He’s been here for two hours nursing the same black coffee, flipping through the June edition of the same magazine he always had rolled up in the back pocket of his shorts when we were younger: Art World Magazine.

“See something you like?”

I inhale sharply and turn to face an amused Claire. She doesn’t miss a thing, I swear.

“What? No.” I shove off the counter and turn around to the sink to wash the remnants out of the last blender concoction I got stuck making. Claire was right to warn me away from these things. Addicting in the worst way and a nightmare to clean up after.

She doesn’t approach, but I can feel her eyes on me. “You’ve been awfully quiet since you clocked in. I thought you’d willingly fess up to where you and lover-boy revved off to last night, but I guess I’m just going to have to coax it out of you.”

I shut off the sink and dry my hands before turning and tilting my head at her. “He took me to Mountain Look.”

Her eyes grow wide as saucers, and I bite back a laugh.

“I know. Crazy, right? It was like we’d never been apart.” I sigh dramatically and watch as Claire’s eyes narrow at my sarcasm.

“I hate you.”

“What?” I laugh. “That was what you wanted to hear, wasn’t it? You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you we took a drive up the pass, almost got run over by a damn drunk, and then spent the next two hours just talking up at Mountain Look.”

She shakes her head, her eyes accusing. “Nobody just talks at Mountain L—”

“See!” I exclaim, hopping onto my toes and then letting out a laugh. “Told ya you wouldn’t believe me. But it’s true. We used real words. He didn’t even try to cop a feel.”

Claire’s face bunches in annoyance and she whips the white rag in her hand at me. I manage to turn away, but it still swipes me across the cheek. “You’re such a brat. You can tease me all you want, but don’t even try to tell me you weren’t just undressing Jax with your eyes, you little perv.”

The bubble of laughter that bursts from my throat comes as a surprise. I clap a hand over my mouth to stop it, but it’s too late. Jaxon’s eyes find mine as I’m trying to control myself. His expression softens, his cheeks lift, and a twinkle appears in his eyes. My heart gives a little kick in response, and as cheesy as it is, I wouldn’t be surprised if his could feel it in return.

“Oh my God,” Claire says in a scolding whisper after Jax turns back to his magazine. “You two are like cats in heat. And don’t deny it. I’m pregnant. I know how babies are made.”

She’s ridiculous. “Claire, really. Stop. Things between Jax and me are complicated.”

“Not from where I’m standing.”

I sigh and cross my arms across my chest. “Feelings like what Jax and I had don’t just go away. Seven years is a long time, but he’s still my first…everything.” I feel a blush coming on, but I ignore it despite the amusement that appears on Claire’s face. “We hurt each other, and we were young. People change, you know? There’s a lot to work through.”

“So, you’re working through it?”

I sigh. “No. Yes.” I shrug. “I don’t know. Up until last night, I thought Jaxon wanted me gone just like the rest of the town.”

Claire softens. “Aren’t you the least bit curious about why he’s been hanging out in the café for the past two hours?”

I shrug, not wanting to acknowledge the live wires that just sparked in my chest. I didn’t want to get my hopes up. “He owns the place. I just figured—”

She levels me with one look, holding me captive. “You figured he always hangs out in the café?” She shakes her head. “Never.” Her lips curl into a smile. “And he hates—hates—black coffee.”

My jaw drops. “What does he usually drink?”

Claire laughs and points behind me. I already know she’s staring directly at the blender before I confirm it. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope. The superhuman genes are strong with that one. He could put anything in that body of his and never see a bad result.” I flush. She shakes her head and places her hands on her hips. “Did you hear what I said about—? Ugh, never mind. You two are totally hopeless.”

She raises her arms as if she’s finally given up, which I highly doubt, and backs away with a smile. “I’m going to work on organizing the back room since you’ve got this under control out here.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “I’ll be back.”

I make a face at her back as she walks away.

 

I’ve only been skimming the pages of the magazine. I keep getting distracted by Aurora tossing her hair into yet another high ponytail, as if the dozen before it were getting on her nerves. The polite smile on her face as she greets each customer. Her laughter, light as wind chimes in the fall as she talks to Claire. She steals my focus and knocks the air right out of me.

The coffee, cold and bitter, slides down my throat, and I cringe. I should be used to this by now. They say black coffee is an acquired taste, but my taste buds disagree. I lean forward to set the cup on the table in front of me when someone snatches it from my hands. It’s replaced by another, this one cold and icy, with a dollop of whipped cream oozing from the half-dollar sized hole in the plastic dome lid.

Looking up, I’m met with Aurora’s amused smirk. “Thought we weren’t lying to each other, Jax.”

The playful taunt of her tone catches me off guard, and then I register her words. Fuck. My eyes roll back with annoyance toward my best friend’s girl, who I’d love to strangle right about now. Claire and her loose lips. “It wasn’t a lie.”

She tilts her head. Another challenge. Fuck if it doesn’t rile me up. I used to love this—the back and forth quips that always carried a dose of teasing with the anger. One of us conceding and the other winning a kiss.

Neither of us minded losing.

“It wasn’t a lie, Aurora. Think about it.” I wait for her to respond, but she crosses her arms instead. “I didn’t tell you black coffee was my favorite.”

Her obstinate expression settles into defeat. “You’re right.”

Now it’s my turn to be surprised. I squeeze my lids shut and shake my head. “Did you just concede?”

A blush lights up her cheeks, and I know she remembers too. Before I can tease her again, she plops onto the couch beside me and snatches the magazine away. “Mind if I join you?”

She settles in and turns to look at me. “You know what I think?” she asks, like whatever it is has already been decided.

“What, dare I ask?”

She hands the magazine back to me. “I think you should close your eyes, flip the pages, and then stop on a random page. Whatever you land on will tell you where you’ll visit next. No hesitation. Pick it. Book it. Do it.”

“What are you, a travel agent?” It occurs to me in this moment that she very well could be. I don’t know much about the last six years of her life. Bits and pieces I was able to figure out. Our conversations last night were mostly about asshole Franco and vague information about our dating history. I know where she went to school and where she lived, but beyond that, I haven’t really pushed to learn more. Honestly, I think I’m too afraid of what I might find in her new life.

But at least in this way, she’s still the same old Aurora, thinking she knows what’s best. Still thinking that leaving Balsam Grove is the answer to everything missing in my life. She still doesn’t get it. But I do. Aurora still harbors guilt for my decision to stay when I had an opportunity to leave.

Her hand covers mine, surprising me. Her voice is soft when she says, “Don’t read into what I just said, please. I just thought it sounded like a fun game.”

I shake off all thoughts of the past and hand her the magazine. “Then you do it. Pick your next vacation.”

Aurora bites her lip, staring down at the open page like she’s considering. Then she shrugs. “Okay.”

She does exactly as she instructed me to do—closes her eyes, leans her head back slightly. The angle gives me the perfect view of her profile, from her chin to the rise and fall of her next breath. I lean toward her, inhaling her familiar scent of orange blossoms and wild berries.

She’s blindly flipping the pages of Art World one by one, a smile curling her lips. I keep thinking she’s about to choose a page, but then she goes again, and again, until she lets out the tiniest giggle, bites down on her bottom lip, and points to the page beneath her chipped nail.

“This one,” she says looking at me instead of the photo of Iguazu Falls. I can feel her intense eyes burning through me, but I can’t lift my gaze from the page she chose. What a dream trip that would be, to stand in front of one of the most beautiful natural wonders in the world. How I’d love to make that the subject of my next canvas.

“Hey, Aurora,” Claire calls, making us both jump. “Do you mind making sure the fridge is stocked for tonight? I think we’re all set, but it wouldn’t hurt to double check.”

“Sure thing.” Aurora tosses me the magazine with a grin before lifting herself from the couch and walking off.

I eye Claire suspiciously as she heads my way.

“So.” She says the word slowly, as if still figuring out what she’s going to say. “Guess who I just got off the phone with?”

Claire has always been like a sister to me. Mostly the loyal kind, sometimes the bratty kind. But protective Claire is surfacing now, and discomfort swirls in my chest.

“I don’t want to know,” I say, looking down and flipping the page of my magazine with a slap.

But Claire won’t let up. She plops down beside me where Aurora just was and sighs dramatically. “Let me give you a hint. Her name starts with V and ends in alerie. Ring a bell?”

I stiffen. “Clever,” I mutter without expression.

“Don’t you want to know what she called for?”

“Nope. I told you two months ago, I have nothing to say to her. If she calls, just take a message and throw it in the garbage. I don’t need to know about it. She’ll get the hint. Can we not talk about this?”

Claire rips the magazine from my grip and tosses it on the table. She waits until I meet her gaze to speak. “Jesus, Jax. What happened with Val?”

“Just leave it alone.”

“No! I won’t leave it alone. You need to tell me what’s going on. She’s calling my café now, so I’m involved.”

I groan. “It’s nothing, Claire. I promise. We had a thing. It’s over.”

“I told you she was bad news bears, didn’t I?”

I shove my fingers through my hair and pinch my eyes closed. “Don’t start. Please, just don’t.”

Claire let’s out a sarcastic laugh. “You’re in this position because of what you started. I’m just the messenger.”

“And I don’t want the message.”

“Don’t you want to know what she said?”

My eyes cut to Claire. “No.”

I hate the look she throws me next—a warning that tells me Valerie is up to something. That doesn’t surprise me. Valerie has been up to something since the day we met.

“Fine. Tell me. But I swear to God, Claire. There better be a good reason—”

“She’s coming to class tonight.”

And just like that, it’s like the wind has been knocked out of me. “What? How? We’ve been sold out for weeks.”

Claire cringes. “The Salingers canceled.”

Damn it. The Salingers are a local couple, both vocally upset at Aurora’s return. In that case, I’m not worried about the empty spots.

I shrug, trying to hold my shit together. A larger storm than a town filled with assholes is brewing if Valerie decides to show up tonight.

The solution is simple. She can’t come.

“So,” I start while the ideas shuffle through my mind. “We have two vacancies. Can you call Val back and tell her you made a mistake? Tell her we’re booked. I’m not up for any of her games tonight.”

“She said she’s coming to collect.”

The way Claire says that, the way she’s looking at me now, she knows exactly what Valerie means by that phrase. It’s not exactly subtle. That’s not Valerie’s way.

My history with Valerie is complicated and not something I want Aurora anywhere near. My decisions over the last six years haven’t always been the best. Nothing could ever fill the gaping hole she left me with, but I carried on the best I could. My art kept me company in my darkest days, the sad, lonely man I had become. It was my safety, the thing I could run to when I had nothing else. But when it came to women, I checked my sanity at the door and gave in to that need without any regrets. At least, I did until about two months ago.

It turns out a one-night stand wasn’t all Valerie wanted from me that night we met. She had heard about Creek Canvas from one of her friends and stopped in for class. That’s back when I was lucky to book six to twelve students per session. She observed the class activities, eye-fucked me from across the room, and never even picked up a brush. So I did the only thing I could think of at the time and invited her to Franco’s for a drink, and then joined her at her hotel for a nightcap.

It wasn’t until the next morning that I found out Valerie owned the largest art gallery in Asheville. She had money, she had connections, and she wanted to help. It all seemed too good to be true, but what other choice did I have? Probably plenty, but I convinced myself I had none and took the deal.

Valerie did me a solid with the business. We needed the boost, and I was so grateful, I offered to return the favor however she’d let me. At the time, yes, I meant it sexually, if that’s how she wanted to take it. Val is attractive, and there was something deeply encouraging in the fact that she’s a little older. More experienced. Plus, she lived far enough away that there would be no expectations. No labels. No commitment. It was perfect.

I made the mistake of repaying her generosity casually and continuously before I found out she was married. She never wore a ring, never spoke of a husband or kids, and I never asked.

No strings attached, that was the deal. When I found out the truth two months ago, I cut it off. Told her it was over. Stopped responding to her calls and texts. It was the easiest thing I’d ever done.

“I don’t want her here,” I grumble, already feeling defeated.

“It doesn’t matter, Jax. She was already on her way when she called. Are you going to tell Aurora?”

My mouth opens, but no words come out. There’s no reason she needs to get dragged into this, and even though we haven’t been together in years, the sight of a woman I’d once fucked might not bode well for me. She’ll be hurt.

With my jaw clenched tight, I exhale deeply to get a handle on my frustration. As much as I hate it, Claire did the right thing. She’s thinking with her business hat—thank God someone is. This is my mess, anyway. A mess I should figure out how to clean up quickly. Aurora’s presence is the only distraction I want in my life right now. And good or bad, I need her here to figure out what that means.