I put the glass on the tub where Axe had placed it, finally finding courage or maybe simply becoming resigned that I’d need to face him. Why he’d brought me here instead of my parents’ house was a question I needed to ask. Not that I remembered doing much talking. There were fleeting images of him saving me. Putting me inside a vehicle. A drive.
That’s all I really remembered, which both shocked and bothered me.
There were fluffy towels on the towel rack and a stack of clothes on the counter. That’s when I noticed my purse. He’d managed to save the bag I’d snagged from the truck, although it was waterlogged. At least it was on a towel. I wrapped the other around me, moving in front of the mirror.
There was no real steam, just a light mist. When I stared at my reflection for a few seconds, the person staring back at me wasn’t the accomplished attorney who’d taken the bull by the horns, making something of herself and her life. Instead, with my stringy hair and smudged makeup, I appeared like the teenager, love-struck and planning her future with a man who’d wanted nothing to do with her.
I laughed, the sound hollow. Perhaps this was the kick in the pants I needed. Didn’t they say lumps came in threes? From here, my life would be looking up. Whatever my father wanted,I planned on saying no. There was no point in dredging up more of the past.
The clothes he’d selected were plain but comfortable, sweatpants with legs dragging the floor and a tee shirt I could use as a dress. At least they were warm and dry.
The scent of him filtered into my nose and I pulled the sleeve to my face. The manly fragrance was similar to what I’d remembered, a hint of citrus and spices, woodsy in a way that made me think of deep within the forest. And… smoke. Really?
Why did I allow my imagination to get the better of me, images of us enjoying wine in front of a roaring fire dragging me straight into a personal kind of hell?
I tried to laugh it off. While I was grateful for what he’d done, I’d ask if he could take me home and I’d figure out what to do about getting my Bertha back. Wherever she’d ended up. Ugh. My poor truck. Buying a new one would break the bank.
After searching the cabinets for a hair dryer, I finally gave up. My natural curls would take over. What the hell? I wasn’t hoping for a fashion show.
But I did have makeup in my purse.
Silly ole me dug through it for my makeup bag, forced to hold the thin canvas over the sink so it could drain. Maybe later. There would be no looking my best in front of him.
Thankfully, I did find a brush. I fought with the tangles and by the time I finished, I’d taken out my frustrations for finding myself in this position by ripping out a handful of hair. Hopefully, the man had a phone because I knew my father would be off the rails by now in figuring out where I’d disappeared to.
When I was basically presentable, I grabbed the glass and stood in front of the door for at least two minutes before placing my hand on the knob.
Why was I so anxiety ridden around Axe? It wasn’t like we’d been close. The kiss was really nothing. It certainly shouldn’t matter now. We were all grown up. As I walked down the hallway, I was allowed a better understanding of the man.
He was a neat freak, something I wouldn’t have figured. His bedroom was just so, including being dusted. When I found his office, I couldn’t help myself, glancing over my shoulder before I walked in.
With the day being cloudy, I turned on a lamp on his desk, noticing he had pictures in a couple of locations. Maybe this was snooping, but I had no idea if he was married and had kids. I’d never once asked Wade and he’d never volunteered the information.
The photographs were of family, but mostly Axe’s brothers and sister. And almost all from years before.
When I noticed the one picture he had framed and on a wall, the colorful photo brought back good memories. The rodeo star. He had a certain way about him in those pictures, as if he could conquer the world. I’d called him a danger junkie. Maybe he still was. I wouldn’t know, but I traced his face in the photograph. He seemed so happy then.
The photographer had caught him on a bull, managing to capture a smile when the guy always smirked. Just like he’d done before. Like he hated the world. When he was on a bull, he’d been the conqueror.
Guilt settled in for invading his space, but another picture on his desk caught my eye. When I walked closer, I was more than shocked. He’d become a smokejumper? No. No chance. It was perhaps one of the most dangerous professions in the world. Why would he do that?
I realized very quickly his two brothers were also jumpers, the photograph taken of the three of them together. The Zullies, as the locals called them, were heroes, held in the highest regard for their work. The brothers were standing as if posing for a military picture except for the evil grins on their faces. As if they had a secret between them. All three were gorgeously rugged and were close in appearance, although I did think Stephen… Axe was the most handsome.
“What in the hell are you doing in my office?”
His voice was dark and angry, the tone full of enough fury I jumped, pitching backwards. My butt hit the edge of the desk, my foot catching on the leg and my body was frustrated with the angle. Pitched backwards, I almost hit the floor when a strong hand caught me, yanking me to my feet.
And against a hard body.
Panicked, I threw one hand out, my palm shoved against his chest. With a single gasp, I slowly lifted my head to glare into angry eyes. “Stephen.”
“I told you,” he gritted out, the deep baritone soft but the tone anything but joyful. “My name is Axe.” His fingers dug into my arm, the hold almost painful. He acted as if he had no intention of letting me go.
I found myself curling my fingers around the softness of his tee shirt, my mind flitting to darker places than the thoughts andquestions that should be gathering in my mind. I was reminded once again how handsome he was, a strong, muscular man with abs of steel and broad shoulders capable of filling a doorway.
The man had always been tall, but before he’d been lanky. Now, he was just… big. Every muscle honed to perfection.
He’d bulked up at least forty pounds since I’d last seen him, every pound solid muscle. With his longer hair, some might consider him scruffy, but to me, he had the look of a romance book cover model.
