me in the eye.”
“It’s a miracle, right? I’ve changed in the past ten years. I’m not a kid anymore. What a revelation.”
It’s not his fault I’m resisting the desire to touch his arms, to press firmly and feel his muscles. It’s not his fault I’m struggling to stay sane, being this close to him.
“I didn’t mean anything by it. Right. Let’s start with your mom’s work. Have you got the number for her office? I’ll call up and see if she left on time.”
“I feel like an idiot. I should’ve done that.”
“Get the number, and don’t insult yourself.”
Why does he care if I call myself an idiot? Probably because he was Dad’s best friend. Perhaps because he’s Mom’s ex, technically, though their relationship—if it was a relationship and not a wild fling—was never official.
I grab my phone from the coffee table and scroll through my contacts. I’m about to read him the number for Mom’s workplace when the front door opens.
Mom walks in, holding four large bags of shopping.
She pauses in the hallway, looking at Jaxson and me, a question in her eyes.
She can’t hide her shock at seeing Jaxson and something else. It’s as if her mind is skipping back over the years, remembering all the moments they shared, the intimacy I could barely comprehend when I was younger.
“Looks like I called you for no reason,” I murmur.
“What’s going on?” Mom drops her bags and marches into the room. “Why is he here?”
“Hello to you too, Mallory.”
Oh, yes, there’s definitely tension in the air. Somebody get me a knife.
CHAPTER 2
Jaxson
It’s keep-it-together time.
When Zoey called, I didn’t expect this. The second she opened the door, everything changed. The thoughts that instantly filled my mind weren’t at all noble. It took me a second to comprehend that the woman at the door was Zoey, the shy kid, her face always buried in a book. I’d say hello when I visited Mallory to help with the house, but we never spoke much.
Now, she’s a woman, her hair a deep-brown color and cascading to her shoulders. Her makeup-less face is flushed and beautiful, her eyes wide and youthful, her lips kissable, her body…
Stop it, Jax, I imagine Luke saying, my old military buddy. I promised I’d take care of his family if anything happened to him. Then there was the mess with Mallory ten years ago, and now this—the pulsing deep in my chest, the hunger in my balls when I think about Zoey’s body so curvy in her jeans and her T, her breasts large, her hips wide. The word voluptuous was made for her.
“I’m sorry,” Mallory says after a pause. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”
She doesn’t need to apologize. After what happened, she asked me to stay away, and I respected that.