Page 28

chapter

eighteen

The bell above the door chimed, and Jax felt every eye in the bakery turn toward him.

It had only been a day since he was last here helping Ghost install cameras, and he hadn’t planned on coming back so soon.

Hadn’t planned much of anything when he’d asked Jonah to drop him off in town.

He just knew he needed to see Nessie’s face again, hear her voice.

They hadn’t spoken about what happened between them on the phone the other night, not in person, nor when he called her again last night at his usual time.

She’d simply told him about her day—how Oliver had built a fort out of every cushion in the house, how she’d burned a batch of cookies because she’d gotten distracted reading, how the bakery had been unusually busy.

Normal things. Safe things. But it was the way she shared them, as if she were offering him pieces of her life to hold.

And he wanted to hold them.

God help him, he wanted to collect every scrap of her life she was willing to share.

The bakery was busier than usual for a Wednesday afternoon. Nearly every table was occupied, and the low hum of conversation filled the air along with the familiar scents of coffee and cinnamon.

Jax recognized some faces from his previous visits. Earl Withers was in his corner booth, and Ruthie Campbell and Margery Pendry were gossiping at their usual table.

The words he’d growled to Nessie in the deep dark of the night rushed back to him, visceral and graphic, making his skin heat and his pulse quicken.

“You’ll get yourself off to my voice while those little old ladies are sitting in the dining room, sipping coffee and gossiping, not having any idea what I’m making you do to yourself a few feet away…”

And now here he was, standing in her bakery, looking at those very same women while the memory of Nessie’s soft gasps and moans echoed in his mind.

Jesus Christ.

His cock reacted instantly, hardening at the memories. The damn thing had gotten more of a workout in the last few days than it had in years, and it still wasn’t satisfied. He shifted uncomfortably, grateful for his loose jeans, and forced himself to take a deep breath.

This was why he shouldn’t have come. He couldn’t look at her without remembering every filthy word he’d said, every sound she’d made when she came.

Then he saw her, emerging from the kitchen with a tray of fresh pastries, and his mouth went dry.

She was dressed in a pale blue t-shirt and yoga pants, hair up in a messy bun, a smear of flour on the side of her neck.

And she wore another ridiculous apron—this time it was pink with jam and toast characters dancing under the words, “This is my Jam.”

Nessie spotted him and froze, the tray still held aloft. Color bloomed in her cheeks, spreading down her neck as her gaze darted to Margery and Ruthie, and Jax knew she was also reliving that phone call. “Jax. Hi.”

Every English word he’d ever known vanished from his head. “Uh… hey.”

Jesus, he was acting like a stuttering teenager with his first crush instead of a grown man who’d been to war and prison. He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to appear casual when every cell in his body was vibrating with awareness of her.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you today,” she said, recovering faster than he had. She set the tray down on the counter and brushed her hands on her apron, leaving floury handprints on the dancing toast characters.

“Jonah dropped me off.” He shifted his weight, suddenly aware of how little thought he’d put into this. “Thought I’d...”

What?

What had he thought?

That he could just walk in here and pretend to be a regular guy stopping by to see the woman he was infatuated with?

Why was this so much easier when it was just her voice in the dark?

“Thought I’d check on the cameras. Make sure everything’s working right.”

It was a flimsy excuse. They both knew it. Ghost had thoroughly tested the system yesterday, showing her how to access the feeds from her phone and walking her through every angle and blind spot. But she didn’t call him on it.

“Coffee?” she offered, already reaching for a mug—the yellow one with the daisies that he’d used his first time here, he noticed. Like she’d been saving it for him.

“Yeah. Thanks.” He moved toward the counter, careful to keep space between them. If he got too close, he might do something stupid like kiss her right there in front of her customers.

She poured his coffee, adding cream and sugar the way he liked it, her movements quick and efficient. But he caught the slight tremor in her hands, the way her breath hitched when their fingers brushed during the handoff.

“Thanks,” he managed.

Shit. He’d already said that. Now he felt like an idiot.

Nessie didn’t immediately walk away. She lingered, watching him take his first sip, a sexy little smile on her lips. “Okay?”

“It’s perfect.” He realized he was staring at her mouth and dropped his gaze to his coffee. “How’s Oliver?”

“Good. He’s in the back room with Tate. He got a new dinosaur coloring book, so he’s in heaven. He asks me every day when you’re coming back to fix something else.”

“Do you need something fixed?”

She laughed. “Better question is, what don’t I need fixed? I have a to-do list five miles long.”

The knot of apprehension in his stomach loosened. A purpose. A reason to be here that didn’t involve the near-obsessive need to be close to her or the hollow ache that had driven him from his bunk at dawn.

“What’s at the top of the list?”

She considered it, head tilted slightly. “The espresso machine’s been making a grinding noise for weeks. Sounds like it’s dying a slow, painful death. And the walk-in cooler door no longer seals properly.”

“I can take a look.”

“You don’t have to?—”

“I want to.”

She studied him for a moment, then tapped her finger on the counter beside his mug. “Finish your coffee first. You look tired.”

He almost laughed. Tired didn’t begin to cover it.

“Rough morning at the ranch?”

“Something like that.” He didn’t elaborate, didn’t tell her about the nightmare, the memories of blood and screaming that had followed him into consciousness.

Or how he’d spent the rest of the night sitting by the pond, watching the stars fade and craving her voice, soft and sexy in his ear, like an addict craved his next hit.

“I’m fine,” he added, the lie automatic.

Nessie’s eyebrows shot up. “Liar.”

This time he did laugh, a short, rusty sound that felt foreign in his throat. “That obvious?”

“To me? Yes.” To his surprise, she pulled up a stool and sat down across from him. “So what really brings you to town? Because I don’t think it’s my coffee, good as it is.”

The truth hovered on his lips— I needed to see you —but he swallowed it back. “Just needed to get away from the ranch for a while.”

“Is Echo okay?”

Some of the tension bled out of his shoulders, and he smiled as he thought of his brave girl. “She’s amazing. Getting braver by the day. She actually wagged her tail yesterday when I showed up. First time since I’ve been working with her.”

“That’s wonderful.” Nessie’s eyes lit up with genuine warmth. “You must be proud.”

“I am.” The admission surprised him. When was the last time he’d felt proud of anything? “She’s teaching me as much as I’m teaching her.”

“How so?”

He considered the question, turning his coffee mug in his hands. “Trust, I guess. How to earn it. How to give it.” He met her eyes. “How to stay still when everything in you wants to run.”

“That’s a hard lesson,” Nessie said softly, and he got the feeling she knew exactly what that felt like.

He still didn’t know her story. After how scared she was the other night, Ghost had offered to dig into it, but he’d refused. Whatever secrets Nessie carried, he wanted her to trust him enough to share them herself.

“The hardest,” he agreed.

Their eyes held for a moment, and he felt that familiar electric charge.

Relief raced through him. He hadn’t wanted to admit he’d been worried that the phone sex the other night was a fluke, just a convenient release valve for her tension.

But the heat in her gaze now told him it was more than that. Much more.

“Well,” she said on a short exhale and stepped back from the counter, putting distance between them. “When Echo’s ready, you should bring her here. Let her get used to the sights and sounds outside the ranch. Oliver will adore her.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” He didn’t want her to back away, didn’t want to lose this tiny, fragile, precious connection—the first he’d had with another human being in more than a decade.

“Can I just…” He leaned over the counter and brushed his thumb against her throat. Her breath caught, and her eyes widened. Her skin was warm and soft beneath his touch as he gently wiped away the smudge of flour, his thumb lingering a fraction longer than necessary.

“You had flour,” he explained. “Right here.”

A flush crept up her neck, staining her cheeks a delicate pink. “Hazard of the job,” she whispered, not pulling away from his touch.

The bakery around them seemed to fade, the chatter of customers dimming to a distant hum. All he could see was the rapid flutter of her pulse beneath his thumb, the way her lips parted slightly as if she were about to speak but had forgotten the words.

“Jax,” she breathed, and the sound of his name on her lips nearly undid him.

He should pull back. Should remember where they were, that half the town was watching them with avid interest. But her skin was so soft, and she was looking at him like he was something worth wanting instead of something to be feared.

“Excuse me,” a woman snapped. “Some of us would like service sometime today.”

They jerked apart, the spell broken. Nessie’s face flamed crimson as she turned toward the middle-aged tourist tapping her manicured nails impatiently on the counter.

“Sorry.” Nessie plastered on a too-bright customer service smile. “What can I get you?”

Jax retreated to his stool, his hand still tingling from the brief contact with her skin. The woman’s disapproving gaze flicked between them before she rattled off her order.

He waited until the woman was gone with her latte and croissant before catching Nessie’s hand again. “Give me that to-do list. I’ll fix what I can.”

She quickly pulled her hand free, her cheeks going pink again. “Oh, no. Jax, you really don’t?—”

“I’m serious. If you could change one thing about this place, what would it be?”

She blinked, then looked around the bakery, her smile turning wry. “Oh, God. Just one thing?”

“Start with one.”

“The counter,” she said without hesitation. “This awful pink Formica has got to go. I’ve been dreaming about butcher block or maybe reclaimed wood.” She scoffed. “Not that I can afford either right now.”

“Okay. What else?”

Her eyes lit up, and she leaned forward.

“The lighting. These fluorescents give me a headache by noon. I’d love Edison bulbs, maybe some pendant lights over the counter.

Something soft and cozy.” She gestured as she spoke, painting the picture with her hands.

“And the walls need to be brighter, warmer. This beige is just so... sad.”

“You’ve thought about this a lot.”

“Every day since I bought the place.” She smiled, a real smile that transformed her face. “I have a whole Pinterest board.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

“Money. Time. The fact that I’m a single mom running this place solo.” She shrugged. “Dreams are free. Renovations aren’t.”

“So let me help,” he said. “I’m good with my hands.”

She smirked. “I bet you are.”

The double meaning hung between them for a heartbeat before she glanced away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. That small, nervous gesture did something to his insides, turned them liquid and warm.

“But I couldn’t ask you to do that,” she said.

“You didn’t. I offered. Let me help you, Nessie.”

“That’s... that’s very generous of you.”

“Just repaying the kindness.” He looked down at his coffee. “You’ve been decent to me when most people in this town would rather see me gone.”

“Most people in this town don’t know you.”

“Neither do you.”

Her eyes met his, steady and sure. “I’m starting to, and I like what I’m seeing.”

How could she be so certain? So confident in her assessment of him when he didn’t even trust himself?

“What about you?” she asked, changing the subject. “Any big dreams?”

The question caught him off guard. Dreams? He’d stopped allowing himself to dream years ago. Dreams were dangerous. They made you hope for things you couldn’t have, for a future that wasn’t yours to claim.

“I don’t know,” he admitted finally. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“Well, maybe you should. You’re not in prison anymore, Jax.” She reached across the counter and her fingers brushed his jaw, just once, light as a whisper. “You’re allowed to want more.”