J. Lynn - Stay With Me

“You drive a Ford Fuckus?”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I blew out a deep, frustrated breath. After I’d discovered that my windshield had done a meet-and-greet with a brick, I’d walked my butt back into the bar. In a daze, I found myself standing before Jax and telling him what had happened.

Even though I’d been in a state of shock, I had recognized that he hadn’t looked surprised. Anger had flashed across his striking face, deepening his eyes, yes, but surprised? No. Almost like he’d expected this.

And that was weird, but not really important right now. I had a windshield I couldn’t afford to fix.

Opening my eyes, I turned to him. I hadn’t noticed how tall he was while he’d been behind the bar, but standing next to him now, he was a good foot or so taller than me, pushing six feet and some odd inches. His waist was trim and it was obvious the guy took care of himself. “It’s a Focus.”

“Also known as a Fuckus,” he replied, eyes narrowing as he leaned over the hood. “Damn.”

He reached in through the glass, causing me to tense up. “Be careful!” I all but shouted, and maybe a wee bit dramatically, because he cut me a look over his shoulder, his brows raised. I stepped back. “Glass is sharp,” I added dumbly.

One side of his lips kicked up. “Yeah, I know. I’ll be careful.” He picked up the brick and turned it over in his large hand. “Shit.”

I couldn’t even let myself think about how expensive fixing my windshield would be, because if I did, I probably wouldn’t even wait to find a corner to start rocking in.

Jax tossed the brick to the ground and spun. Taking my hand in his large, warm one, he started hauling me toward the bar. My stomach ended up somewhere in my throat at the contact. A step or two behind now, I got a good eyeful of his rump.

Damn. He even had a nice ass.

I so needed to prioritize.

“I’ll get someone out here to take a look at your car,” he said, and I had to walk fast to keep up with his long-legged pace.

I blinked rapidly. “You don’t—”

“Got a friend at a body garage a few miles back toward the mall. He owes me a favor,” he went on as if I hadn’t spoken. Ripping the door so open and so fast I thought it would fly off the hinges, he stormed inside, tugging me along.

“Stay right here,” he said, sending me a look of warning.

“But—”

Letting go of my hand, he turned to me fully and got right up in my personal space. His boots to my toes, his scent surrounded me, and then he dipped his chin. Out of habit, I turned my cheek to the left, and then gasped when I felt his fingers curl around my chin, coaxing my face back to his.

“Stay right here,” he said again, his gaze locking with mine. “I’ll only be a minute. Tops.”

Minute for what?

“Promise.”

Knocked off kilter again, I found myself whispering, “Okay.”

His gaze held mine for an instant longer, and then he wheeled around, and all I could think about was what he said. I definitely want to get to know you better. With long, graceful steps, he disappeared back by the pool tables, heading into the kitchen area.

I stood there.

No less than a minute later, he reappeared with car keys dangling from his fingers. Stopping near the waitress I’d seen carrying baskets earlier, he caught her gently by the elbow. “Can you handle the bar until Roxy gets in?”

The woman glanced at me and then back at Jax. “Sure, but is everything okay?”

Jax guided her over to where I stood rooted to the floor. Up close, she was really pretty, and while I thought she was maybe in her thirties, I didn’t see a wrinkle on her face. “This is Pearl Sanders.” Then he extended a hand toward me. “And this is Calla—Mona’s daughter.”

Pearl’s jaw dropped.

Ugh.

And then the woman snapped forward. With one arm, she gave me a quick and tight hug that left me being the one standing there with my mouth hanging open.

“It’s real good to finally meet you, Calla.” She turned to Jax, pulling the pen out from behind her ear. “You take care of her, okay?”

“Of course,” muttered Jax, like it was the last thing he wanted to do, which was stupid, because I didn’t need to be taken care of, and I sure as hell didn’t ask him to do it. And what the hell happened to him wanting to get to know me better?

“I think I need—”

“Come on.” Jax got a hold of my hand again. The next thing I knew, I was being spun around and ushered out the door, back into the night, and then we were next to the truck that was in front of my poor car. He was opening the passenger door. “Up you go.”

I halted. “What?”

He tugged on my hand. “Up you go.”

Pulling my hand free, I pressed back against the car door. “I’m not going anywhere. I need to take care—”

“Of your car,” he finished for me, cocking his head to the side. The silvery moonlight seemed to find his high cheekbones, caressing over the angles of his face. “I got that, and like I said, I got a friend who’ll take care of that for you. Clyde’s already getting in touch with him, which is a good thing.”

My brain was shorting out. “Why?”

“Because it’s going to rain.”

I stared at him. Was he a weatherman also?

“You can smell it—late spring, early summer rain.” He leaned in, and my head immediately tilted to the left. “Take a deep breath, honey, and you can smell the rain.”

For some damn reason, I took a deep breath, and yeah, I smelled it, the musky damp scent. I groaned. No windshield meant rain damage.

“So we’ll get your car taken care of so it’s not out here when it starts raining,” he finished.

“But—”

“And I don’t think you want to drive around with your pretty ass sitting on glass and wind blowing in your face.”