by Brooke May
Sure, I have some things that flash through my unconscious mind when I’m asleep, but it’s mainly sounds and heat that I experience. I don’t see anything.
Unlike my bedroom door that we have hooked up to automatically open for me, Axle’s opens with the door swinging out into his room. It makes it a challenge to get into his room with my chair. It may be narrow, but the fucking door makes it pretty difficult to manage the hallway.
“No!” Axle’s deep voice screams once more. It grows louder once I have the door open, and I’m doing my best to maneuver around it to get into the dark room.
You’d think this was my first time doing this, but it isn’t. After Axle and I got this place, the first week was hell on me to get any amount of sleep. I would fall asleep in the middle of the day because his nightmares were so bad. Over time, I got used to them and began waking him when they occurred which started to become less frequent.
This hasn’t happened in a few months.
Getting into his room, I don’t need a light to tell me where I need to go. There is no fear of running into anything because Axle’s room is as clean as the rest of the apartment, my room aside. His closet door can close all the way, his dresser never overflows with clothes, and his shoes line up in neat order, granting me clean passage to his bedside.
Turning on the lamp, I watch Axle’s massive body thrash on his king-size mattress. Sweat beads on his forehead, causing his hair to plaster to him as he rolls his head from side to side. Waking him up isn’t the wisest of choices, but it needs to be done.
“This would be easier if the asshole wore something to bed.” Grumbling, I do what I have done every time this has happened. Turning my chair, I put on the brake, and carefully pull myself onto his bed.
Mindful of his legs, I drag myself over to his lower half, avoiding his swinging junk from slapping me in the face. That’s the last bit of humiliation I want to endure at the moment.
I know full well that you should never wake someone from a nightmare, but Axle leaves me with no choice. It’s either stay up listening to him scream until he wakes himself or better yet, beating the shit out of himself with the aid of his nightstand and headboard before he finally wakes from the pain.
“Axle!” Getting up in a sort of push-up, I do my best to give him a shake with one hand. “Come on, Ax, wake up!” He rolls, sending me flying to the other side of the bed, and if anyone was to walk in and see us like this, it would be difficult to explain. Not many know about his nightmares. Even Megan, who stays over from time to time, has no knowledge of them.
“No,” he whimpers. If I didn’t take this so seriously, I would laugh. The whimper is so weak that it is almost unbelievable to hear coming from him.
“Come on, Ax!” Moving my body, I roll over, sit up, and lean over to shake him once more. “It’s time to wake up, buttercup. There is no race, and you’re going to be fine. I’m the one who doesn’t have the working legs.”
Minutes pass as I try to wake him up, sweat is now forming on my brow and my longer hair is now stuck just like his. The nightmare has a firm hold on him tonight, leaving me with only one other idea.
Using one hand to steady him, I raise the other and then swing it down onto the side of his face. With a resounding slap, Axle is jettisoned out of the hell his mind had created to trap him in. I quickly release him as he comes flying off the mattress, nearly stumbling into my chair, and looks around the dimly lit room for his assaulter.
“What the fucking hell?” Again, this would be humorous if it wasn’t also so serious. Levi would find the humor at this moment no matter what; Axle naked, panting, and allowing his junk to flap every which way while his eyes remain far too alert.
“You were having another nightmare.” Reclining against his headboard, I give him a couple of minutes to settle himself. When he does, Axle doesn’t bother to recover his modesty as much as I would like him to.
He paces his room, from my chair to his open door, for several more minutes, raking his fingers through his short hair. When they first began, he spoke with someone about them, and all they could do was offer to medicate him.
And in true Axle fashion, he told not one or two but several therapists to piss off, and the only things entering his body would be food, drink, and the juices of any woman who does the honor of sitting on his face.
Yeah, that’s how he rolls.
There is no medicating the giant and for the most part, he does just fine without it.
“Sorry to wake you again, mate.” Finally calm enough, he takes a seat on his bed. Thankfully, his back is to me so I don’t have to gaze at his limp dick.
Thank God.
“All in an early morning’s work.” Patting him on the back, I manage to get myself to the side of the bed next to him and reach for my chair he knocked away. “You good?”
“Yeah, I think.” He sighs and brings my chair to me.
“You sure?”
“Yep.” Nodding, he finally looks at me. Dark bags are already forming under his eyes, making him look far more tired than normal. “Thanks again.”
“Don’t mention it.” Getting in my chair, I stare him straight in the eyes. “I mean it. I don’t need anyone knowing I was this close …” Lifting my fingers, I put an inch or two between my index and thumb, and I continue, “To being slapped in the face by your tiny dick.”
He laughs now, and I know he will be okay for the moment. “Fuck off.”
“Right, get back to sleep and dream of topless models this time. No more accidents.” Taking off back to my room, I’m not sure I’m going to get back to sleep anytime soon.
Chapter Seven
My arms feel like dead weights as I wheel myself out of the elevator and into the entrance of the office. There was no getting back to a good, deep sleep once I returned to my room. Axle may have gone quiet, but I was far too alert to be able to settle back into bed and get a couple more hours’ worth of sleep.
When my alarm went off with a regular ringtone, I was already awake, staring at the ceiling as if it held all the answers to every question I have ever asked in my life. Foregoing a shower and shave, I got dressed and then put together a quick and easy breakfast before heading out.
So much for going to the gym before work.
I might as well get used to the idea of going after work and getting a good sweat before I head home to shower and relax for the evening. I’ll likely see Owen, but if I just go about doing my own thing, then I should be fine.
The silence of the front lobby is quickly exchanged for the rustling of papers, the constant ringing of phones, and dozens of voices swarming together. I’m barely through the door when Michelle is rushing toward me. She has a notebook pressed against her chest while her other arm swings wildly at her side with a pen I’m hoping is capped.
“Morning, Michelle.” Doing my best not to scrub a hand over my exhausted face, I meet her halfway to her desk and my closed door.
“Thank God you are here.” Sighing, she swings around and slows her pace to be even with me. She is always like this when we are close to an event. In a few weeks, we have a big one down in the southern part of the state, and I happen to be the lead on it.
It has kept both of us busy for the past several months, and my email is always packed when I get to work. It looks like it is all starting a little earlier today.
“You still need to get in touch with a couple more food vendors, and then you need to finalize everything for the liquor license application.” Paper after paper is handed to me. It’s clearly going to be one of those days.
“You know you could have waited until I was in my office.” Chuckling, I push my way inside, careful I don’t lose any of the papers she has handed to me. “And at least enjoy some of my coffee?” I need it more this morning than any other as of late.
I started up, wishing I knew a way to help Axle and how to get rid of his nightmares. He didn’t ask for that shitshow to happen and neither did I. The past needs to stay where it is
and leave us the fuck alone. And after thinking about things for a few hours, I realized I was only going to be tired today. Nothing I thought of would help because Axle is too proud to actually accept any of it.
“I’m sorry, Jax, but Mr. Landon was pressing me right as I got in fifteen minutes ago to make sure everything is set and to inquire if you’ve been able to talk to the Bartin twins yet.”
“Fuck.” Groaning, I creep to a stop by the side of my desk and drop my head back. I was too absorbed in my new gym and the shit with Axle that I almost forgot I needed to figure out how I was going to talk to one or both of them.
Opening my eyes, I look up to find an upside-down cringing Michelle. “Do you want me to get someone on the phone over there?”
“That would be wonderful. Thank you, Michelle.” Righting my head, I put my hands on my wheels and push myself once more and don’t stop until I’m around my desk.
“You’re welcome.” Backing out, she closes the door, and I get right to work. I don’t turn my computer on just yet. Taking the few pieces of paper off my lap, I straighten them out and then look over them one-by-one.
Each require only my signature to solidify what needs to be done, and after a quick yet thorough once-over, I sign them and then place them on the upper corner for Michelle to grab when she comes back in.
Finally, I fire up my computer and brace myself for the massive influx of emails. I’m sure they are awaiting me once the machine is fully awake and my email is opened. It’s the one part of this job I don’t care to deal with, but I can’t very well be going from one place to another to recruit riders.
Even though that’s what I would love to do, that isn’t my reality.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
As email after email flood into my inbox, I give in to scrubbing my face, fully aware that residue from my tires could possibly streak it. Luckily, I’m not scheduled to have any meetings today so I’m not too concerned with my appearance.
Once I know that all the emails are there, I dive into the bottom of the list and answer it. I continue up the list, drinking my steadily cooling coffee until I’m at the top. It doesn’t last long, though; replies come in soon after that, and I’m starting all over again.
This is what my job is like when an event, especially one I’m heading, draws near. Just a little while longer and then the rush will be over until I’m given the next one. And when the event comes, I get to go down and enjoy all my hard work by watching the races and freestyle events, and possibly–hopefully–find a woman who won’t mind spending some one-on-one time with me.
And as envious as I am about the riders who get to do what they love, I’m just glad to be a part of the world that was always there for me, even now.
Many of the new riders may not have a clue who I am but most of the veterans still do and include me in the festivities as much as possible. That’s what makes my job so worthwhile.
Reaching for my coffee, I’m just wrapping up what I hope is my final email before I eat lunch when Michelle buzzes in. Normally, she just comes right in to tell me what she needs, so I’m instantly a little on edge.
“Mr. Hunt?”
“Yes?” I drawl. Something is definitely up. Like Mr. Landon prefers to be called by his first name with his employees, I always strive for the same with my assistant.
“There is a representative from Piston Motor Sport here to see you.” The woman is a miracle worker, ladies and gentlemen. In the few short hours since she volunteered to call and get someone, she managed it in a single day.
If Mr. Landon doesn’t promote her soon, I’m going to have words with him.
“N-now?” Looking longingly at my top drawer where my lunch sits, I try to rein in my grumbling stomach as it protests the cold coffee that just slid down my throat.
“Yes, sir,” she confirms.
“Not one of the twins?”
“No, sir. They were unable to come due to prior engagements. Their rep only has a short period for this meeting, should I see her in?”
Her?
Not that I have anything against a female representative to any company because I deal with more women than men, but for some reason, it throws me off.
“Sure, see her in please.” Making sure my speakers are off so email dings don’t interrupt this impromptu meeting, I straighten up in my chair and put on my best game face. I don’t have even a moment to make sure I don’t have any dark marks from scrubbing my face because the door opens.
I need to win this rep over if I’m going to get the Bartin twins.
Chapter Eight
“Mr. Hunt is right through here, Miss Austin.”
“I figured.” The teasing voice that responds to Michelle’s obvious statement jerks something in the pit of my gut. Yesterday on the phone had my mind reeling for a while afterward, but now hearing it without the buffer of the phones and distance between us has a cool sweat forming in my palms, my heart rate steadily picking up, and I’m frozen in place.
Michelle is the first to appear in my quickly fading vision seeing as I haven’t been able to even blink yet. Her familiar form gestures for the woman I spoke with yesterday to enter my office. All I see is a shape as the thump of a booted foot takes one step and then another and another until it comes to a stop just short of my desk.
“Mr. Hunt, this is Lennox Austin. She’s Paige Bartin’s right-hand woman.” There is an air of smugness to Michelle’s announcement.
“Len is fine.” The voice before me, one that draws need into every breath I take in, shakes me out of my stupor. “Mr. Hunt.”
Sealing my eyes closed, I snap them open to find the most fascinating woman I have ever laid eyes on. And I’ve seen several women who I would classify as unique looking, but none of them come to mind as I gaze at the woman who is holding out her hand for me.
Leaning forward, I reach over my desk to take her hand. I know she is probably thinking I’m insanely rude since I’m not standing to greet her, but that can’t be helped.
“N-nice to meet you.” Stammering for the right words, I try to keep our touch brief, her warm hand against my chilled one has my body coiling with desire.
And that does not belong in the workplace or in this meeting.
I won’t be like Axle and fuck up by having someone in my workplace ride my dick, no matter how hard I get by the soft yet firm grip she gives me.
Shit.
I’m in trouble.
Pulling back, I do my best not to jerk my grip from hers too quickly, and I place both hands on my wheels to back myself up and come around the desk. I have a table I feel far more comfortable having meeting like this at.
“Anything you need? Water? Pop?” I had completely forgotten about Michelle still standing by the door.
“No,” Len and I say in unison, but I continue. “Thank you, Michelle. I’m sure we’ll be just fine.” Looking up at Len, I wave a hand over to my table. “Please, have a seat.”
If she is surprised by my different way of getting around, she either doesn’t mind, can cover it up incredibly well, or I missed her shock when I spoke to Michelle.
Turning on her heavily booted feet, Len’s short legs take her over to the table. My eyes are glued to her and the gentle sway of her slightly flared hips. The shape of her legs are hidden under the relaxed fit of her grease and oil covered jeans, but they don’t hide that small flare at her hips. The jeans hang low and don’t meet the bottom hem of her shirt that is slowly riding up to expose some pastel skin that hardly ever sees any light based on the color.
I feel as though I have swallowed an entire apple as I force myself to push after her. Swinging around to take a seat on the far side from me, I’m gifted the pleasure of seeing her face once more.
“Th-thank you for coming to see me.” I should have told Michelle to bring me a water. My mouth is as dry as the air outside.
“Well, after talking to you yesterday and then the cal
l from your assistant, I couldn’t not come.” Her impish grin casts the most mischievous glint in her dual-colored eyes. Her angular face is pristine with just the right amount of makeup applied. The pale pink over her eyes and the heavy eyeliner and mascara accent her two-toned coloring.
They captivate me.
The right is hazel. As I look deeper, I see brown at the core, then green and finally a thin ring of blue. It looks like earth from space.
The other is gray. It is as if it is completely devoid of any pigmentation that gives her a distinctive look.
“I’m glad you did. My boss would really like to work with the twins.” Opening and closing my hands on my lap, I curse myself for not bringing a notepad and pen over with me to give me something to do other than stare at her.
“I can’t speak for Paige or Parker, but joining forces with local sponsors and event coordinators is something they need and eventually will be focusing on. If I can help get that off the ground, then I’m happy to help.”
“You didn’t sound too convinced yesterday.”
Barely contained surprise flashes in her eyes before a grin comes back. “So you knew it was me.”
“Like your breathtaking eyes, your voice is incredibly inimitable.”
Why the hell did I go and say that? I’m supposed to be conducting business here, not flirting to get a date or some shit along those lines.
“Why, thank you. I find my unique appearance helps me when others underestimate me. Now …” An equally pale hand lifts and runs over her nearly white faux hawk. The rest of her head is closely buzzed, but the hawk is thick and tipped in pink.
Stunning isn’t even a word I would use to describe her because it still doesn’t do her an ounce of justice.
“What can Piston Motor Sports do for Double X Industries, Mr. Hunt?”
“Jax, please.”
“Jax.” She teases my name, and I feel that jerk in my gut once more.
