Ignite (Ignite 1)

Jaxon pursed his lips. “Not now, Randy.”

“I want dibs on her after you’re done, Jaxon,” said another man pushing toward us with a blonde on his arm. He was at least ten years older than me with slicked black hair and diamond blue eyes. Although attractive, I was still freaked the hell out by his wandering eyes.

“No way,” this Randy retorted from behind me. “I asked about her first. I got dibs after.”

“Fuck you,” said diamond eyes as he gestured toward Jaxon. “Tell him it’s my turn, Jaxon.”

I couldn’t understand what the hell they were on about. I looked at Jaxon whose face had blanched significantly and then back at the two men glaring at each other. Dibs? What the fucking hell?

I gasped when I felt a hand on my hip pulling me back into this Randy’s chest. I attempted to squirm out of his grip, but it was Jaxon that brought me to him quickly. He kept pulling me until I was suddenly standing behind him, pressed into his back.

“You don’t fucking touch her like that again,” he sternly said. It was the kind of voice that you didn’t want to fuck with. I wondered how dark his face was.

“She’s taken. Mine and nobody else’s ever. Got it?”

Those nearby hushed up and looked over at us, and the surprise on their faces was unconcealed and oozing. The two men didn’t mutter a response, and Jaxon didn’t wait around for one. He turned back and glared at anyone that tried to come near us. Nobody greeted him anymore, clearly recognizing the sudden dark mood he was in. The women still gawked, drinking him up like he was a tall glass of water in the middle of the Sahara desert.

I hated being the centre of attention like this. I looked down at my shoes as we made it through the crowd, and when I looked up again, we were standing in front of a black door in the back of the bar.

Jaxon knocked on the door and a beat later it opened. My eyes widened at the familiar face standing at the door: the wrestler looking man from the motel. He wasn’t in black this time, but was wearing a thin white sweater that hugged his broad chest and huge shoulders. The man was a tank, much more menacing than I remembered, and he was looking right at me with lips pursed.

“You’re late,” he said to Jaxon before opening the door the entire way for us.

Jaxon glanced down at his watch and walked into the room with a hand still wound around mine. It was a large, spacious office with leather sofas on one side and a wide mahogany desk on the other; bookshelves and filing cabinets stood tall against the wall behind it. I didn’t pause to take in any of the papers and posters hanging on the walls around us.

There were two other men in the room: a blonde haired young man with a small framed build sat on one couch dawning black attire, and was flipping through a car magazine. He paused and met my eye, skimming me head to toe with open curiosity. I turned away and looked at the other guy dressed in a black button up dress shirt. He was an older man, maybe mid-forties, and he was sitting cosily in the black leather computer chair behind the desk with both hands folded over his chest. He had white and black hair but a surprisingly wrinkle free tanned oval face. With the amount of white hairs on his head, I began to wonder if he was older than what I took him for.

He was big and broad, like Jaxon, with deeply set brown eyes. He was staring right at me with a small smile as I regarded him. Dimples formed in his cheeks making his eyes twinkle.

I pressed my lips together and wanted to look away, but somehow I couldn’t. I was in the midst of this man for ten seconds and already felt the heat of a thousand suns set upon me, and yet I couldn’t understand the reasoning behind it. Was it because he looked intimidating? Was it because I already knew he must have been Finley, the man Jaxon answered to? Or was it because despite all of that, I found him strangely charming to look at?

“This the reason you were late?” his deep voice asked Jaxon, gesturing to me.

“I’m hardly five minutes late.”

“But is she the reason?”

“I guess.” Jaxon looked annoyed and stared up at the ceiling in weariness.

“She must be really good then, huh?” His perfect smile broadened as he looked over at the other men. I watched as they all openly cackled, eyeing me as if there was some kind of inside joke that involved me.

I sought some kind of answer from Jaxon, but he was still frowning up at the ceiling. I reddened at the intensity of each stare because I quickly realized what he meant.

“Mind if I had a spin after you, Jax?” the man then asked, trying to ascertain some seriousness in his face, though his eyes deceived him and were shrouded in amusement.

Jaxon exhaled sharply and stared at him. “Finley, I already told you that she’s not going to be…” he abruptly stopped and glanced at me, looking more uncomfortable by the second. “Don’t make me say it in front of her, Finley.”

The sternness in Jaxon’s voice riled Finley up again and he laughed hard. “Oh, fuck, Jax. Can’t you take some teasing? You come in with a fine thing hanging off your arm and expect me not to take the piss out of you? If it was Damien, or Andy, you’d have been the first to pitch in some good old teasing.”

Jaxon was still far from smiling. He had a death grip on my hand, and I was tempted to pull it away in case my bones broke.

“So introduce me to your lady.”

With a tight voice, Jaxon said, “This is Sara Nolan. Sara, this is Finley. He’s… my business partner–”

“Family first,” Finley interrupted as he stood up and made his way around the table. “Come on, Jax, we’re family first. You’re apart of us now. It’s important Sara knows this so we can welcome her into our family.”

He stopped in front of me, standing as tall as Jaxon, and extended his hand. With my free hand, I shook its firm, warm grip and smiled as genuinely as I could muster in a room full of testosterone regarding me like a piece of meat. “Nice to meet you, Finley.”

“And let me say,” he replied, bending down until our eyes were at the same level, “how good it is to finally meet you, Sara. I have heard so much about you.” I tried not to cock an eyebrow in surprise at that statement, or look at Jaxon questionably. Instead, I kept the eye contact with this older man that possessed a kind of charm that had me swooning unintentionally at his mere closeness.

He smiled warmly at me, eyeing my lips and face with a kind of intensity that made me fidget. As if sensing my nerves, he let go of my hand and took a small step back, never stopping his gaze.