“The rescue said he’s part cattle dog and part a bunch of other things. They think he’ll do great here on the farm,” Jax said, sitting down on the top step and scrubbing a hand over the ecstatic Waffles’ belly. “You’re killing me here, Jojo. Did I do good or are you pissed?”
A ghost of a smile played over her lips. “You did good, Jax.”
He blew out a cloud of breath and she felt it on her face. They were close, leaning over the wriggling bag of fur. Their gazes met. Joey wet her lips, considering. Jax’s hand grasped her wrist. He leaned in and she let him, watching those gray eyes and perfect lips close in.
The doorknob jiggled behind them and they broke apart. “But, Mama! Dere’s a puppy out dere,” Aurora screeched. “I hafta see the puppy!”
“Rain check?” Jax murmured.
“We’ll see,” Joey sighed. “What’s that barking? Oh, my God.”
Beckett’s SUV pulled up with dogs hanging out of every open window.
“You said you’d give me ten minutes,” Jax growled.
“That was before Meatball puked,” Beckett yelled. They all came pouring out, men and dogs from the SUV and women from the house, converging on the porch in a chaotic tornado of paws and questions and tangled leashes.
“What did you do?” Joey mouthed to Jax.
He pulled her and Waffles out of the fray and into the house, shutting and locking the door behind them.
“That circus outside wasn’t part of the plan, but this was.” He leaned in and brought his lips to hers.
6
Jax kicked backin his chair and scrubbed his free hand through his hair while his agent cheerfully ran through her list of demands in his ear. The empty baggie of cookies Joey had given him taunted him.
“Hart wants a draft in his team’s hands by the end of the month.” Aisha Leigh coated every word in her honeyed Mississippi accent, a weapon she wielded on the unsuspecting at the negotiation table. Al, as she preferred to be called, was an infamous shark in Hollywood waters. She allowed herself two cigarettes a day and drove a vintage AC Cobra. Jax had been with her for five years and loved her as fiercely as he did his own mother.
“I got it, Al,” he sighed in exasperation.
“I’m only reminding you, honey.”
“Uh-huh. I know you’ve got your cut already spent,” he teased.
“That beach house isn’t gonna buy itself, sugar,” she said breezily. “Speaking of real estate…”
Jax knew where Al was going with this.
“The house. Is there a problem with the tenants?”
“It’s a prime piece of real estate and you’ve been gone for more than six months. Don’t you think you should make a decision?”
“I’ve made a decision. One that you ignored, if memory serves.”
He could hear her roll those brown eyes from three thousand miles away.
“How was I supposed to know you were serious about moving back east? You call me in the middle of the night—”
“Ten,” Jax corrected her.
Al ignored him and steamrolled on. “Blubbering about going home and true love.”
“Have you ever thought about getting into acting? You’ve got a flair for the dramatic.”
She gave an unladylike snort. “Please. I make more handling yahoos like you than I would onscreen.”
“Didn’t I tell you to put my house on the market last June?” Jax said, knowing full well he had.
