Page 14 of Axel

He’s mine.I don’t dare say the words out loud. Not unless I want Hope meddling even more than she already is. “Because I’m going to take him up on his offer.”

8

AXEL

“What’s gotten into you today?”Leeann asks, her eyebrow raised in suspicion. It’s a warning sign that she’s not going to let this go until I confess. Despite knowing this, I don’t intend to make it easier on her.

“Nothing.”

“That’s not what the blue handprint on your neck says.”

I slap a hand over the spot, certain I’d scrubbed it clean last night. I reach for the mirror Leeann keeps on the front desk and look for any traces of the ink. “There’s nothing there,” I grumble at her.

“Not anymore,” she admits, a sly grin spreading across her dark purple painted lips. “But that just told me the rumors are true. Therewasa blue handprint on your neck.”

I don’t ask where she heard the rumor. One thing I’ve learned about living in a small town these past few months is that nothing stays secret. Just this morning, when I was grabbing a couple of coffees atEspresso of Love, I overheard two women talking about Kelsey Mathers’ romance novels being responsible for nearly burning down the assisted living facility last night.

The most shocking part is how accurate the rumors in this town have been lately.

“It’s nothing,” I say, returning my attention to the Moleskin notebook flattened under my palm. I’ve been trying to flesh out a promotional idea all morning, but it’s been nearly impossible. For once, it’s actually a good thing I don’t have a client booked, because my concentration is fucking shot. I keep thinking about Kelsey’s dirty little text last night. How she admitted to me that she was playing with herself.

“Who is she?” Leeann asks, her tone casual. As though she’s asking about the weather forecast and not about the woman who’s scrambling my damn brain. But I know that tone well. It’s laced with insatiable curiosity.

“I’m not telling you shit,” I say, pretending to jot something down in my notebook. It’s just a doodle, but I hope my serious expression makes her think it’s something important.

“Suit yourself,” Leeann says with a shrug. “I’ll find out sooner or later. I always do.”

It’s better if I don’t acknowledge the threat, so I hunch over my notebook and don’t look up. And then I notice—my doodle is actually a sunflower.Fuck me, I’ve got it bad.

When Leeann’s next client comes in, I switch my focus to the website. It’s in dire need of an overhaul. It’s just a shell of what I want it to be, which is probably why clients aren’t flocking to it. I make a note to ask about web designers next time I’m grabbing a coffee or lunch. If there’s one in Daisy Hills, someone will know.

“You always look so serious?” The angelic voice startles me. I hadn’t heard Kelsey come through the door.

“I’m working,” I say, applying the grumpiness mostly for Leeann’s benefit.

“That’s too bad,” Kelsey says, letting out a slightly dramatic sigh that instantly has my attention. “I was hoping you had time for a consult.”

“A consult?”

“Preferably a private one.” She taps the straps of her tote bag, glancing down at it. I suspect my t-shirt’s inside and she’s being considerate by not pulling it out in front of my cousin. But there’s more than courtesy dancing in those amber orbs. I’d bet my shop on it.

“I can squeeze in a consult,” I say, standing. In a lower voice, I add, “Let’s go to my office.”

Kelsey follows me to the room in the back I hardly use. I like to be out front where the clients are. It’s why there are piles of papers and books on my desk, on top of the filing cabinet, and in the chairs.

“Sorry, let me move some stuff?—”

Kelsey catches my bicep, her delicate fingers wrapping around it. “I don’t need to sit.”

I softly kick the door closed. My lips are on hers before it latches.

Her hands rake up my neck, reminding me of the handprint she left behind last night. Her body arches into mine, and my dick hardens on contact. She’s wearing one of those damn tank tops again, this one a soft teal color. It’s impossible not to notice the white lace of her bra peeking out from the low cut. I yearn to unhook her bra and feel her tits in my hands again.

“Kelsey?”

“Mmm?”

“Does this mean you’ve reconsidered my offer?”

---