Page 5 of Stalked by His Ex
Internal dialog, confirmed. This is a date…with a hot ass guy. Quite sure, I hit the jackpot, and the butterflies in my stomach agree.
We remain silent for a moment, absorbing each other. A challenge placed. Now I remember why I agreed to dinner. His presence charges me, fills me with a sort of electricity that burns like fire through my veins. He reciprocates the connection if his increased breathing is an indicator.
“You look…amazing.” He pulls his bottom lip through his teeth, reiterating his statement.
“Thanks, you look pretty good yourself.” My cheeks feel like they’re on fire and my heart pounds against my ribcage. He can probably see my shirt twitch with each beat.Get your shit together, girl!
“Thanks. You ready?” He extends his arm.
When my fingertips curl around his firm bicep, the electricity increases tenfold. “Yes.”
Once we reach his car, he opens the door and helps me inside. The leather of the seat hugs the bare skin of my back, welcoming my form with a sweet caress. It’s so comfortable, I trace my fingertips across the material.
Once Jaxton slides inside and starts the car, he turns, devouring every inch of me before landing on my eyes. “So, where to?”
I try to lock down the shiver that crawls up my spine, but he notices and smirks knowingly. “Do you know your way around Eugene yet?”
“Not really. We haven’t had time to explore.”
“That’s fine. Turn out here and head to town. I tell you when to turn.”
“Sounds good.”
Nervousness flows through me, but I’m comfortable in his presence. “You said you were in town for work. Where do you normally live?” I got the conversation rolling with a tied tongue.
Jaxton glances over before answering. “Liam and I live in San Diego with our three brothers, but we’re originally from Louisiana.”
My eyes go wide. “Wow, I was wondering about the accent.”
“You like it?” he smirks, already knowing the answer. “They’re not as thick as they used to be when we were younger. We’ve lived in California too long.”
“I’m partial to accents. Not gonna lie, they’re pretty hot.” I regretted immediately the admission.
Jaxton perks with the comment, a smug grin splitting his face. “You think we’re hot?”
My face warms. “That came out wrong. I… was… umm… never mind.”
“Don’t worry. We think you’re pretty hot, too.”
“We?” I squeak, glancing in his direction.
He chuckles, “Liam said so a few times. Pissed I wouldn’t let him come with us.” He lifts one hand from the steering wheel, curling two fingers in quote, “For moral support.”
The smirk says his brother’s request is in jest, drawing another giggle free, picturing the conversation he had before leaving tonight.
Several turns later, I point out the burger joint. “There it is.” The statue outside of the girl in a poodle skirt is unmistakable.
We make our way inside and find a table with no trouble. Jaxton’s eyes are dodgy, glancing around as if worried. Our server is quick with our menus and leaves to help an older gentleman at the counter. After ordering our food—I’m craving one of their old fashion burgers—we’ve only said a handful of words since we’ve entered. Oddly, it seems natural to be with him. The quiet moments are comforting, instead of awkward, as if we don’t need words for communication.
“Besides working at the shop, what do you do?” His gaze trails across my features, soaking up every detail before they dip, pausing on my breasts. When his beautiful golden eyes return to mine, he knows he’s been caught checking me out, but he’s not ashamed, and his grin widens.
The conversation flows easily, as if we’re old friends rehashing missing years, while I explain working for Mrs. Fry at The Sweet Tooth. It was always my goal to stay local and help her with the business while getting my own started. Friends were almost nonexistent, besides Roman and Marco, who were now permanent fixtures in my life. Marco worked in town with a large company, so Roman volunteered to work for me part time making chocolates.
“He finished his newest creation right before we left. It was heaven.” No exaggeration required.
Jaxton chuckles. “And what would that be?”
“He called it s’mores chocolate. Marshmallow and gram cracker, covered in chocolate ecstasy,” I sigh, thinking about the sugary goodness.