Bonus Scene: Saving Her Heart

Bonus Scene - Kendall

    One year after the proposal, I'm standing in our bedroom watching Jax struggle with his bowtie for the third time. We're already running late for Hudson and Kate's anniversary party, but I can't help enjoying the show.

    "Need help?" I ask, trying not to smile.

    "I've got it," he mutters, undoing the tie completely and starting over. "These     things are designed by sadists."

    "Or," I suggest, walking over to him, "you could just wear a regular tie like a normal person."

    "Hudson specifically said bow ties," he grumbles. "Something about 'elevating the aesthetic."

    "Kate's words, Hudson's mouth," I say, reaching up to take over the tie situation. "Hold still."

    He stands perfectly still while I work, but his hands settle on my waist, thumbs tracing small circles through the silk of my dress.

    "You look incredible," he breathes.

    "You say that every time I wear this dress," I point out, finishing the bowtie with a perfect bow.

    "Because it's true every time," he replies, pulling me closer. "Especially true tonight."

    "Why especially tonight?" I ask, though the heat in his eyes gives me a pretty good idea.

    "Because I know what's underneath it," he murmurs, his voice dropping to that tone that still makes my knees weak after a year of living together. His lips, warm and inviting, brush against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

    "We're already late," I remind him, but my protest lacks conviction.

    "They won't miss us," he says, his lips finding that spot on my neck that he knows makes me melt. His fingers, light as feathers, trace my arm, igniting a trail of goosebumps in their wake. My resolve, already fragile, begins to fracture under his touch.

    "Jax..." I try to sound stern, but it comes out breathy.

    "Five minutes," he bargains, walking me backward toward the bed. The outside world, with its parties and obligations, fades into obscurity, leaving only the two of us and the scorching heat of our attraction.

    "You said five minutes this morning, and we missed brunch with Charli entirely," I point out.

    "Worth it," he says, grinning against my skin.

    Hope barks from downstairs, probably wanting to go outside, and the spell breaks slightly.

    "We have responsibilities," I say, though I'm not moving away from him.

"The dog can wait five minutes," he insists.

    "It's never just five minutes with you," I laugh.

    "You’re not complaining, are you?" he asks, his hands sliding down to the hem of my dress.

    "Never," I admit, giving in to the inevitable. My gaze locks with his, a silent challenge. “The party can wait,” my voice just a whisper.

    Our lips meet in a slow, deep kiss, a fusion of hunger and tenderness. The world spins, the boundaries of reality blur, and all that exists is this moment, this connection. His hands, strong and sure, slide down my back, pulling me closer, until my dress becomes a mere afterthought, a barrier to be ignored.

    His hands find my waist, fingers splaying across my bare skin where the dress dips low. He pulls me tighter, the fabric bunching slightly under his grip. The silk dress slides off my shoulders and pools at my feet, leaving me in nothing but lace and desire.

    His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of me, his hands moving like they’re mapping uncharted territory, though he knows every inch of me by heart. His palms glide over my hips, his thumbs brushing the curve of my breast, his fingers trace the dip of my spine. I shiver under his touch, my skin alive with the sensation of being wanted, cherished, claimed. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his lips pressing to the hollow of my throat, his breath warm against my skin.

    “You make me feel this way,” my voice soft as I thread my hands through his hair, pulling him closer. His mouth moves lower, kissing the swell of my breasts, his tongue teasing the lace of my bra before he slips it off.

    My head falls back, arching into him. “Jax,” I whisper. 

    “Tell me what you want, Kendall.” He says, his voice is rough.

    “You,” I say without any hesitation. “Just you.”

    He kisses his way back up my body, his lips lingering on mine before he steps back, shedding his shirt, his pants following soon after. He’s a man who carries himself with quiet confidence, and in this moment, I feel that confidence directed entirely at me.

    The mattress dips under his weight as he pulls me into his arms. My fingers trace the lines of his body, my nails scraping lightly over his chest.

    My body responds to his touch with eagerness. At his touch, I moan into his mouth, my hips rocking into his hand. “Jax,” I cry out. “I need you.”

    He smiles against my lips, “I’m right here,” he murmurs, ripping apart my panties and positioning himself at my core. He enters me slowly, his eyes locked on mine, his thrusts deliberate, as if he’s savoring every moment. I wrap my legs around him, my heels digging into the backs of his thighs, pulling him deeper until it feels as if we’re fusing together.

    His pace quickens; our bodies are moving in sync as the friction between us builds to a crescendo. I call out his name as I crest that edge into oblivion; the waves crashing over me. 

    He follows me and his body trembles against mine.

    We lay here for at least twenty minutes. We're significantly more disheveled and definitely late. My carefully styled hair is now in a messy bun, and Jax's bowtie is somewhere on the floor.

    "This is your fault," I tell him, trying to fix my makeup in the car mirror while he drives.

    "You're the one who wore that dress," he counters.

    "It's a normal dress!"

    "Nothing about you is normal to me," he says, reaching over to take my hand. "You're extraordinary."

    Even after all this time, he still makes me blush with comments like that.

We pull up at the venue—a waterfront restaurant Hudson and Kate have rented out entirely. Through the windows, I can see all our friends already there, laughing and mingling.

    "Ready?" Jax asks.

    "Wait," I say, noticing his collar is still messed up. I fix it quickly, smoothing down his jacket. "There. Now you're presentable."

    "What about you?" he asks, grinning at my hastily fixed hair.

    "I'm going for 'casually elegant,'" I say with as much dignity as possible.

    "You're going for 'just thoroughly kissed,'" he corrects.

    "That too," I agree, checking my lipstick one more time.

    We walk in together, and immediately Charli appears, taking one look at us and shaking her head.

    "You're forty minutes late," she says, though she's fighting a smile.

    "Traffic," I lie badly.

    "Sure, traffic." She looks at Jax. "Your shirt's inside out."

    I look closer and realize she's right. In our rush to get redressed, Jax has indeed put his dress shirt on inside out. The tag is barely visible at the collar, but Charli's eagle eyes missed nothing.

    "Bathroom," Jax mutters, heading off to fix it.

    "Traffic, huh?" Charli says, grinning at me.

    "Shut up," I mutter, grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

"You've been married a year. Aren't you supposed to be past the 'can't keep your hands off each other' phase?"

    "Are you and Sawyer?" I counter.

    She grins. "Fair point. Though we at least make it to events on time."

    "We made it," I point out. "That counts."

    The Walking Ladies descend on us before Charli can respond. They're all wearing matching purple dresses and what appear to be tiaras.

    "Kendall, dear!" Gladys exclaims. "You look beautifully rumpled!"

    "Very 'just been ravished,'" Florence adds with a wink.

    "Ladies," I say, trying to maintain some dignity.

    "Oh, honey, we're old, not dead," Betty laughs. "We know that look."

    "I had that look once," Joan says wistfully. "1973. Harold's Buick. Very uncomfortable but very memorable."

    "Okay, this conversation is over," I announce, but I'm laughing.

    Jax returns, shirt properly oriented without the bowtie, and immediately gets pulled into a conversation with Hudson about something to do with the house. We've been living there for a year now, and the guys still have projects they insist on doing together. Last weekend, he was building a deck. This weekend, apparently, they're planning a fire pit.

    "Leave them be," Kate says, appearing at my elbow. "Once they start talking construction, we lose them for at least an hour."

    The party is perfect—Kate and Hudson's parties always are. There's good food, better wine, and all our favorite people. Grace is showing off pictures of Emma. Riley and Declan are arguing about where to go for their anniversary. Ian and Mia are discussing their foundation's latest project.

    "Can you believe it's been over a year?" Kate asks me during a quiet moment. "Since the whole goat incident?"

    "Feels like yesterday and forever ago at the same time," I say.

    "Would you change any of it?" she asks.

    I think about the chaos, the fear, the property damage. Then I think about Jax breaking rules for Mrs. Parsons, the town rallying around us, finding my way back to the love of my life.

    "Not a thing," I say honestly.

    "Not even the goat?" she teases.

    "Especially not the goat," I laugh. "Gertie brought us all together."

    Speaking of Gertie, Mrs. Parsons' niece Sarah sent me a video yesterday. The memory care facility had a petting zoo day, and Gertie was the star. Mrs. Parsons was laughing and feeding her carrots, looking happier than I'd seen her in months.

    "What are you smiling about?" Jax asks, rejoining me, his arm sliding around my waist.

    "Just thinking about how a goat changed our lives," I tell him.

    "Best chaos ever," he agrees, kissing my temple.

    Hudson clinks his glass, calling attention for a toast. "Kate and I want to thank you all for being here. Five years of marriage, and somehow she hasn't killed me yet."

    "The night's still young," Kate calls out, making everyone laugh.

    "But seriously," Hudson continues, "we're grateful for all of you. Our chosen family. The people who show up for the good times and the bad. Who helps us rebuild when things burn down, literally in some cases."

    Everyone looks at me and Jax, and we raise our glasses in acknowledgment.

    "To friendship," Hudson says.    

    "To family," Kate adds.

    "To goats!" Gladys shouts, because of course she does.

    We all drink, and I lean into Jax, perfectly content. This is our life—chaotic friends, nosy neighbors, the occasional livestock incident, and a love that took ten years and a goat to get right.

    "Want to sneak out?" Jax whispers in my ear.

    "We just got here," I remind him. "And we're already on notice for being late."

    "Later, then," he says, and the promise in his voice sends a shiver down my spine   

    "Later," I agree.

    The party continues around us—laughter, stories, the Walking Ladies trying to teach everyone their "FBI" handshake. Hope is at home, probably destroying something we love, but that's okay. Tomorrow we'll deal with whatever chaos comes our way.

   But tonight, surrounded by our people, held by the man I love, I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

    Even if his shirt was inside out.

    Especially because his shirt was inside out.

    Because that's what our love is—imperfect, occasionally backward, always slightly rumpled, but absolutely, completely right.