Page 72 of The Last Second Chance
Jax grinned and ruffled Waffles fur. “You made out pretty good, didn’t you, boy?”
Was it possible to be jealous of a dog? Joey had made a good life for herself here. The job that suited her, the cabin that exactly reflected her tastes, the small circle of friends that she tolerated.
The only thing missing, as far as he could see, was him.
And come hell or high water, he’d find a place in her life.
As if pulled by gravity, he returned to Joey’s side. She’d stretched out on the floor, still wearing his shirt, and Jax hoped he never got it back.
Her eyes were closed, but the corners of those sweet lips were curved up. She was the picture of satisfaction. He’d never get tired of seeing her like this, or in any of her other configurations.
Joey as the quiet, steadfast friend, or the fiery fighter, the confident queen on horseback. There were pieces of Joey Greer in every female lead he wrote. His fascination with her was endless. Even now, watching the flicker of firelight over her flawless features, he felt the urge to write. Inspiration from his unwitting muse.
“Come on, Jojo. Let’s get you to bed.” He leaned down to tickle her ribs.
“Mmm,” she grumbled. “Bed’s so far.”
“I’ll carry you.”
Warily, one of Joey’s eyes flickered open. “Not happening,” she said. She slowly worked her way into a seated position where she surveyed the damage to the living room. The broken lamp, the coffee table shoved into the chair, its contents strewn onto the rug.
“Looks like a war zone in here,” she said.
“Waffles did it.” Jax winked and offered a hand, pulling her to her feet.
“If he did that, he’s also ate four of those cookies when they were cooling on the rack.”
“Doggy kindergarten is in his future,” Jax predicted.
Oblivious to the blatant lies being told about him, the dog sat at the foot of the stairs.
“He’s ready for bed,” Jax observed.
“That makes two of us,” Joey yawned. “You staying?”
She hadn’t meant to ask him. He could tell by the pure panic lighting her eyes. He hid his grin. She’d fight it, fight him, but in the end, he would win.
“I’m staying,” he said, guiding her to the stairs. “Do you have a computer I could borrow? I’m feeling a little writer’s inspiration.”
“It’s after two,” Joey reminded him, her hips swaying mesmerizingly in front of him as she trudged up the stairs.
“You’re the one who talked to Al tonight. She’s serious as a heart attack when she says she’ll show up here.”
He followed Joey through a doorway into the master bedroom to end all master bedrooms. A wrought iron king-sized bed dominated one wall facing a two-way fireplace. The far wall had a built-in window seat that looked out over the dark of her backyard.
Waffles hopped up on the bed, curling into a tight ball on the hand-stitched quilt. The dog let out a satisfied sigh.
“Lucky guy,” Jax murmured stroking his head.
“I’d say you got lucky, too,” Joey said, a dark eyebrow arching wickedly.
“I’d have to agree.”
He was already leaning into her when she slapped a hand to his bare chest. “If we go for another round it’ll be dawn and I won’t be able to walk let alone ride a horse. You have writing to do. I have sleeping to do.”
She picked up the laptop on her nightstand and handed it over. “Charger’s downstairs on the island.”
“This isn’t over.” It was a statement of fact.
