Kenzie
Rain continued to pelt the window in the bathroom, although the sheer volume of water had lessened. By the time I’d finished soaking in the tub, even the faint rumbles of thunder had dissipated, leaving an unnerving silence except when I shifted in the now cooling water.
“Axe.”
I whispered the name as if doing so would help ease the shock of seeing him again. And the twinge of pain. Yes, every muscle in my body ached, the few scrapes and cuts stinging even after being soaked in the water, but the real ache, the one that was a heavy weight pounding on my chest was all about seeing him again.
Stephen ‘Axe’ Beckett was my older brother’s best friend, a man who’d adored antagonizing me at every turn. I’d never allowed him to see how much of a crush I had on him until one fateful day when I’d believed I had nothing to lose. When he’d turned me down, reminding me I was a little girl and that he was a man,I’d refused to allow him to see how much he’d hurt me. Then he’d purposely walked over to a girl, who’d hung all over him. And I’d been forced to watch them kiss.
On that day, I’d made a promise to myself I’d never think about him again. I’d be damned if I’d break an oath that had stood for several years. Sure, very childish. We were two different people, but the crushing blow was difficult for any teenage girl. Especially since I’d never been good enough for my father.
Ugh, why was I reminiscing about the past? Because I was in Axe’s bathtub after he’d saved my life. I sloshed the water, wishing I could stay in the tub forever. His eyes were just as mesmerizing, his quirky smile even more attractive. But his body was… Wow. Just wow.
He was also even more dominating in behavior than I’d remembered. He’d filled out, every muscle rock hard. Still handsome, the years since I’d seen him adding to his sensual appeal, but where his eyes had once held mischief, they now held sadness.
Maybe he was the one with the weight of the world on him.
I could remember as if it were yesterday being at the Professional Bull Riding finals held in Fort Worth, Texas the summer before I’d headed off to college. And before the horrible incident. My father had taken me to the glamorous event, namely because he had had an amateur rider make the finals and I’d begged him to let me go. It had come down to the wire with my father’s sponsored rider and Axe. Then Axe had done the unthinkable and had stayed on the bucking mean-as-sin bull for an extra two-point-five seconds. Unheard of.
My father had lost a boatload of money, his rider also losing two major sponsorships.
My father had placed the blame on Axe and his trainer, fuming and trying to have Axe’s championship placement pulled. As if the man could cheat while riding a nasty bull.
The stupid situation had also put a rift in my brother’s and Axe’s friendship, my father trying to forbid Wade from seeing him. In certain groups, Axe had been labeled the bad guy. That’s how much control my father had over many people in town.
Evidently from what Axe had just said about my brother, their friendship hadn’t recovered.
Sighing, I lifted the glass, pulling the rim to my lips. The whiskey was exactly what I needed to calm my nerves and for warmth. So what if the very man I’d fantasized over as a teenager had seen me naked? I was much older, no longer the pigtail-wearing girl who’d adored the bad boy.
The memories of my brother Wade with Stephen were both unsettling and hysterical. Since they were years older, they’d thought I was a pain in the ass while they’d fashioned themselves to be big and bad, the kind of guys women swooned over.
They’d acted like they’d owned Missoula, constantly causing trouble while somehow managing to steal hearts. I’d been nothing more than Wade’s little sister, a nuisance.
How many times had I tried to forget about him and he’d interfered, making my life miserable? I’d been the ugly duckling, the girl no one wanted to ask out. The couple of times one of the guys in school had bothered, it had been a disaster.
When I’d been dumped just before the prom while standing outside the school, I’d been too humiliated to call anyone, deciding to walk home by myself. And he’d shown up, refusing to leave me alone to wallow in my self-pity. I’d told him I’d hated him then.
I’d meant it too. I’d found ways to stay away from him.
Until my eighteenth birthday, a day I would never forget.
Because I’d made a fool of myself. I pressed my fingers against my lips. No longer parched, I licked the bottom one as I’d done after I’d confronted him, begging to know why he’d never asked me out.
As usual, we’d argued, which we’d gotten damn good at. Only instead of walking away as he usually did, he pinned me against a tree.
And he’d kissed me.
Not just any kiss, but the kind that had kept butterflies fluttering in my stomach for days, the sense of floating on cloud nine staying with me long after he’d finally disappeared. I’d been young and stupid, thinking the kiss meant something when it was nothing more than a tool to shut me the hell up.
What I’d hated more than letting my guard fall was that I’d kept comparing other men to Stephen Beckett over the years. Every single one. Who was silly enough to do that? This girl.
I took the last sip of my drink, closing my eyes as I remembered what he’d looked like on that sunny afternoon. All swagger and vigor, a smile that could light up any room. Eyes the color of Egyptian glass, so blue they always reminded me of sapphires. He’d known what I’d thought about him yet he hadn’t cared.
At least I’d learned how traitorous men could be, promising myself that I’d never fall for bullshit.
Maybe that’s why I hadn’t shed a single tear after breaking up with David. I’d mourned the loss of the view out his bay window over the man himself.
What did that say about me?
