“This, my friend, is what I’ll be doing in exactly one week.”
“Sounds perfectly scandalous. But an entire week?” She shakes her head with a look of disappointment. “You’ve got to step up your messing with mama game. If you want to play this off as the real deal, the two of you need to see one another far more than just the requisite visit sponsored by dear old Mom. A real couple would be joined at the hip by now.”
“Joined at the hip.” A visual of Jaxson’s very naked hips thrusting up against me floats through my mind, and suddenly it feels a balmy one hundred sixty-nine delicious degrees in here.
“Easy, girl.” Sadie fans me with the menu. “If that’s what thinking of doing the deed with Jaxson does to you, I’d hate to see the aftermath. Being laid up in the burn unit isn’t a good look on you. Your sixteen-year-old self can attest to that. Girl, you are going to go up like a Roman candle.”
“Am not.” I snatch the menu from her and get to business with it myself. Damn air seems to have lost all its oxygen. “Besides, we’re not sleeping together. We’re just threatening to. Speaking of which, who are you heating the sheets with?” Yes, I’ve stooped to invoking my mother’s own euphemism for sex with my bestie just to get off the topic of Jax thrusting at me a million blue-eyed miles an hour. Dear God, she’s right. If Jax ever landed me horizontal, I’d rocket right into space and burn up long before I hit the stratosphere.
She gives a little nod toward the bar. “What do you think we’re doing at Starry Nights in the middle of the afternoon?”
“Having lunch?”
“No, you nitwit. We’re having theowner. Or at least I’m attempting to.” She straightens in her seat a bit. This is a good time to pause and let you in on the fact that Sadie Richards is the only person on the planet who has garnered the right to call me a nitwit to my face and not get throat punched in the process. Besides, we’ve both done enough storied things to earn a dunce cap made of solid fool’s gold.
“You’re trying to bag Hunter?” My mouth falls open as I marvel at the thought. Everyone in Oak Grove knows that Hunter is a good catch. In fact, before Sadie metanddivorced Pervy Hervy—okay, so it’s Peter Hervy, but trust me, it amounts to the same damn difference—I tried my best to set her up with the cute bar owner in question. “What are you waiting for? Go up there and set your net. I’m always looking to learn from the master. Besides, you know I’ve been dying to see your game in action.” I’m not teasing. Sadie is a genius when it comes to picking out a guy and landing him flat on his back with the deft and dexterity of a pro wrestler. Thankfully, she and Peter chose not to procreate, so the disassembling of their union went a lot cleaner and neater than expected.
“Oh, hon, there are some secrets a girl has to keep to herself. Once I teach you my wicked ways, there’s no turning back from that good time. Besides, you don’t need a net.” Sadie leans in and pulls a strand of my hair off my forehead. “When was the last time you landed a man between those sexy hairy legs of yours?”
“Ha! I’ll have you know I shave regularly now.” So what if I preferred the furry look in high school? Have I mentioned the subarctic climate in this neck of Colorado?
“No, you don’t. And again, when is this boy expected to face plant into your—”
“Would you stop? That’s disgusting.” I pretend to be affronted, but at this point Sadie knows me too well.
“Both you and I know Jax specializes in gifting women a night they can never forget. This is your golden moment, sister, and if you don’t take it, I’m going to have to revoke your girl card. Get out of here right now—find that boy and bed him. And trust me, you won’t have to tell me when it happens. I’ll already know.”
“You’re a sexual psychic now, too? It’s good to know Oak Grove has been good to you.”
“I’ll know by the smoke signals your happy, finally content little fun box sends into the sky.” She pulls a tight smile. “Jaxson and you aren’t going to heat the sheets—you’re going to set the entire damn town on fire. Now, get out of here.” She gives a little wink to Hunter as he makes his way over. “Two’s a party. Three’s a good time I’m not having with you. Now, scoot!”
“I get it,” I say as I hightail it to the exit. It’s time for Sadie to get her groove back.
Maybe getting my groove back with Jaxson wouldn’t be such a bad thing?
And with that, I head to the car. Oddly enough, it takes me straight to Stade Steel.
Go figure.
I’ve spentmy childhood on this deserted end of town with Jax. Jaxson’s father used to host a field trip with the entire school each year. But my favorite times were the private tours that Jax would give me. He was an exceptional tour guide, and I pretended to be very interested in melted alloys being laid out in sheets. But the only thing I was really interested in was the boy proudly showing me the empire he would one day take over.
I park just outside the corporate office, a tall, boxy building that spans nine floors with Stade Steel taking up a majority of it, but the first few floors are rented out to everyone from dentists to an art gallery. Stade Steel has always been the heart and lungs of Oak Grove. My mother used to say we would have faded off the map long ago without them. I know it’s true. Stade Steel has turned into the biggest industrial employer just this side of Denver. I get out and pause as I take in the factory in the distance with its haunting large smokestacks set amidst piles of fresh fallen snow. The contrast of dark and light—you couldn’t tell the story of the rich and poor in Oak Grove better than that. My father has always done pretty well for himself, so we never felt the sting of not having our basic needs met, but I knew from hanging out at the Stade’s mega mansion that we were far from wealthy. I think the only thing that’s kept Jaxson’s feet on the ground is the fact his grandfather chose Oak Grove to bless with this factory.
The wind picks up and ushers me into the slick stainless building, crafted from what else? Stade Steel. The lobby is elegant with glass and black granite. When I was a kid, I thought this was a beautiful place to host my fab dream wedding to Jaxson. Yes, my mother and her cohort in engagement-ring-bearing-arms had me brainwashed for a time. Although now that I’m older and wiser, I clearly see that the lobby of Stade Steel, Incorporated is much better suited for a naughty daytime romp than it ever is crystal flutes of champagne and dinner plates full of prime rib.
I give a quick hello to the secretary and hop into the elevator as I make my way to the penthouse floor where I fully expect to find Jaxson sitting on his steel throne.
My heart palpitates unnaturally as the doors whoosh open, and a modern, not modest by any means, whitewashed enclave awaits with bodies bustling to and fro as if this were a New York conglomerate and not a blip on the map of Oak Grove. I head toward the row of offices and can’t help but note the new sparkling granite floors, the stainless steel desks with their new age design. There’s a minimalist atmosphere here in general, and the entire scene looks far more polished than I ever remember it. That last time I visited was the day I helped Conner move his boxes up to his office. It was Thanksgiving weekend, many moons ago, and I made sure that Jax was nowhere near the facility. Jaxson and I have made it a fine art to avoid one another, but not today. Today is all about finding that bad boy and teaching him a lesson.
“Poppy?”
I turn to find both Conner and Jaxson dressed to the nines in dark inky suits, but it’s the suit on the left—Jaxson’s to be exact—that has my ovaries popping like a Fourth of July grand finale.
“Mother of God,” I whisper.
“What are you doing here?” Conner comes over and offers me a quick embrace, but I can’t seem to take my eyes off Jaxson in that navy Italian masterpiece with the gold tie I’d love to use to kink things up a bit.
“Pops?” Conner waves his hand over my eyes. “Shit. Tell me you’re not swooning. I’ll have to kick his ass all over again if you are.”
