Page 9 of Jaxon

"Well, well, well," Theo said with a crooked smile that gave him a nice dimple. "Jaxon has pulled some big stunts before, but stealing a girl right out from under a dude's nose—now that is one for the record books."

"It was sort of a mutually agreed upon escape rather than theft," I explained.

"I'd say you're worth all the shit he's gonna be in after this," Crusoe said with a beaming smile. It was obvious he admired his big brother.

"Thanks, but I'm not too sure I'm worth the hassle." I motioned toward the sign. "Guess this has to do with Croft Beach."

Crusoe sat back, wiped his face with the back of his hand and left a black streak on his forehead. "The fucking asshole claims he owns that stretch of beach now, and he's generously given us one more week to use it. Fuck that. He's picked on the wrong surfers."

The screen door opened. Jaxon stepped out of the house. "Told you guys, big money lawyers always win. You're going to be disappointed," Jaxon said.

Crusoe was about to hurl a coated paintbrush at his brother but then decided against it.

"I hate to agree with Mr. Downer back there, but yeah, I know Nathan Walsh, and he's a ruthless businessman," I said.

"How the hell do you know him?" Jaxon asked. "I'll bet he's friends with Alex the Prick. His new name, by the way."

"Yeah, they're friends. Alex's dad, James Hurst, and Nathan Walsh are good friends. But I knew Nathan Walsh before—" I paused as we all turned toward the sound of tires coming up the dirt road. The shiny black limo with heavily tinted windows came into view as it rounded the curve.

"What the fuck?" Jaxon muttered, and the others echoed his sentiment.

I took a deep breath and released an annoyed sigh. "Nathan Walsh is greedy, ruthless and lacks any of the qualities needed to be a good human."

The limo stopped. The door opened. "Bridget, get inside, now," a deep voice commanded from somewhere behind the dark windows.

I looked back at Jaxon. "And, he's my dad." I hurried over, kissed Jaxon on the mouth and whispered into his ear. "I won't forget you." I hurried down the steps and jumped into the car. I plunked down on the seat and blinked my eyes to hold back tears.

"What the hell have you been up to, Bridget? Alex is planning to press charges, and I'm in full support."

I knocked on the window to the driver. "Let's go," I said abruptly. "If he presses charges, I will never speak to him again, and this devil's bargain you struck up with James, selling your daughter's soul for a mega-merger deal, will be over."

Dad scoffed. "Don't be so dramatic." His sideburns were starting to turn gray, but the rest of his hair was black, along with his eyebrows and mustache, that, coupled with his constant scowl, always made him look mean. It was hard to know how a man who had everything could still constantly walk around with an angry chip on his shoulder, but that was my dad.

I crossed my arms and sank down into the giant sweatshirt.

"What the hell are you wearing?" he asked gruffly.

I ignored the question and him for the rest of the ride home. It had been a spectacular day, but I was back in reality, and it sucked even more now knowing there were men like Jaxon out there in the world.

CHAPTER 3

JAXON

The three of us stood as still as statues watching the stretch limo roll down the dirt road. Crusoe looked my direction and was about to open his mouth. I held up a hand. "Not if you value your life, Cru. Just keep it to yourself." I turned around, yanked open the screen door hard enough to inch it off one of its hinges and walked back inside. My phone rang as I headed to the kitchen for a much-needed beer. It was Dad. Last person I needed to talk to at the moment.

"What?" I asked as I answered.

"Fuck, real nice greeting for your old man … and your boss, I might add."

"Not sure if you need to add it at all because you never let me forget it."

"Shit, someone's in a bad mood. I need you in early tomorrow. Your mom is packing up some orders, and she's going to need you to take them to the post office. They're too heavy for Minnie Mouse to carry around."

"Fuck off, Hunter Stone!" Mom yelled from somewhere in the shop. My dad owned a custom motorcycle shop, and I worked for him. Sometimes, it felt like a good decision, and sometimes, I wished I'd chosen a different career path, any path but working for my dad.

"I meant a very cute sexy Minnie Mouse," Dad called back.

"Okay, before this side conversation goes off the rails and the two of you start making disgusting kissy, flirty noises—I'll be in early. Anything else?" I asked.

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