Page 23 of A Little Crush (The Little Things #6)

JAXON

W hat the hell was I thinking? Seabird? Really?

I debated whether to invite Rory to dinner at Butter and Grace or even Rowdy’s but decided buying her food felt a little too much like a date.

However, now that I’m inside the infamous bar, I’m second guessing myself.

The low lights, the live band on the raised stage, the flowing alcohol.

Yeah, I fucked up.

Rory isn’t someone who shows up late to anything, which is why I’m fifteen minutes early to make sure I have a spot for us to sit, well aware she’ll show up any minute now.

Finding a booth as far from the stage and dance floor as possible, I set my beer on the table and glance at the heavy door, waiting for a glimpse of my new nanny.

Instead, all I see is a pretty blonde with the sweetest eyes and poutiest mouth I’ve ever laid eyes on.

Rory.

I check the time on my watch, confirming my assumption. My mouth lifts. She’s five minutes early.

Of course, she is .

Standing, I wave my arm over my head to get her attention as she hikes her purse strap a little higher onto her shoulder. She looks nervous. Small. Beautiful. Nervous. When she sees me, her mouth curves in an anxious smile before her gaze falls to the ground, and she weaves her way toward me.

“Hey, Rore.” I motion to the opposite side of the booth. “Wanna sit?”

“Yes, thank you.”

As she slides into the seat, I do the same and reach for my beer. “I didn’t know what to order for you, but I warned the waitress to keep an eye out for when you got here, and”—movement in my periphery steals my attention, so I toss the approaching waitress a smile—“here she is.”

“Hi,” the waitress greets Rory. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Lemon drop martini, please.”

“Perfect.” The waitress turns her attention to me. “You still good here?”

“Yeah,” I return. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

It isn’t long before a lemon drop martini is set in front of a fidgeting Rory, and she takes a long sip. Her expression puckers at the taste. “Mmm.” She smacks her lips together. “It’s good.”

“Should’ve known,” I quip.

“Hmm?”

“Still a fan of Sour Patch Kids, too?”

“Always,” she returns. “Why do you ask?”

“I debated whether to order for you before realizing we’ve never had a drink together, so I didn’t know what you’d like, but I should’ve known,” I repeat.

“I mean, I’m not exactly the little girl you used to know, so you were probably smart not to assume. ”

Yeah, she’s hardly a little girl anymore, is she? The thought hits out of nowhere, and I catch myself checking her out. I clear my throat and reach for my beer. After chugging a quarter of it, I offer, “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Thanks for the invitation.”

“How’s your day been?” I prod.

“Good.” She plays with the thin stem of her glass while eyeing me carefully. “Yours?”

“Good.”

“You gonna tell me why you wanted to meet?” she questions.

“I already told you.”

“Ironing out logistics,” she finishes. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

My mouth lifts. “Actually, I’m more curious if you have any questions for me.”

Surprised, she pulls back. “Me?”

“Yeah.” My amusement spreads. “I know you’re a go-getter who gets shit done without asking questions, but you’re doing me a pretty big favor. I figured the least I could do is buy you a few drinks and answer any questions you might’ve thought of over the last twenty-four hours.”

Her gaze falls to her glass, and she steals another sip.

“Let’s see,” she whispers, though I have feeling she’s talking to herself more so than to me.

She focuses on me again and sits up a little straighter.

“What does the average day look like when you’re traveling?

Am I on duty twenty-four-seven? Do I get days off?

Am I supposed to bring Poppy to the games? That kind of thing.”

“As far as a daily schedule goes, it depends on the day, but I’ll share my calendar with you and have my assistant write up an itinerary before every week I have custody.

Poppy’s just a baby, so she can’t watch the games, but you have a reserved seat so you’re welcome to sit with her in the family section whenever you’re up for it.

” I hesitate. “I’d love to see her as often as I can, even if it’s only in the stands some of the time. ”

“Well, I’m sure she’d love to see her daddy as much as she can, too, so we’ll make it happen.”

“Thanks. There’s another thing.” Pulling out my wallet, I hand Rory a credit card. “When you’re on duty, all expenses go on here for both of you.”

“I think I can afford?—”

“It’s non-negotiable,” I order. “Use the card, Squeaks. I already feel guilty enough as it is. Speaking of which, I know we haven’t talked salary, but I emailed you an official offer earlier today.”

“Yeah, I saw it,” she mutters. “And you’re way too generous, Jax. I don’t need that much?—”

“You’re worth it. Trust me.”

She finishes her drink and orders another round, so I do the same, grateful for the liquid courage. Not that I need it. It’s just…yeah, okay, I guess I could use it, and clearly, so can she.

“Well, I think you answered all my questions,” she says. “Any more logistics that need ironing?”

“Let’s see, uh, my assistant was able to add you to all of our flights for the next month.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah,” I agree, “but I wanted to ask how you feel about the room situation.”

Her forehead wrinkles. “I’m sorry?”

“There are some nights when I won’t arrive at the hotel until it’s late, and Poppy will already be asleep,” I explain.

“Not to mention nap times, downtime when I’m at a press conference.

I guess my question is, would you prefer to put her down in my room and wait until I get back to the hotel before you can go to your own room or would a suite with separate bedrooms suffice or…

?” My voice trails off, and I reach for my drink, finishing another third as a silent Rory stares at me.

Her unreadable expression only leaves me more on edge.

Did I go too far? “I want whatever makes you feel comfortable,” I rush out.

“Obviously, you’re welcome to talk to Dodger and see what you both feel comfortable with before making a decision. ”

She shakes her head, her boyfriend’s name seemingly snapping her out of whatever train of thought she’d been on.

“Dodger’s fine, and, uh, I think the suite is a good idea.

Then we only have to deal with one crib, and I can go to bed if you’re late, and you can just let yourself in and…

” She taps her forefinger against the lacquered table.

One, two, three. Pause. One, two, three. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine.”

“You sure?” I question, my attention zeroing in on her fingertips.

She makes a fist, and her hand disappears beneath the edge of the table as she rests it in her lap. “Yeah, I mean, it’s definitely the logical solution.”

I could call her out on it. Draw attention to her subtle compulsion. And maybe if this were ten years ago, I would. Instead, I clear my throat, muttering, “Good.”

“Okay, then.”

“And I promise to be on my best behavior?—”

“Yeah, that much is guaranteed. I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” she teases, though I don’t miss the glimpse of tension peeking through before she covers it with another smile.

I don’t know why it feels off-putting, but it does. The way she says it. That she wouldn’t expect anything less than for me to be on my best behavior. Like it’s impossible for me to be anything less than perfect.

Sensing my annoyance, she asks, “What did I say?”

“Nothing.” I bring the glass to my lips then set it back down on the cardboard coaster. “Actually, no, I wanna know why you said it.”

“Said what?”

“That you wouldn’t expect anything less from me.”

Confused, she shakes her head. “What?”

“You said you wouldn’t expect anything less than me being on my best behavior,” I repeat, tossing her own words back at her. “Why?”

I shouldn’t put her on the spot like this, and maybe it’s the beer talking, but I want to know. Fuck me, I wanna know real bad.

Peering over the rim of her cup, she takes another sip of her drink as the waitress reappears. Without asking Rory, I order another round for both of us, then turn to my new nanny, waiting for her answer.

The clink of the glass against the table is followed by a soft sigh as she drags her fingers along the thin handle as if memorizing the shape of it. “For starters, I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“Of course you didn’t. You don’t mean anything in a bad way. You’re too nice to be mean,” I point out. “But I don’t want to hear what you didn’t mean. I want to hear what you did mean.”

“I just meant you’ve always been the good guy, Jax.

The one with his head on straight. The gentleman.

The knight. Just like Archer. The good one through and through, you know?

And hitting on your nanny or putting her in an uncomfortable situation is so ridiculously far from your MO that even the possibility of you crossing a line is laughable. That’s all.”

She thinks I’d never hit on her? I mean, I wouldn’t, but it isn’t because she isn’t attractive.

It's because we have boundaries. And history. So much history, it makes my head spin sometimes. Add in her rockstar boyfriend, and I’d be an ass to cross the line.

Even so, the way she relates me to a gentleman or knight is…

okay, offensive might be the wrong word, but clearly she doesn’t know me as well as she thinks she does.

“You know I’m not perfect,” I point out.

She scoffs into her third drink. “Of course not.”

“I’m not,” I repeat.

A sheen of mirth hits her big doe eyes as she meets my gaze over the rim of her glass. “I didn’t say you were.”

“Maybe not the words, but your eyes say it all.”

“And what do my eyes say?” she challenges.

My cock stirs in my jeans as I hold her gaze.

Yeah. Drinks were a very bad idea.

“Cat got your tongue, Coach Thorne?” she quips.

The sass makes my dick harden even more, and I shift forward, resting my elbows on the table separating us. “It says you trust me.”

“I do trust you.”

And maybe you shouldn’t , a small voice whispers in the back of my mind. Somehow, it manages to cut through the light buzz from the alcohol, though it’s not enough to sober me. Instead, it only spurs me on.

Oblivious, she takes another sip of her drink, adding, “Actually, I trust you won’t touch me so much that I’d bet a thousand dollars I could be lying on this table, naked, and you wouldn’t even steal a peek.

” She takes a long pull of her drink then licks the moisture clinging to her lips.

“Isn’t that right, Mr. Goody Two-shoes?”

“Pretty sure your boyfriend would kill me if I did anything else.”

“Pretty sure you’re using him as an excuse, but don’t worry. My ego’s already been battered by you before.”

Frustration surges through me at the reminder of that fucked up night.

She’s never gonna let either of us live it down despite already admitting I did the right thing.

I guess it doesn’t take away the sting of rejection.

If only she knew how disconnected the little kid she used to be is to the woman sitting in front of me.

Hell, sometimes I forget they’re the same person until she orders a lemon drop martini and I’m reminded of how much she was obsessed with all things sour.

Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe she still sees herself the same way.

As a shy, innocent little girl who simply wanted to share her first kiss with someone she trusted. Someone she loved.

“Pretty sure you’re not an innocent kid anymore,” I tell her.

“Pretty sure you’ll always see me as a kid.”

“Pretty sure I haven’t seen you as a kid since the moment I recognized you in the swimming pool.

” I don’t mean to say it. Fuck, I shouldn’t have said it.

Shouldn’t have blurred the line between friends and…

how fucking gorgeous I think she is now that she’s all grown up.

But it’s too late. The confession hangs heavy between us as her eyes fall to my mouth.

The air charges, leaving the hair along my arms standing on end.

I could backpedal. Say it was a joke. Say anything at all to break the tension.

“Pretty sure I’ve had enough to drink for one night.

” Clearing her throat, she tucks her hair behind her ear.

“I’m going to, uh, I’m going to hire a Lift, and, uh, if you could make sure your assistant sends me your itinerary, that would be great.

I’ll be where you need me to be.” She stands but loses her balance at the last second before her hand grapples for the edge of the table.

Once her footing is solid again, she slips her purse back onto her shoulder and rubs her lips together, forcing herself to give me a final look. “Thanks again for the drinks.”

Then, she walks away.