Cowboy Casanova

VERONICA

~“He’s the devil in disguise,”~

~A snake with blue eyes,”~

~And he only comes out at night,”~

~Gives you feelings that you don’t want to fight,”~

~You better run for your life…”~

~– Carrie Underwood~

I was busy stacking fresh-off-the-press books on the bookstore counter where I worked when Patty, my coworker, decided it was break time.

“Cover for me!” she ordered, her voice as bossy as ever. I had to bite my tongue to keep from snapping back at her.

She always had impeccable timing for her breaks, right when the store was about to get swamped! ~Bitch~.

Muttering curses under my breath, I gave her a curt nod. For the next half hour, I was running around like a headless chicken, helping the other workers who were drowning in customers.

I was stuck behind the counter, though, since I couldn’t leave it unattended.

I was so engrossed in swiping credit cards and figuring out change that I didn’t notice a certain someone walk into the store.

I was so caught up in my work, functioning like an overworked robot, that when it was this person’s turn to buy a book, I didn’t even register who it was.

First, I noticed the book they held. Unlike the other customers, whose choices were predictable and dull, this person’s book was different.

My eyes widened behind the glasses I only wore at the bookstore, and despite my growing fatigue, I found myself smiling.

“Slater’s Bridge,” I said as I took the book from them, “that’s a good one.”

“I know,” said a deep, familiar voice that made me freeze.

Slowly, reluctantly, I lifted my eyes from the book, and they met the blue ones of Jax Cole.

His lips twitched into what looked like the start of a smirk and his eyes held mine in a spell I couldn’t break.

Stunned, I could only let out a soft gasp. What the hell was he doing here? In my bookstore? Of all the bookstores in the city, he had to walk into this one, didn’t he?

Next, I found myself involuntarily checking him out. He looked so good that the women in line didn’t even complain about the delay because they were too busy ogling him.

With his tousled hair and rumpled clothes, he looked like he’d just rolled out of some lucky woman’s bed. His skin was as golden as I remembered, and his eyes…

Oh my God, his eyes…

Had this gorgeous man really slept with me? I couldn’t help but wonder.

He was just too handsome. He couldn’t possibly want me, and it’s not that I wasn’t attractive, it’s just that a guy like him would find me so…

Immediately, I scolded myself. What the hell was I thinking? Guys hit on me all the time.

I always catch them ogling me, staring at my chest. Of course, I looked good. Of course, guys like Jax Cole would find me attractive. I am attractive.

I realized I was staring blankly at Jax and quickly lowered my eyes and got back to work.

“That would be ten,” I said quietly, feeling my cheeks heat with embarrassment. Well, this was awkward, to say the least.

Without a word, Jax handed me his shiny black credit card. It looked like a premium card from some exclusive brand, but I didn’t dare to ask. I reached out to take the card from him when my hand brushed against his.

~Electric~.

I pulled my hand back so fast that the credit card fell to the floor. My face was completely red by now, I mumbled a quick, “Sorry,” and bent to pick it up.

Like a coward, I avoided looking at him and just swiped the card, did what I had to do, and handed it back to him, carefully avoiding any contact.

Success.

But when I tried to pull my hand back, he grabbed my wrist, effectively stopping me.

I tensed, the skin of my wrist burning under his large, rough hand’s grip. I jerked my eyes up and found him scowling at me.

Trembling slightly for reasons I couldn’t understand, I blurted, “Is there a problem, sir?”

Yes. I called the guy I slept with “sir”. My mom would be so proud.

Apparently, Jax found my little slip-up annoying, seeing as his jaw clenched and his left eye twitched menacingly.

“~Sir~?” he said in a mocking tone that made me audibly gulp.

“I–” I had no idea what I was about to say, but it didn’t matter anyway.

Some guys who weren’t under Jax’s spell, suddenly started complaining about the line not moving.

All Jax had to do was turn his head, give them a stare, and they all shut up, not brave enough to stand up to a man like him.

Jax turned his gaze back to me, and I suddenly felt small and vulnerable, which was completely out of character. I was taller than most girls, and I was definitely not vulnerable.

I had taken Judo classes and had been dancing for ten years. I was flexible, strong, and trust me, getting kicked by a dancer is not something you want to experience.

So, the fact that Jax made me feel like this with just his intimidating presence made me feel like those men who couldn’t voice their complaints once Jax gave them a warning glare.

I didn’t want to feel like a coward. I was brave, damn it!

Besides, it’s Jax. Jax, Oliver’s best friend. Jax, who’d known me for so long. Jax, whom I’d given my virginity to. He wouldn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t.

His grip on my wrist tightened and if his eyes could’ve bored holes in mine, they would’ve.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice low and smooth, like a predator waiting to pounce.

Oh boy. What did he want to talk about? Our fling was well and truly over. It’d been three months!

I mustered up the last bit of my resolve, lifted my chin, and locked eyes with him. “I don’t think so.”

He didn’t appreciate my answer. “That wasn’t a question, Veronica.”

Well, well. He needed to learn that not all girls would fall at his feet.

“Let go of my hand, Jax,” I said, trying to pull my hand away. “I have work to do.”

Without a second thought, he released my hand. Just when I thought that was the end of it, he leaned in so close that his nose was just inches from mine.

“We’ll talk,” he said, his voice low, his breath warm on my face. He smelled like mint. I loved mint. “Tonight, after your shift.”

Ignoring my protests, he turned and left the store, a copy of Slater’s Bridge by Dimitri Tanner in his hands.

***

When my shift ended, I told Patty she’d have to close up. She grumbled and complained, but I didn’t care.

I grabbed my things, stuffed my new book into my bag, and made the quickest exit in the history of quick exits.

It didn’t do me any good, though. As soon as I was a block away from the store, a familiar hand grabbed my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.

I turned to see Jax, one hand in his pocket, the other holding my wrist.

Without thinking, I said, “You’re going to leave a bruise.”

This time, he didn’t let go so quickly.

“Let’s go,” he said, ignoring my surprise. He led me down the street to an empty park, where he sat on a bench and pulled me down next to him.

“You know,” I said, feeling like a child, “there’s a thing called ~free will~. You can’t force me to do anything I don’t want to.”

He gave me a cool, arched-eyebrow look. “I just did.”

Cocky, aren’t we?

“I mean it, Jax,” I said, pulling my wrist from his grip. “I’m not a dog you can just take for a walk.”

“It was the only way to make sure you didn’t run off,” he said, giving me a stern look.

I snorted. “Do you really think I’m that much of a coward?”

Never mind that I had tried to run away.

He gave me a look that said he thought I was full of shit. I couldn’t blame him; I thought I was full of shit too. But when he didn’t say anything else, I started to get annoyed.

“What do you want?” I asked, figuring it would be faster to just go along with him. Although, rebelling did sound appealing…

“A few things,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “First, I need a favor.”

That was unexpected. “What kind of favor?”

“You know I work as a web designer and illustrator for Oliver’s company, right?” he asked, his expression serious.

“I know.” Oliver had mentioned it a few times, proud that he had recommended Jax when he needed a job and his boss had hired him.

“Good,” he said, “then you’ll understand that websites, like all websites, have text.”

His condescending explanation made me scowl. “Get to the point, Jax.”

“Oliver told me you finished an English degree when you were sixteen in a special program,” he said, “he also told me your biological father taught you Russian and that you’re an expert.”

That’s me, the Russian expert. Spasiba.

“I need someone who is fluent in English and has a good grasp of Russian,” he continued, then looked at me intently. “That would be you.”

For some reason, the idea of Oliver recommending me to Jax made my stomach flip. “Don’t you have some English PhDs in your company? Or even out there?”

“We do,” he said, “but none of them know Russian as well.”

Okay, next tactic. “I don’t understand why you need someone who knows Russian.”

He had an answer for everything I threw at him.

“Our company works with a Russian company. Some of their employees don’t speak English well, and send us texts in Russian, expecting us to find translators.”

“Unfortunately, our past translators have been leaving out parts of the texts, and we need a new translator who is fluent in Russian and English.”

“Guess what?” He grinned. “You’re it.”

I was momentarily distracted by his dazzling smile. God, he was handsome.

Then I processed what he was offering me, and my jaw dropped.

“So, you’re basically offering me a job?” Like a real job. Not a bookstore cashier job. A job where I could potentially make a lot of money.

“I am,” he said, a wicked glint in his eyes. He saw the dollar signs in my eyes. He knew he had me.

God, I knew he had me.

“How much?” I asked, no longer caring about him dragging me around or trying to intimidate me.

I even grabbed his hand, my nails digging into his skin as excitement bubbled up inside me.

“You’ll get five thousand for each text you translate,” he told me.

My heart nearly burst. “How many texts are there?”

His grin widened. “A lot.”

A lot. Five thousand for each. I was going to be a millionaire.

“Yes,” I said without hesitation, gripping his hand even tighter. “Oh my God, yes!”

The smile that spread across my face felt like it might split my face in two.

His grin turned into a smirk that I found incredibly attractive.

“I’m glad you’re on board,” he said, a spark in his eyes I couldn’t quite decipher. “Because it means we’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

His words popped my money-filled bubble. I pulled my hands away from him.

“What?” I asked, confused.

He leaned in closer.

“My boss told me I’d need to oversee your work, at least for the first few months, to make sure you’re doing it right. After all, I was the one who noticed the previous translations were subpar.”

“I’ll be your main boss, and you’ll have to follow ~every single instruction~ I give you.”

There was a devilish glint in his eyes that was impossible to miss.

“Also,” he continued, “you’ll need to be with me when I work on the website, because some of these translations will be posted there.”

“Now,” he suddenly smirked, “knowing all this, is your answer still a resounding ~yes~?”

I was speechless. My own stupidity had me feeling slightly sick.

He’d set the perfect trap: dangle the big bucks in front of me, and when I came sniffing around, he’d ensnare me in his web.

Working with a guy I’d slept with. Working ~for~ a guy I’d slept with.

Spending time with Jax fucking Cole.

It was like my rule about one-night-stands had come back to bite me in the ass.

I’d made it a point to sleep with strangers I’d never have to see again, and then slip away before they woke up, just like I did with Jax.

It should have been the same with Jax. We weren’t close, we barely interacted, even that night we didn’t talk much as we consumed each other.

In fact, in the eight years we’ve known each other, this, right now on this park bench in this deserted park, was the first time we’d ever had such a long conversation, heated or not.

All of this led me to two perplexing questions.

The first was practical: Why me? I’m sure there are plenty of Russian-speaking Americans out there who knew Russian just as well as I did and also had a degree in English, or even a PhD.

So why me? Why not hire someone who’s actually professional, and not a college dropout like me?

The second question was more personal. Why did Jax want me to spend time with him? To work for him?

I mean, as I said, there're plenty of other people, I'm sure of it, who could do the same job. Then why did he choose me, out of the blue?

To say I was baffled would be an understatement.

My questioning gaze must have been obvious because he answered one of my unspoken questions.

“We're in desperate need of a translator,” he said, his eyes a brilliant shade of blue, “you're the only one I could think of on such short notice.”

I called his bluff. “You don't say.”

His eyes narrowed. “I'm not joking, Veronica.”

I didn't think he was. I was just trying to figure out why he wanted me. Was it strictly professional? Was it because of that night? I immediately dismissed that last thought.

It couldn't be because of that night. It was a fling for him just as it was for me. It couldn't be anything more.

I mean, he was Jax Cole.

He was known for sleeping around even before we met that night.

I wasn't like those naive girls in those poorly-written romance novels who believe they could change the playboy they love.

The truth was, playboys only change if they want to, not because of a certain woman or something like that.

Besides, even if it was like in those silly romance novels, Jax and I only had sex once, after we'd barely spoken in all the years we'd known each other.

It didn't, ~couldn't~, mean anything. I wasn't so gullible as to think so. Besides, Jax wasn't a playboy. Oliver sometimes told us about Jax's stunningly beautiful girlfriends.

I even remember one of his girlfriend's names: Annabella.

While Jax wasn't a playboy, he also wasn't one to fall head over heels for a girl he'd simply slept with.

So no, I didn't believe it was because of that night. So why, for the love of god? Why?

Jax must have seen the gears turning in my head because he smirked again and stood up.

“Think about it,” he said, “and give me a call when you decide.”

A call. I could give him a call.

“Fine,” I muttered. I needed to rethink this whole thing.

“Good,” he said, “now let's get you home.”

I was in the process of standing up when he said that, and it made me scowl.

“I don't need you to walk me home, Jax,” I said, annoyed, “I live just around the corner.”

He chose to ignore me and instead started walking toward my house, to my surprise. I figured Oliver must have told him where I lived, and where I worked, so he could plan the perfect ambush.

Cursing him under my breath, I followed him quietly.

He didn’t say another word, didn’t even look at me, until we reached the entrance of my building. He turned to face me.

Irritated with him, with myself, and with the entire evening, I spat out an ungrateful, “Bye.”

But he wasn’t done. He suddenly wrapped his arm around my waist, pulled me against him, and leaned in close.

For a moment I thought he was going to kiss me. I shut my eyes tightly, knowing I couldn’t stop him if he tried, but then I felt his minty breath on my earlobe.

“You may’ve forgotten,” he said in a rough whisper, “but I still remember the taste of you.”

I froze, shocked and unable to move. He chuckled and, in a flash, he was gone, leaving me with shaky legs that threatened to give out under me.

Feeling all out of sorts, I managed to stumble my way up to the seventh floor and into the apartment.

Amy and Nick were in the thick of a heavy make-out session. I didn’t give a damn, and neither did they. We’d all lost our sense of shame a long time ago.

If I hadn’t been awkwardly trying to sit upright on the couch right in front of them, they probably would’ve just ignored me and kept on kissing.

But as it was, they both broke apart and turned to look at me, their bodies still entwined.

Seeing my wide-eyed, silent state, Nick asked, “What’s up, Nix?”

What was up, indeed? It wasn’t my first time hearing dirty talk. It certainly wouldn’t be my last.

I’d heard all sorts of things in bed, like, “You’re so tight” or “Your nipples are so soft.” I’d even thrown in some dirty talk myself to spice things up.

So why was I so rattled by what Jax had just said to me?

“Nix?” Amy’s worried voice finally broke through my daze. “Are you okay?”

Without a second thought, I blurted out, “He said he remembered the taste of me.”

I caught Amy and Nick exchanging confused glances out of the corner of my eye.

“Who said that?” Amy asked.

Jax did. Jax still does in my head.

Seeing they weren’t getting anywhere with me, Nick ended the conversation with a comment that sent a chill down my spine:

“Whoever said that to you, you must’ve made quite an impression for him to want seconds.”

Amy and Nick went back to their make-out session after that.

The ~want seconds~ part hit me hard. Suddenly, everything clicked into place. It didn’t answer all my questions, but at least I had some understanding.

Jax Cole wanted me in his bed. Again.

“I can still remember the taste of you.”

Oh no.