JAX (The Beckett Boys, Book Two) (10 page)

Jax’s whole body is stiff. I can tell he’s bothered by the topic. “Fuck them. They can’t do anything to us. It’s just threats.” He shakes his head. “And anyone else who wants to take us on or try to buy us out, I’ll fucking make them regret coming to the bar.”

My chest gets uncomfortably tight. I wander away from Rob and Jax to the next booth, feeling bad for eavesdropping. It’s not my business. But I hear the frustration in Jax’s voice and it makes me have conflicted feelings.

Why doesn’t he want Outlaws to change? Obviously Smith’s trying to turn the place around from being a dive bar into something that makes money, something better and more sustaining for their future. And Jax is fighting it.

He doesn’t want the change. He wants it to stay the way it is—wild and rough.

And now I understand why my chest is so tight. The truth is hitting me square in the face, despite my best efforts to ignore it.

I blindly stroke a purple silk hand-painted scarf. This whole thing with Outlaws is a metaphor for Jax. He doesn’t want to change, either. He wants to keep being wild and rough. No matter how close he and I get, it’s always going to be the same thing. Me pretending I’m not upset about who he is, that I’m perfectly okay dating a guy like him and keeping it casual. When reality is, I’m not. Because I’m not a wild girl—not in his way, at least. In the end, I’m going to want more, and he’s never going to be able to give it to me. So how long do I let us go on before facing that fact?

I sigh. Drop my hand and stare up. There are a few streaky clouds, but they don’t mar the rich blueness of the sky. I just don’t know what to do.

Yet again, I’m left feeling conflicted, confused.

My head starts to ache, and I rub my temples. Why does everything have to be so damn complicated? Why am I having feelings for a man who can’t possibly return them—not in a way that will mean a long-term relationship for us? Because that’s what I want. To be his girlfriend. For us to maybe even move in together at some point. Share chores, shop for groceries, pay bills.

All mundane things, sure, but with him they’d be visible proof of our intertwined lives. Of us growing together.

“You okay?” Jax rests his hand on my upper shoulders and rubs his fingers along the base of my skull. “Got a headache?”

“Yeah,” I say. I blink back the burning in my eyelids. No sense crying about it right now. I need to keep my shit together, at least until I get to my room. Maybe Gail can help me figure out what to do.

“I’ll take you back. Come on.” He cups my elbow and leads me to the car.

We’re quiet the whole ride, both of us lost in our own worlds. Music plays in the background but I’m too distracted to pay attention to what it is. Jax’s hand suddenly reaches over and he cups my thigh, stroking it.

“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well,” he says, shooting me a concerned look. “Anything I can get you?”

“I have pain pills in my room,” I assure him, giving what I hope is a convincing smile. I can’t talk to him about what I’m thinking, because this is my issue to deal with, not his. Jax has never pretended to be anything other than who he is. He’s refreshingly honest. No, the problem is now I want more.

I’m the one changing, not him, and I can’t help but feel it’s going to rip us apart.

When we pull into the parking lot of my dorm, my heart stutters with anxiety, and I press my hands to my lap. I don’t want to exit the car for some reason. I want to go back to pretending like we exist in our own bubble.

“Oh, hey. Before you go.” Jax reaches behind him to the back seat of the car and pulls out a small brown bag. He has a smile that carries the warmth of the sun. “This is for you.”

I bite my lower lip and take the bag, surprised. He got me a present? When? I open it up and see the metal dachshund inside, and my heart gives a painful little flip.

“I saw you looking at it when I was talking to Rob. You seemed to love it, so I wanted you to have it.”

The fact that he was still noticing me, was aware of me when he was with his friend, thaws some of my heart out. I reach over and give him a big hug. Squeeze him to me as tight as I can. “Thank you,” I whisper in his ear, giving it a small kiss before pulling away. “I had a wiener dog when I was kid. It was my best friend. We slept together—hell, it even gave me its fleas once.” I laugh. “Mom about had a stroke when she saw us both scratching ourselves.”

“You’re so fucking adorable,” he tells me, a dimple popping out from his crooked smile, and he reaches over to touch my cheek. “Now go take something for that headache and text me later so I know you’re okay.”

I put the dog back in the bag, grab my purse, and exit the car. Just when I think there’s no hope, Jax goes and does something sweet that makes me wonder if perhaps I’m judging him too harshly. Making assumptions.

When I get inside the room, Gail’s sitting cross-legged on her bed, books spread out everywhere. She’s got a pencil between her teeth and she’s flipping through her notebook. When she looks up at me, she smiles and takes the pencil out. “Hey, how’s it going?”

I flop on my side of the bed and lie back, exhaling hard. “Fine.”

“That doesn’t sound fine,” Gail says with a laugh. “That sounds like relationship sighs. God knows I’ve done enough of those myself.” She leans over and procures a flask from under her bed. “Want a drink? It’s shitty vodka. If anything can take your mind off of dick, it’s this shit.”

I scrunch my nose and chuckle. “Wow, you’ve really sold me on it.” Still, I reach over and take the flask, lift my head just enough to swallow a gulp, which burns all the way down to my stomach. Maybe a buzz will help me shake off the tension headache. “So how’s studying going?” A flare of guilt swells in my chest. I should be working on a paper right now, actually. It isn’t going to write itself.

“Fine.” Her voice sounds a little smug. “I’m gonna ace my finals. I know this crap backward and forward.”

“Wanna take mine for me?” I ask, only half joking. “Hey, Gail…how did you know when you were in love with Samantha?”

Gail exhales and then takes her own big drink of the vodka. She grimaces. “Fuck, that shit is nasty.” After closing her books, she faces me with her full attention. “Are you wondering if you’re in love with Jax?”

“I don’t know. It shouldn’t be possible. He’s not the kind of guy you should love. He’s great for fun times, for…” My face burns. “Uh, for more.”

“Like sex?”

I nod.

“He must be important in some capacity if you two did that. You don’t seem like the kind to casually hook up with a person.” There’s no judgment in her voice, just caring, and I feel some of my tension easing away.

“I’m not. But he is.”

“And you don’t think he could be serious about a long-term relationship. Are you two exclusive?”

I draw in a couple of slow breaths and roll to my side to face her, fluffing my pillow. “I think so? We didn’t exactly…we haven’t talked about that, but I did tell him that I’m not comfortable having a sexual relationship with him if he’s out with other women, too.” The conversation floats to my mind, and a smile creeps unbidden to my face. When I told him that, Jax shook his head and kissed me breathless, then said he didn’t want to have sex with anyone else but me.

Of course, there’s a difference between wanting to be sexually exclusive and wanting to be in a relationship. The smile fades.

“I think Jax is really new to all of this. He’s probably never had a serious girlfriend. Be a little patient with him as he sorts it all out. But don’t sit around and wait forever for him to decide to commit—you deserve better than that.” Gail takes another swig, groans in misery, then screws the cap back on the flask. “Fuck, that’s nasty.”

I laugh. “Sure is. My throat is still on fire.”

Gail tosses the flask to me. “Here, have at it.”

I take another drink, then another. Soon my headache is gone and I’m left with a light, floating feeling.

Gail starts talking. “I knew I was in love with Samantha when I saw her picking tomatoes out of her salad one day and the next time I brought her a salad, I picked them all out beforehand. And in that moment, I realized that her happiness was the most important thing to me. Even with a gesture as small as picking out tomatoes, I could show her how I felt.” There’s a smile in Gail’s voice. She looks over at me, and her eyes are warm. “Jax is fun and wild. Can you accept him as he is, warts and all? If he never changes, can you be happy with it?” She gets up. “Shit, I gotta pee. Be right back.” The door closes behind her.

I lie back down and close my eyes, mulling over her words. I know the truth—I don’t think I could be happy with him being unwilling to change even a little to adjust to being in a relationship. But this is who he is, and honestly, it’s part of what attracted me in the first place, even if it also irritated and frustrated me. It’s terrible to think I want him to change, I know. Because you’re supposed to accept people as-is.

But Jax as-is doesn’t want to be tied down to anyone. How can I feel okay with that when it’s what I want?

I want to say yes, that I can accept him, but I don’t know if that’s true. And it makes me feel terrible.

And I know for sure my friends and family won’t like the way he is. They’ll freak out and hound me about how I’m making a terrible choice. Della will shake her head with a frustrated, pitying look. I can’t stand to disappoint them, and I know they won’t see Jax the way I do. Despite his craziness, he has a good heart. He cares about me. He wants me, and he looks at me like I make him happy just being around him.

The scary part is, that might not be enough for us to make it work. And I don’t know how to walk away from him now.

“
Y
ou look gorgeous
.” I give a low wolf whistle as I eye Brooklyn. She’s wearing a blood-red dress that is cut so deep in the cleavage, it’s clear she isn’t wearing a bra. Her hair is twisted up in a loose bun, with pieces falling around her face. Her lipstick matches her dress, and she has on heels that draw my eyes to the smoothness of her legs.

Fuck. I want to bend her over her dorm room bed and shove that dress up her waist and take her from behind. Mess up her hair, grip it in my hands, yank her head back and lick her throat.

Brooklyn must be able to tell what I’m thinking, because she kisses me gently on the mouth then gives an earthy laugh. “We have dinner reservations. We can’t be late, horn dog.” With a shove, she pushes me out the door and we walk down the hall.

She even smells different. Her perfume has this light vanilla scent that makes me think of cookies. Sexy cookies. I don’t want to admit I’m thinking about food while smelling her though, so I keep that to myself.

I help her into the car, like a total badass gentleman, then close the door and hop in the driver’s side. Her scent fills the cab. As soon as I get the car started, I reach over and caress her thigh. The dress is silky to the touch, easy to slide up.

“God, I want to fuck you so hard right now, it isn’t even funny,” I admit. My cock is pushing against the zipper of my dress pants. At least her sexiness is distracting me from the dread I’m feeling about this evening. Against my better judgment—and assisted by Aubrey dropping non-subtle hints about how I should try to date Brooklyn—I made a reservation for us at a local steakhouse. I checked out their prices online—the steaks cost as much as a small car, but it has good ratings, so fuck it.

This evening is setting up to feel far too domestic, and I’m more than a little uncomfortable with that, if I’m telling the truth. Us dressed up, going out on such a normal date…this is so not like me.

I didn’t cave and wear a tie, though. My dress shirt is unbuttoned at the collar. Fuck that.

I pull up in front of the steakhouse and let her out. Brooklyn is all smiles as we walk up to the hostess stand. We’re quickly seated at our table, and our waiter fills goblets with water for us.

This place looks so pretentious. White cloth table covers, four hundred forks—what the fuck do you need that much silverware for?—and a bunch of drink glasses. I paste on a smile and look at Brooklyn, seated across from me. She’s the better draw for my attention, anyway.

“So how did classes go today?” I haven’t seen enough of her in the last few days. She’s been busy with schoolwork. The end of the semester is coming up in a week, and she’ll be graduating.

Then moving back to upstate New York for the summer, not returning until she starts school again in the fall for her master’s degree.

My heart gives a disappointed thud at the thought of not having her close. The last few weeks have gone by far too fucking fast.

“Classes are fine.” She reaches over and strokes my fingers. “You okay?”

“Eh, fine. It’s gonna be weird when you’re gone,” I admit.

Her face softens, and she draws her lower lip between her teeth. “I know. I have to admit, I kinda don’t wanna go home. I miss my family, of course, but…” She shrugs, and her cheeks bloom with a delicate pink flush.

I flip her hand over and run my fingertip along her palm, savoring the shiver she gives from my touch. “I guess we’d better make the next week count, then.”

Her smile is a little too wide—I’m getting better at reading her facial expressions. She’s feeling disappointed, too. But neither of us is vocalizing it. It’s like we’re pretending everything is going to be fine when we both know it’s going to change us.

Our waiter comes and we order spinach dip. I’m not a big fan of spinach, but Brooklyn assures me there’s a lot of cheese in it, so I’ll like it. Since I love cheese, I agree to give it a shot.

Silence stretches between us. Brooklyn looks gorgeous in the glow of the light, so I’m content to just watch her. She’s busy looking around the restaurant, so when she connects her eyes with mine, she blinks in surprise.

“What’s up? You’re awful quiet…whatcha thinking?” she asks.

“About how incredibly sexy you look,” I say in a dark tone, letting my desire peek through. “How I want to reach under the table right now and touch that pussy, see if I can make you wet.”

She squirms and gives an awkward giggle. “Jax. Not here.”

“Why not here? It’s just a restaurant. No big deal.” I wink. “You’re getting awful shy on me. Do I need to take you back to the clearing and fuck you again?”

She squints her eyes closed and covers her face, laughing. “You’re killing me, you know? You really have a one-track mind.”

“I happen to like that one track,” I retort. “And I’m pretty sure you like it, too.”

She drops her hands and shoots me a mock glare. “Yeah, well…okay, I do. It’s pretty amazing.”

“Maybe don’t look so angry about it, darling,” I tease.

Our waiter brings us the appetizer, along with the bottle of white wine we ordered. I had no idea what to ask for, so I let him pick something for us. He assures us it’s “quite delightful” with a “pleasing aroma that lingers on the palate” and an “exciting mouthfeel.” After he pours a sample and lets Brooklyn taste it, he fills our glasses and sashays off.

I hold my glass up and sniff it. “Oh, heavens, he’s dead on. The bouquet is exquisite! I’m tempted as fuck already, and I haven’t even tried it.”

Brooklyn barks out a laugh, then holds her napkin up to her mouth. “You’re terrible. You can’t behave anywhere, can you.”

“But dahling, why should I? I’m so very much fun.” I take a swig and roll it in my mouth. It’s not bad—a little sweet for my taste, but I can see why people dig it. “I was going to spit it back in my glass after sampling it, but I thought you might throw a fit.”

She rolls her eyes. “Just drink it, jackhole.”

After a few minutes of silence, where we eat spinach dip—okay, it’s actually pretty good, I admit—and sip on wine, I finally broach the topic we’re avoiding. “So when are you moving back home?” I’m careful to keep my voice light.

She puts her glass down with care and says in a tone just as light as mine, “A couple of days after graduation. My parents got a hotel room so they can come to my ceremony, then they’re gonna help me move all my stuff.”

“If you need help, holler.” It’s an inane thing to say. Of course she doesn’t need my help. I’m just the guy she’s…seeing? Dating? Fucking? I don’t know. Whatever we are, it isn’t that serious.

Even though the discomfort in my chest seems to want to think otherwise.

“Jax?” a sultry voice from behind me says. I turn in my seat to see Harlow, a girl I had a brief fling with last year, standing before me in a server’s outfit. She laughs and puts her hands on her hips. “I never would have imagined seeing you in a place like this. Not quite your style, right?”

I roll my eyes and stand up, giving her a hug. I’m not quite sure why we stopped seeing each other. She was a lot of fun in the sack, that’s for sure—the girl had no boundaries, would try anything once.

She embraces me and tries to gives me a warm kiss on the mouth, but I turn and give her more of my cheek. Then she pulls back and eyes Brooklyn with interest. “And who’s this?”

“This is Brooklyn,” I say, waving a hand at her.

Brooklyn is a little stiff, but she offers her hand. “Pleased to meet you…”

“Harlow,” I fill in.

“And how do you two know each other?” she asks.

Harlow gives a throaty laugh. “How does anyone know Jax?”

Fuck. I can see Brooklyn’s spine straighten, and she stands and puts her napkin on the chair. “I need to go to the restroom. You two can…catch up.” Before I can say anything, she takes off.

“That one’s uptight,” Harlow muses. “Not your usual type.”

“Well, that was tacky to say,” I tell her with a frown. “What the fuck did you expect? I’m out on a date with her.”

“And she doesn’t know about your reputation?”

“She knows all about me.”

Harlow studies me, and she grows serious. “Honestly, I’m kinda surprised anyone would be okay with it. I know I couldn’t handle it. Kudos to her.”

Oh, right. Now I remember why we split up. She told me she loved me and I balked. Upon thinking about it, that was kind of a dick move on my part. “Hey.” I frown. “Um, about how we left things…”

She laughs and pats me on the cheek. “Jax, I’m perfectly happy now. I’m engaged to someone else. No worries.” She glances over her shoulder. “Shit, gotta go. Talk to you later.” With that, she leaves, weaving between tables to go serve customers.

I resume sitting and nibble on spinach dip. But I’m kind of unsettled. It takes several minutes for Brooklyn to return, and when she does, it’s like a cardboard cutout version of herself. Her smile is so fake it looks painted on.

“I’m starving,” she declares as she takes a tiny bite of bread. She puts it down on the little plate in front of her then swallows her wine down so fast it’s gone almost before I can blink.

“Whoa, slow up there, darling,” I tell her with a stilted laugh. “You okay? We need to talk about something?”

“Absolutely not,” she declares. “Everything’s great, right?”

“Except since Harlow came over, you’ve been acting weird.” I’m not good at pretending, and I don’t want to sit over dinner and be fuck-all awkward. “So why don’t you just tell me what you’re thinking and get it off your chest.”

“What could possibly be wrong?” she lobs back. “Just another girl from your past.”

“I’m not ashamed of my past.” I can feel irritation welling in my chest. “I’ve never pretended to be anything other than myself. You knew who I was from the start.”

“Yup.” She grabs the bottle and refills her glass to the top, then takes a hearty swallow. “Sure did. No surprises here. Everyone knows Jax and his great reputation. He’s a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy.”

Her bristling condemnation of my personality makes me say in a tone stronger than usual, “What the fuck is going on here? Why is this making you mad all of a sudden? You’ve never given me shit before about it.”

“I’ve also never had it rubbed in my face like this before.” Her tone grows sharp as she stares daggers at me. “That was rude and insulting.”

“I can’t control what other people do,” I protest.

“No, you can’t. And I don’t expect you to. But that doesn’t mean I need to keep being okay with this.” She tosses her napkin down. “I’m suddenly not hungry anymore. I want to leave.”

Our plan was to enjoy this dinner and then for her to stay the night at my apartment. Gail already made plans to have her girlfriend crash in their dorm room. “Where the hell do you want to go? You don’t have anywhere else to sleep.”

“I don’t care.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

I toss enough money on the table to cover the wine and appetizer, plus a tip, and we leave. It’s fucking miserable as we get in the car. The whole cab is now filled with our angry tension.

“I can’t believe how you’re acting,” I say as I drive out of the parking lot.

“Oh? And how is that?” There’s ice in her tone, but I don’t care at this point. My own blood is boiling. What is she doing—why is she picking a fight with me right now? What made her choose this to be the blowing up point?

“Are you just trying to end things with me before you graduate next week? Is that what this is about? You know, there are easier ways to break it off with someone.”

“I’m sure you’re an expert at that.”

I pull off the side of the road and put my car in park, glaring at her. “Seriously? That’s how we’re going to play this?”

“We’re not gonna work out,” she says to me. “We’re too different. We want different things.”

“And what is it you want?”

“I want you to…” She stalls off.

“Oh, by all means,” I say, waving my hand in a magnanimous manner. “Please continue.”

“I want you to be someone you’re not.”

“And that’s, what, every other white bread douchebag who settles into a relationship without any reservations?”

Her jaw ticks, and she turns to look away from me. “And what’s wrong with that? That’s how I am.”

“Fuck.” I run a hand through my hair. “I’m not calling you a douchebag. Don’t twist my words.”

We sit in stony silence for a moment.

“I just wanted to have a nice fucking dinner and then have sex. That’s all,” I say. “This was totally unnecessary.”

“Of course it was. Because you don’t do drama, do you. Or complications. God forbid anyone you have sex with possibly has any feelings, right?” She gets out of the car and starts walking away from it.

Fuck that. No, she isn’t. I’m not going to be responsible for her getting hit or kidnapped or whatever. Especially when she’s in…whatever the hell mood this is that’s going on.

I get out and move after her.

I grab her arm and tug her back toward me. “Don’t walk away when we’re talking.”

That makes her explode. She shoves at my chest. “Screw you. I can do whatever I want, right? Just like you can. We’re both
free
people.”

I’m about at my boiling point. I’m so pissed I want to scream. “You know what you need?” I tell her in a stony tone. “To get your fucking attitude together. You clearly have shit you need to talk about but you haven’t with me. I’m not going to be responsible for that. Grow up, Brooklyn.”

She shoves me again until the backs of my legs hit the front of the car. “You grow up. You’re living like a child, no responsibilities, no attachments. You can’t be Peter Pan forever, Jax. Pull your head out of your ass.”

That does it. I grip her neck and spin her around until her ass hits the hood of the car. The darkness around us is completely silent except for her heavy breathing and the sharp look of anger in her eyes. “One of these days, that mouth is going to get you into trouble,” I growl, and then because clearly I’m insane, and being angry has me all riled up in other ways, I grip her face and tug it to me in a hot kiss.

She sits there for a fraction of a second, unmoving, then she’s clawing at my shirt and ripping it open, buttons popping everywhere. “You’re an ass,” she pants against my mouth.