Page 125 of Sweet Wicked Vows

So much for him disliking animals.

I refused to speak one word to him, and he didn’t push it. He just seemed happy that I let him through the front door.

We fell into a somewhat comfortable silence after the first day.

Though, having him there was turning out to be as much of a blessing as a curse.

While Jaxon focused solely on painting and building all the furniture I ordered, including the missing pieces that showed up after Jaxon insisted he called them, I was able to focus on recruiting my team of staff and hand-selecting manuscripts.

The downside to having him so close, close enough that his aftershave lingered in every room I went, was that I found myself falling back into the comfortability of his presence.

Even with the silent barrier I erected between us.

At the end of our fourth day, I checked my watch and cursed.Fuck!It was nearly midnight.

I’d gotten so distracted trying to pick between my final two choices of manuscripts for the first publication that I completely lost track of time.

Rolling my neck side to side with a satisfying crack, I closed my laptop for the night.

I unpinned my hair, walking to the door. “Jaxon, are you still here? It’s time to call it a night.”

It was nearly impossible to get to the sight of Jaxon wearing anything different than a shirt and tie. He appeared with his cheeks smudged with paint, flecks of the blush pink highlighting his dark locks, and in his casual clothing of jeans and a T-shirt.

Only Jaxon Dade could make such simple clothing covered inpaint look that good.

It was distracting. Whenever he walked by, splattered with pink paint, tattoos on show, and sweat trickling along his hairline, a tendril of desire curled in the depths of my stomach.

But having sex with my soon-to-be ex-husband was asking for trouble.

What we were was complicated enough without getting naked, no matter how good the sex was.

“Another two coats, and I reckon the place will be good to go,” he said. “Putain, I’m starving. You fancy grabbing a late dinner with me?”

The glint of hope in his eyes ripped my sternum open. Saying no to him was becoming increasingly difficult, just as I feared.

It was terrifying how having him back in my life for only a couple of days, how quickly the decisive lines I drew out, the forewarnings I told myself, threatened to melt away into nothing each time he looked at me.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You sure? There’s an amazing Italian place a couple doors down that I think you’ll love.”

I said nothing.

“You’re right. Let’s save our dinner date until the end of the week.”

“It’s not a date, remember?” I reminded him or reminded myself. “Just dinner as a thank you for all your help. That’s it. Nothing more.”

“Of course, my mistake,” he smirked. “Do you need a ride home?” He grabbed his motorcycle helmet. “Your helmet is outside in the seat compartment waiting for you.”

“Don’t call it that. It’s notmyhelmet.”

He smirked. “It’s yours. Always will be.”

I ignored him. “And like I said last night and the night before, no.” I walked out into the city air. The drop in temperature senta jolt down my spine and woke me back up. “I’ll grab a cab. Goodnight.”

“Where’s Saunders?”

“He’s off on some overdue leave,” I said. “I don’t need him to drive me around everywhere. I’m a big girl, you know. I don’t need someone to hold my hand all the time.”

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