Page 16 of What Happens In Vegas: Jessa & Jaxon
“I—” my voice comes out as a croak. I clear my throat and try again. “I need to use the bathroom.”
With all the grace of a newborn calf, I launch myself backward off the bed, tangling briefly in the sheets before stumbling to my feet. Jaxon makes a move like he’s going to help, but I hold up a hand.
“I’m fine!” My voice is too high an octave. “Totally fine. Just...really need the bathroom. Morning routine. You know how it is.”
I’m babbling like an idiot as I back toward the door, nearly tripping over my own feet in my desperation to escape this moment. Jaxon watches me with an expression I can’t quite read. Amusement, maybe, but something else, too. Something softer.
“Take your time,” he drawls, stretching his arms above his head.
His t-shirt rides up, revealing a sliver of toned abs and a deep V-line that should be banned.
I dart into the half-bath and close the door with more force than necessary, then lean against it, pressing my palms to my heated cheeks.
What is wrong with me? It’s just Jaxon. Annoying, arrogant, infuriating Jaxon. The same guy who put a rubber snake in my backpack in seventh grade. The same guy who told everyone at junior prom I’d only been asked as a charity date. The same guy who...who held me all night, apparently, keeping me warm when the temperature dropped.
Groaning, I turn to the sink and refuse to look at my reflection. I know what I’ll see—flushed cheeks, guilty eyes and the look of a woman who’s in way over her head.
I go through my morning routine on autopilot, brushing my teeth with extra vigor as if I can scrub away these unwanted feelings along with the morning breath. I take my time removing my scarf and moisturizing my hair and massaging my scalp longer than necessary. I wash my face, apply lotion, and even floss—something I usually save for nighttime.
When I’ve exhausted every possible bathroom activity, I reluctantly acknowledge I can’t hide in here forever. I’ll just go out there, act normal, and pretend I didn’t wake up on top of him. We’ll get through this awkward morning, and then the power will come back, the roads will clear, and he’ll leave. Simple.
With a deep breath, I open the bathroom door, braced for the teasing and inevitable gloating. But the bedroom is empty.
Instead, I hear the clatter of pans and the unmistakable sound of sizzling. Not what I expected. Suspicious, I follow the sound, stopping short at the sight of Jaxon standing at my stove and flipping pancakes.
And is that George Strait playing from my Bluetooth speaker?
“Perfect timing,” he says casually over the twang of “Check Yes or No,” sliding a golden pancake onto a waiting plate. “Coffee’s ready, and these are almost done.”
“You cooked.” And you hacked my speaker.
He glances up, calm as ever, like this is normal. It is not normal.
“Figured we could both use a hot meal,” he says, pouring more batter into the pan with ease.
“Where is that music coming from?” I ask, eyeing the Bluetooth speaker on the counter.
“From my playlist,” he says easily. “Figured I’d set the mood.”
“With old country?”
“Don’t act surprised. You’ve always been a sucker for steel guitar and heartbreak. I just gave the people what they want.”
I scowl. Jaxon Jamison does not belong in my kitchen. And yet, he moves around like he pays rent for the damn place.
I approach cautiously. “Thanks for... this.” I gesture vaguely at the spread.
“You’re welcome.” His voice is neutral, but there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Sleep well?”
There it is. I feel heat rushing to my face, but refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flustered.
“Fine.” I busy myself with pouring coffee.
“The storm’s still going,” he adds, nodding toward the window where snow continues to fall heavily. “Google says power might be out until tomorrow. Roads are closed. Tow company called—they’re unsure when they’ll come as roads are not cleared.”
“Oh,” I manage, taking a sip of coffee, grateful for the warmth and the caffeine. “So you’re here longer.”
“Yes.” He takes a bite of bacon. “Unless you kick me out before that.”
