But there is a part of me that is touched by the gesture. Warmed by it. Sure, my ex was domineering and possessive. Jaxon obviously has the same traits. If I got involved with him deeper, would those qualities eventually turn him into a mean, control freak, and end with me on the run again?
There is a part of me that doesn’t think so.
But then again, there is a part of me that warns never to get close to a guy like that again. I reach my front door, and can’t help but steal a glance toward Jaxon’s bedroom. The light is off. In fact, his entire place looks dark. Perhaps he took off on his bike again, like he did last night after I blatantly told him to leave me alone.
I push through the front door and Val is standing there, drink in hand, with a big smirk on her face.
“So I take it you and slurpalicious have done the deed.”
“Don’t call him that,” I say, suddenly on the defense.
Beer sloshes over her red cup as she takes another drink. “Oh, and why not? You hot for him?”
Of course I’m hot for him, but she doesn’t need to know that.
“Because he’s more than just a body. He’s a father, and a good guy.”
A really nice guy.
I stomp past her, and climb the stairs, pushing my way through the drunken horde of freshmen. I take two steps toward my room and stop dead in my tracks, my heart jumping into my throat.
What the hell?
I blink, sure I’m hallucinating. But when I open my eyes again, the vision of Jaxon installing a lock on my door dances before my eyes.
“What are you doing?” I ask, even though it’s obvious.
His body stiffens and he doesn’t even spare me a glance when he answers with, “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Ah, putting a lock on my door.”
“Then you have your answer,” he says, not a hint of warmth in his voice. He’s pissed at me, yet he’s still here putting a lock on my door for my safety. I swallow past a gritty throat, my knees a little less stable then they were a second ago. As he twists a screwdriver, I stand still. Shit, I don’t even know what to say about this. He shoves the tool into his back pocket, reaches for my free hand, and presses a key into it. “There is a deadbolt for when you’re in your room, and a lock on the outside for when you’re not home. No one, not even your roommates, will be able to get in when you’re not here.”
I open my palm, look at the new silver key. My heart does a little somersault. “I…”
“Step inside.” he commands in a rough tone. I walk past him, but he continues to avoid eye contact with me. I step into my room, set my pizza on my dresser, and he closes my door, slamming it shut with a little more force than necessary. I practically jump out of my shoes. “Lock it,” he grumbles. I slide the deadbolt in to place and wait. “Locked?” he asks.
“Yes.” He wiggles the knob, and I step back.
“Now you’re safe. No assholes will be bothering you again.”
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
I wait for a moment. Is he going to ask me to open the door again? If he does what the hell do I say to him? I’m so thrown off by this sweet gesture, I’m a bit speechless, and that’s not normal for me.
I step back up to the door, press my ear to it. “Jaxon,” I whisper. Is he on the opposite side of the wooden panel, with his ear pressed to the wood? I wait, and when no response comes, I say his name louder, to be heard over the music. Seconds turn into minute and I suck in a fueling breath. Obviously, we need to talk. I slide the deadbolt, and inch open my door, only to find the hall empty. I back up, and plunk myself on my bed. Goddammit, why does he have to be so sweet?
I pick up my phone and, and pull up his contact information. Should I text him? If I do am I sending the wrong message. I don’t want him to get the idea that I want more from him, but I need to make things right between us. He didn’t deserve to be treated the way I treated him last night.
I stand and walk to my window. The lights in his place are still off. I lift my window, lean out and catch a glimpse of him in his backyard. I peer into the night, the moon providing sufficient light for me to see him strip down to his boxers and climb into the pool. I stifle a laugh as he squeezes his big body into the blow-up rubber ring.
The scent of my pizza hits me, and I walk to my dresser. I pick it up, step from my room and head out into the night. I walk quietly to the back of Jaxon’s house and find him kicking back in the water with a cold beer in his hands.
“Hey,” I say.
His body stiffens, his beer dangling from his fingertips. “What can I do for you, Rachel?” he asks.
I step in front of him, giving him no choice but to face me. I hold the pizza out. “Peace offering.”
He goes quiet, too quiet, his blue eyes trained on my face. I suck in a
