So instead, she read Jax’s text, and her insides responded in puddly-gooey kind.
Thanks to you and your irresistible charms, my back is killing me, Jax texted with a smiley face at the end of the sentence.
Was it possible to hear his melty-warm voice in a text? That slow chuckle that made her limbs get all buttery? My neck is, too.
Wanna work out our kinks together?
A brief image of his eyebrows wiggling made her giggle to herself. We’ll just end up with more if we use that air mattress again.
As if a dilapidated air mattress was going to stop her from meeting Jax. Not even a pack of wild Magnolias could keep her from reliving last night.
I bought a deluxe one today. Just for you.
She smiled a smile reserved for the smitten. Oh, your armor, it’s so shiny, she teased.
So you wanna come over to Forest Hawthorne and I’ll show you my armor?
Only if you promise you’ll let me try it on.
Date, he texted then followed quickly with, I mean, deal.
Em’s smile turned to a frown. Yes. A deal. They’d struck a deal. Not a date.
As she swept her things into her purse, she reminded herself that this was indeed a deal.
One that was made with the idea that someday it would be broken.
*
Jax dropped his phone into his coat pocket and turned the key in the ignition. The glimpse he caught of himself in the rearview mirror made him sit up straighter and wipe his expression clean.
You were goofy smiling.
Nope. He shook his head like Jake was in the car with him. Like they were driving off to the gym together, or going to grab a beer and some pizza. Like they used to.
Yeah, you were. Because Em makes you smile, Jake’s voice said. It’s good to smile.
Jake had said that about Reece, too. He’d said a lot of things about Reece that Jax found himself recalling lately.
He put his truck in Reverse and pulled out of Call Girls. He didn’t want to think about Jake and the guilt that still pounded out a steady beat in his chest, or Reece and her smiles or anything that had to do with his life with them. It was over, and he was doing his time because of it in the way of some major regrets.
There were new things in his life now. Things he wanted to do. With Maizy.
With Em, too, Jake’s voice whispered.
Jax gripped the steering wheel tighter, making a left at the huge oak tree in front of Maizy’s new school.
Last night with Em was something he didn’t want to define or slap a label on. It was sex. When you started to label what kind of sex it was, was when your ass was in hot water.
Nope. It wasn’t just sex, friend.
He nodded while he watched the stream of kids file out of the elementary school, looking for Maizy’s bright red hair and purple bow.
Sure. Maybe it was a little more than sex. It was I-like-you-a-lot sex. Better?
That was true. Em wasn’t someone you forgot overnight like you were supposed to forget a friend with benefits. You definitely shouldn’t spend all damn day thinking about her unless you were just thinking about the amazing sex.
But he’d been thinking about more than just the sex. He’d been wondering what her reasons were for wanting to keep things strictly sex. She didn’t act as though her divorce had been especially ugly—or even that her marriage had.
In fact, Em seemed at peace with her choice. So what made her so determined to keep her freedom, as she’d called it? What was the big deal about the color of your towels or where you hung a picture?
Those things are just symbolic, Jax. They represent her independence.
Towels and the color of them equal a woman’s freedom?
You’re missing the point.
Jax nodded again. Obviously, he was missing something, and it didn’t matter anyway. He was going to keep right on missing anything towel/picture related. He was only going to think about the sex. Which had been mind-blowing.
All day long he’d carried the picture of Em, sprawled out beneath him, silky limbs wrapped around his, her cloud of dark hair spread out behind her on the pillow, the sweet taste of her pussy on his lips. The way she dragged her fingers through his hair when he’d sunk into her for the first time. That hot nightie she’d had on under her trench coat. That—
A knock on his car window made his head snap back into place.
A pretty blonde grinned and waved, gesturing for him to open the window. Jax flicked the button. “Remember me?”
No. He should remember a cute blonde. Remembering cute blondes was mandatory in the Man Book, but all he could think about was a sultry brunette. “Sorry. I’m terrible with names.”
Her features fell for a second, but she recovered nicely. “Louella. Louella Palmer. You’re Jax Hawthorne, right? We met briefly when you were here to look at your aunt’s house this past summer.”