by Torsha Baker
We finish walking to the elevator and Jax presses the down button. The doors open and a bellhop wheels out a cart with covered plates.
Jax points at Harry’s room. “The man in that suite has had a bit too much to drink. You might want to check on him.”
The bellhop nods, unconcerned. Maybe Harry is a regular here.
We enter the elevator, and Jax pushes the button for the lobby. He then takes my hand in his. “Let’s see if you broke any knuckles.” He gently follows the line of my bones, one at a time. He pauses and looks at me over our hands. His blue eyes are intense as they focus on mine. My heart races, and it takes everything I have not to close the small distance between us.
He returns to examining my hand. “I heard you say that you don’t want to be in that movie anymore. Is that on account of the half-naked director?”
I wince a little at some of the places Jax prods. “The half-naked director sealed the deal, but no. I made up my mind before he opened the door. And for the record, I was only supposed to sign a contract that he supposedly left in his suite.”
Jaxon nods. His fingers dance over my skin so tenderly that his callouses are the only indication he’s a rancher and not an artist or a piano player. I can’t stop myself from imagining those gentle fingers roaming all over my body, and my stomach tightens with desire. I push the thought away, but Jax must feel the shift in me because the corner of his mouth turns up at the side. “So, why’d you turn it down?”
“He wasn’t my type.”
Jax stops his progress long enough to give me an exasperated look.
I give him a smirk. “Oh, you mean the role. I realized there are other things that bring me more joy.”
He continues to examine my hand, but much more slowly, as if he’s in his own thoughts. What thoughts are swimming around in that beautiful head of his?
“Why are you here, Jax?”
His gaze finds mine. “Because I made a mistake. I handled things poorly, and I came here to tell you that I was wrong. I was so wrong, Malia.”
Well, that was definitely not what I expected him to say. “I’m sorry, but can you say that again? I want to sear this into my memory for all time.”
He drops his head and laughs. “I was wrong. And I followed you out to Hollywood to tell you I’m sorry. We should make decisions together, as a couple. And you were right, I was holding things back from you. The truth is, my ex . . . Brittany . . . may try to get custody of Audrey, and my girlfriend being in rehab, well it could have—”
My free hand flies to my mouth. “Oh my gosh, Jax. She could use that against you in court.” My heart sinks. The thought that I could have been the reason Jax would lose custody of Audrey. I shake my head. “I’m so sorry.”
He pulls my hand from my mouth. “Hey, you didn’t know. It’s not your fault. I should have just told you. I’m sorry it took me so long to see that.”
“I’m the one who should be apologizing. I'm sorry too. For all of it. I was so caught up in getting the role that I wasn’t seeing things clearly. And the truth is, this Hollywood life, it isn’t for me. Not like this, not anymore. I don’t want the deceit and game playing and men who try to manipulate me. I don’t want to have to worry about the paparazzi tracking me down and invading my personal life. It’s not what I want.”
Jax gazes at me, his blue eyes are deep with hope, love, longing. He reaches up and cups my face. His touch is warm, and I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed it in such a short amount of time. He leans in so that his lips are hovering over mine. His touch is warm and inviting. He brushes his thumb over my cheekbone. “And what do you want?”
I give him the famous come-hither stare. “You know exactly what I want,” I breathe.
A slow smile spreads over his handsome face. “Well, that’s a good thing then. I may have let you go once, but I’ll never make that mistake again.”
I close the distance, pressing my lips to his, and it’s like coming home again. One hand slides into my hair, while the other presses me to him. I pull him closer to me, feeling like I just can’t get close enough. He kisses me deeply, and I never want to let him go. Maybe I wouldn’t if we weren’t in an elevator. We reluctantly end the kiss, smiling and breathing heavily.
“There’s another reason I came here,” he says. “I didn't plan to do this here, but I can’t wait another moment.” He takes a deep breath, drops to one knee, and pulls out a small Tiffany’s box.
My hand flies to my chest, and a squeak escapes me. I gawk at Jax on one knee, and not only do I imagine walking down the aisle to him in a white dress but I also imagine a life shared, a beautiful life with Audrey, with love and respect, with laughter and tears of joy, with lazy afternoons and long nights. There is no doubt in my mind that I want to grow old with Jaxon Wyle. Before I can answer, the elevator door chimes and opens. A family of four is standing there in their swimsuits, staring at us in surprise. A boy in water wings squeezes a blowup dolphin so that it squeaks.
Jax lowers the little blue box. “Okay, maybe this wasn’t the best time after all.”
The woman smiles guiltily at us and puts her hand on her son’s shoulder to keep him from getting on the elevator. “We’ll take the next one.”
Jax reaches over and hits the Close Door button. The doors slide shut.
Jax raises the box back up again. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t supposed to happen.” He takes another breath. “Okay, where was I? Oh, yes.” He gives me a wink and an award-winning Jaxon smile. I laugh. He opens the box to reveal its contents and takes my left hand in his. The ring is a sparkling pink oval diamond set in rose gold. “Malia Kalama, I’ve loved you since I was eighteen-years-old. You stole my heart the first moment I saw you—”
The elevator chimes again before opening up to the same family.
The woman is pulling the little boy’s hand away from the Up button and has a horrified look on her face. “I’m so sorry, he pushed the button again. Just ignore us. Really, carry on.”
Jaxon drops his head, chuckling, and it takes everything I have not to laugh out loud. I reach over and push the Close Door button and then the button for the top floor. As the door starts to close, the waiting dad’s eyes widen, and he blurts out, “Are you Malia Kalama?” The door continues to close, but he moves his head to see through the crack, “Probably not a good time to ask for an autograph?” His wife smacks him just before the door shuts.
I giggle at the frustrated expression on Jax’s face. “Okay cowboy, you have twenty-five floors to get it out. You were saying?”
“Right. Well, for starters, I’m willing to put up with all of that strangeness, just so long as I’m the only man in your life. No more fake boyfriends—”
“Is this a proposal or a negotiation?”
“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “Malia Kalama, I love you. I always have, and I always will. I promise to make you picnics with chocolate cake. And Audrey has made it very clear that I can’t come home without you. Will you marry me and join our little family?”
My heart is bursting with joy. I fall to my knees and take Jax’s face in my hands. “Nothing would make me happier than to join your family and be your wife. I love you, cowboy, with everything I am.” He smiles and kisses me again. The kiss speaks of new beginnings and old love, of untethered passion and promises of devotion. I don’t know how long we stay there on our knees kissing as if nothing else matters, but eventually I hear a familiar chime. A moment later we end the kiss, breathing heavily and resting our foreheads against one another.
Someone clears their throat.
We peer over to see the same family from earlier. They must have hit the Down button again. We were so caught up in our moment that we didn’t notice the elevator moving the opposite direction. The mom is covering both of the kids’ eyes and smiling at us with a dreamy expression, and the dad gazes at me hopefully, holding a pen and paper he must have taken from the front desk.
Jax and I look at each other and laugh. He stand
s and helps me to my feet.
“She said yes,” he announces to the family. They cheer for us. Jax takes my left hand and gazes at me with such affection that it takes my breath away. “It’s a good thing you’re right-handed. It would be a shame if your hand was too swollen to wear the ring.” He slides it onto my finger: a perfect fit.
We finally exit the elevator. I sign the paper for the dad and take a couple selfies with the family. They give us another round of congratulations before we walk away hand in hand. As soon as we leave the hotel, I spot several paparazzi lying in wait.
JulieAnn stands off to the side with a triumphant smile on her face. I forgot that she’d planned to bring the paparazzi here. This probably won’t go over well.
“Give me a minute,” I say to Jax.
“I’ll be right here,” he says.
I march forward, and the cameras and microphones descend along with the questions.
“Malia Kalama, we hear that you were just in an important meeting with Harry Wilson. Can you tell us what it was about?”
“Are you going to be in the next Harry Wilson film?”
“Have you and Trey made up? Trey-lia fans want to know.”
JulieAnn quickly closes the distance to me. She whispers in my ear. “Don’t say anything about what allegedly happened in Harry’s room. You have nothing to feel ashamed about. You did what you had to for your career. Now put on your show face and tell them about the movie. Eye on the prize.”
I gape at her, hurt and anger burning through me. She knew. She knew exactly what Harry had in mind and she was okay with it? Ala was right, JulieAnn doesn’t have my best interests at heart.
“The only thing you’re right about is that I have nothing to be ashamed of. But you should.”
Before she can comment I turn to the cameras and speak into the microphones. “I’m sorry that so many people have been misled, but I was never with Trey Wentworth. The relationship was fake, all of it. Oh, and I was never in rehab either. I’ve never done drugs in my life. The whole thing was a publicity stunt my agent orchestrated for Harry Wilson’s next movie, which I’ve decided I want no part of.”
“Is that a ring on your hand?” one of them asks.
I glance down at the ring, and then back at Jax. I hold my hand out to him. He walks up to me and intertwines his fingers with mine. “Yes, and this is my fiancé, Jaxon Wyle. Now if you’ll excuse me, our daughter is waiting for us back home. I have no further comment. Thank you.”
Jaxon’s eyes gleam with pride and love. We start to walk away when JulieAnn blocks our exit. She is blinking and sputtering. “Are you crazy? Why would you do that?”
“Because I’m done letting you dictate my career. You’re fired.”
Her jaw drops open. For once, she is completely speechless. We walk around her.
“You are so sexy right now,” Jax says into my ear.
I squeeze his hand. “Take me home, cowboy.”
“Yes, darlin’.”
* * *
THE END OF BOOK 2 IN THE WYLE AWAY RANCH SERIES. YEEHAW!
Author’s Note
Thank you for coming along for this adventurous ride with Jax and Malia. I had a blast telling their story, even when they wouldn’t let me sleep until I wrote just what they wanted me to. If you enjoyed reading this book, please leave a review, because we all know Malia and Jax appreciate being adored by their fans.
Sneak Peek
The Cowboy Who Stole My Heart
Most people considered a wedding the symbol of two lives joining together, but for Skye, this one represented sweet freedom. One last night of stuffed chicken, red wine, and the famous Stanton Wedding Cake and she’d cut loose of the reception center forever. More specifically, she’d cut loose from this kitchen and Judy Stanton, her aunt.
Skye opened the industrial refrigerator and pulled out the top cake tier, then slid it onto the rolling tray next to the other tiers. Today would’ve been perfect if the bride hadn’t requested a fourth cake layer the morning before the wedding. Skye pressed gingerly on the top and smiled. “Praise the bakery gods. The fondant set.”
“I still can’t believe that lady added a fourth tier yesterday.” Eliza, Skye’s soon-to-be replacement, stood at the opposite kitchen counter chopping herbs for the stuffed chicken. “Or why your aunt agreed to it. She must have no idea how much extra work that caused you.”
“True. Who needs sleep anyway?” Skye’s labor was never part of the equation. Her aunt was all about money, and a last-minute, extra cake tier meant Judy could charge an exorbitant fee. She likely didn’t even think twice about the night of work it cost Skye.
As usual, Skye’s long, permanently messy blonde hair waged its daily battle with her to stay tucked under a hairnet. She’d never met anyone with straight hair as rebellious as hers. With a grunt, she stuffed the errant strands back up and felt a smear of frosting across the side of her face. But she was in far too much of a rush to worry about her looks. The wedding was hours away, and the flowers hadn’t even been set on the cake yet. “We’re running out of time.”
“You had that cake finished two days ago.” Eliza chopped the herbs a little more aggressively than necessary. “If the clients are going to make last-minute demands, they get what they get.”
Skye wanted to agree, but she needed this wedding to go off without a hitch. There were still a few things she wanted to discuss with her aunt, and it would be far easier if Judy was in a good mood. “The real tragedy is that I couldn’t save any of the sugar flowers. And I had to re-fondant the entire thing.”
Skye flexed her fingers. Her hands ached from rolling out the sugar paste and making rose petals for dozens of new flowers throughout the night. But this was her final wedding. Her last day. She could do anything for one day—at least that’s what she told herself with every Red Bull she’d inhaled last night.
“It’s going to take me forever to get those roses right.” Eliza moved from parsley to basil.
Skye shot her a small smile, pushing down her guilt. Why did it feel like she was feeding Eliza to the wolves? Well, one wolf, really. But maybe Judy would go easier on the new chef. Maybe her treatment of Skye had been singular. As her niece, Skye definitely had a unique piece of her aunt’s heart. The cold, withered piece that liked to yell a lot.
“Don’t worry, you’ll catch on quick.” Skye carried the tray of pale pink roses over to the cart with the cake tiers. The smell of herbs clashed against the scent of chocolate cake, but Skye didn’t care. The basil and buttercream could bicker with each other all they wanted. It was the smell of freedom.
Despite her apron, frosting covered her t-shirt and jeans. Her clothes always got dirty when she took charge of the cake, which she did every time because she happened to be awesome at wedding cakes. For the hundredth time, she checked her watch. “We’ll have to take the cake to the dining hall and set the flowers there.”
Eliza shot her an assuring look over the cutting board. “If it doesn’t get done, you’ll just have to explain to Judy that she didn’t give you enough time.”
“Right.” No way would Skye’s aunt see it that way. But Skye didn’t have the energy to point that out. She shifted the cake tiers to make room on the cart for the roses. “After today, I’m never making a sugar flower again.”
That was entirely untrue, of course. When she opened her own catering company, she’d make whatever the customer wanted. But at least she could then decide for herself if she wanted to sacrifice a night’s sleep for a last-minute request.
Skye walked back across the kitchen and picked up another tray of sugar roses, thinking of the recipes her grandmother had collected in her travels. Recipes she cooked for Skye as a child. Skye’s plan was still murky on how to get those amazing recipes from her aunt. Technically, Grams’s will stated that her personal possessions went to both Skye and Judy. And since Judy never cooked and didn’t care one bit for the cookbooks, it should’ve been easy for Skye to get them. But it was not easy. B
ecause the thing her aunt did care about was having what someone else wanted. And Skye hadn’t yet figured out how to ask for the recipe books without actually appearing like she wanted them. Which was why she needed Judy to be in a good mood tonight. This was Skye’s best shot at getting the recipes.
Eliza pulled the chicken breasts from the fridge. “Well, Judy and I are going to have words if she ever throws something like this at me when I take over.”
Skye was about to wish Eliza luck when the front doorbell chimed. Skye ignored it and grabbed her water bottle from the counter to take a drink. One of the other staffers could get it. She needed to focus on the cake.
The doorbell rang a second time.
Skye sighed. “Maybe it’s the florist.” She set her water bottle down, then turned to Eliza and motioned to the cart. “Do me a favor and take this into the dining hall?”
“No problem.”
Skye pulled off her hairnet and kicked off her shoes. Aunt Judy would murder her if she scuffed up the newly polished marble floor. She padded out of the kitchen and rubbed the ache in her lower back. She was exhausted and behind schedule. Having to answer the door didn’t help. Judy already treated her like a personal maid and chef, now she was supposed to be the butler too?
The long hall was already lined with garland for the wedding, and the minty eucalyptus scent filled the air.
Every time Skye walked down the hallway, she felt a pinch in her heart, but today the feeling was particularly acute since she was leaving. It was once part of the path from her old bedroom upstairs to Grams’s sitting room next to the dining hall. But not anymore. Though Skye and her aunt had equal claim to the personal items, the house went to Judy. When she took over, she renovated the old mansion and kicked Skye to the curb, or as her aunt explained, “Pushed the chick from the nest so it could fly.”
