Climbing onto the bed, she lies on her back, head on a pillow, and I scoot over to do the same, careful to leave just enough space between us to keep things friendly. As soon as we’re both settled, I turn off the lamp.
Except for the moonlight and stars above, the room is plunged into darkness.
“Wow,” Sasha says, gaze skimming the sky.
The night sky is crystal clear. Thousands of stars sparkle like diamonds against black velvet. Without light pollution, the Milky Way stretches across the upper atmosphere as a misty river of light.
“This is so freakin’ cool,” she whispers.
“Best view in Oregon,” I agree. “There’s something about looking up at a vast expanse of sky. Puts everything in perspective, you know?”
Turning her head to look at me, face softly illuminated by moonlight, she smiles. “Yeah.”
Immediately, I shift my attention up and away. If she keeps looking at me the way she’s doing right now, the only other cataclysmic event going on tonight will be my cock slamming inside her pussy—and I don’t think she’s ready to let me in again. Not yet.
So, I’m just going to stick to the plan: subtle touches, flirting, making her laugh, showing her the stars, and she’ll cave. Guaranteed.
I can hear the rasp of her hair shifting on the pillow as she adjusts her body to mirror my position. “You said Meg and Hollis are the caretakers. Who actually owns the ranch?”
We both turn our heads to look at each other at the same time.
Up close, her eyes, framed with thick, dark lashes, are evenmore beautiful, and I have to swallow against the lump in my throat.
Will she freak out if I tell her the ranch is mine? That I made and sold one of the top video games in the world, which, along with other investments, made me an insanely rich man? I mean, she does own one of the top-rated fitness empires in the country. It’s not like she’s gonna to want me for my money. No doubt she has plenty of her own.
“That’s going to require a little more backstory.”
I take a deep breath, nervous about how she might react to what I’m about to tell her.
Moonlight falls over her face as she waits, and something about the way she’s looking at me makes me want to just lay it all on the line.
“You know how I told you I started drawing more during rehab?” I ask, running a hand over my hair. The sides are starting to grow out, close to turning my mohawk into a faux-hawk.
“Of course,” she says, giving me her full attention.
“Well, I also spent a lot of time playing video games. I loved them enough in college to want to learn how to code. I kinda figured it would be a good back up plan for when I retired from baseball.” I shrug, remembering those days with a mix of nostalgia and regret. “Obviously that didn’t work out so well, so eventually, after I got clean, I decided to use what I knew and designed a video game. I sold it. Which gave me more than enough money to buy J & R.”
Sasha sits up. “I freakin’ knew it! All the ‘we’ this and ‘we’ that any time you’ve talked about the ranch today.” Her eyes widen in realization. “So, J & R? Jax Riley?”
“Jaxson Riley,” I correct, already feeling the need to downplay it. “But it’s not a b?—”
“Don’t you dare go saying it’s not a big deal, Jax, because itis,” she cuts in, tone fierce. “Not everyone gives back after going through what you did. But you do. Not only that, you took it a step further.”
I tuck a hand behind my head and look away, the stars blurring a little as her words sink in.
Most people just accept that I’m a tattoo artist who volunteers to give back, and I let them believe that’s all there is to know about me.
Sasha sees more—sees what this place really means to me—what I’ve helped build here. And the only thing she’s impressed by is what I’ve done with it. And that knowledge hits me harder, much differently than I ever thought it would.
I’ve never wanted to share this part of myself with anyone outside my inner circle. But watching Sasha and how she connected with the horses and how easily she fit in at dinner with Meg, Hollis and the guests, how she’d laughed at all my stupid jokes—I realized I wanted her to know me. Not just the playboy tattoo artist she met at The Brew, but this side of me too.
“Hollis and Meg were struggling to keep the ranch running after Jack died,” I explain. “When I sold the game, I had more money than I knew what to do with. This place saved my life. So, buying it was a no-brainer.”
“What game?” she asks, eyes bright with curiosity.
“Night Hunters,” I admit, waiting for her reaction.
Her mouth drops open. “Wait. You mean the apocalyptic zombie game where you can customize literally everything about your character? The one that sold like twenty million copies?”
