Layers (16 page)

“That’s just weird.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“So how is the investigation of the outside audits going?” I ask.

“Slowly.”

“And yours?”

“Good. Better and faster than I expected it to go.”

“Do I want to know how that’s possible?”

“No.”

“Have you hired a hacker?”

“I thought you didn’t want to know?”

“I don’t. I just want to make sure that none of your illegal dealings with hackers and the sort can be connected to me or Ryan.”

I un-entwine our fingers. “Do you really think I’d do that to you or the company? Sometimes I wonder if you know me at all.”

“I don’t—not really.”

“Is this going somewhere or are you just in a bad mood and feel the need to take it out on me?” I stand up. “I’m going to go grab a shower.

I start to head back toward the house.

“Go ahead and run like you always do.”

I turn. “I’m not running—I’m walking.”

“You’ve avoiding,” he spouts.

“Where is all this coming from?”

“Who is Zane Black?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“He’s a friend of the family. Why?”

“He contacted me yesterday.”

“He called you?”

“Oh yeah. He wanted to inform me that he was hired by you to look into the embezzlement settlement.”

“I didn’t really hire him—per se. I hired some of his associates. He’s playing the point man. What else did he say?”

“Oh, he had plenty to say.”

I sigh. “Zane had no business contacting you. And believe me when I say you don’t have anything to worry about where he’s concerned. I’ll take care of him.”

I turn and continue my trek toward the house. Jaxson grabs my shoulder and turns me around.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“There isn’t anything more to say.”

“Then, fuck you!”

“Jaxson, why are you so mad at me.

“You don’t get it. I wanted you…I wanted you here at my home. I wanted to keep you safe. And yeah, stupid ever hopeful me was hoping that it would give us the opportunity to…Fuck I don’t know.”

“What? You’re making like, zero sense. Do you want to tell me what’s really going on here? Because I don’t get why you’re so damn mad at me.”

“That’s the problem, Lex. You don’t get it.”

“Jaxson.”

“Lex, I feel like you’re always telling me half-truths. You know what? Who the hell cares?” He releases my shoulder and stomps away.

“Jaxson,” I yell. What the hell just happened? When
they
say men and women are from different planets—
they
were right. Who ever the hell
they
are.

I need to talk to Jaxson. We need to get a couple of things straight. First: I’ve obviously done something to make him mad, but he’s not going to go off, then just walk away. He’s hot and cold like a faucet. What he said about half-truths—he’s right. But all that other shit he was spouting…I haven’t a fucking clue. Second: We need to make some decisions about us.

The last few days I’ve been thinking about a possible us. This embezzlement thing has forced me to rethink a lot of my decisions. But it was last night that sealed the deal. Seeing Jax with his ex-wife was upsetting and revealing. I’ve seen him with other women, and hell yeah it hurt. But Tinker Hell—she’s different. There is something about her that’s just not right. She has some kind of hold over Jaxson and I don’t like it. I’ve never been a woman that has felt the need to mark her territory, but I am now.

I call Zane and verbally kick his interfering ass, then make my way to the kitchen. I’d asked Lester to make some of his world famous cinnamon rolls. Mary said they’re Jaxson’s kryptonite. I figured I’d need all the ammo I could muster up before I faced my Superman. Mary tells me that he’s in his office. So, armed with a tray of Lester’s killer kryptonite cinnamon rolls and coffee, I knock on his office door.

“Jaxson. Hey, it’s Alexia. Can I come in?” No answer. I knock again. “Jaxson, I know you’re mad and I don’t blame you. I...Just…Will you please answer me?” Knock. Knock. Knock. Okay, so far so good.
Not.

I try the handle and it’s unlocked so I decide to let myself in before I talk myself into bailing. I open the door and Jaxson is sitting behind a large—no…enormous dark wood desk. His office is warm and inviting like the rest of the house. His entire home has a charming old-world feel to it and I felt at home as soon as I walked through the door.

Jaxson is working on his laptop with headphones on. He doesn’t sense my presence so I stand and watch him work. I’ve had many opportunities to observe him over the last two plus years and he continues to fascinate me. His movements and expressions are subtle except for
The Brow. The Brow
is all but subtle. So with the one exception, his expressions are slight and guarded.

He’s good at negotiating deals and acquiring companies because it’s hard to read him. A slight twitch of the eye means he’s nervous or anxious. A quick bite on the lower lip—accompanied by an exhale means he’s mad or wants to throttle you. A fast tip up of the chin means he’s up for a challenge or he’s dismissing you. When he looks and or plays with his hands he’s bored. When he looks slightly down though his long lashes and rubs his thumb back and forth over the tips of his fingers, he’s checking you out. He wants you––a look that I’ve become familiar with and never get enough of.

But ninety percent of Jaxson‘s expressions come from his dark chocolate eyes. His eyes tell it all. I’ve never seen such expressive eyes. One look can challenge me. One look can make me sad or bring me to tears. One look can make me mad. One look can turn me on. One look can devastate me.

I step further into the room and place the serving tray down on one edge of his desk. He looks up in surprise. A flash of happiness washes over his eyes but is quickly flooded over with sadness. Okay, not good.

He removes his headphones. “This is a surprise.”

“A good surprise or bad?”

“You tell me,” he bites.

Ouch. “Good, I hope. May I?” I gesture toward a large overstuffed leather chair that flanks his desk.

He nods.

I sit and look at his now forgotten laptop. “Am I interrupting?”

”Not anything that can’t wait.” He closes his computer and pushes it forward then sits back in his chair.

I nod toward the tray. “Lester made your favorite.”
I lift a hopeful brow.

“Yes, I see and smell. A peace offering I presume?”

“Yes, and ammunition.”

“Are we going into battle?”

“You tell me.”

He frowns.

Okay, this is going well.
Not
. I stand and pour him some coffee then place it in front of him. I then place a couple of rolls on a plate and push it toward him. I wait a few seconds and then sit down.

“You’re not having any? he asks and gestures toward the tray.

“No. All yours. More ammo and all that.”


“Yeah, I think you’ll be needing a large stockpile.”

“Large stockpile huh?”

He nods and takes a big bite of cinnamon roll. I watch as he downs two rolls and bites into his third. He sure likes his cinnamon rolls.

“Jax, we need to talk.”

“Ya, think?”

“Don’t be a smart-ass. You’ve always said that I don’t take you seriously, but you’re wrong, I take you very seriously. If I didn’t I wouldn’t be living in your home under house arrest and I wouldn’t be sitting here watching you…devour cinnamon rolls. Good, God is that your fourth roll?”

“It’s my fifth,” he mumbles, with a mouth full of roll.

“I think you said fifth. I recommend swallowing before talking. You know, Lester made a few dozen of those. I though that was extreme, but I was wrong.”

“I love these things,” he states while grabbing number six.

“I could come back latter.”

He swallows another huge bite. “No please, stay. We do need to talk.”

“Jax, I know you’re going through a lot right now, I get it. But I don’t appreciate being yelled at. It’s not that I can’t handle it. I’ve been yelled at by some of the best…yellers. But if you want to have it out with me, I need to know what we’re fighting about. If it’s Zane Black, it’s a waste of oxygen. I’m sorry he called you. I can guarantee that he won’t be calling again. So, what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry about earlier. I was out of line. I’ve got a lot going and I did let that asshole get to me.”

“I figured.”

“He…implied, well he implied a lot.”

“Like what?”

“He said he was just a friend but implied a more intimate relationship. It was like he was staking his claim and I…well l made it clear—over my dead body! From there it turned into a big pissing contest. Things got real ugly. He was calling me all this shit. I didn’t even understate most of it. I mean I got the fucker, and wanker, but the rest of it… In the end I just wanted to deck the guy. Fuck I was mad. I’m still mad. If this guy is a friend, then no wonder you’re so fucked up.”

“Ouch.”

“Oh, fuck Lex, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no offence. It hurts to hear it but I am fucked up.”

“It was just one more reminder of how little I know about you.”

“You know what’s important.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?”

“You know, that I would do anything for a friend. I love to laugh. I like to eat cereal for dinner. I’d wear my Converses and sweats to work if I could. I can’t keep numbers out of my head and it drives me crazy. I thrive on organized chaos. I like to people-watch, and make up stories about them. I love unusual and weird facts. You know, I have a soft spot for turtles. I’m allergic to penicillin. And you know the location of my one and only ticklish spot.”

“Those are the important things?”

“Hell yes. It’s the little things that really make us who we are. So it’s the little things that really matter.”

“Okay Ms. Keith, what are the little things that you know about me?”

“Okay, Mr. Ryan. I know, that you secretly like romantic comedies and girl bands. I know you like to sleep on the right side of the bed. You talk in your sleep. You’ll only wear one brand of boxer-briefs. You can’t stand it when your sock seams aren’t aligned perfectly. I know you miss your parents and think about them every day. You love rollercoasters. You hate for people to stand behind you. Someday you would like to ride your Harley to Sturgis. When you like a song you play it over and over. You love the smell of my hair. During boring meetings you draw buildings on paper or play poker on your laptop. And I know of at least five of your ticklish spots.”

“I had no idea, that you knew those things about me?”

“I know because little things do matter. You could tell me that you loved me, and it would matter. But telling me that you know I have a philtrum fetish mean just as much to me.”

Jaxson, stops eating (thank fuck), and walks around his desk and pulls me out of my chair and onto a sofa, and then plants his ass next to mine.

“You’re weird, Lex.”

“Well, thank you, Jax. Fucked up and weird. Words every girl wants to hear.”

“I didn’t mean, in a bad way. I guess I should have said, you’re not like most of the women I know. You really don’t care about all the…fluff do you?”

“Fluff?”

“Yeah, money, position, looks—the fluff.”

“I wouldn’t say, I don’t care. I just don’t think, they mean anything if you don’t have…the non-fluff-stuff.”

He takes my hand and entwines our fingers. “I know it’s hard for you to be here. But I love having you here. I want you to see this part of my life. To see what really matters to me.”

He cups his hands under my chin and looks into my eyes. “Lex, what are we going to do.”

“You, mean about us.”

“Yes. Things between us have to change.”

He drops his hands and I wipe some cinnamon from the corner of his mouth.

“I agree and I’ve been thinking.”

“He rolls his eyes.

“Hey, thinking isn’t a bad thing.”

“When it’s not you, maybe.”

“Smart ass. Do you want to know or not?”

He sits back into the sofa. “Okay, Lex, tell me what you’ve been thinking.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard. I was thinking maybe…maybe me being here could be a while in Rome kind of thing.”

“What?”

“For a smart guy, you’re pretty dense sometimes.”

He thinks for a minute. “Oh. While in Rome…you mean we could…”

“Yeah, we could.” I raise a horny brow.

“Hell, yeah, I’m all over that. But…”