Page 6 of Sweet Hate (If You Dare #1)

AXEL

S omeone tell me what God I pissed off and why.

Not only did Mom scold me like a kid when I picked her up, but I also got roped into taking her for lunch at the diner.

Ordinarily, that’s not a problem, but given my inability to control myself around a certain someone, I really don’t want to be out in town more than necessary.

My track record of avoiding her hasn’t been all that great so far.

And if we run into her, it's not like I can pretend I didn't know she was here. My mom is like a bloodhound, and she'll have me all figured out before we get drinks.

Surreptitiously scanning the diner, I guide Mom to our favorite circle booth, but—thank fuck—the coast is Hurricane free.

Relief courses through me, when I release a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

I still don’t know why she’s back in town or how long she’s staying for.

But I’m not sure how much longer I can live with this constant obsession.

For over a decade, I’ve had her filed away in a box—one clearly labeled DO NOT TOUCH—living in the recesses of my mind.

Now, I’ve unleashed Pandora’s Box, and I can’t decide if I want to fight or fuck her.

Maybe both.

Studying the menu intently, careful to avoid the word lasagna , when Mom’s gasp has me jerking up, almost tossing the damn thing across the table.

“Oh my stars! Haven Blake, is that you?”

Well, shit.

Pretty sure this makes me an official storm chaser—three hurricanes within a week

“Come over here, sweetheart, let me see you.”

Inwardly groaning, I rake my hand through my hair. Yes mother, please, go ahead and invite the Category Five back into our lives.

Haven wanders over, her eyes meeting mine before quickly sliding away. I’m not noticing how good her butt looks in those jeans, or how low cut her top is, or how fuckable her tits look in it. I’m definitely not noticing her cheeks, tinged a cute shade of pink just like they were after we?—

No.

Not going there.

Jesus fuck. This woman is annihilating my sanity.

Ignoring everything around me, I study the menu like it’s War and Peace while simultaneously trying to hold my breath. Clearly, I’m failing since her vanilla caramel scent is everywhere, assaulting my senses in the best and worst way.

She always smelled good enough to eat.

And I fucking did.

I can’t resist taking a quick glance over the top of the menu to study her. Her pink locks are swept up in a bun, leaving the crook of her creamy neck exposed. I used to love biting that spot, breathing her in for hours.

Idiot .

I slouch so far down on the bench, my ass will likely hit the floor any second. But I can’t ignore the problem in front of me for very long as my mom’s sharp elbow hits me square in the ribs.

“Axel! Axel, look who’s back in town!”

No shit Mother . I can’t seem to avoid her anywhere. Not even in my dreams these days.

“Yes, I’m aware. We should order. I’m starving.” Not to mention, the sooner we order, the sooner we eat, and then we can get out of here.

Mom’s knee knocks into mine under the table, but I shift out of the danger zone and continue to ignore it all. I should have known my mom wasn’t going to let this go.

“Yes, I’m starved too. Haven, sit. Join us for lunch. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you and I’d love to hear all about your time in London. When did you get back?”

Hell no. That can’t happen. I don’t want to hear all about her playing house with that city boy she moved in with.

Last time, no matter how much I tried to avoid any mention of her, I overheard Mia telling Lucas that little tidbit, and I drowned myself in Jack Daniels for a week. Even that wasn’t enough to wipe it—or her—from my memory.

“Nope. She’s busy,” I grind out. It sounds a lot gruffer than I intended, earning me a sharp slap to the back of my head.

The booth was a bad choice on my part.

“Axel Verona, what on earth has gotten into you? First you show up late, and now you act like a pea-brained man child. I taught you more manners than this.”

Haven's lips kick up in a half smile, which annoys me even more.

“Sorry, Mom,” I mumble under my breath, apparently channeling my ten-year-old self today.

Ignoring me, she stands and ushers Haven in, so she has no choice but to slide in beside me.

This booth was a really, really bad choice .

Would it look bad to insist we move tables? Maybe go sit at the bar so I don’t even have to look at her, let alone touch her?

I’m hyperaware of her body heat as she sits beside me, our thighs barely an inch apart. It wouldn’t take much for them to accidentally brush. Her scent makes my mouth water and hell, now my cock jerks, wanting to join the party.

No, sir. You are grounded.

“I don’t want to intrude.” Haven’s shy smile highlights her pretty flushed face.

My hand flexes with the need to stroke her soft cheek, so I fist the fucker and shove it under the table. My limbs need to stop moving toward her without my permission.

Who am I, Pinocchio?

Affirmative Woody.

So, which asshole is yanking my strings?

I discreetly try to adjust the dick I can’t seem to control around her, as Macy heads over to take our order. Of course, she’s just as excited as Mom to see Haven and wants to know every detail about her life abroad. Jesus, I just need to get the hell out of here.

Mom orders her usual, and Haven folds her hands in front of her, before smiling up at Macy. “I'll have coffee, thank you.”

Mom and Macy’s twin shocked expressions would be almost comical until my mother opens her mouth.

“What? Not lasagna? Axel still gets it every time. Why don’t you have it for old times’ sake?”

Jesus, it’s true what they say, you’re never too old for your parents to embarrass you.

Haven’s stare burns into the side of my face right now, but I don’t dare turn.

“I’ll have a bacon cheeseburger,” I calmly announce, handing the menu to Macy, and now both she and my mother stare at me like I’ve sprouted two heads.

“Since when?” they both ask in chorus .

Jesus .

Honestly, they’d have a less dramatic reaction if I told them I quit my job.

Small town living is ridiculous. I should be able to change my lunch order without causing a national incident.

Some days I can deal with the conversations, the nosy questions, the opinions on what I do and why.

But other days, like today, I want to fade into the background.

Do what I want without having to explain myself.

I hate everyone knowing my entire fucking history. Now I get why Haven couldn’t wait to get away. The idea is looking more and more appealing.

I should’ve turned my phone off and drowned myself in that cold shower until I found some damn sense.