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“Bailey!” I hear Jaxon call through the door.
Crap! I’m still in my nightclothes! So much for him being a late riser. I really don’t want to open the door only wearing my tank top and short shorts, but I can’t leave him out there. He must have heard me yell when the coffee spilled on me, because he sounded worried when he called my name. I grab a dishtowel to wrap around my hand and run over to the door.
I peek through the peephole to make sure that it is Jaxon on the other side. His warped bubble head is looking at the door with a frown. Just before he can knock again, I take a deep breath and unlock the door, pulling it open slowly.
His worried gaze immediately searches mine as he takes a step toward me. “Are you okay? I heard you scream.”
Before I answer, I take a minute to look at him. It’s so hard not to notice a man like Jaxon. He’s nothing like the men I’ve ever encountered, certainly not like the men Steven would associate with and force on me.
I’m pulled from my perusal of him when he steps closer. “Angel, what happened? Why did you scream?”
“Oh, I uh, spilled some hot coffee on my hand. I wasn’t expecting you for a while yet, so I was startled when I heard you knock.”
“Let me see,” he says in a deep rumble. He looks down at both my hands and grabs the one still wrapped in the towel. He gently removes it and brings my hand closer to his face. The skin on the back is red and splotchy.
“I’m sorry I caused you to burn yourself.” I watch in fascination as he lifts my hand and places a soft kiss on the back where the red spot is. His lips are smooth, and the sensation of them against my skin sends a shiver through me. Goose bumps start to appear on my arms.
“It’s no big deal. I splashed cold water on it and it’s fine now. Doesn’t even hurt anymore,” I say in a breathless voice.
How can this man bring out such foreign and forbidden feelings in me? I thought that part of me was dead and gone. Stolen from me, never to be returned. I don’t want to have these feelings, but apparently, my body has a mind of its own.
Just then, I feel Jaxon tense up and hear him hiss in a breath. I look up at him, wondering what’s wrong. What I see causes me to freeze. I forgot that I’m still wearing my night clothes and he’s staring at me with hungry eyes. He must have just noticed. He runs his eyes over the hair piled on my head to my chest, where they linger a few seconds. He then moves his gaze down body all the way to my bare feet. The whole time his eyes travel down my body, I swear I can actually feel them caressing me.
His nostrils flare and his eyes are radiating so much heat it’s a wonder I haven’t gone up in flames. The only reason I recognize the desirous emotion in his eyes is because I’ve seen it numerous times from Steven and his friends. Only this time, it’s not accompanied by malicious intent.
The look doesn’t scare me because I worry about the harm he’ll cause, but because I actually like it. I don’t want to like it, and I never thought I would. I also don’t think I could ever let him do the things to me that I’m sure he’s thinking. When I think of sex, all I can picture is the various ways Steven would force me to service him and his sick and twisted associates. I may not completely trust him, but I know that sex with Jaxon would be different. But I just don’t think I could ever block out the images. Jaxon deserves better. He deserves someone who will give him all of their attention, not someone who would be visualizing all the ways sex could be bad.
I’m also worried that once Jaxon sees all the damage done to my body, he’ll look at me differently. My scars are definitely not the sexy battle scars a lot of people carry. They’re jagged lines and sunken holes. They represent weakness and cowardice, not bravery and loyalty. Would he look at me with revulsion and pity?
“Holy Christ,” I hear Jaxon say under his breath. His eyes are squeezed tightly. “Please go get dressed, angel.”
I’m a little confused by his request and stand there and stare at him. It looks as though he’s in pain. I don’t understand why he would be, and I don’t like that it looks like he is.
He’s already dropped my hand, but now he takes a step back. He opens his eyes and zeroes in on mine. “Fuck,” he hisses out. “Bailey, I really need you to leave and go get dressed. Now.” He grits the last out between clenched teeth.
The tight expression on his face causes me to turn around and scurry toward the bedroom. Once I close the bedroom door, I slump against it.
I release a deep sigh and walk toward the closet. Pulling out a pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt, I slip them both on. Next, I put on a pair of black converse shoes.
I make my way to the bathroom and release my hair from the tie. I run my brush through it and leave it down. I’ve accepted that I have to wear it up at work, but I haven’t worked up the courage to do it outside of work, unless I’m at home. The people at the bar have been really nice about not mentioning it. One day soon maybe I’ll feel comfortable enough, but not yet.
Suddenly feeling nervous about facing Jaxon again after what happened, I quietly close the bathroom door, grab my purse from the bedroom, and walk back toward the living room. He’s sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, clenching his hair. At my approach, he lifts his head, and I see immediate relief on his face.
“Sorry for acting so weird back there. I just needed a moment to myself,” he apologizes, standing up.
“That’s okay. I don’t understand why you acted that way, but apology accepted.” I give him a small smile.
“Believe me, angel, you’re not ready to know what caused me to act like a lunatic,” he mutters, more to himself than me.
He walks toward me. Once he reaches me, he grabs a lock of my hair and rubs it between his fingers. “I hate that you feel that you need to hide your beautiful face. Whatever happened to you, you shouldn’t be ashamed of it,” he murmurs.
“I told you—”
“Bailey, sweetie, I know there’s more you’re not telling me. I understand you can’t tell me yet, but please don’t lie and say that’s all it was.” He lightly tugs the strand he has a hold of.
“Okay, Jaxon, you’re right. There is more, but I’m not ready to talk about it. I don’t know if I ever will. Either way, I’m just not prepared to advertise my scar to the town yet. I haven’t had many good experiences with people’s reactions to it. It hasn’t been bad working at the bar, but I’d rather not test it on the rest of the town.”
“Thank you,” he says quietly, kissing my forehead. “Are you ready to hit Maggie’s?” he asks, grabbing my hand and walking toward the door.
