Chapter 11
Kate
Click.Click.Click.
Click. Click. Click.
“Ugh, come on, baby, don’t fail me now.” I turn the key in the ignition again, and nothing, only clicking noises. When my phone buzzed with a text from my brother that it was finally baby time, I quickly grabbed my keys but haven’t made it very far.
I slam my hands against the steering wheel in frustration and scream. Yeah, I know that we have time until the babies get here, but I want to be there for Dani and Ky. This is the first of the next generation of Lawsons—it’s a big fucking deal. I rest my head against the wheel and pray for a miracle. Maybe Lauren hasn’t left yet.
I’m leaning over the passenger seat, searching for my phone in my purse, when there is a knock on the window.
“Holy shit,” I scream, clutching my chest as I find a shadow beside me. I open the door and come face-to-face with Mr. Asshole himself. Great, when I said a miracle, I meant from an angel, not fucking Satan. Fallen angel or not,I’m not in the mood to go another round with him today.
“Having trouble?”
I groan and roll my eyes as I run my hands over my face. “Look, I’m not really up for fighting with you right now. My niece and nephew are coming into this world, and my damn car decides now of all days to stop working.” I hope he doesn’t notice the break in my voice.
His blank expression gives nothing away. Does he just want to waste my time? I wish his dark eyes didn’t pull me in, craving to know what’s swirling behind them.
Jaxon jerks the door wider. “Get out. Let’s go.”
“Excuse me?” I jolt back, completely taken by surprise.
“I don’t think I stuttered. Come on. Denise picked up Andy this morning, so I can drop you off on my way to work.”
I am taken aback by the non-hostile action. I think for a moment of saying no, thanks, that I can just call AAA or something. But who am I kidding? That could take forever, and I don’t want to miss this, so I don’t fight him on it. I grab my purse and follow him to his truck. His eyes widen for a moment that I agreed so quickly. Trust me, buddy. So am I.
With a click of a button, the truck roars to life as we approach the doors. I snicker at the fucking monstrosity in front of me. It may be his vehicle, but to me, it’s become my alarm clock every morning.
I cautiously watch Jaxon as he walks around the passenger side next to me. I reach for the handle at the same time he does—but he’s a split second quicker.
“You know I can open the door myself. I’m not some damsel in distress,” I say in a clipped tone. “I’m not some weak little girl needing a man to help me.”
“Sure about that?” He quirks a brow with a smirk I want to slap off his face. Okay, so maybe I am a bit of a damsel at the moment, requiring his help.
He holds his hand out to help me up, but I push past it and step up on the running board, reaching up to grab the oh-shit bar,and climb in.
“Well, all righty then,” he mutters under his breath as he slams the door shut. I hope that he’s not planning on kidnapping and leaving me somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Then again, I’d be pretty foolish since I willingly got into his truck. Eventually, someone would come looking for me.
Jaxon runs around to the driver’s side and hops in the truck with much more ease than I did. He buckles in and puts the truck in reverse. With his hand perched on the back of my headrest, he turns to face me. “For the record, I’m well aware you’re not a damsel in distress. I was just trying to be a gentleman. Won’t make that mistake again.”
He backs out of the driveway without giving me a chance to respond.
The ride is silent, but surprisingly, it’s not uncomfortable. Jaxon leans forward and turns the radio on, only to blare the final verse of a popular Alanis Morissette song.
“Going through an angry breakup as a teenage girl, huh,” I tease while listening to every girl’s breakup anthem from the late nineties. Even I’m guilty of playing this song and screaming it at the top of my lungs. “Do we need to stop to pick you up some rocky road ice cream?”
He throws his head back in laughter as he approaches a stop sign. “Nah, mint chocolate chip is my usual breakup food, and I have the freezer stocked, but thanks for your concern.”
“Ooh, now you’re speaking my language.” Mint chocolate chip ice cream is delicious, too.
Woah, are we having a conversation without arguing and in agreement on something?
The next track begins to play, which is a more subdued track. I hum along with the chorus as I focus out the window.
“I don’t know why I’m surprised that you like ’90s grunge.” His deep voice sends a shiver up my spine.
“Who says I actually like it and I’m not just trying to avoid further conversation?” My voice holds zero conviction.
“Hmm,” he hums. “Well then, I guess you won’t mind if I change it, then.”
Jaxon reaches forward at the same time I do, and I smack his hand away from the knob. A jolt of electricity runs through my veins, and I pull my hand back quickly and rub my sweaty palms on my pants.
“Ouch,” he hisses, shaking his hand. Big baby. I didn’t smack him that hard. “Message received.”
We sit in silence for the rest of the song, but the tension in the truck’s cab is rising, threatening to suffocate us both. I try to keep my focus forward, but my curiosity gets the best of me, and I keep checking on him with my peripheral vision. Each time he grips the steering wheel tightly, I wonder what is going through his mind.
I recognize the opening chords of the next track right away and do a little happy dance in my seat. This radio station is amazing.
“You okay over there?” There’s a playfulness in his voice that tells me he caught my dance.
“Yeah, sorry.” I wave my hand in the air. “It’s just my favorite.” I spent many mornings on the ride to school annoying Finn and Lauren with my butchering of this song.
Jaxon leans forward, and I frown because I think he’s going to change the song or turn it down, and I’m about to tear him a new one. I don’t care if this is his car or not. However, he surprises me. Instead of doing either of those things, he turns the volume up a little higher.
When we arrive at the hospital, Jax makes a right toward the parking garage instead of a left to the front entrance drop-off.
I look over my shoulder out the back window to where he should have dropped me off, but it gets smaller the further we drive away. “Umm, where are we going?”
“Parking,” he responds as if the reason is clear as day.