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Suddenly, I feel like I’m eighteen again, and she’s asking me if Jax and I have had sex yet. It was the most embarrassing conversation. Even when I’d told her we hadn’t, she still insisted on giving me a condom just in case and the number to a clinic that offered free birth control. Jaxon laughed for ten minutes straight when I told him, then he joked we ought to put her advice to good use. In all seriousness, he never pushed me on that. He knew I wasn’t ready and respected my wishes. He respected me.
“I ran into him in passing,” I say nonchalantly, acting as if seeing Jaxon for the first time in eight years was no big deal.
She takes my arm in hers and starts to walk slowly down the aisle like we’re best friends. I don’t want to be rude, so I go with it, even though she’s just made it a lot harder for me to push my cart.
She lowers her head, still talking in hushed tones. “It was just a shame what happened to you two kids. I knew from the second I saw your auras together that you were meant to be. But he messed it all up by rekindling things with his ex, and then had a baby with that crazy girl on top of it. I saw the two of them together about a week before you left for California. Men are dumb. They’re always led by what’s in their pants.”
I’m still letting her lead me down the aisle while she goes on about the many faults of men, but I feel as if I’ve transferred somewhere else entirely. All the blood drains from my face, and I feel cold and small all at once. Jax was with his ex a week before I left? That was why he broke up with me? To get back with her? And they had a baby together? Apparently not having sex was a problem for him after all.
I unlace my arm from Mrs. Bassencherry’s. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. I need to get home.”
I quickly make my escape. Mrs. Bassencherry calls some kind of farewell to my back, but I’ve stopped listening. All I can hear is the swarm of white noise that’s entered my head. I quickly go through the self-checkout and leave Target, hoping I don’t run into anyone else.
I’m such a moron. I secretly hoped that Jax had a good explanation for breaking my heart, only to find out it was because he wanted to be with someone who would put out? There’s no way I’m meeting him Monday. He’s the last person on earth I want to see then or ever again. The horny, cheating jerk. I don’t know why I’m so surprised. Everyone in town had talked about what a player he was. I foolishly thought that he’d changed for me—because of me. Wow, I am narcissistic. I’m a narcissistic idiot. Well, no more. I will never let Jaxon Wyle make a fool of me again.
Chapter Ten
JAXON
I drive up to the coffee shop in the middle of Old Bisbee, my heart beating a little too fast in my chest. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s Malia. I’ve had hundreds of conversations with her before. But never have I had such an important one. Perhaps if I can just explain why I had to break things off with her—that I only did it because I wanted what was best for her—then maybe, just maybe she will forgive me. Or maybe, at the very least, she won’t hate me anymore. It’s a start anyway.
I pull into a parking spot and climb out of my truck. I check my watch. I’m ten minutes early. I wanted to get here before Malia so I could order her favorite drink and have it ready when she gets here. Although, what if she doesn’t like chai tea anymore? Maybe she’s a coffee drinker now. Maybe I should get one of each just in case. Or maybe I should just wait until she gets here. Or maybe I’m just overthinking everything and being stupid. Yup, definitely that.
As I walk into the warm coffee shop, out of the crisp morning air, the invigorating nutty aroma of coffee greets me like a warm hug. I order a coffee for myself and go with my first thought and order the chai for Malia. I’m waiting for the barista to make our drinks when Grace Haymore walks into the coffee shop. Grace is already closing the distance. Her breasts stick out and she has a smirk on her overly-made-up face. She’s not ugly and really doesn’t need all the makeup she puts on. And she’s a nice woman, but despite Dillon’s insistence that we date, she’s not for me. I turn away to avoid her, but she spots me first. Great.
“Well, hey there, Jaxon Wyle,” she says with a big smile. Her son, James, is in Audrey’s class, so she thinks we have a lot in common. Yet the one time we met for coffee, Dillon’s set-up, I realized that was the extent of our commonalities.
“Hello, Ms. Haymore,” I say with a dip of my chin.
She giggles and puts a manicured hand on my arm. “Oh, Jax. I’ve told you so many times. Call me Grace.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She squeezes my bicep, and her smile deepens. “My, my, Jax. You’ve been working out? Those are some guns.”
Malia could walk in at any moment, and it would not look good to have another woman groping my arm. I spot the barista placing one of my drinks on the counter. And there’s my exit.
I back out of her touch. “Just some good ol’ ranchin’ is all. That’s me.” I signal to the drink. “It was good seeing you, Grace.” I make my way to the counter and collect the drink just as the other barista finishes preparing the second one.
The barista, a young blonde, gives me a long smile, and when she hands me my cup, her finger brushes mine. I give her a questioning gaze and she winks. Okay so maybe meeting Malia for coffee here wasn’t the best idea. Too many single women lurking around. And with my brothers setting me up on dates over the past few weeks, the word has gotten out that I’m back on the market. Perhaps I should have suggested we meet at a park.
I find a table near the window and take a seat. There is a phone number and a heart with the name Pam on my cup. Well, that’s not good. I try to rub off the number with no luck. I turn the cup toward me and hope that Malia won’t notice.
Grace gets her drink and makes her way back to me. I place Malia’s drink in front of the other seat at the table, hoping she’ll get the hint.
She spots the drink and empty seat but doesn’t stop her approach. “You expecting someone, Jax?”
“That I am, ma’am. I mean Grace.” I glance out the window. “She should be here any minute now.”
Disappointment crosses her face. I feel bad, but it’s necessary. “Right,” she says, “See you around then.”
I give her a bow of my head in farewell, and she takes a seat a few tables away.
Minutes pass. No Malia. I wish I’d had the sense to get her number the other day. I glance at my watch again. It’s exactly nine thirty-one. She’s officially one minute late. It’s no big deal. People are late all the time. It doesn’t mean anything other than she’s a normal person. In fact, I wouldn’t put it past her to be intentionally fashionably late. It seems very Malia. Then again, I don’t really know how Malia is now. She could be completely different from the girl I fell in love with eight years ago. But I wouldn’t mind getting to know her all over again. That is, if she’ll give me the chance.
Thirty minutes later, I’ve finished my coffee, the chai is cold, and I’ve looked at my watch about fifty times. I’m tapping my foot and anxiously watching every car pass by. I cringe when I see my brothers Landon and Dillon walk in. It was a terrible idea telling them I was going to meet Malia here today.
They spot me, and I slump in my seat. Landon is wearing a pair of Levi’s, a plaid button-up shirt, and a cowboy hat. Dillon, on the other hand, wears slacks, a white button-up shirt, and a tie. He’s probably headed into work at the local bank. His hair is combed perfectly in place, giving him the Clark Kent look minus the glasses. Seems like too much fuss if you ask me. And really, why mess with perfection? But it suits him just the same.
