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I tossed three more hoops, swinging with determination. I still missed every one. When Jax stepped up to toss again, the cameras focused on him. He looked like a lion eyeing its prey as he grabbed a hoop, staring toward the pumpkin.
He threw two more times. Missed two more times. Before the final try, I leaned in close to him, putting my hand at the small of his back. “You got this.”
He turned to look at me, faltering for a moment. But when he turned back to look at the pumpkin again, he tossed the hoop with more determination than I’d ever seen. When he tossed it, it was so far off from the edge of the pumpkin it ricocheted off into the hay, going behind the stall altogether.
“Fuck,” he swore under his breath. “Your fault.”
“Mine?”
He gave me a look with a hint of mischief. “Touching me like that right before I threw? Yeah. Your fault.”
“I was just trying to encourage my boyfriend,” I said pointedly.
“It felt too good. It was distracting, you know?” he tossed back, with just as much fire behind his voice. “Maybe that’s worth it, though.”
He held my gaze.
What the fuck? Suddenly I felt like I was in a standoff. The sexiest standoff I’d ever been in. This time, he reached out to touch the small of my back instead. His hand slid over to my waist, giving me a little squeeze there before letting go.
“Distract me and I’ll distract you right back,” he said, his voice a low purr.
My cock perked up the moment his hand was on me. I hummed under my breath as I watched him stretch, raising his arms above his head, a sliver of skin exposed above his waistband as his sweater rode up.
It was like someone was holding out an ice-cold glass of water right in front of my face when I hadn’t had a drink in days. I’d forbidden myself from fantasizing about him and now I was being encouraged to act like he was mine. I’d known Jax for months and months and we’d never even given each other a friendly hug, but now his hands were all over me. And he was a lot less shy than I thought.
I didn’t give a fuck whether it was for the show or not—it made me feel something. It made me feel alive. I had been in the thick of the crowds for quite a while now, and I hadn’t been anxious. I hadn’t been scanning the faces for people I knew, or wishing I could have a drink, or worried about the cameras on me.
“Looking great, guys,” Kim said as she emerged from behind the cameramen. “A few more shots of you guys walking around under the trees and I think we’ll have what we need.”
The crew backed off, getting some wider shots of us as we slowly walked back over the small bridge. The crowds were less packed in this area, away from the bustle at the center of the festival.
Jax rubbed his hands together, breathing deep.
“Okay. How am I doing?” he asked me.
Driving me fucking insane, I thought, before I realized he was talking about his TV persona.
“You looking for a report card? A gold star?” I teased him, trying to snap back into our usual easy banter.
He shrugged a shoulder and a lopsided, way-too-goddamn-cute smile spread over his lips. “Maybe I am.”
“You’re doing great, obviously,” I said. “Are you like this in school, too? All tell me I’m good, tell me I’m good? A teacher’s pet?”
“I’m on the Dean’s List, yeah,” he said. “I would have a perfect GPA, if I hadn’t done so badly on one of my calculus tests in freshman year.”
“Wait,” I said. “A perfect GPA?”
“Yeah.”
“As in, you’re a straight-A student?”
He nodded like it was nothing. “Other than that A-minus in freshman calc, yeah.”
My heart ached, and I paused on the bridge. The last thing on Earth I needed was another reason to be impressed with Jax, but here it was, dangled right in front of me.
I shook my head. “First I didn’t know you were studying to be a therapist, and now I didn’t know you were really, really fucking good at school?”
“I’m a mysterious guy, I guess.”
“Christ. Back when I was in school, if I was on the Dean’s list, I would have been bragging about it every chance I got.”
Yet again, I’d been stereotyping Jax. I had long since figured he was in school on an elite sports scholarship, and I’d never pictured him as a near-perfect student.
He was just looking at me, leaning on the railing of the bridge, his face serene as the gentle ripples of the water reflected on his face.
“It’s no big deal,” he said. “I just like school. School was a relief from the chaos of my house growing up. A classroom feels pretty peaceful when you have six brothers and sisters running around at home.”
