His home was set up in the hills above Phoenix—in a remote area of one-acre lots. The long driveway was edged with a two-foot rock wall and desert shrubs.
Surrounding the house were Arizona ash and desert willow trees; they provided shade to the front walk and around the back.
The garage door rose as Paxton approached. I stayed behind in the driveway, admiring the one-story house with the white-painted stucco and burnt sienna-colored clay tile roof.
I could see dark wood, double front doors at the end of a tiled front patio, and a fleur-de-lis water feature off to the side.
Stepping slowly out of my car, Paxton was waiting for me in the garage. “You can come in this way if you like.”
“I’m impressed with your house.”
His grin grew, and he tilted his head toward the garage door into the house. I followed behind him as the garage doors shut behind me.
We went through a laundry room and into an open floor plan with windows that looked out toward the McDowell mountains. He slipped his shoes off at the door. I followed his lead, kicking mine off and tucking them next to his.
The kitchen had beautiful white oak cabinets and stainless-steel appliances. It was spotless; only a coffee cup and a spoon sat on the counter next to the sink.
Paxton put his bag down on a chair at the kitchen table and told me to make myself at home. “I’m going to change, and I’ll be right back.”
I’d wandered into the living area. “Uh-huh.” My back was to him. I turned so he could see me. “Fine. Okay. I’ll be here.”
A look of amusement crossed his face as he stood staring fondly at me. “Do you like waffles?”
“You’re feeding me waffles for dinner?” I crossed my arms and smiled back at him.
“Not just any waffles—chicken and waffles.”
“Isn’t that a Southern thing?”
He walked off down the hall and said over his shoulder, “Then you should enjoy it.
I took my time admiring his house. The Spanish-style terracotta flooring was a beautiful contrast to the white walls and exposed wood beam ceilings.
The living room furnishings were large and comfortable. Cushions were propped up at the end of the couch, making it appear as if he had been reclining and watching the large screen TV that hung above the fireplace. Imagining him alone, relaxed in his home, made me flush.
Against the wall, next to the fireplace, was a driftwood-style bookcase. I gently touched the pictures lining one shelf.
A family picture was set center stage, and I lifted it from its place of prominence. They were in Sedona with ATVs lined up behind them. The backdrop was the beautiful fiery red rock formations of the Colorado Plateau.
Solara was a chubby young girl, and Paxton and Max looked like teenagers.
Max was the image of his dad: tall, lean, and blond. A proverbial golden boy. Paxton was tall and broad. His curly black hair was mussed and long, brushing the top of his shirt. While I would have expected him to look angry, his smile was carefree and happy. Max had his arm around his shoulder, and Solara was sitting on an ATV in front of them. A wide, cheesy grin spread across her face. Her eyes were squinted closed, and her face was raised to the sun.
His mom somehow looked elegant, even though they were all dressed for the outdoors. Standing directly next to Paxton, his step-dad looked protective and sturdy. His air of ownership extended to all three of the kids. My heart squeezed. He had the coloring of Max, but the hold around Paxton’s shoulders—and the sparkle in his eyes—told me everything I needed to know. Paxton’s step-dad loved him.
“What do you think?”
Still holding the picture, I turned and inhaled sharply when I saw him. He was dressed in joggers and a short-sleeved, gray T-shirt.
He wasn’t looking at me. Instead, he had continued on into the kitchen and was pulling out the items to make fried chicken and waffles.
“I think… I think you have a lovely family.” I put the picture back on the shelf and took a seat on the kitchen counter’s barstool.
“They’re all right.” He took a pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator. “Tea?”
“Please.”
He poured me a glass and set it on the counter in front of me.
I took a small sip. “Thank you.”
He nodded and settled into cooking. Making small talk, he asked me how my day was. “It was good. Busy. I didn’t realize how much business went through there until today. I enjoyed it.”
“We’re trying to build another full-sized studio in California, so that could grow the business even more.”
“Is that what Max is working on?”
I took a small sip of my tea and watched as he slowly walked around the side of the counter.
Turning me in my chair, he leaned down to kiss the side of my neck. He stepped in close to me and pushed my legs apart. “Let me be really clear about something. You might not be ready for us, and I might not be ready for you, but you will never belong to my brother.”
Leaning back, I looked into his dark, heated eyes and saw possession and desire. All I could do was nod as he leaned down to kiss me.
He put his hands on the back of my pants and gently squeezed my bottom. When he pulled back from me, I had to shake my head to clear the lust-induced fog.
I whispered, “I was just making small talk.”
He kissed my nose. “And I just wanted to be clear.”
He went back around the counter to finish cooking, moving effortlessly as he pulled out plates and silverware.
I waited until the energy crackling between us settled down, and then I asked, “What do you mean when you say ‘I’m not ready for us.’?”
He pulled the waffle from the iron and split it in half, placing two pieces of fried chicken on each plate and carrying them to the table. “C’mon. Grab the syrup, if you would, please.”
Taking the syrup to the table with me, I sat next to him and waited for him to answer me.
He noticed I wasn’t eating and put his fork down on the side of his plate. He reached for my hand and kissed the tips of my fingers. “You are everything good for me. Everything I could lose myself in. I see you, and I see love and flowers and light. I can’t risk losing you before I even have you. You just came out of something pretty significant—a lot of things significant—and I need you to be grounded when I’m ready for you.”
Emotion bubbled up inside me, and I burst into tears. I wrapped an arm around my middle and buried my face in my other hand.
“Charlotte. Oh, my God, don’t cry. Why are you crying?”
He slid the legs of the chair back, and then he was lifting me in his arms, carrying me to the couch. He cradled me across his lap, my head buried under his chin.
I could hear his heartbeat as my tears slowed, and he mumbled good-naturedly, “I guess we won’t be eating chicken and waffles.”
“I don’t know what happened. I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize.” He lifted my chin with his finger. “Charlotte, we are going to be lovers. We just need time.”
My head was resting against his arm. He wiped the tears from my eyes with his thumb.
Tentatively, I asked, “What did you mean when you said ‘When you’re ready for me.’?”
Groaning, he leaned his head on the back of the couch and smiled at me. “I never should have invited you to dinner.”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
With a heavy sigh, he said, “My divorce from Myla isn’t final. You know I filed. We’d been separated for much longer. I guess I was just lazy. She’d already moved in with her boyfriend, and she didn’t want anything from me, so it was pretty straightforward.” He shifted a little bit so he could get his arms around me. “Myla was in a motorcycle accident a few months back or so.” He looked pensive and shook his head. “Honestly, I can’t even remember the date.”
I wanted to tell him I knew, but I didn’t want to get Erin in trouble for gossiping.
He stared blankly across the room and continued. “She’s on life support, and because I’m still her husband, I have to sign the papers to suspend artificial heart and lung function.”
My face froze in a mask of shock and empathy. “Paxton, this is awful. I’m so sorry.”
His eyes focused on me. “Hardly first date conversation.” He added teasingly, “Or is this second date?”
I ignored the rhetorical question. “What are you going to do?”
“I couldn’t do anything. Her parents sued me to prevent me from signing the forms.”
“Can they do that?”
“They can—but they won’t win. Story’s on my side, and Myla wouldn’t want to live like this. For all intents and purposes, she’s gone. She’s brain dead. She won’t recover.”
“Her poor parents. They must be heartbroken.”
“I’m sure they are. They won’t talk to me. We talk through our lawyers.”
The papers that had fallen out of his briefcase in Denver made sense now. So did the love from his mom, the meeting with Solara on the steps, and all of the support and love for Paxton.
My eyes teared up again. “How is Story doing?”
“She’s sad. Angry. She’s been sleeping around a lot.” He laughed.
“And you?” I prepared myself for his answer.
A moment passed before he responded. His eyes met mine, and I couldn’t look away. “I haven’t been with anyone since I met a brown-haired, provocative, doe-eyed, sensual woman in a hallway at one of my studios. She has the sexiest bit of ass that peeks out from her dance shorts, and I haven’t been able to think of much else since I touched her. She gasped when I held her, and I can’t wait for the day when I hear that sound again.”
“Paxton.”
He looked to my mouth. “And now you know why I’m such a mess.”
We were both breathing heavily; his words had turned me on. “Would you really have… Would you have, you know, at the studio?”
“Would I have fucked you? Yes.” He tightened his hold on me. “I’m not proud of that, Charlotte. I’m not. But I was in a weird place.” He put his forehead to mine. “I’m still in a weird place, but I don’t want to let you go.”
I reached up to pull him down to me, and he adjusted himself so he was lying on top of me.
“Do you find it odd that your mom was my ballet instructor?”
“No.” He was kissing my neck and working his way down my shirtfront. “You have too many clothes on.”
“I thought we were waiting.”
“Your skin is so soft.”
He was totally distracted, and I giggled when he nipped at my belly. “I think I want my waffle now.”
“You can have them for breakfast.” And then he kissed me.
I didn’t sleep at Paxton’s house that night. We made out on the couch for a while, and then I left, promising to text him when I got home. He promised to make me breakfast soon.
On Thursday, Story and I discussed training for the Irvine show and decided to start the following week.
We were sitting at the front counter in between classes, and she told me to start listening to music. “Pick something dark and sexy. Something that you feel in your soul. I want you to be so into it that you don’t even know you’re on stage. You should feel like the music is taking every last drop of your sexuality with it—and that you just had the best sex of your life when the song ends.”
“Am I blushing?”
She winked at me. “You will be.” She pulled out her iPhone and started playing some recommendations for me. “Seriously, Charlotte, you totally have this. I promise I will make a routine for you that is so sensual, and tasteful, you won’t feel ashamed at all. I promise.”
The rest of the week flew by after that.
Max came to town on Friday, and I had a chance to talk with him a little more. He was friendly, but I could also tell he was here for business, not to get to know me.
By the time Saturday arrived, I felt like I’d worked for the studio forever. Girls were greeting me by name, joking with me, and getting to know me.
I spent a lot of time talking with Vivian, and I learned she was a marketing major. I told her I was in sales and marketing as well, and that I would be happy to mentor her.
She had looked confused when I told her, so I had to explain that it was in a previous life. After that, I tried to keep it to myself. I didn’t want anyone feeling weird around me.
I came to realize that Paxton and Solara always took the event crew out to dinner after an event. The Phoenix show was no exception.
After the show, the girls all changed into swanky cocktail dresses, and we all met at The Beverly. Vivian joined Story, Solara, and me, and I was happy to add her to the list of my new friends.
The bar was sleek and elegant with prohibition-era décor. Black leather, half-moon couches with deep button rivets lined one wall. I was suddenly craving a Manhattan.
Max and Paxton got us all a booth, and I slid in next to him. Story sat next to Max, and Solara and Vivian spent most of their time at the bar.
After a waitress delivered our drinks and Paxton ordered some appetizers, Max asked me about my previous work.
“You worked in finance, right?”
“A financial planning services company. I was in sales and marketing. Not quite the math whiz, but good with people.”
“Did Paxton tell you we were expanding to California?”
I glanced to Paxton, trying to gauge how much I was allowed to tell them. He was relaxed and smiling, so I figured it was okay. “He did. That sounds exciting for you guys.”
“If you don’t have anything lined up after competition season, we could use your help. Paxton told me you set up some pretty good marketing campaigns before the Houston show.”
“Actually, Erin set them up. But yes, we brainstormed together.”
Paxton took a sip of his drink and smiled at me. “Charlotte was Erin’s ‘thought partner.’”
Story asked, “What’s a thought partner?”
Paxton and I both laughed, and I explained what it was.
Glancing around the bar, I thought to myself that I finally felt… happy.
Max and Paxton had started in on the new business plan, and I excused myself to use the ladies’ room.
Two girls were already in there applying lipstick; I stepped around them to wash my hands.
The one closest to me was blabbering on about two girls at the bar. “Did you see how desperate they looked? They kept looking at the two hot guys in the booth.”
My back was to them in the vanity mirror, so they couldn’t see me. Slowing my hand washing, I listened to the rest of their conversation.
“Seriously, they look like prostitutes.” She smacked her lips in the mirror. “The skinny one looks like a stripper. Those guys would never go for that.”
My face flushed. I was so angry I almost pulled on the back of her head.
They left the bathroom. The bleach-blonde one muttered, “See if you can distract the blond one from the girl with the shorter hair. He’s totally my type.”
Their profiles were visible as the door swung shut behind them. I took a couple of deep, calming breaths.
Following them back to the bar, I braced myself up against the counter to the left of the one with the fake eyelashes and bleach-blonde hair. Solara and Vivian were on my other side.
From afar, she’d looked pretty. Up close, she just looked mean.
As sweet as sugar, I said, “Hello. How are you guys tonight? I’m Charlotte.”
They were pleasant but wary. The blonde one told me her name was Susan. In my head, I rolled my eyes. Great, now I will never forget her.
“Nice to meet you, Susan. I just saw you in the bathroom. That’s a lovely lip color. What’s it called—‘I’m a bitch.’?”
She looked confused for a second and then challenging. “Lovely dress. Goodwill?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t introduce you to my friends.” I stepped back so she could see Solara. “Solara, this is Susan. Susan, this is Solara, Chief financial officer for L.O.V.E Enterprises: a National fitness equipment supply company.”
I glanced back at Paxton, and he tilted his head in a bemused way.
Next thing I knew, he was standing between Susan and me. “Everything okay?”
Susan turned to look at him, puffing out her inflatable chest. “Actually, no. This woman here insulted me, and I don’t even know who she is. Maybe you could get the manager to ask her to leave.”
I was infuriated. I pointed my finger at her, raising my voice. “You insulted my friend in the bathroom. You don’t know anything about this woman, judging her because she doesn’t look like you. She is incredibly smart, and kind, and talented, and she can do things on a pole you only wish you could do if you were strong enough to heave your skinny ass up on one.”
Solara had stepped up beside me and was pulling on my arm. “Charlotte, it’s okay. C’mon, it’s okay.”
I was shaking.
Smoothly, Paxton leaned into Susan. Silkily, he said, “What do you think I should do about her?”
“I think we should have the manager ask her to leave. She was rude and offensive. And then, maybe you and I could get a drink.” She purred the last words. Bile rose in my throat as adrenaline rushed through me.
He glanced at me over his shoulder and grinned wickedly before turning back to Susan. He moved his head closer to her. “Well, the woman you insulted is my sister, and you probably owe her an apology. And the feisty one? That’s my girlfriend. I think I might go fuck her. She just became so painfully beautiful to me for defending her friend and my family. You should consider that. And no, I won’t be having a drink with you.”
Her mouth dropped open as Paxton stood and addressed us. “You guys ready to leave?”
I grabbed my purse from the booth and stormed out the front door—with Solara and Vivian right behind me. A laughing Max and a stunned Story followed.
I turned in a circle when I stepped out onto the sidewalk.
Pleading with Solara to forgive me, I started to cry.
She laughed her bold laugh and hugged me. “Charlotte, you don’t need to apologize to me. You were my champion tonight. How can I not love you for that?”
“It was so unprofessional and rude. I should have just ignored her. I acted like a child.”
Story had her arms crossed but was smiling. “Apparently, you got a boyfriend out of it.”
I looked at her apologetically, sighed, and then said, “Story—”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not blind. He had to move on sometime from my sister.”
Paxton came boldly out the front door. “I paid everyone’s bill. Thank you very much.”
We all stood staring at him, waiting for him to say something else about the incident.
Putting out his arms, palms up, he said, “What?”
Solara and Vivian both hugged me, and we burst out laughing.
Max just shook his head. “This is what I’m missing?”
I went to Paxton, trying to control my laughter. “I am so sorry.”
His response was a deep kiss, consuming me and letting everyone know he was serious about me. He held my cheeks in his large palms. “Nothing to forgive.”
Solara interrupted us. “Charlotte, I can honestly say that was the most entertaining after-party ever.”
Paxton tucked me in close and whispered, “C’mon, I’ll take you home, Rowdy.”