Page 37 of The Devil in Blue Jeans
“Not protecting,” he countered. “But if I can save him from pain, I will.”
He couldn’t figure out her thoughts—she was very good at locking down her expression—but for a moment her expression softened, and he got the feeling that she liked his answer.
Good. Maybe she’d stop seeing him as a man full of red flags. He wanted her to seehim. The real him, and the thought wasn’t lost on him that he couldn’t recall a time he’d ever wanted that before.
The minutes passed easily as they chatted while finishing their drinks, and he felt comfort in her presence. He liked hearing about her parents in Ann Arbor, how her dad was supportive of her decision to break away from her awful former fiancé, but her mother was having a harder time with the split. He also found out about her younger sister, Collette, who was studying to be a lawyer in the United Kingdom. The more she spoke, the more he knew she was smart, seemed to love her family, regardless if they weren’t perfect, and she seemed to value the relationships in her life.
When the sun finally set, and darkness settled in, he proceeded to take the empty bottles into the house and then carried her suitcase down the hall. “This will be your room for tonight,” he said. The room was his childhood bedroom, only big enough for a queen-sized bed made of reclaimed barn wood, adorned with a patchwork quilt, and a small bedside table. He put her bag on the bed and motioned at the adjacent doorway. “There’s a bathroom with a shower inside, towels are in the cabinets next to it.”
“Thanks,” she replied.
He nodded before going to the door to the hallway, stopping in its frame and crossing his arms as he studied her intently. He couldn’t help but smile as she began to blush slightly.
Excellent. That meant that he wasn’t the only one thinking of how they could spend their time together tonight.
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Anything else I can do for you, Charly?” He’d asked the question, almost daring her to take him up on it.
She licked her lips and bit down on the bottom one, glancing at him like she was one step away from jumping into his arms and climbing up his body. “Stop that, Kitten,” he murmured.
“Stop what?” she asked in a husky voice.
He closed the gap between them until he could feel the white-hot sparks of electricity crackling around them. “Eating me up with your eyes.”
A flicker of annoyance shone in those seductive eyes as she took a step back and lifted her chin. “Don’t think so highly of yourself,” she stated coldly. “That’snotwhat I’m doing.”
He gave her a playful smirk. “Ah, there are those claws I like so much.” Returning to the hallway, he turned back to her. “Good night, Charly. Set your alarm for five a.m. for grub.”
Charly huffed out an exasperated breath and shut the door in his face. “Good night, Jaxon.”
She was going to lose this fight. He knew it. He suspected she knew it too.
His laughter echoed down the hallway as he headed off toward his bedroom, knowing full well he wouldn’t be getting any sleep with the fiery woman nearby.
Ten
It should be against the law to wake up at five in the morning, Charly thought as she sat at the carved wooden island and managed to stuff down the eggs, bacon and toast that Jaxon had made. Sexy as hell, and the man could cook, she was starting to think Montana men were made of different stuff.
Better stuff.
He had obviously woken up earlier than her, and he was bright-eyed with a big smile on his face the moment she entered the kitchen. She’d glared at him just because of it. How was anyone that happy before the sun rose?
By her second cup of coffee, she was less of a monster and more of a human being and took in her surroundings better.
Jaxon’s childhood home spoke of family with photographs from the ranch throughout the years. The walls of the kitchen were constructed from solid logs, and the cupboards were built with aged pine and decorated with iron handles. In the corner of the room, a farmhouse table was placed in front of the window with a collection of mismatched wooden chairs hugging it.
Her attention drifted to the wall, where a black-and-white photograph hung of a man on a horse. “Who’s that?” she asked.
Jaxon finished putting his plate into the dishwasher and then followed her gaze. “That’s my grandfather on my father’s side. He was a fantastic horseman. Taught my father everything he knew.”
“Which he then taught you?” she asked.
“That’s right,” he agreed.
She glanced to the other photograph on the table. “Is that your mom and dad?”
Jaxon grabbed the picture, glancing at the photo behind the glass. “Yeah, this is my parents’ wedding day.” He turned the frame to her. “Not a bad lookin’ couple, huh?”
“Your mother was beautiful,” she said in agreement.
