Dearest Series Boxed Set (41 page)

A
ll the awkwardness
that had built up between Jax and me over the last few months has melted in a gluttony of turkey, pro sports and painkillers. We’re both slouched down on the couch, flicking bottle caps into a bowl while a post-game rundown on ESPN plays in the background.

“Favorite sports team,” he says as he flips one in. It’s a question, but there’s no inflection in his voice because he’s concentrating on sinking a cap. I’m starting to realize his intensity stems from always wanting to win. It’s there, beneath his skin, like a fever. It’s what must make him such a phenomenal soccer player without appearing to try.

I quirk my eyebrow at him. “Chicago.”

“Yeah? Which team?”

“Teams, plural. The Bears, Bulls and Cubs—the trifecta.” I flick my thumb and the cap sails wide, garnering a grin from Soccer Boy. “Don’t look so damn pleased with yourself. We’re playing a game that drunks attempt in dark alleys.”

Jax chokes back a laugh before he asks, “What’s wrong with the White Sox?”

I scoff. “You’ve never been to Chicago, huh?” My next attempt lands in the bowl.

He shakes his head.

“Pff.” My mock disgust garners another laugh. “North Siders are Cubs fans. South Siders are Sox fans. Although I had a neighbor once who liked the Sox, but he was an anomaly.”

“So you’re a Cubs fan even if that means you’ll never win the World Series?”

“Winning isn’t everything.” I shoot him a dirty look. “It took the Red Sox almost ninety years to win one. You’d think you’d be a little more humble.”

“Humility is for suckers.” Chuckling, he tilts his head, his handsome face close to mine, and lowers his voice. “We should ice your knee.” I can feel his breath, hot on my cheek. It smells like pumpkins and nutmeg and just a hint of cinnamon. And at this moment, I freaking love pumpkins.

Jax unfolds his long body from the couch, and I take a moment to appreciate his lean, muscular build. He looks every part the seasoned athlete. It’s in the rhythm of his movement, the way his muscles look coiled tight, ready to spring. He’s graceful for a man. Confident. Relaxed.

And sexy as hell.

I’m certainly enjoying having all of his attention. He’s been bringing me food, reminding me to take my meds, and propping up my leg. I never would’ve imagined he’d be this way, so thoughtful, so gentle.

The thought crosses my mind that I should tell him what happened on his birthday. I almost feel guilty that we have this history he obviously doesn’t remember. But what would I say?
We hooked up, but I never told you my name, so I can’t blame you for running off with another girl?

Yeah, not happening.

I clamp down on that idea because if I start obsessing about that night, I’ll start acting weird, and we’ve been having such a good time together. If nothing else, we make great friends.

His movement in the kitchen draws my attention, and I stare unnoticed. I force myself to turn away to keep from drooling. I’d hate to drool on this couch. I’m sure it costs more than my all of my Earthly possessions combined.

To say his place is decked out is an understatement. Sleek furniture, marble countertops, a fireplace, a huge flatscreen TV and every kind of game console imaginable make his place the bachelor pad of the century. I knew he was loaded, but his condo is ridiculous.

I’m surprised, but I shouldn’t be. Jax is heir to the Avery throne. That’s how his sister describes it. She says one day he’ll be “richer than God.”

But I know what Clem’s been through. Her book lays it out. Their parents never gave her or Jax the time of day.

And isn’t love worth more than money?

I know I’m rich in ways the Avery twins have never experienced. Because my mom would throw herself in front of an oncoming train for me.

Picking up my cell, I dial her number.

“Happy Thanksgiving, darling,” she says, sounding out of breath.

“Mom, what’s wrong? Why are you breathing so hard?”

She laughs. “I just ran in the door. You’ll never believe how much food Susan made today.”

I let her talk, comforted by hearing about the usual drama among her tight group of friends. When Jax returns with an ice pack and a bag of popcorn, I mouth “Mom” and he nods and heads back into the kitchen.

My mom asks, “How are you feeling, honey? Is your knee better?”

“The swelling has gone down a bit. Jax is making me ice it every hour for fifteen minutes, which is the schedule his trainer makes him do when he sprains an ankle. I think it’s working.”

She’s quiet. “Sounds like he’s taking good care of you.”

There’s more in her comment than I care to address while Jax is ten feet away. “Definitely. So listen,” I say, trying to distract her from what I know she wants to ask, “I think you’ve been right about art. I should switch my major. I don’t know why I haven’t done it sooner.”

Yes, I do. I didn’t want to be gone from her for so long, but she’s been healthy. She’s in remission. She doesn’t need me shadowing her like a frightened child.

I continue. “It means summer school to catch up on a few credits, but I think my professor can help me do an independent study that would help me cover more ground quickly.”

There’s that silence again. Panic starts to rise in me, but then she says, “Excellent. I’m so glad to hear that. What changed your mind?”

“A silver BMW.” I laugh, and she simply says, “Yes.”

I know she understands. Almost dying has a way of crystalizing things that should be obvious.

I look to the empty seat next to me and wonder if Jax is another one of those obvious things in my life that I should simply understand. But I tried to close myself off to him all semester, and that just made me want him more. I don’t know that our time together will lead to anything more than friendship, but right now, that feels pretty good.

* * *

A
few hours later
, I’m ready to knock out, but I feel gross, the stale scent of the hospital clinging to my skin. I look over to Jax, who is sprawled out on the couch next to me. “Hey, would you mind if I took a shower? I can probably balance better now that I’m almost due for another painkiller.”

He rubs his chin, the scruff making a scratching sound. “Sure thing. Let me help you.”

“I can do it. I mean, that’s what the crutches are for, right?” His dubious expression makes me snicker. “I’m a big girl. If I need help, I’ll ask, okay?”

Jax stretches out before he stands up and motions for me to get up. My brace is already on my leg, and I lower it slowly and then grab his outstretched hand.

“Easy, Dandelion. After icing your knee all day, it’s going to feel better than it should. Now is the time you could most easily reinjure yourself.”

Ignoring his new nickname for me, I roll my eyes. “Yes, sir.”

He’s given me a nickname.

I let him slowly pull me up, and when I’m balanced on my good leg, he grips my waist to steady me. My nose is inches from his chest, and I can’t help but think of the club and the way he pressed me to his body.

Jesus, he smells good. Clean, crisp. A faint scent of cologne and sexy boy. I’ve never been into how a guy smelled before, but standing here trying to sniff him covertly has me itching to get closer.

I stare at my feet, pretending to concentrate on keeping my balance as he hands me my crutches. By the time I get to the spacious bathroom, which is nestled in the back of his bedroom, he’s already set my small suitcase on the vanity.

“I’ll hang out in my room so I can hear you if you need anything.” He smiles, and I swear it reaches into my body and makes my stomach flip flop.

On the way out, he closes the door.

God, I’m having fun with him. My leg is banged up, my body is sore as hell, and I can’t remember feeling this good.

Everything about hanging out together has been so easy, but I remind myself he’s doing this because he doesn’t want his sister to be pissed at him. And he feels bad about hitting me with his car. Those thoughts help keep my attraction to him in check as I try to focus on how I’ll clean up without killing myself.

I sit on the closed seat of the toilet and pull off my leg brace, t-shirt and bra. It takes forever, but I manage to eventually tug off my sweats and undies until all I’m wearing are my purple bruises.

Even though I’d love to soak in the tub, I don’t think I’d be able to get myself in and out of it, so I decide to play it safe with a shower. I hang a thick terrycloth towel on a hook and reach in to turn on the water. Stretching out this far makes all my muscles ache, a lot, and as I flinch in pain, one of my crutches clatters to the floor. This isn’t a good idea, I realize too late.

The bang on the door scares the crap out of me, and I nearly lose my grip on the corner of the shower.

Jax’s voice bellows from his bedroom. “Dani, are you okay? Let me come in. I’ll close my eyes. I swear.”

I’m barely staying upright, my heart pounding. The door creaks open.

“I won’t look,” Jax calls out.

I glance at him, and he has a hand in front of his face so that he can only see the floor in front of him as he moves toward me. In two large strides, he’s at my side.

“I…I lost my grip.” My voice shakes, and I suddenly feel so weak.

“It’s okay, babe. I gotcha.” While he keeps one hand in front of his face, his other arm goes around me. “Hang on to me.”

My hand wraps around his neck, bringing my naked body closer to his. Jax tilts his head away, and I realize it’s so he doesn’t see me.

“I’m gonna help you into the shower, and I’ll stand out here. I want you to hold on to my hand while you’re in there, and if you get in trouble again, I can keep you steady.”

His reassurance makes my heart slow down, and I nod.

My hand trembles as I step in. I’m holding Jax’s arm in a death grip as I limp closer to the shower head. When I start to wobble, my free hand grabs onto one of the knobs, accidentally twisting it and making cold water shoot out over me. I shriek and try to keep my balance while fumbling to adjust the water.

That’s when I about fall on my ass. Except Jax is there and wraps an arm around me to hold me upright while he turns up the hot water.

“Shit. I’m so sorry.” I’m shaking. Exhausted. Embarrassed. I don’t like needing people to do things for me. Especially in this state.

His eyes meet mine, and I’m expecting some lewd expression, but all I see is concern. “You scared me,” he whispers. He has my naked body pressed against him. He’s fully clothed—the only naked parts of him are his feet. His t-shirt and jeans are drenched, clinging to him and showing off his perfect physique. “Is your knee okay?”

Not able to quite find the words, I nod. His lips pull up into a relieved smile. “Okay, so let me turn you away otherwise I will ogle you shamelessly. This way I can help you wash your hair.”

Nervous laughter spills from my lips, and I turn so I’m facing away from him.

He chuckles. “Do you really want to use my shampoo or do you have some girly shit in your bag you’d prefer?”

“Damn it. I totally forgot my toiletries.” Frustrated that I’m being so spacey, I sigh. “Yeah, I have shampoo and conditioner, but they’re in my suitcase. Don’t worry about it. Just use whatever.”

“If you can stand perfectly still for a minute, I can go get it.”

“Jax, don’t bother. It’s fine. I don’t care.”

Ignoring me, he places both of my hands against the tile, and when he’s happy I’m steady, he steps out of the shower. A few minutes later, he returns, this time shirtless.

Holy sweet baby Jesus.
He’s ripped. Tight, corded muscles wrap around his arms and chest, and one very drool-worthy six-pack dips down into his low-rise jeans.

He’s even more sinful than I remembered.

His eyes meet mine, and I bite my lip to keep from gawking. I turn back around and hear the sound of a bottle opening. Then the scent of apples perfumes the air as he lathers it.

“This smells great, by the way.” His voice is soft and so, so sexy.

I close my eyes, trying not to get turned on by the way his hands work through my long hair. His fingers are firm and massage my scalp. After several long minutes, I’m so relaxed, I moan.

Mortification spreads through me as I realize how sexual that sounded. Trying to play it off, I start babbling. “Thank you so much. I didn’t realize I was so sore until I tried to do more than veg on your couch. You know…”

I yammer on all through him rinsing my hair, applying conditioner, and rinsing again. Who knows what I said. I could have told him I was Rumpelstiltskin here to grant him three wishes.

What I do know is that maintaining a friendship with Jax when I’m buck naked is a tad difficult.

As soon as he turns off the water, he wraps the fluffy towel around me before he helps me maneuver to a small bench next to the vanity. He runs his finger gently along the lines of the tattoo on my shoulder.

“It’s the North Star,” I say, without him needing to ask.

“In case you get lost?”

I nod. “Something like that.”

“It’s beautiful.” He clears his throat. “Can I get you anything else before I step out?”