Page 59 of Scrum Heat

And I bake.

“Double chocolate chip with protein powder,” I mutter to myself, adding a dash of cinnamon, because Frankie said she liked it in her tea.

This obviously means I’m now in love and should start looking at engagement rings.

The house is quiet. Rory’s not here—at the gym, I think—and Theo’s passed out. The scent of leftover alpha testosterone is fading, and the early evening sunlight is pouring through the big window over the sink in that warm, golden way that makes it feel like the house is taking a nap.

I keep myself busy and focused, my brain not registering anything until there’s a shuffle from behind and the faint creak of the floorboard near the pantry.

I don’t need to turn around to know who’s moving behind me.

“Hey, Jax.”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Classic Jax—king of dramatic pauses.

I turn my head over my shoulder just as he steps into view: barefoot, shirtless, and lightly glistening. His expression is the usual mix of bored, serene, and faintly disappointed in society.

He steps close to the sink, grabs a glass, fills it with water, and then downs it in one go.

Then, finally:

“You good?”

My gaze flicks to the mixing bowl. It does not save me.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Totally fine. Helping. Frankie, I mean. Helping her was… great.”

Jax raises a brow.

I crack.

“Okay, I may have just had a religious experience involving an omega, my thigh, and a lounge set.”

He blinks. Once.

“...She okay?”

“Yeah. She’s fine. She’s sleeping, now—looks like she invented dreams while haunting my soul.”

He nods, rinses the glass, and sets it aside. “You smell like slick.”

“I donot!” I groan. “I scrubbed!Twice!And I used my citrus body wash!”

He leans against the counter. “Didn’t work.”

I sigh.

“She scented me throughlayers, Jax. I was wearing a shirt, and she was wearing shorts—until she wasn’t.Ugh. I feel like a walking biology experiment.”

He shrugs. “Could’ve been worse.”

“How?”

“She could’ve asked for your knot.”

I fumble the whisk and catch it mid-air, somehow managing a squeak that makes me want to move out of my own body.

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