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My brain is a scrambled mess, and I can’t summon the ability to speak. Is that lust in his eyes? Could Jax Whalen want me the way I want him? My pulse quickens and I involuntarily take a step toward him. Then the coffee machine beeps, breaking the spell.
Jax unzips his coat and glances toward the fireplace. Woof is already sleeping soundly in front of it. “If I move closer to the fire, will the dog attack me?”
I force a laugh. “No. You’re safe unless you try to harm me. The coffee’s ready. Feel free to pour yourself a mug. I’m going to my bedroom to change into something more, um...” Once again, my cheeks burn with embarrassment as I flail around for the right word.
What is wrong with me? I’m never like this. I’m known for keeping a cool head. For always being in control. It’s usually an act, but no one knows it. Because I’m really, really good at faking a cool façade. But with Jax, the façade has crumbled. No, it’s disintegrated.
He clears his throat. “I should probably change into dry clothes, too. May I use your bathroom?”
“Sure thing. It’s over there, Jake.” I point toward the bathroom door.
He smiles, and my stomach does a somersault. He was named Sexiest Man Alive by People magazine, and he’s smiling at me. “My name is Jax.”
“Oh, right. Sorry, Jax.”
I’m not sure exactly why I’m pretending to not know who he is. It just feels like he’d be the one holding all the cards if I didn’t. And I need to keep a small degree of the power—even if it’s just a sliver—for myself. I feign confidence as I walk to my bedroom, swaying my hips like a runway model, and I feel his eyes on me the entire way.
Chapter 4
Winnie
Once I’m in my room, I peel off my shirt and underwear and toss them into the laundry hamper. It’s a relief to be out of the wet clothes. It’s an even bigger relief to have some space between Jax and myself. My brain finally seems to be firing on all cylinders.
Then it occurs to me that he is stripping off his clothes right now, too. Jax Whalen is naked. In my house! I’m tempted to text my sisters, but Willa and Wren would probably think I’m hallucinating and send our cousin Brody and the rest of the search and rescue team to escort me to the nearest psych ward.
I search my closet for something to wear. It’d be silly to get fully dressed so late at night, but there’s no way I’m going back out there to talk to Jax in sleepwear. I still need him to admit why he’s here, and then I need to convince him to leave. I need a fully functioning brain for that. I finally decide on a thick, cozy bathrobe. It’s not the least bit sexy or revealing. So, his eyes shouldn’t roam in a way that turns my insides into a puddle of goo.
Cinching my robe at the waist, I take a deep breath and walk back into the living room. Jax is standing in front of the fire in a pair of grey sweatpants that show off every bit of his, um, package.
And the man is packing a lot.
Fortunately, he’s too busy rifling through the contents of his Louis Vuitton duffel bag to have seen me return. I clear my throat to get his attention. His eyes dart up, and he stares at me in disbelief.
“You shot my bag!” He points to a bullet hole in the front of the bag and then turns it to show me the hole on the other side. “The bullet went straight through.”
“Sorry to ruin your duffel. It looks expensive.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “It’s not about the money. I was holding this bag. The bullet whizzed by inches from my body.”
“You may want to remember that next time you trespass on someone’s property.”
He dips his head in shame. “I’m sorry that I trespassed on your land.”
My lips quirk into a half smile. “I’m sorry I took a shot at you for trespassing on my land. You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”
His cheeks turn red, and it’s hard to believe my eyes. Jax Whalen is embarrassed! I didn’t know men like him could even feel embarrassment.
He runs a hand through his thick hair, and I’m mesmerized. The man has a better head of hair than Timothée Chalamet. “Let’s talk over coffee?”
“Okay,” I say, following him to the kitchen. I watch as he pours us both a mug of steaming liquid.
“I take mine black. You?”
“Black is fine.” I reach out for the mug he’s poured for me.
We sit at the kitchen table and Woof, not wanting to be left out, lumbers over on his three remaining legs to join us. He curls up at my feet and promptly falls back to sleep.
“I didn’t notice before that he’s missing a leg. How’d he lose it?” Jax asks.
