Page 73 of The Last Second Chance
“I guess we’ll see,” Joey said, as she sauntered off into the bathroom.
The sway of her hips, the way the hem of his shirt coasted along her thighs, Jax almost followed her. He actually took a step after her before snapping out of it. He had a story to tell.
Reluctantly, he went back downstairs. He took a few minutes to clean up the damage their lovemaking had caused. He owed her a lamp, and the coffee table had a deep gouge in it. Next time they’d keep it to the bed, less property damage that way. He found a broken picture frame next to the back door. He turned it over in his hands and found himself staring into the smiling face of Joey’s father, his arm looped over Joey’s shoulder. She was decked out in her college riding team uniform and clutched a fistful of blue ribbons.
Behind the pride, the easy smile, Jax could see the fierce protectiveness Forrest Greer wore like a coat when it came to his daughters. He was all too familiar with how far Joey’s father would go to keep Joey safe. It was something that would have to be addressed sooner rather than later.
Jax cleaned up the glass and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge before settling on Joey’s couch and booting up the laptop.
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Joey blindly gropedfor the source of her torment smacking her phone and sending it tumbling to the floor where the alarm continued to sound undaunted.
Through the slit of one eye she could see the sun just beginning to crest the tree line. She was generally a morning person and an early start with the horses usually bought her a pocket of time in the afternoon with the bulk of the days’ work behind her.
But this morning, bed tempted her with a siren’s song. She felt warm and happy under the covers. They seemed heavier today, as if they were holding her captive. The soft snore in her ear had her bolting out of bed looking for a weapon.
Jax, his arms suddenly empty, frowned.
Jackson Pierce was in her bed asleep.
He fidgeted, reaching for her in his sleep. Joey shoved a pillow into his arms and—after one last look at his shirtless, sleepy self—tiptoed into the bathroom. She usually didn’t bother showering until after she was finished in the stables, but after last night’s mind-blowing rolls in the hay that were all coming back to her now, she felt like she deserved some hot water action.
She shut the door quietly behind her and studied herself in the mirror over the vanity. She didn’t look like a guilt-ridden, regretful woman. She looked satisfied. Damn satisfied.
So Jax loved her, okay. He knew she wasn’t interested in a relationship, that she wasn’t a Summer or a Gia. She had chosen her path, her goals were laid out. And if the occasional sex fest with Jax fit in here or there, she’d be an idiot not to enjoy them.
Conscience cleared, she nodded at her reflection. She had this. Piece of cake.
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Hours later, a bleary-eyed Jax made his way downstairs with Waffles padding along behind him. He’d crawled into bed with Joey after six and, after dragging her against his side, slept like the dead.
He’d finished it, finally. The draft of the screenplay had been sent on its merry way to Al, who had responded immediately in the inhuman West Coast time difference. He had his suspicions that the woman never slept. She was always, always there when he needed her no matter what the day or time. Like his mother. Not that he’d be dumb enough to voice that comparison aloud to Al who hadn’t celebrated a birthday since she turned forty.
Her email had been succinct.
Reading it. I’ll be in touch.
He was nervous about the script. Even fictionalized, it was still deeply personal. It was his story. Their story. And until he’d taken in a Lakers game with a studio exec and blurted out the story over too many beers, he hadn’t thought of it as anything but his history.
And until last night he wasn’t sure how he wanted the story to end.
The draft was rough and needed a few weeks of polishing, but he knew in his gut it was a guaranteed green light. What he didn’t know was how Joey would react to it.
Jax stumbled into the kitchen and spotted the note taped to the coffee maker.
Push this button.
He did as instructed and was rewarded with the smell of brewing coffee. The woman was a goddess. There was another note on the island next to a plate of cookies.
Breakfast of champions. I have rug burn on my ass.
It was as close to a love note as Joey Greer would ever write. Jax folded the note neatly and tucked it into his wallet.
The perfect souvenir of their first night back together.
18
