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Chapter 19
I step out onto the finished deck as Jax sits on the top step. He’s sweaty and hot—and I mean that in both senses of the word.
“It looks great. And you finished early.” I lower my butt to the wooden step next to him.
“Not finished yet.”
I take a gander over the railings, gate, and stairs.
“We have to stain it and it’s supposed to rain tomorrow.” His eyes blink lazily as he takes me in. I love the way he looks at me. Like he’s picturing me naked. I know that’s not supposed to feel like a compliment but with Jax it does. He knows exactly how to treat me when I’m naked with him. “I need a shower.”
“I’ll scrub your back.”
He smiles at the offer, squeezes my knee, and then collapses onto his back. His T-shirt rides up over his stomach. The trail of hair that disappears into his jeans is as tempting as the first time I caught sight of it.
We were in phys ed class, and he was a gangly sixteen-year-old. My petite sixteen-year-old self couldn’t take her eyes off him. It was a warm spring day and our teacher told us that as long as we were doing some sort of physical activity, we’d get an A for the day. A group of kids dressed in black sat on the bleachers in protest, but the rest of us took our easy grade. I was walking the track around the high school football field, and Jax and the rest of the guys had set up a game of touch football. I remember the exact moment he leaped into the air to catch the ball and his T-shirt rode up to reveal his flat stomach and a belly button I couldn’t tear my eyes from. My friend Trisha, who was walking and talking next to me, poked fun at me for a week.
I smooth my hand over his stomach now, and he lifts the arm he raised to shield his eyes from the sun so he can squint at me.
“I was remembering that day on the high school football field when I first saw your abs.”
“I didn’t have abs then.”
“Didn’t matter.” I track my fingers over the defined muscles. “That was the first time I’d seen a bare male belly and felt my stomach flip upside-down.”
He knows the story, since I confessed it to him many times.
“I know what you mean.” He plucks the hem of my short summer dress and then cups one of my calves. “I’d seen a lot of short skirts before, but the day you glided past me in the hallway with a skirt that barely touched thigh, I nearly plowed into my locker face-first.”
I giggle.
“Can’t believe they let you wear them that short. I think you sent half of the guys in lower grades into early puberty.”
“I was under the radar. Literally.”
“A short joke. Good one.” He smooths his hand over my calf. I stick my finger into his belly button and he grunts, ticklish. With my wrist captured in his hand, he sits up and rests an arm on his knee, peering over at me like he has something to say, but he doesn’t say anything at all.
“What’s up? This moment feels eerily similar to the first time you were trying to gather enough courage to ask me out.”
His head drops, hiding a smile.
“What?” I chuckle softly even though I’m not in on the joke.
“I eat dinner with my family every Sunday.” He splays his palm and I weave my fingers with his, a comfortable fit. “I was going to ask you to come. If you want.”
What follows is a shrug—his way of telling me that I don’t have to say yes. I can tell it matters. This is a big deal to him. But…
“Are you sure they want me there?”
“Why wouldn’t they want you there?”
I tilt my head, silently stating the obvious.
“Because we broke up?”
“Because I broke up with you. I’m sure Julieann wanted to kill me.” Those two are as close as you’d assume twins would be. She might still want to kill me.
“She has the misguided sense that she needs to protect me because she’s older.”
