Page 90 of The Last Second Chance
“I knew you until senior year. After that you’re a mystery,” she countered.
He wished more than anything that she could just forget. Forgive and forget without an explanation. Because that explanation, that why, would result in someone being cut out of her life forever, and Jax was no longer sure it would be just him. He couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t take that risk, not yet.
“What do you want to know?”
She arched an eyebrow at him. He knew she wanted the “why.”
“Besides that. Ask me anything and I’ll tell you.”
“Anything? I like the sound of that.”
His stomach unclenched when she shifted her focus to lighter things.
“How many women did you sleep with after me?”
Jax choked on a piece of cornbread and guzzled down some beer to unblock his throat. “Jesus, Joey.”
She threw her head back against the cushion of the couch and laughed. “Your face was priceless. Donotanswer that by the way. I don’t want any numbers, just like you probably don’t want mine.”
Jax was back to queasy at the thought. And, of course, now he could think of nothing else but the guys who’d...Was he having an aneurysm?
“What was your house in L.A. like?” Joey’s question ripped him out of a waking nightmare imagining Joey screaming someone else’s name in the throes of passion.“Oh, Lester. Yes, Lester.” Where the hell did Lester come from?
“Sorry, what?”
“What was your house like?”
“My house? Uh. I don’t know. Hollywood-ish I guess. Everything out there that hasn’t been bulldozed and rebuilt by incredibly rich, fickle people hasn’t seen a facelift since the seventies.”
“Unlike the incredibly rich, fickle people,” Joey quipped.
Jax grinned. “Exactly. My place was built by some semi-famous architect in the late sixties. Huge windows with a hilltop view, sunken living room. The front yard was a cliff face. I bought it furnished with this very artsy, very uncomfortable furniture.”
“So is that the new Jackson Pierce? Artsy, uncomfortable, rich, and fickle?”
Jax shook his head. “That was a waypoint. I bought it mainly as an investment, which will have done quite nicely if the closing happens next month.”
“You’re going back?” Joey asked.
She’d kept her voice neutral, but Jax saw the way the spoon paused halfway to her mouth.
“Actually that’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” he began, his tone serious.
She set her bowl down with a hard clank on the coffee table. “You’re moving back to L.A.?”
Jax was about to point out that she was shouting, but he didn’t have to as three dog heads all lifted from various positions of slumber to investigate.
“What about the brewery and the breeding program?” she demanded.
“You do care,” he grinned depositing his bowl next to hers. “You like me!”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You should see your face.”
“I’m about to punch a hole in yours,” she said, anger shimmering off of her. Waffles stretched lazily and wandered over to sit at her feet.
“I’m not moving back. I’m flying back for a weekend to settle on the house and to go to a lame premiere.”
