He did not.

He would have, if he’d been able to jack off to thoughts of her in that dress, and what he wanted to do to her in it. But he didn’t want her wandering out for a glass of water and catching him jacking to her.

At least, not at this juncture.

Then again, when they got to that juncture, he wouldn’t be on the couch.

“Sly there?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she told him.

“Good. Tonight, I’m cooking and we’re hanging before you go to work,” he declared.

Nothing from Hattie.

“Baby?” he called.

“Dad,” she said.

Shit.

Right.

To keep their date bummer-free, he hadn’t asked how it had gone down with her dad when she told him, for that night, she wasn’t going to take care of his grown ass.

And it wasn’t his place to intervene with her father.

Not yet. Not ever.

That was hers and he could share his opinion and advice.

But he couldn’t get in the middle of it unless it was harming her.

And after she broke it down for him the night before last about what was messing with her head in that studio weeks ago, he had yet to ascertain if it was still harming her, or what harmed her was in the past and the man had lost his power, outside what he’d done to her back then and how it still messed with her head.

“Okay, how do we juggle that?” he queried.

“Pardon?”

“I wanna make you dinner. I want time with you. You need to see to him. My guess, you’re not ready for me to go hang with your father while you sort out his dinner. So how do we juggle that?”

She didn’t readily answer.

So Axl got in there.

“What time does he eat?”

“I usually go over early because I don’t eat with him and I have to fuel before I dance.”

“What’s early?”

“Five.”

“Okay. Sly can take you over to deal with him and I’ll have dinner ready for us six, six thirty. Cool with you?”

There was a hesitation before, “Yeah.”

“Anything you don’t eat?”

“What are you making?”

The first meal he was cooking her?

Totally pulling out all the stops.

“Tuscan chicken.”

Auggie made a noise.

Axl ignored it.

“What’s that?” Hattie asked.

“You like chicken?”

“Yes.”

“Prosciutto?”

“Definitely.”

He grinned. “Spinach? Goat’s cheese? Sun-dried tomato?”

“Yes. Absolutely. Yes,” she answered in line.

His grin got bigger. “Then you’ll like this.”

“I’ll be home by six.”

“Okay, honey, see you then. You got the key I left?”

“Yes, and Axl?”

“Yep?”

“I really like our bummer-free zone. We’ll talk about Dad when that time comes. But it means a lot that you know how, uh …he was and you’re not being …”

She didn’t finish that.

“You don’t have to say that. Get yourself coffee. Enjoy the deck. Play Pac-Man. I’ll see you later.”

“Later, Axl.”

“’Bye, babe.”

He disconnected.

Instantly, Auggie asked, “Can I come to dinner tonight?”

“Fuck off.”

Aug chuckled.

Axl drove.

It took some time before Auggie said quietly, “I’m glad it’s going good, Axe.”

“Yeah,” Axl replied.

And he let it be.

Meaning, he didn’t get into Pepper again.

Auggie was right. He’d had only one date with Hattie.

But Aug didn’t know about her art, and as such, hadn’t seen it.

He also hadn’t been there to see her dancing that day Axl and Ryn saw her dance. Falling in an elegant heap on the floor. Soaring through the air in a way Michael Jordan would say, “Damn.”

And Aug had not been woken up in the middle of the night to witness a tough woman who had no idea she was tough, she was amazing, she created beauty in a variety of ways from her art to her dancing to decorating her apartment to the dress she put on for him, pull it together to finally sort their shit.

So he’d let Auggie off the hook.

For now.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Safe Place

HATTIE

Shit, you two are killing me.”

This was what Sly said after he entered Axl’s house in front of me. This being once I was done dealing with my dad and he drove me there.

I understood him.

The place smelled like heaven.

And I got to eat whatever that was, and Sly didn’t.

Axl appeared in the dining area.

Yup.

Heaven.

Axl kept moving, doing it smiling at me at the same time looking like he wanted to pounce on me.

I watched him moving, not smiling, but knowing I definitely looked like I wanted to pounce.

Gone was his usual work gear of cargos and tee.

In their place: supremely faded jeans, a different tee, this one dark heathered gray with yellow letters that said BLACK RIFLE COFFEE COMPANY around a knife, and his feet were bare.

Oh yes.

I wanted to pounce.

Axl made it to me, hooked me around the neck with his arm, I hit his body and his mouth hit mine.

We didn’t go at it.

But I got a reminder he sure tasted good.

“I do still exist,” Sly griped.

We broke it off, but Axl didn’t let us break apart. He kept his arm around my neck but positioned me to his side.

“And you guys suck,” Sly finished.

“Apologies, man,” Axl said, miraculously sounding both apologetic and not.

Sly hulked to the door.

“Thanks for keeping me safe today,” I called.

He stopped at the door and pinned me with a look.

“Your shit is great. Stop fucking around,” he ordered.

And with that, he left.

“What was that?” Axl asked.

I looked up at him to see him looking down at me.

And did it make me a freak I could stand there, claimed by him, gazing up into those steely blues for the rest of my life?

“He came to the studio with me today.”

Axl’s dark brows shot up. “You worked in the studio?”