“Crap.”She bent down to pick up the shells.
Jaxon crossed the room and knelt next to her.His hand locked on her wrist, and she looked up at him.The force of his green globes slammed into her chest, shaking her heart chakra.“McKenna,” he purred.“Tell me what happened.”
CHAPTER 4
In the eighteenmonths he’d been in Whistlemore, not many women had caught Jaxon’s attention.He liked to keep to himself, and he sure as shit hadn’t moved all the way here from Boston to get mixed up with a woman.Yet the moment he’d laid eyes on McKenna his first summer here—at her booth at the farmer’s market—she’d enchanted him.No way she’d remember, but he’d purchased a jar of salve that had done wonders for his sunburns and some fizzy juice she’d explained was an ancient tea loaded with healthy probiotics for his gut.
He’d laughed and bought three bottles.
After that, he’d waved at her occasionally, sometimes stopped by her booths, but some kind of wall was stacked between them—a wall she didn’t seem to have with the other townspeople.
She stood and he rose with her.Fatigue encroached on her eyes.His mention of the idiot carpenter had struck a nerve.“It’s a long story,” she said, “and you’ve probably already heard half of it.What does it matter?”
True, he’d heard some chatter.Gossip wasn’t something he paid attention to, but when McKenna’s name slipped from a store clerk’s lips one day, he’d tuned in.Something about Trevor being arrested and claiming McKenna had put a spell on him.In other words, bullshit.Although McKenna was one of the most private people in Whistlemore, she didn’t seem the type to go around casting spells, even if she was capable of doing so and the asshole deserved it.
She dumped the eggshells into a bowl on the counter.He cocked his eyebrow.
“Compost,” she said with a shrug.
Admiration swelled inside him.Someone who cared so much about animals and the planet sure as hell hadn’t cast a spell on anyone.“I heard some stuff.Didn’t pay much attention, and I’d rather hear the truth anyway.”
She sighed, reached for a fresh egg, and cracked it on the side of the bowl.“Fine.He asked me out a few times, and I always turned him down—politely,” she said, her eyes widening on the emphasized word.“We had a storm like this a couple of months ago.You probably remember.It was the first heavy snowfall, but not as cold.He showed up at my door.Phone lines were down and I didn’t know what else to do, so I opened the door thinking I’d just promise him a date another night to get him off my property.”
“It didn’t go that way?”
Her lips twisted.“No.He...uh, well he invited himself inside and refused to leave.”She cleared her throat and waved her hand.
Rage tapped against his breastplate.“Did he hurt you?”The words came out hard, demanding.
Her eyebrows rose, and she shot her gaze to his face.“No.Gosh, no.I mean, he tried to kiss me, got a little handsy.I hit him on the head with a vase and knocked him unconscious.Then I grabbed his keys—he drives that enormous truck, you know?”
He nodded, hating every second of the story.Trevor owned a red Dodge with a twelve-inch lift kit.He would’ve gotten through the snow with ease while knowing there’d be nowhere for McKenna to escape.When he got his hands on the cocksucker, he’d—
“I drove to the sheriff’s station, and they got a plow to lead their cruisers to my place.Hank arrested him and kept him overnight.”
Hank, the town’s sheriff for the last decade at least, was a decent guy and not one to arrest too readily.“Then what happened?”
She shrugged.“That was it.Hank said I could get a restraining order, but how would that work in a town this size?It’d never last.I just steer clear and he hasn’t approached me since.”She tucked her chin and pulled a whisk from the drawer behind her.
Something about the shift in her eyes shook him, but pressing her to talk wouldn’t work in his favor.He took the utensil from her hand and gestured to the dinette table.“Sit.I’ll cook.”
She cocked her head but must have thought better than to argue.She pulled out a chair and sat as he beat the eggs.“Thanks.”
“So you thought I was him coming back?”
She lowered her gaze to the table and balled her hand under her chin.“That was my first thought, yes.”
The weight in her voice made him suck back any further questions, but intrigue stirred in his gut.After what she’d been through—basically attacked in her own home—she’d opened the door for him.He took a skillet from the dish rack and placed it on the stove, turning on the gas for the front burner.Then he grabbed the bottle of avocado oil—no point asking for margarine, as she sure as shit didn’t have any—and poured it in.
Turning back to face her, he winked.“Thanks for not shooting me.”
She chuckled.“If you don’t hurry with that breakfast, I might.”
A laugh rolled off his tongue and her deep violet-blues shone with amusement.
“Got any milk?”
“Almond milk’s in the fridge.Hope you don’t mind, but I don’t drink dairy.”
