Three Weeks Later

Even though we could have taken a road trip on Saxon’s bike, enjoying the sights our beautiful countryside has to offer, we decided to fly to Oregon instead.

The past three weeks have kind of been Groundhog Day-ish. Sam called Hayley Regan, but she is on vacation for eight weeks. Lucky her. We didn’t see the point in using another realtor because with the market the way it is, we wanted a master of their craft.

As we both didn’t want to settle for second best, we were faced with a tricky predicament. Until she returned, we were stuck together in a house we once called our home.

I went to all of Sam’s doctor appointments. I even endured seeing Sophia when I had to. Dr. Kepler said Sam was getting much better, and his recent headaches were all part of the healing process.

I was glad Sam was on the mend, and although Saxon and Sam were tolerating one another, I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Each night as Saxon and I lay in bed, I kept thinking about our date and the possibility of packing up our things and going to Oregon. It would be nice to have some time to ourselves. Seeing as nothing was happening in Montana, I figured now was as good a time as any to see where Saxon lived.

And that’s why we’re in a cab, riding down a quaint little street, on the way to Saxon’s house. “So do I get a hint?” I ask, my nose pressed to the window, admiring all the pretty residences lining the street.

He chuckles, being evasive as usual. “If you guess which one it is, I’ll give you a kiss.” Now I’m determined.

I honestly didn’t know what to expect coming here. I’ve never really been out of Montana. Yes, I was born in L.A., but that’s a distant memory to me, one which I’m happy to leave unvisited. So far, Portland, Oregon, is a bustling city surrounded by surprisingly lush greenery.

An urban area with a lot more cars and people than in Montana, everything is compact. I’m used to not seeing a living soul for miles. But here, citizens seem to be…everywhere. It’ll take some getting used to. So will the noise.

The street we ride down is thankfully a lot quieter than the ones near town, so I’m really hoping Saxon lives here. I scan the Victorian-style houses, impressed by their beauty. The neighborhood seems safe and cozy, and as we drive past a blooming rose garden, I can suddenly picture myself tending to one of my own.

The thought comes out of left field, and it costs me.

“Looks like you missed out on your kiss.” Saxon’s amused voice snaps me from my stupor, and I realize we have stopped moving, which can only mean one thing.

Snapping into focus, I look at the two-story Victorian home just outside my window. It’s an eggshell white with a charming little porch and front steps. A tall pine tree grows in the middle of the yard. Not big by any means, but it’s perfect.

“I hope your silence is a good thing.” I nod animatedly, unsnapping my belt.

The moment my cowboy boots touch down, a shiver strums through me, and I can’t stop smiling. Shielding the bright sun with my hand, I tilt my head and drink in Saxon’s home. It’s beautiful.

My feet move of their own accord as I amble toward the front steps. I stop, still taking it all in. Polished a natural varnish, the porch gives the home an antiquated vibe. The wooden door has a glass panel, and I can suddenly imagine Saxon peering out of it, watching the world pass him by.

The scent of pine assaults my senses, instantly humming to my country soul. I run up the stairs, a sense of excitement coursing through my veins. Still lost in a daze, looking above and to the left and right of me, I don’t realize Saxon hasn’t joined me until the world falls quiet.

A sense of calm floods me, and I turn slowly.

Saxon stands at the bottom of the stairs. Our bags in tow. He is gazing up at me with a look I can’t quite place. “Is everything all right?” I’m afraid he’s having second thoughts. He nods once, a small smirk tugging at his lips. Strolling along the porch, I lean against the railing, loving my current view. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

He shrugs, and I know this sounds beyond absurd, but out here, he seems bigger, larger than life almost. It could be that Saxon has come home.

“I just imagined this so many times. You, standing on my porch,” he clarifies while I smile.

How can it be that he still manages to take my breath away? “Welcome home.” It appears all his Christmases have come at once as he takes a deep breath. “C’mon then. I want the grand tour.”

Appearing to savor me one last time, he grips the handle of my suitcase before making his way up the stairs. When he reaches the top one, I rise from my perch, coming face to face with the man I love more than life itself.

A giddy bubble of excitement brews within, and I can’t wipe my silly grin clean. He ignores my idiotic antics and reaches for his keys. The moment he slips it into the lock, I bounce from boot to boot. He opens the door with a husky chuckle, and when he does, I stop bobbing, freezing in awe. Peering around the doorjamb, I gasp.

A rainbow of light immediately garners my attention. When I see its source, I can’t help but marvel at its beauty. A stained-glass window creates the burst of color, almost suggesting I’ve followed the rainbow and found my pot of gold.

Saxon enters, his motorcycle boots appearing darker in contrast to the polished wooden floors. He enters the black and brown furnished living room, then walks under the white archway leading into the dining room.

I’m still rooted to the spot, too afraid to cross the threshold because once it’s passed, I may never want to leave. Saxon tosses his keys onto the dining table, unaware I haven’t moved a muscle. Watching him in his natural habitat has me feeling as if I’ve gained unrestricted access to a life I’ve missed.

“Whatcha doing standing in the doorway? You can come in.” His amused voice ends my gawking, and I take another step toward building my future. My boots sound against the flooring, and I wonder if he wants me to take them off. “Hey.” He ambles over, reaching for my hand. “This is as much your house as it is mine.”

He leads me through the house, allowing me to take it all in. The walls are a crisp white. The blue gray trim adds color and a homey feel. The kitchen has two bay windows which open up the small space, converting it into my favorite place in the home. That is, until we reach the main bedroom upstairs.

It’s simple, but everything inside here oozes Saxon. A black duvet covers the queen bed. The lamp on the left-hand bedside table indicates Saxon sleeps on that side. A beautiful painting above the bed catches my eye because the splashes of colors have me wondering what it is exactly. Saxon releases my hand, leaving me to my ogling.

Whirling in a circle, I examine every corner of the room, loving everything I see. The closet looks big enough for my stuff, if it ever gets to that. Golly, talk about getting ahead of myself. I haven’t even been here for five minutes, and I’m already mentally moving in.

The bed looks too welcoming not to, so I squeal, then flop onto the mattress, belly first. The moment Saxon’s signature fragrance hits my nostrils, I know it’ll take some sort of miracle to get me to leave.

“I could get used to that.”

Flipping over, my cheeks flushed, I sit upright and brush the hair from my face. Saxon leans against the doorjamb, arms and ankles crossed, watching me with that feral look in his eye. I pat the spot beside me, wanting nothing more than to roll around this big, empty bed with him.

“I still can’t believe you’re here. In my house. In my bed.” He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“I love your house. Your bed.” I run my fingers along the silk, biting my lip. “You.” He growls, pushing off the doorway and pouncing onto the bed. I yelp, falling onto my back from the force.

He’s on top of me, kissing my neck, my cheeks, my nose. “I love you. Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me.”

“This is your home too, Lucy. I don’t want you to treat it like mine. Treat it like ours.” His weight is perfect, caressing all the right places, and I shamefully wonder if christening the bed before we take in the sights would be an immoral thing to do.

“It’s so nice. Just us.” I run my fingers through his hair. The husky sound which escapes him does nothing to siphon the fire, but I decide to be a lady and not attack him until after we’ve had lunch.

“It is,” he concurs, nuzzling my neck. All thoughts of eating are put on hold because the only thing I want to eat is eating me. “I have you all to myself, and I have no idea how I’m going to keep my hands to myself.” His lips scorch my flesh, and I scissor my legs, a heat burning low.

“Then don’t.” I passed the point of decency about two minutes ago. He chuckles, kissing over the hollow of my throat before working his way down.

The neckline of my dress isn’t low, but I suddenly wish it was when Saxon tongues over the top of my swelling breasts. He doesn’t give me a chance to suggest removing the offensive garment because he slithers down, his lips and hands following in sweet pursuit.

When he reaches the dip of my belly, I solidify in breathless anticipation. Unable to tear my eyes away, I watch as he brushes his lips back and forth. “I was thinking—” he slips his hands down my sides, coming to a stop when he reaches my hem “—we drop past work so I can grab my truck.” His fingers toy with the lace trim before sliding it up my thighs. “Then I show you the sights Oregon has to offer. How does that sound?”

I moan in response, but it has nothing to do with his suggestion and everything to do with his hands and his hot mouth against the outside of my underwear. His breath is like hellfire, lapping at my center, and if he doesn’t strip me bare, I will scream.

“Lucy?”

Damn him and his smug mouth… he’s so enjoying this.

He doesn’t give me a chance to reply because the air is ripped from my lungs when he shreds the underwear from my body. I squeak, but that soon turns to a low mewl when he places a soft kiss on my ripened core.

Arching my back, I spread my legs, offering myself to him. He seems more than pleased with my submission. With a languish lick, he laps at my entrance while I’m certain I’m about to die. He gently coaxes me to open wider, and when I do, he takes full advantage of the view.

He hooks my leg over his shoulder while suckling two fingers, ensuring our gazes remain deadlocked. When he pushes them into me, I bow my back, my eyes rolling back into my head.

“Honey, I’m home,” he says before lowering his head and burying himself as deep as he can go.

For the next hour, Saxon gives me a glimpse of what I’m in for. If this is what living together entails, then sign me up and throw away the key.

I’m certain the cab driver knows of my and Saxon’s depravities. So do his neighbors. Back in Montana, due to our living arrangements, it made getting lost in the throes of passion a little hard. But here, we have no restrictions, no skeletons in the closest. And I intend on taking full advantage of that fact.

I am fully sated. My body glows from head to toe.

Saxon is giving me a rundown on what’s what, but honestly, I love it here already. His house is perfect. It may be a little smaller than what I’m used to, but I can see myself adapting with ease.

A relaxed ambiance bounces back and forth between Saxon and me, and I can’t help but think it’s because we’re far, far away from a place he never called home. When the driver turns into an industrial area, I know we’re close.

Saxon told me a man named Gus left him the garage when he passed away from cancer. I didn’t know him, but I wish I had because he sounded like a good man. “Just here on the right,” Saxon says. The cab driver pulls over while I arch upward to see where we are.

The faded sign which hangs from the metal building confirms I’m looking at the right place.

Gus’s Garage.

I can’t help but smile. Even though Saxon is the rightful owner, he still feels this place is Gus’s as much as it is his.

Saxon pays the fare while I thank the driver and follow Saxon out the door. It’s a lot milder here than it is in Montana. I did read Oregon is known for its crazy rain. We walk hand in hand toward the garage, a sense of pride in Saxon’s step.

The place is how I envisioned a garage to look. Cars, new and old, litter the yard. Three large work garages are up ahead, and to the left appears to be a small building. Maybe Saxon’s office? Mechanics in blue overalls bend under the hood of cars, tinkering away while listening to rock music. The atmosphere is chill, and I imagine having Saxon as a boss wouldn’t be such a bad deal.

A wolf whistle blares, which alerts the boys the boss is back in town. “Get back to work.” The three mechanics turn, all grinning when they see Saxon.

“Sax!” They put down their tools and make a mad dash to where we stand. “You’re back!” I quickly step off to the sidelines when they exchange oiled handshakes and manly slaps on the back.

“Did you boys miss me?” Saxon teases. They all laugh, never looking happier to see him. It’s clear they’re not only work colleagues but friends as well.

A younger man with a shaved head and a neck tattoo looks over at me and smirks. “And who do we have here?”

Saxon beams, extending his arm and pulling me to his side. “This…is Lucy.” I suddenly feel a little paranoid as I have no idea why he paused, but when they all light up with realization as if Saxon just introduced me as the good lord above, I shuffle my feet, beyond anxious.

“The Lucy?” the older man of the bunch asks. Saxon nods, fastening his hold. Okay, someone needs to tell me what is going on. “We thought you were made up, but holy shit, Saxon was right… you are…”

“Okay, enough, Felix.” Saxon presses his hand to the man’s chest, laughing. “She just got here. Don’t make her regret her decision.”

“No, no, let the man speak,” I counter, shrugging from his hold. “What am I?”

The man, whose name is apparently Felix, pales, peering over at Saxon sheepishly. “You forgot to mention spitfire in your list of attributes.”

“I’m pretty sure he said she was a pain in his ass, so I think that could be classified as a spitfire. Right, Saxon?” says the third mechanic, masking a smile. He has the name Hogan stitched on his overalls. Hogan is my new best friend.

I fold my arms slowly, peering up at Saxon while tapping my foot and waiting for him to explain. When he’s left with a mouth full of nothing, I can’t help but burst into laughter. Saxon’s shoulders instantly relax. “Gotcha.” I smile. “I’m flattered you’ve mentioned me to your friends, even though I’m an apparent pain in your ass.”

Hogan raises his hands in surrender, chuckling. “I like her.”

Saxon wraps an arm around my shoulders and drags me in for a kiss. “I like her too,” he huskily declares, shooting a current all the way to my toes.

Before we get lost in a kissing fest, the boys clear their throats, grabbing my attention.

“I’m Hogan. This is Felix. And that’s Kid.” I wave to each, pleased to make their acquaintance.

Kid, the younger of the three, extends his greasy hand. “I need to touch the woman who was able to make this hardass crack a smile.”

Even though oil covers his palms, I happily shake it. “Tell me more,” I quip very unbashfully. I can’t believe how easy it is to talk to these guys. Speaking of which…I will be able to get all the dirt on Saxon.

“We’re just here to get the truck. You can socialize after work.” There is absolutely no substance behind Saxon’s threat, and we all hoot in response.

“So how long are you staying?” asks Felix, wiping his hands on an oiled rag.

“I’m not sure yet. Hopefully long enough to get to know you boys better. I have a feeling you’d have many stories to share with me over beer and pizza. P.S. you’re the star attraction,” I state, peering up at Saxon, batting my eyelashes innocently. Saxon shakes his head with a slanted grin.

“What about tonight?” Kid asks.

I know it’s our first night together, but the prospect of hanging with Saxon’s friends and doing normal boyfriend-girlfriend things seems like a pretty awesome idea to me.

Just as I’m about to accept, a voice which sounds like sex and candy floats through the air, instantly changing the vibe. “Did someone say beer?” Saxon freezes up beside me, and when I see the reason, my good mood dampens.

Out saunters a stunning woman from the small building I thought may have been Saxon’s office. The sun decides now is a good time to rise from its nap behind a cloud and only seems to highlight her pathway toward me.

The first thing I notice is that she’s freaking stunning, like runway material. She’s tall and leggy with a headful of lush, raven-colored hair. She’s in motorcycle boots, short black denim shorts, and an AC/DC t-shirt tied in a knot at her midriff, exposing her toned stomach. She is edgy, bold, and the opposite of me. I suddenly feel like a hillbilly in my cowboy boots and white cotton summer dress.

But I tell myself to stop such nonsense because she clearly works here and is most likely just an employee. Sadly, that false sense of hope lasts for roughly three seconds because she brushes past me and gives Saxon a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, boss.” Her statement carries complete innuendo. I swallow past the lump in my throat.

“Hi, Cleo.” He is obviously uncomfortable but doesn’t make a scene. I, on the other hand, have no issue with making a spectacle. I want to claw out her eyeballs.

“Hi, I’m Lucy.” I may as well have sucker-punched her because that greeting was a warning to back the hell off.

Cleo turns, still way too close to Saxon for my liking, and smiles. There is nothing warm behind her gesture however. “So you’re the reason the garage has gone to shit.”

“Cleo!” Saxon growls, but she couldn’t care less. She smugly raises a brow, daring me to challenge her claims.

“What? It’s true. You’ve been gone for months. If it wasn’t for me…”

“And just who are you exactly?” I interrupt, narrowing my eyes. She has the gall to laugh.

“You see that sign?” I know she’s pointing to the signage I saw when I first entered. I don’t bother replying, indicating if she has a point, then she needs to make it. “That’s who I am.”

She’s without a doubt mad because unless she’s Gus reincarnate, I’m moments away from losing my temper. “What the he—”

“She’s Gus’s granddaughter,” Saxon interjects, sensing I’m about to explode. Cleo smugly smirks.

Well, shit.

“Damn straight I am, and my grandfather would be sorely disappointed in you, Saxon.”

Forgive me, Gus, but your kin is about to go down. “I’m sorry if Saxon being away has jeopardized the business in any way. But blame me.” I place my palm on my chest. “Not him. He only stayed away because I asked him to.” I won’t stand by for one second and allow her to make Saxon feel guilty. If she has an issue, she can take it up with me. And besides, if she doesn’t stop looking at Saxon like he’s a popsicle, we’re going to have a problem.

Cleo does not like a challenge but screw her. “That’s real noble, but him being a knight in shining armor has cost us money.”

“How much does he owe? I’ll cover the cost.” I reach into my handbag, ready to retrieve my checkbook, but Saxon swats my hand away.

“You will do nothing of the sort. Chill the fuck out, Cleo. It’s under control. Don’t forget, your grandfather left this place to me.” He hooks his thumb toward him. “Your job is to do the books. Not delegate who does what. Got it?” When she opens her mouth, no doubt ready to protest, he presses, “Got it?”

Her jaw clenches shut, a heavy breath leaving her. She makes no secret of eyeballing the fuck out of me. “Got it, boss,” she finally replies. “Can you grace me with five minutes of your time before you leave for another three months?”

It was hardly three months because Saxon has been back to check on things. But I decide it’s probably best if I kept my mouth shut.

He looks at me, silently asking if it’s okay. She didn’t specify what she wanted to do with those five minutes. She seems like the type to have a lot of angry sex. I pale at the thought. I nod; not that he needs my permission, but I’m touched he would ask.

He sighs, giving me a kiss on the temple before brushing past Cleo and heading toward what I’m assuming is his office. Cleo however decides to drill more holes through me, just in case I didn’t get the memo that she hates my guts.

She finally turns on her heel and follows Saxon. When she’s gone, I exhale.

The boys have been awfully quiet, and I wonder if they butt heads often. Kid gives me a kind smile. “Don’t worry about her. She’s just an uptight bitch.”

“I can see that.” I don’t see the point in arguing.

“I guess she’s just jealous.”

“Jealous? Of what?”

My blood pressure begins to spike, and my palms grow clammy. “Kid, shut it.” Felix subtly shakes his head, but it’s too late.

“Why would she be jealous?” When the three men remain silent, looking at the other sheepishly, I know whatever they have to say can’t be good. “I’m sure Saxon mentioned how stubborn and persistent I could be.” He seems to have told them all about me, so I have no doubt he’s mentioned my pigheadedness.

Kid and Felix keep their gazes peeled to the ground, but Hogan finally spills the beans, knowing I won’t let this rest. “She’s jealous that Saxon chose you.”

What in the actual hell?

“I didn’t realize there was a choice to be made.”

“There wasn’t,” he quickly clarifies, which has me feeling an iota better. But that soon evaporates. “She’s always been sweet on him, and I guess, one time…he eventually gave in. He never told you?”

“No, he did not,” I reply, internally counting to five.

“There’s nothing to worry about, Lucy. Saxon is a changed man.” And that’s what scares me. Just what sort of man was he before he changed?

I thought coming here would allow us to escape the skeletons in our closet, but it appears when one door closes, another opens and out spills a comrade, ready to remind us of the sins of our past.