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In his dark blue eyes, there is an openness, a vulnerability that I didn’t see before. It’s like he’s offering all of himself to me right here and right now—not caring who else sees, not caring that we don’t even know each other, not caring what I might do with it.
My sister comes onto the stage talking into the mic, but I don’t listen to what she’s saying. I’m too caught up in my moment with the cowboy. I finally turn away, breaking the palpable connection, and quickly make my exit. I take off
my hip band and headpiece and place them behind the PA system. A Hawaiian song comes on, and I know my sister is starting her hula number.
My veins buzz with adrenaline, and I can’t seem to stay still. I want to run or laugh or jump in cold water. I walk over to a tree and watch the flames dance in one of the tiki lamps, thinking about the moment I put the lei over Jaxson’s head. He smelled of hay, leather, and pure spicy male. I lean against the tree and let the cool night breeze wash over my heated skin like an inviting wave on a hot summer’s day.
I didn’t come here to meet anyone. Bisbee is supposed to be a quick vacation with my sis before going off to college and then start my acting career, and yet, meeting Jaxon Wyle has instantly changed my thought process. I want to know more about him. I want to explore the connection we have and see where it takes us. And besides, the late, great Audrey Hepburn once said, “I have learnt how to live . . . how to be in the world and of the world and not just to stand aside and watch.” Truth be told, I’ve never been one to let life pass me by, and I’m not about to start now. I turn to go find Jaxon, but he has already found me.
He stands a foot away, looking at me as if I truly am the only thing holding him to this world. He’s six-foot-one with dark hair, blue eyes, and enough muscle to prove he can do the ranch work that goes with the cowboy boots. He doesn’t say anything. He just steps closer until he’s gazing down on me, surrounding me with that incredible scent of his. My stomach tightens with want, and even though I know how crazy it is, I want nothing more than to close the small distance separating us.
“You have the best smolder I’ve ever seen.” A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth reveling a sexy dimple. “Please tell me that doesn’t happen in every performance.”
“That,” I say, my voice airy and breathless, “whatever that was, has never happened.”
He reaches out, slowly, in case I protest. I don’t. He gently moves a lock of hair from my face. His fingers leave a trial of warmth where they linger on my jawline. He lowers his head so that his breath is warm on my lips, his hand now in my hair. “Perhaps we should explore whatever-that-was more?”
I smile. “Perhaps we should.” My gaze falls to his full lips. I’ve never kissed a guy I just met, but I promised myself this would be the year I seize every moment and just live. And I want to know if the connection we have is just a fluke or if there’s something worth exploring here. I gently press my lips to his and I’m instantly lost to the moment. He responds tenderly, yet passionately. Jaxon doesn’t just kiss me, he explores me. It’s discovery; it’s revelation; it’s validation—it’s real and right. His lips move against mine, and if I’m an expert at the smolder, he’s an expert at kissing. My hands roam over his muscled arms and shoulders, then into his soft hair. His hands encircle my waist, pulling me closer to him, while the kiss deepens. Heat and excitement envelop me. My head spins; my heart races; my skin ignites under his touch. I’ve never felt so alive.
We end the kiss, both of us out of breath and smiling.
Jaxon and I walk back to the event hand in hand, and just like that he becomes my cowboy.
Chapter Seven
Present Day
He must notice my tenseness, even if he can’t see my face, because he says, “Ma’am? You okay?”
That’s when I snap out of it, and my emotions narrow down to just one: anger. “No thanks to you, cowboy. But yes, I’m perfectly fine.” I stand up and face Jaxon Wyle, the boy I gave my heart—the boy who shattered it into a million pieces.
I gain the satisfaction of seeing his flirty expression change to recognition and shock. He takes a step back like he just realized that he’s standing too close to a fire. His brows crease, and those amazing blue eyes of his—the ones that used to hold only love for me—swim with confusion.
My satisfaction is short-lived when I see, to my dismay, that he’s definitely not bald. Or fat. He somehow looks even better now that he’s been touched with the maturity of adulthood. How is that even possible?
His dark hair is longer, and it haphazardly curls a little at the nape of his neck. His jawline, rugged with day-old stubble, can rival that of any actor in Hollywood. He’s cute boy turned gorgeous man, and I hate him even more for it. His white T-shirt is pulled tight against his muscled physique. His dark-wash Wranglers end in signature Jax cowboy boots. And even as much as I hate him for breaking my heart, a traitorous part of me just wants to run and jump into his arms like I had so many times before. I want to feel the tenderness of his touch and the passion of his lips on mine. It’s as if my body has forgotten that he’s not my cowboy anymore.
Jaxon runs a hand though his hair, a nervous gesture that I’m all too familiar with. “Malia?”
“Oh, so you remember my name?” I say with venom.
“Of—of course I remember. I remember everything,” he adds under his breath. “What are you doing here? Changing a tire? In heels?”
Some of my satisfaction returns while I watch the sweet-talkin’ Jaxon Wyle struggle for words for the first time since I’ve known him. I give him a knowing smirk. “I got a flat, genius. You change a tire when that happens. As for the heels, I happen to look fabulous in them.”
He raises his brows and nods his head. “Yes, you do—on both accounts.” He shoves his hands in his pockets as if he can’t decide what to do with them and shrugs his large shoulders. “But you’re back? In Bisbee?”
As if this isn’t exactly where I should be. What, is it going to put a cramp in his life? Good. I put my hands on my hips. “It shouldn’t be that surprising. I do have family here.”
“Of course. It’s just . . . the last thing you texted me was that I’d never see you again, and well, it’s been a long time. I was beginning to believe I never would.”
So, he had read my texts all those years ago. I wasn’t sure since he’d stopped responding to them. “I said a lot of foolish things to you when I was young. That one was far from the worst of them.”
He sighs. “Malia, I . . .”
The way he says my name, pleading and imploring, like he’s about to get into something deeper, has me taking a step back. “Well, thanks for stopping, but I don’t need your help. I know how to change a tire just fine.”
He tilts his head. “Really? Cuz it looked to me like you were having a bit of trouble with that bolt.”
