“You told me to get over here, so here I am.” She slammed the door at her back. “What do you want?”
Oh, that timeless loaded question. For now, though, he opted to remain serious.
He motioned to her neck. “You have paint on your hickey.”
Obviously, that serious state didn’t last long. But he couldn’t help himself. She had a pale gray slash on her neck, covering his mark—he was sure there was some metaphor about trying to mask their intimacy to the world, but he was too emotionally drained to try to figure it all out.
She also sported some hairstyle that he’d never seen on her and he sure as hell wasn’t about to comment on that . . . whatever that pile of blond was on top of her head. Random pieces framed her face, and the matching shade covering her hickey was splattered all over her shirt and shorts.
“What. Do. You. Want.” Each word came through gritted teeth and Jax circled his desk, slow as he pleased. Apparently, she wasn’t in the mood. Ironically, he was.
“What are you painting?” he asked as he propped a hip on the edge of his desk.
“My bedroom. I need to get these projects done before Friday.”
Intrigued, he tipped his head. “What’s Friday?”
“I have to head back to Atlanta for work that morning. I just want some sense of accomplishment and moving forward with Dad’s house.” She let out a sigh and dropped her arms to her sides. “There’s an important meeting Friday. I can’t miss it, and if the CEO decides to go ahead and announce the promotion, I want to know that I am one step closer to putting my house on the market.”
She was going back to work in a few days, a fact she hadn’t mentioned one time to him before or after their intimacy. The pushing toward putting her childhood home on the market didn’t sit any better with him. Even though they’d been intimate, and they’d spent time together and gotten to know each other on a level deeper than he’d thought possible, she still kept him at a distance. That personal life of hers remained just that and she never once offered a glimpse into her future.
Clearly, he knew where he fell in her life.
Whatever Jax thought they might be developing . . . well, it was completely one-sided. He’d do well to remember the original vow he’d made to himself about getting emotionally involved with a woman who never intended to stick. He’d more than learned his lesson . . . or so he’d thought.
Something about Livie had seemed so different, though. Even when she spouted over and over how she was leaving, he always got the sense she was reminding herself and not actually talking to him. Their intimacy was so much more than he’d ever had before . . . how could his feelings be so strong when she didn’t share them?
Or maybe she did and that’s what had her running scared. She was most likely terrified because she hadn’t expected all of this between them, but neither had he and he’d be damned if he was going to ignore it. He wanted to know her full feelings before she left town. If she wasn’t going to volunteer the information, he would get it from her one way or another.
“We’ve got some damage on the roof of the hangar from the storm,” he told her, pushing his thoughts aside. If she could ignore her true emotions, then he’d damn well do the same . . . for now. “We’re going to fix it.”
She let out an unladylike snort. “You sent me an emergency text for that? You’re dreaming if you think I can climb up on a roof and fix anything. Call Zach. He’ll fix it.”
Livie spun around, obviously ready to head out the door, but he was faster. Jax jumped up and in front of her, blocking her escape. Her eyes widened as she stared up at him.
“Get out of my way so I can get back to painting. I left Melanie and Jade arguing over the way the tape was being applied around the crown molding in the dining room.”
Without thinking twice, he reached out and raked the pad of his thumb over her neck. “You put paint here on purpose.”
She swatted him away. “I’m a messy painter.”
“You didn’t want anyone to see.” He muttered the words as he placed both hands on her shoulders and stepped into her. “If you’re that ashamed of what we have, why did you stay last night?”
Her eyes darted away. “It was storming.”
“That’s a lame excuse. Do you need more time to come up with another?”
She shot him the side-eye glare. “I need to get back to my dad’s house.”
“Your house,” he corrected. “Paul is gone and the place is yours.”
“Legally, but that hasn’t been my home since I left at eighteen.”
Something was bothering her, something beyond them and beyond the painting and rush to return. There was a sadness in her eyes and now that he looked closer, there was a little bit of redness to them as well.
“You’ve been crying.”
Livie drew her brows in. “Don’t be ridiculous.”