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"Crap," I mutter, quickly shoving my Abnormal Psych book under the bar and standing upright when the door to the bar swings open and Gretchen marches in. She reminds me of a nun. Her gray hair is schooled into a bun tight enough that it pulls taut the skin near her temples. She always looks impeccable in her black pencil skirt and starched white shirt, which is buttoned all the way up to her throat. Despite her severe appearance and strict rules, she's a great hotel manager. I really like her.
It's the man ducking through the door behind her that has my stomach fluttering and my palms sweating. Jax has never looked less than gorgeous a day in his life. But right now he looks even better than that.
Holy crap. Does he ever.
His crewcut brown hair is a little longer on top than usual. It's also a little messy, as if he's been running his hands through it. That's the only sign that he isn't as put-together as he appears. He's in an expensive black suit that fits him to perfection. His shoulders seem even more broad in it. His crisp white button down stretches over his barrel chest. A silver clip holds the silky black tie in place. His shoes shine almost as brightly as the bar top.
His mocha eyes scan the empty bar, noting the location of everything. If I asked him to close his eyes right this second and describe the bar, he wouldn't miss a single detail. I don't know if that's because he's a Navy SEAL and is trained to always be aware of his surroundings, or if that's just him. His memory is incredible. He's smart as hell too.
His gaze sweeps across the bar before landing on me. As soon as they lock on me, little landmines denotate in my belly, sending a heatwave rolling through me. I clench my hands into fists and plant my feet, trying like hell to keep him from seeing the way he affects me.
He doesn't seem shocked to see me standing there. His eyes darken a touch as they crawl over me, meticulously checking me over like he's trying to see if I'm all right.
And that right there is exactly why I've been in love with him for the last four years. He looks at me as if he sees me, as if it matters to him if I'm doing okay or not. And he knows when something is going on with me. I don't even have to say anything for him to know.
"Jessa."
His voice washes over me like my favorite song. It's rough and gritty, barely more than a whisper. I hear it though. God, I hear it everywhere. My womb clenches, my nipples turning to hard points. I doubt he and Gretchen hear my heart pounding against my ribcage, but it seems unnaturally loud to me.
"Hi," I whisper.
His gaze tangles with mine, holding me captive. Maybe it's my imagination or a trick of the light, but he seems to relax the slightest bit, almost like he's relieved to see me. And then his eyes narrow, his full lips compressing into a thin, disapproving line.
Crap. He knows I've been avoiding him.
"This is the bartender I was telling you about," Gretchen says to Jax. Her sharp voice cracks through the tension between us.
Jax doesn't miss the way I startle.
"She's working the Reynolds party tonight," he says.
"Yes, sir."
"She'll be working it alone?"
"Yes, sir. They specifically requested no extra staff."
I grit my teeth, fighting back the urge to tell him that she is right here and can speak for herself. People talking over me drives me crazy. Which is exactly why he and Cyrus do it, I think. They love to annoy the hell out of me at every available opportunity.
"Is there a problem?" I ask, my voice sugary-sweet.
Jax catches my tone and flashes me the barest hint of a smile.
"Not at all, Miss Jordan," he says, striding across the bar toward me. "Gretchen picked the best of the bunch as far as I'm concerned." He stops in front of me. His spicy, outdoorsy scent is exactly as powerful as I remember. It hits me like a drug, wrecking me. "Just trying to get a lay of the land."
"Oh," I manage to say.
"How you doin', rabbit?" he asks, pitching his voice low and leaning toward me. The urgency in his voice makes my knees weak.
"F-fine." Working with millionaires and billionaires never shakes me the way this man does without even trying. I take a breath and try again. "I'm fine. How have you been?"
"You've been avoiding me."
"I…"
As soon as he narrows his eyes on me, the lie dies on my lips.
"You've had a lot going on," I mutter instead.
"I always have time for you, Jessa. Always."
"How are you, Jax?" I ask, not missing the strain in his voice. Guilt shoots through me. He needs friends right now. I haven't been that for him lately. I've been so focused on surviving the next few months that I've essentially cut off all contact with him.
"I've missed the hell out of you," he says.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, feeling about two inches tall. "I've been a crap friend lately."
The door to the bar swings open again and Lena pops her dark head in. She sees Gretchen and quickly scurries over to our boss. I watch out of the corner of my eye as they converse in hushed whispers. Whatever Lena has to say does not make Gretchen happy.
"You can make it up to me," Jax says.
I whip my head in his direction again to see him staring at me. He's got this look on his face…almost like he's in pain, burning alive. He had that exact same look on his face the night he tried to kiss me. My heart squeezes in a vise, my soul aching in protest. I hate that he's hurting. I hate that I've made it harder for him. And right now, I kind of hate his dad too.
"Go out with me tomorrow," he says…demands, really. He's used to being in charge. Like Cyrus, he's all alpha, all the time. There's a little thread in his voice though, like he's begging me to say yes, that throws me off. I see the same thing in his eyes. He's pleading with me.
"What–?"
