Jax (Titan #9)(7)

A real laugh and smile cracked Hawke's sun-worn face, and he rubbed his chest, letting grease-stained fingers trace the president patch on his leather cut. "I'll be waiting for your call, sweetheart. Don't let the club down."





CHAPTER FOUR


Jax slapped his hand on the unfamiliar nightstand, knocking over a bottle of water but not finding his buzzing cell phone where he expected it. He rolled over, rubbing his eyes, and looked around the unfamiliar room.

Iowa, of all places, in an unfamiliar bed, and a wedding was to blame. Weddings were the worst social occasions that he could be forced to attend. Boss Man had given him two options: Show up or plan your funeral. Both needed a suit. Neither would be fun. This one had the benefit of getting laid. But that hadn't happened. "Your own damn fault."

Not much of a difference from a funeral then… Grumbling, Jax buried his head back in the pillow. His phone buzzed again with the text message notification. "Really?"

If they had a job this early after someone from Titan had gotten hitched, they needed hazard pay. Surely, he wasn't the only one who wanted to sleep in. Jax glared at the empty pillow next to him, where a headful of pink hair should've been asleep, and rolled back to grab his phone on the other side of the lamp.



SEVEN: Are you still in town?



He closed one eye and read it again, as if that would make the text make any more sense. Was he still in town? Where the hell did she think he went? Jax pinched the bridge of his nose and tossed the phone onto the bed, ignoring her. If she wanted to know, she should have just stayed and found out.

With the pillow to block the sunlight peeking around the drawn shade, Jax burrowed back into bed, pulling the cover over his head.

What was worse? Weddings or churches? The dresses or the—

No, he wasn't going to do this today. Punching the pillow to fluff it, his mind drifted to Seven on the back of the bike. Too bad she hadn't spent the night. If her tongue and her eyebrow were pierced, what else was—

Jax sat up, the pillow falling into his lap. He wasn't going to fantasize about the girl. She was a friend… or something. Either way, they could fuck or they could not. But he wasn't going to let his imagination roam.

Were her nipples pierced?

"Damn it." He rolled his shoulders back, trying to let the thought go, and knowing sleep was a lost cause. Jax reached back over and snagged the phone, swiping the screen open again and staring at her message. "This is all your fault."



JAX: It's before 8 AM. What the hell do you think?

SEVEN: Early flight? I have no idea. Also, chill, Mr. Grumpy Pants.

JAX: I was sleeping. Until you texted.

SEVEN: Well, now that you're awake, get up and meet me at The Perky Cup.



His head banged with the dull echo of too many old memories and maybe a few too many drinks. It wasn't quite a hangover because he was too stubborn to admit he ever got one of those. But he didn't feel like getting out of bed.



JAX: No

SEVEN: No one ever taught you manners?



This coming from a girl who slapped him and hung out with a biker gang?



SEVEN: Guess not.

JAX: It's rude to call out someone's manners.

SEVEN: Are you going to meet me at The Perky Cup?

JAX: No



She didn't respond. What the hell did she want to talk about? Apologize for the slap? They'd moved past that when she had wrapped her arm under his suit coat. Talk about their feelings? Not her style, either. Why wasn't she responding? Oh… That was on him, being rude for calling her rude. He grumbled and rewrote his message to make up for his faux pas, rolling his eyes even as he hit Send.



JAX: No thank you

SEVEN: haha

JAX: Now can I go back to sleep?

SEVEN: Sure. But one more question?

JAX: What's up?

SEVEN: Are you a stubborn asshole (a) all the time, (b) some of the time, or (c) most of the time?



He chuckled. Not all the time, but he kept that to himself.



JAX: (d) none of the above. I'm sunshine and gumdrops. Haven't you noticed?

JAX: And if you're dying to apologize for slapping me, a text message will do.

SEVEN: That will never happen, Buster.



Amused, he tucked the pillow behind him, rereading her text.



JAX: Who says Buster?

SEVEN: Who doesn't know when to say YES? Get your ass to The Perky Cup, Buster.



"You, last night, apparently." But that text he decided not to write.



JAX: Fine. When?

SEVEN: Now would be preferable, but I will give you a few to politely say goodbye to whoever your company is. Manners, Jax. They are very important. Be polite.

SEVEN: Say things like 'that was fun.' 'You're pretty.' Don't bark or bite her. (Unless she asks…)



He snort-laughed and could picture her deviously texting him about someone in his bed. Too bad he couldn't picture if Seven had her nips pierced.



JAX: Jealous?

SEVEN: Imagine the biggest eye roll I've ever given you. Now double it.



He laughed again and lumbered himself out of bed.