Too Personal Trainer

Two

What the hell was he doing?

Trying to think straight, that's what. And hell was he failing.

Seeing his girlfriend in bed with another man must have unleashed some sort of insane, irrational monster, for there was a beautiful woman sat next to him, wearing his t-shirt with her long legs on show and her wet hair over her shoulder and all he wanted to do was pull over and kiss the hell out of her.

He loved Natalie. He still did. Seeing her with another man broke his heart, sure, but his love for her didn't vanish. As much as he wish it did so that the heavy ache in his chest would disappear, he still loved and cared for her. So why on earth did he have urge to kiss the woman next to him? He couldn't blame it on the beer. Two sips wasn't an excuse for his sinful thoughts.

Jax glanced over at her, saw her fiddling with the end of his t-shirt. Her eyebrows were burrowed which caused a lost, nervous expression to cover her face. No wonder she was scared. What woman would walk for miles on her own in the middle of nowhere, in the dark, with no phone? And what woman would accept a lift from a complete stranger?

Hell, no one. Not one sane, anyway. Was she sane? Was he sane? Absolutely not. He was the one who insisted. Like any normal woman, she declined his offer. She shrunk into a tiny little shell when he offered to help her, and like a persistent shark he held her captive until she accepted. Dammit. This was his fault.

If only he kept his mouth shut. Sat at that bar with his beer, he should have completely blanked the woman who barged inside with her wet, brown hair shoved over her shoulder in messy curls and her brown – filled with fear, but pretty nonetheless – eyes. He was a sucker for brown eyes. And apparently also a sucker for damsels in distress.

He risked a glance at the damsel in his t-shirt and saw her head slowly falling to the side. Her eyes were closed.

“Sleep, if you want,” he said. “I'll wake you when we get there.”

She sat up, stiff. “I'm not tired.”

His lips twitched to a small smile. “If you say so.”

“I'm not.”

“You can barely keep your eyes open.”

“Well, your eyes should be on the road and not on me.”

A glimmer of amusement sparked in his face. Hell, he thought she was shy. “You don't like me looking at you?”

He saw her hand tremble as she pulled his t-shirt further over her knees. Her constant pulling was going to stretch it, but at that moment the last thing he cared about was the shape of his t-shirt. He cared about understanding why all the heat rushed from her lungs and turned his car ice cold, and why all of a sudden she looked so terrified. Really terrified.

“I'm just worried,” she mumbled. “About my brother, I mean. He's probably panicking like mad and... once he finds out that I...”

“Accepted a lift from a stranger, he will flip. That protective, huh?”

“I thought it was bad when I was 17,” she said. “But it's got worse. He doesn't let me breathe.”

Jax raised his eyebrows. “Surely living an hour away from him has helped?”

“You'd think, right? But, no. He rings me everyday. Skypes me. I'm starting to think he's installed cameras in my apartment and a tracking device in my car. He manages to find out everything.”

“How old is he?”

“24.”

Knowing her brother was the same age as him made his tension ease slightly. “I'm sure it will be fine,” he said. “Just don't tell him how far you walked.”