“Stay away from the edge, Georgia,” Jaxon called, just to make sure.
Hutch burst into the alley. “Was someone screaming Georgia’s name out here?”
Jaxon jerked his head in the direction of the roof and looked up. “Georgia, can you hear me?”
At first, there was nothing but silence. Then a very reluctant, “yes,” could be heard drifting down to them. Hutch took one look at the gear Tazzy was wearing and growled, “Fuck!”
Looking around, he saw that the fire escape had been lowered. Hutch scrambled up the fire escape. It wasn’t long before he was walking Georgia back down as well.
Tazzy and Jaxon made it to the ground first, but when Hutch and Georgia touched down. Hutch didn’t even pause, throwing her over his shoulder and heading back into the shop. As the door closed, he said, “Peaches, you are in so much trouble.”
Tazzy and Jaxon still stood at the base of the ladder. Once Hutch and Georgia left, Tazzy slumped against Jaxon. As much as she hated to admit it, nothing had ever felt better than his arms around her waist. Why was life so damn hard? Fighting with Jaxon was easy compared to the fight going on inside her. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his solid chest, the way she used to.
The rise and fall of his chest soothed her. And as much as she’d accused him of not having a heart over the past many years, its strong beat reminded her it was still there in more ways than one. Slowly, she pulled air into her lungs, finally able to breathe again.
She could have stayed like this for hours, pretending the past didn’t exist. But ignoring the truth about things she didn’t like was something Old Tazzy did. New Tazzy faced the world as it was, not as she wanted it to be.
She pulled back and made the mistake of looking into his intense blue eyes. Instantly, her lady bits tingled.
Tazzy shoved away from him and marched toward the shop door. She refused to let the wildfire racing through her veins turn into something she would regret. She had only taken three steps when a hard hand closed around her arm and yanked her back around.
Spinning to face him, she slapped her palm against his face so hard it made her hand sting. She froze, shocked at what she’d just done. Had she really slapped the guy who just saved her life? How effed up was that?
He barely flinched. Instead, he looked down at her with that slow, dangerous half-smile that made her stomach flip. “Feel better now?”
“No.” She glared at him, trying to control her breathing, but that was a mistake. He looked delicious standing there. She had such conflicting emotions. On one hand, she wanted to knee him in the nuts for everything he’d put her through. On the other hand, she wanted to lick him like an ice cream cone. Her favorite flavor.
His dark shirt stretched tight across the chiseled muscles of his chest. His jeans sat low on his hips. And that whole raw, don’t-even-think-about-it energy rolled off him in waves, the same energy he had worn like armor since the day he came back to Darling.
Crossing her arms, she hugged herself, nervously rubbing her arms. It reminded her of the way his strong arms had held her as he practically carried her down from the roof. The way he had moved like a man who would walk through fire to reach her. The way he had protected her without hesitation.
Like a Daddy. Just notherDaddy.
Not again.
Never.
But who, exactly, was she trying to convince?
Why did he have to be so horribly, achingly sexy? She needed to slap her heart silly, but she would still have to deal with the treacherous feelings it kept forcing on her later. Right now, she needed to remember she was furious, not thankful.
After all, he had interrupted her rappelling practice. She couldn’t admit the real reason her heart pounded whenever he was near, so she reached for something petty and stupid instead. “You started this whole thing,” she said. “This was all your fault.”
“This should be good.” He crossed his arms. “How?”
“You ignored me,” she snapped.
“I did not.”
“You stood over there texting on your phone for ages. You did not even notice when I left the shop.” She tried to sound angry, or at least indignant. Instead, the words came out small and hurt.
Jaxon let out a slow breath. His chest expanded beneath the dark fabric of his shirt. “I knew you had left the room. I just didn’t see you slip out of the building. I wasn’t expecting you and Georgia to pull an escape,” he said. The tight set of his jaw told her he hated that he had missed it. “I had business I needed to handle.”
“You should have noticed anyway.”
His jaw flexed. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “I should have.”
The simple words nearly knocked her knees out from under her. She stared at him. “Did you just apologize?” Old Jaxon apologized when he’d done something to hurt her, but she never expected New Jaxon would.