Page 27 of Until Bax

“Do you want to see my mother appear out of nowhere and kick my ass?” I hold the screw out to her, and her eyes drop to it.

“Are you sure you won’t self-combust if I do it?”

“I guess we’ll find out.” I listen to her laugh as she takes the screw and places it on the end of the bit.

When the screw is in place, her eyes meet mine, and since we’re standing so close, I can see the flecks of copper in her brown eyes and the way they seem to shift in color when her gaze roams my face, then lingers over my mouth.

“You seem okay,” she informs me with a wicked grin.

Yeah, I need to figure out what the fuck I’m doing because it’s really difficult to ignore the urge to lean in and brush my lips against hers.

“You’re a pro.” I clear my throat and drop my eyes from hers, handing her another screw.

Once the plywood is secure, we clean up the rest of the glass, then lock up Kourtney’s house and head over to my place. It’s almost four in the morning by the time I tuck her away in my guest room, but still, as exhausted as I am, I stay awake until the sun comes up.

CHAPTER7

Olivia

Blinking my eyes open, I focus on a framed Nashville Predators jersey covered with dozens of signatures. I didn’t notice it was signed last night, but I did catch onto a theme when Bax opened the door to his guest room. Lots of sports memorabilia, from signed footballs to autographed posters of players, and everything displayed in a way that makes it feel less like a teenage boy’s bedroom and more like you’re sleeping in someone’s trophy room.

Pulling the heavy white duvet higher up beneath my chin, I close my eyes, which still feel tired despite falling asleep without much effort. Then again, Bax’s guest bed is comfortable, and the blankets and sheets all feel like something from a high-end hotel.

I likely wouldn’t have had the same luck going to sleep next door. Every odd noise and sound Kourtney’s house makes would have kept me awake and on edge all night, and I doubt I would have gotten any sleep at all.

Knowing I should probably get up despite how comfortable I am or how badly I want to go back to sleep, I reach for my phone lying next to me on the mattress to check the time. As soon as I pick it up, the screen comes to life, and my eyes widen in disbelief. It’s almost eleven when I assumed it wasmaybeeight—eight thirty at the latest.

“Crap,” I groan, tossing back the blanket.

My dad and Liam should be here soon, and neither knows what happened last night. I dial my dad’s number as I get out of bed and listen to it ring as I put on my bra. When the call goes to voicemail, I hang up and quickly put on my hoodie and sweatpants. My dad’s truck is old, and he doesn’t have Bluetooth, so he never answers when he’s driving, which means he’s likely on his way.

After I’m dressed, I open the door to the bedroom, and the delicious smell of coffee greets me as I make my way down the hall. The house is silent; the only noise I hear comes from Ira when she sashays toward me, with the bell on her collar tinkling.

“Hey, pretty girl.” I lean down and pick her up. “Where is your dad?”

She doesn’t answer but begins to purr as I carry her through the quiet house. When I step into the kitchen, I can tell Bax has been up a while since the coffee pot on the counter is mostly empty, and there’s a coffee mug and dirty plate from what looks like breakfast next to the sink.

I must have slept hard because I didn’t even hear him moving around this morning.

Walking to the back door, I look outside, wondering if he’s out with Gemma, but he’s nowhere in sight. I leave the kitchen and stop to drop Ira onto the back of the couch in the living room before I go to the door leading to the garage. The sun through the open garage greets me when I open the door, and Gemma rushes toward me with Lucy, my brother’s pup, right behind her.

I start to step down the single step into the garage to say hello to both girls, but I stop in my tracks when I realize the four-wheelers that were parked in here last night are gone, and in their place is my couch, along with my dining table and a few other pieces of my furniture.

“Hey, kid.” Liam comes around the corner, carrying one of my dining chairs. “How did you sleep?”

“Umm… okay.” I look from him to my chair. “What’s going on?”

“Bax is letting you store your shit here since you’re not planning on staying at Kourtney’s very long.”

“What?” I shake my head, then look at my dad when he appears in the open doorway, carrying another chair.

“Hey, sweetheart.” His eyes are soft on me and filled with concern as he places the chair next to the one Liam set down. “Bax called us this morning and told us what happened. You doin’ okay?”

Crap.I totally should have called or sent him and Mom a text last night. “I’m fine. Sorry I didn’t call, but I?—”

“It’s okay,” he cuts me off. “I know you were in good hands.” He walks to where I’m standing and kisses the side of my head, catching me by surprise. I’m not saying my dad is overprotective, but he’sdefinitelyoverprotective. And any other time, he would be getting onto me for not calling him immediately to let him know what happened.

I know that for certain since I got a flat tire in Chicago a couple of months ago, and he lost his shit when I told him about it a few hours after I had gone about fixing it myself. And in that situation, he was hundreds of miles away.

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