Page 23 of Chasing the Flame (The Sacred Flames Of Ruin #1)

The following two days pass in a blur, and I’m still no closer to the answers I need. I’ve taken Jettson’s advice, steering clear of the room upstairs.

Accepting that despite my claims, I’m not ready for any more visions. Mercifully, no more menacing texts have come through, though I’m still exceptionally curious to know what that’s about. I probably should’ve said something to Jettson, but every time I go to say the words, I can’t.

So, like the ridiculous scaredy cat I am, I’ve thrown myself into my work.

Drawing inspiration from the situation and using it to fuel my writing.

It helps that I’ve also snooped through all of Luke’s belongings.

I had a feeling that my search would be fruitless before I started.

That still didn’t stop the sting yesterday when I failed to unearth anything new.

His business trip has been extended. Truth be told? I’m grateful he won’t return until Friday. I have the whole weekend and much of next week to figure out what I feel for Jettson without interference.

I’m not sure if I should be wary or relieved.

I know I’m drawn to him, and can’t seem to stay away.

No matter how much I keep telling myself I’m playing with fire, I can’t stop.

It’s been a torturous two days. Jettson finished my new dining table yesterday and moved to the bench and chairs.

He’s working in my backyard, and there are occasional harsh sounds of the saw cutting into wood as he moves to the next piece.

It’s slow work, but thanks to the semi-cool day, it seems like he’s gotten a lot done. The French doors of my kitchen are open, the wind gently blowing the sheer curtains. I’m on my third cup of coffee, my body completely exhausted, but my mind just won’t stop turning.

Jettson kept his promise, bringing me a book titled: The Forsaken Bond.

For the last half hour, I’ve been staring at the ancient-looking leather binding delicately carved with beautiful designs.

Vines, flowers, flames, and what looks suspiciously like horns and skulls litter the binding and cover.

There’s a leather strap around the middle, and a golden buckle that seals the pages together.

My hands have trailed the edges multiple times, trying to reconcile with everything Jettson has told me and everything that’s happened. No matter how much I try, my mind can’t fully wrap around it all.

And those damn texts!

It’s like a murky fog whenever I try to combine all the pieces.

My mind is bogged down with information, running in circles on a constant loop, trying to figure out how it’s all connected.

Memories that keep slithering through my mind—all of Luke.

I can’t help but wonder…what does he really want with me?

I grip the book tightly, determined not to let fear control the situation. My fingers adeptly work the buckle until I’m swearing after nicking my finger. “Fuck!” I hiss, jerking my hand back. Droplets of my blood spill across the edges, and I groan in frustration.

I reach for the roll of paper towels on the counter, poorly trying to fix what I’ve done.

Instead, I knocked them over, spilling the entire roll along the counter, the towels bouncing into the sink I’d just turned on.

“No, damnit!” Another string of curses leaves my lips, followed by several dramatic sighs.

When I finally manage to clean my mess, I whirl around to address the blood stains, sure that I’ve ruined a priceless piece of history.

My eyes scan the edges of the pages, straining to find the spots.

“What the…” I whisper, my fingers brushing over the lock again, only to have the book spring open in my hands.

The pages are covered in lettering that looks otherworldly. Then, right before my eyes, the words transform into the English language. I gasp, dropping the book on the counter, completely bewildered.

I glance over my shoulder at the open doors, wondering why it’s so quiet. Shouldn’t I still hear sounds of Jettson working? I shake it off, turning my attention back to the book. My eyes scan the pages, devouring everything I can about the god and goddess from Jettson’s story.

It isn’t long before I’m engrossed, so much so that the sound of my phone chiming causes me to jump out of my skin.

The book clatters to the ground, my heart races, and Jettson’s voice from the doorway sends me over the edge.

“Jesus Christ!” I screech, grabbing my chest as I spin around to face him.

His eyes are wide, the rich verdant darker than I remember.

There’s a glint in his eyes, and a smile lifting the corners of his mouth, like he got a kick out of startling me.

It’s enough to set my blood on fire. My cheeks heat, my heart thunders in my chest, and I stand still for several moments in shock before I explode like a tidal wave.

“You should knock or something, you sneaky mountain ninja !”

For a second, he just stares at me, then his booming laugh fills the air. His eyes are practically twinkling in delight, and I find myself feeling murdery. I narrow my eyes, “Oh sure! If I was as big as a damn mountain and as sneaky as a fox, I’m sure I’d find this whole situation hilarious too.”

His laughter turns into choked guffaws, and I slide a hand down my face. I’m not sure what it is about this man that gets under my skin. It’s like he’s burrowed there, a constant reminder that I can’t seem to scratch away.

Jettson knows it, too. It’s all over his expression, his dimples peeking out just above the edges of his beard. The way his eyes blaze with mischief. After a few moments, the laughter calms. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed.” He says, the grin still etched on his face.

Jettson doesn’t look the least bit sorry, and for some reason, that only incites my frustration.

“Yeah, yeah, what did you need me for anyway?” I ask, my gaze roaming over his body.

I know I jokingly called him a mountain ninja, but honestly…

he is. He’s built like a wall—tall, broad, stocky—and that dad bod?

Yeah, it does something to me that I am no where near ready to admit out loud.

Heat pools in my core, and it takes a few seconds to register what he asked. “Do you have plans for the evening?” Jettson’s gaze is incendiary, and I feel the lust coursing through his veins. It permeates the air, thick and charged with tension, wrapping us in its velvety embrace.

“No, I don’t. Why do you ask?” I say, suddenly curious as to where he’s going with this. His grin is infectious, and I find myself melting despite my earlier frustrations.

“Great! We’ll pick you up at eight tonight. Don’t worry about dressing too fancy.” He says, not bothering to elaborate.

“Wait!” I holler, “Where are we going, and who’s we ?!”

“You’ll see,” he says, before walking back out of the kitchen doors, disappearing into the yard, leaving me wondering just what the fuck I got myself into.

My bedroom is a disaster. I’ve pulled out everything I own, alternating options like my life depends on it. I can’t pinpoint a suitable choice, and I’m debating telling Jettson I’m not going.

Truthfully, I probably shouldn’t go.

The guilt I’m feeling bounces around in my belly, and I force myself to breathe before it turns into full-blown panic. I glance at my watch again, judging whether it’s too late to cancel. Luck is not on my side. It’s almost time for Jettson to be here, and that thought alone spurs me into action.

I grab a pair of my favorite jeans and a white crop top that sits at the perfect spot along my waist. Next, I slip on my favorite gold bangles and hoops, then lean down to slide on my dark green Chucks.

My moss agate pendant is the last to go on, resting just above my bosom, the agate slice and chain plated in gold.

I take a minute to review my reflection in the mirror, loving what I see.

My natural coppery-auburn toned tresses hang down my back in soft waves that crest the top of my ass.

The crop top is stretchy but form fitting, showing off the girls without being overly vulgar, and the jeans hug my curves and ass in all the right ways.

I look and feel beautiful. Smiling, I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, grabbing my purse and jean jacket before heading toward the foyer.

Another glance at my watch tells me I have about ten minutes before Jettson arrives.

I leave everything on the table and head to the kitchen to pour myself a shot of whiskey.

Liquid courage, or so the adage goes. I drink it in one gulp, the warmth sliding down my belly like a popsicle melting on the Fourth of July.

It’s then that a knock sounds on the door.

My heart stutters, turning over in my chest before lodging in my throat like a lump.

I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans and head toward the front door.

After a deep breath, I swing the door open and am surprised to see the whole construction crew waiting for me on the porch.

Matt, Tony, and Jettson all stand together, each dressed like they’re ready for a night out.

My gaze finds Jettson immediately, my breath hitching in my throat. He looks good.

Delicious, actually—good enough to eat.

His hair is a little wilder today, but he makes those jeans and black T-shirt he’s wearing look like something out of a magazine. It takes every bit of concentration I have to respond to his question. “Ready to go?” He asks.

“Y-yes,” I stammer. “Let me just grab my jacket and purse.”

His smile brightens as he glances over his shoulder at Tony and Matt. “Are you riding with me, or driving yourselves?”

I don’t hear their answer. I’ve already darted into the house to grab my things. I take a moment to smooth down my hair, nervously trying to compose myself.

“Get over yourself,” I whisper, pasting on what I hope is a bright smile, before heading back to Jettson.

He’s leaning against one of the black columns, staring at the horizon.

Jettson looks distant, like his mind’s somewhere far away.

A deep chuckle, followed by a string of swearing, grabs my attention.

Matt and Tony have made it to their van, though it looks like Tony has tripped over his own two feet.

He’s sprawled out on the pavement with Matt doubled over in laughter.

A giggle escapes my lips as Tony dusts himself off before entering the van. When I finally turn my attention back to Jettson, he’s staring at me with a look that makes my pulse race in anticipation.

“You look beautiful.” He says, before reaching for my hand.

“Thank you,” I murmur, taking his hand and lacing my fingers through his. I shouldn’t, but god it feels natural. He doesn’t say anything else, just leads me to the truck in his quiet way.

Jettson treats me like a fucking queen, and opens the truck door for me. “So, where are we going?” I ask after he slides behind the steering wheel.

His answer is another grin, the mischievous look in his eyes sending a wave of excitement through me. There’s something about his expression that has me grinning back at him. He always seems to put me at ease instantly. It’s been that way since the first moment I met him.

After a moment, he says, “You’ll see.”

And just like that, we’re off, speeding out of the driveway and driving down the main road. We head into town, passing straight through and taking the road by The Gilded Oak. For a second, I panic, thinking he’s taking us there.

As luck would have it, we don’t pull in and instead head down the road toward the thick greenery surrounding us. After about thirty minutes, we pull off the main road and into a long driveway that winds on a narrow road.

It takes us several more minutes to reach the end, and when we do, my jaw drops. The sight before me nearly steals my breath. There’s a gigantic cabin, stained dark with elegant but practical metalworking, and a beautiful new barn surrounded by evergreens .

Matt and Tony’s van is to the right of us, but I can’t see them anywhere.

Though, the thought leaves me as quickly as it came.

Especially when I see a gigantic version of Jettson hurrying down the porch steps, and a woman behind him in a cute lilac summer dress, her dark hair streaked with silver.

Before I can say anything, Jettson hops out of the truck, calls a greeting, and opens the door for me.

He retakes my hand, leading me toward the pair with ease.

Jettson doesn’t rush me or force me to speak. Instead, he takes the reins and introduces me with warmth. “Dad, this is Averie.” He waves a hand toward the gentleman, “And Averie, this old man is my father, Elliot.”

My heart stutters, my gaze widening as I sneak a glance at Jettson. He gives me an encouraging smile that seems to say, "It’s okay.”

I turn my attention back to Elliot, who really is just a bigger version of Jettson.

His eyes are the same shades of blues and greens, like an endless ocean.

His gaze turns appreciative as he gives me a once-over, a rakish grin appearing in place of the smirk he was wearing.

Finally, after several moments, he says, “Well, it’s nice to finally put a face to the name Jettson’s been wearing out around here. ”

I grin at him, practically beaming from ear to ear. “All good things, I hope,” I say, tossing a fake glare in Jettson’s direction.

He groans, running a hand down his face. “Dad, can you just… not ?”

Elliot’s smile is feral, wolfish even, as he stares at his son.

A disgruntled chuff fills the air, and the woman steps forward with an outstretched hand.

“Since these two seem to have forgotten their manners, I’m Lucy,” she says.

“Why don’t you come into the house with me?

We’re grilling out tonight, having a few beers, and playing pool.

I could use a hand getting some stuff out back. ”

Her iridescent blue eyes shine with mischief, and I decide then that I like her. “Sounds good to me,” I reply, giving Jettson a deviously sweet smile as I follow her inside. “Besides, you can give me all the dirt on these two.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder in Elliot & Jettson’s direction.

Jettson’s curses fill the air, followed by Lucy’s cackle. I grin, swishing my hips intentionally as I follow her up the steps and to the cabin. Before I can disappear inside, I don’t miss Elliot giving Jettson a hard time. “Seems like you might have met your match with that one, huh, son?”

“Oh, shut up,” he grumbles, and I have to clamp a hand over my mouth to stop the giggle that threatens to escape.

Yes, Jettson and his father are two peas in a pod, and their antics will probably keep me guessing. And as I make my way to the kitchen, I can’t help but wonder if that’s such a bad thing.

Or if maybe, just maybe, it’s exactly what I need.