Page 4 of Pax

Bill swallowed, nodding at the big man in front of him. He looked at Deanna but didn’t say a word.

“Come on,” said Brax. “I’ll help you pack up your desk.”

Pax stood in the doorway of Bill Barnham’s office, watching his every move. He noticed that he sent three text messages in a row, then got three calls back, all of which he declined with a shaky hand.

“Don’t mind me,” smiled Pax. “Go ahead and take your calls.”

“I require privacy,” he said flatly. Pax just nodded, smirking at him.

“I’m going to warn you one time. If there is something going on here and Deanna gets hurt, I will come for you. Even if you were in another state when it happens, I will assume you were a part of it, and I will hunt you down. Clear?”

“I’m ready, Pax,” said Deanna from behind him.

“Me too,” he smiled. “Very, very ready.”

As Pax put Deanna’s bags in the trunk, his brother signed for him to look up at the windows. Standing at his office window on the third floor, Bill Barnham was speaking to someone on the phone, staring at them as they got ready to leave.

Pax and Brax said nothing to Deanna. She was completely distracted, looking down at her lap in the backseat of the SUV. By the time they reached her small house in Tremé, she was almost asleep, exhausted from the emotional day.

“Cute house, Dee,” smirked Pax.

“You know, Paxton, you’re the only guy who ever called me Dee and the only one I ever let call me Dee,” she smiled.

“I know. I wanted you to know it was me when I called your name,” he laughed. “I get confused with this idiot all the time.”

“You guys are totally different,” she said, shaking her head. “Brax has always been quieter, more intense. You’re the guy who’s less serious. Always joking.”

“That’s him,” laughed Brax.

“Wait. I’m not always joking,” frowned Pax. “I’m serious about a lot of things. I just don’t always talk about them.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it, Pax. It’s just who you are. The guy with jokes and jabs, the one who never takes anything seriously. You were voted best sense of humor for senior superlatives. You’re just not serious about things. Other than the Navy, obviously.”

She went into her bedroom to pack her bags, and Brax looked at his brother with a knowing grin. They’d told him for years that he was missing out on things because he saw everything as a joke. Everything was funny to him. Nothing was serious.

“Am I always joking?” he whispered.

“Pax, it’s cool, man. I’m too serious. You’re not serious enough. You’ve been less childlike as you’ve gotten older.”

“I’m ready,” said Deanna, coming out of the bedroom. She had two large rolling bags. “I wasn’t sure how long I’d have to be there.”

“It’s good. Come on,” said Pax.

Other than a small hiccup in her driveway, Deanna was packed and driven back to Belle Fleur. When they arrived, Pax helped her with her bags, taking her to the assigned cottage.

“Thanks for the help,” she said, smiling at him.

“Deanna? I wanted to say I was sorry we lost touch,” he stammered.

“It’s not a big deal, Pax. I’m sure you were busy, and, well, I’m sure you didn’t hurt for female companionship. You were always handsome, Pax. You’re more than just handsome now. Really.”

“Deanna,” he started.

“Let me get settled, Pax. I’m sure I’ll see you later,” she smiled. She rushed inside the cottage, trying to regain her breath and common sense. Paxton Pechkin. Damn.

“Get a hold of yourself,” she whispered to no one.

She wasn’t lying. He’d always been good-looking. Tall, broad, well-built, beautiful face, and he was smart and kind. But now? Now, he looked like he should be on the poster for an all-male nude revue somewhere. Top that with what she was sensing as an overly protective instinct that he was willing to take to the highest levels, and her hormones were racing through her body like a formula one tour.

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