Finding Mr. Wrong Read online

  It was fine. He'd be just fine. It was only a pub dinner with an old friend. That's it.

  Chapter Seven

  "HOW did I miss this place? It's incredible."

  Jax smiled, relieved by Matthew's approval. This was one of the few places around town where Jax felt comfortable. Maybe because the walls contained a part of him, or because the old Victorian-style features and accents made him feel at home.

  "Yeah, this place was slowly dying before the renovations. It looked like one of those dark run-down old pubs you'd find in some dank London alley. The old owner sold it, and the new owner saw the potential. They gutted it, modernized it, but the owner wanted it to have a Victorian vibe, so he commissioned me to do the wall inserts."

  Matthew stared at him before moving his gaze to one of the intricately detailed wall pieces. "You did those?"

  "Yeah." Jax's face heated. People had gushed over his work before, but none of them were Matthew. The way his silver eyes lit up as he studied the etched piece had Jax enraptured.

  "You're so damn talented, Jax. The craftsmanship is amazing. Do you always draw each piece out?"

  Jax nodded. "I sketch everything out to the last detail, then use the drawing as a template like I did with Mr. Esperanza's panels. I start the right one tomorrow." He wasn't surprised by Matthew's appreciation for the artwork. Hart & Home sold exquisite pieces, all created by top artists, the artists and pieces chosen by Matthew himself. He had a keen eye for detail and a passion for beautiful craftsmanship.

  "The gold just sparkles."

  Speaking of beautiful, the man was just breathtaking. "I'm really glad you came."

  "Me too." Matthew folded his napkin and placed it on the table beside his pint glass. "Dinner was delicious."

  A heavy silence hung between them, and Jax knew it was time. As much as he was enjoying himself, it was time for Matthew to know the truth. He might never want to see Jax again after this, and Jax wouldn't blame him, but at least he'd have gotten it all off his chest.

  "Will you come back with me to my studio? I want to explain, but not here."

  "Jax, it's fine. It was a long time ago."

  Matthew sounded sincere, and maybe he was even giving Jax an out, but Jax couldn't take it. He'd be a coward. Jax reached out and covered Matthew's hand with his. His hands were bigger than Matthew's, rougher. The hands of a man who'd worked hard with materials unyielding against his skin. Matthew's skin was soft, but he had strong hands. He absently stroked Matthew's skin as he spoke.

  "Please, Matthew. I really need to get this off my chest."

  Matthew nodded, and Jax didn't waste any time. He paid the bill, ignoring Matthew's protest that it wasn't necessary, then quickly put on his jacket. As Matthew stood, Jax took Matthew's jacket from the back of his chair and held it up for him. Matthew's surprised smile made Jax's stomach flip.

  "Thank you." Matthew slipped his arms inside, and Jax motioned for Matthew to lead the way. Outside, Jax turned to Matthew.

  "We could take a cab or walk it. It's only a couple of blocks down the road."

  "It's a nice night. Let's walk."

  Jax turned in the direction of his studio, stifling a gasp when Matthew wrapped his arm around Jax's as they strolled down the street. They must have looked so mismatched. Matthew in his designer clothes, looking elegant and clean-cut, and Jax with his unruly hair, scruffy beard, dark jeans, and faded motorcycle jacket. They got looks as they walked by, and Jax couldn't stop from murmuring an apology.

  "What are you apologizing for?" Matthew asked, his expression puzzled.

  "We keep getting looks. People are probably wondering what the hell a guy like you is doing with a guy like me."

  Matthew gaped at him. "You're kidding, right?"

  "What?"

  "They're not staring at me, Jax. They're staring at you."

  "I know," Jax muttered, feeling embarrassed.

  "They're staring at you because you're gorgeous."

  Jax frowned. "That's sweet of you, Matthew, really, but it's not necessary."

  "You don't even see it, do you?"

  Jax had no idea what Matthew was talking about.

  "Jax, you're a stunning man. When people look at me, they don't see anything special, just an average-looking guy who probably has more money than sense. For some, I'm just another Wall Street yuppie. But you? You look like you just stepped out of a photo shoot. You're a gorgeous, rugged man with a killer body, bad-boy looks, and a smile that makes people want to have your babies."

  Jax let out a bark of laughter at the last part. He shook his head and snickered. "Stop."

  Matthew arched an eyebrow. "You don't believe me, huh?" He came to a halt, and to Jax's disbelief, Matthew stopped a young couple walking arm in arm.

  "Excuse me. Would you help me settle a bet?"

  The couple eyed him warily, but nodded. The young man, holding his sweetheart, arched an eyebrow at Matthew.

  "Matty," Jax grumbled. He could not believe Matthew was doing this.

  "I'm trying to prove a point to my friend here. Would you have his babies?"

  The young woman's eyes widened. She looked Jax over and didn't hesitate. "I would so have his babies." She turned to her man, who nodded his agreement.

  "I'd totally have his babies," he replied.

  Jax stared at them, his jaw slack. He opened his mouth to say something, when a white-haired elderly woman in a tennis visor and velvet pink tracksuit paused long enough to look Jax over. Her bright blue eyes twinkled with mischief as she spoke.

  "Honey, I might not be able to have his babies, but that wouldn't stop me from trying."

  Jax laughed and gave her a wink, then snorted out another laugh when she fanned herself with her hand.

  "Thank you," Matthew said, turning to Jax with a smug smile. "See." He wrapped his arm back around Jax's and started walking again, his smile wide. "Everyone wants to have your babies."

  Jax was very tempted to ask if that included Matthew, but he didn't want to say or do anything to scare Matthew away. Just having Matthew's arm in his was more than he could have hoped for.

  The walk to the studio was over before Jax even realized it. He could have walked like this, arm in arm with Matthew, for hours. Jax let Matthew into the studio and locked the door behind him. He led Matthew to the very back and through a door that led to a narrow staircase. He went first, going up several flights of stairs with Matthew close behind.

  "Where are we going?"

  "You'll see." Reaching the door to the roof, Jax unlocked the small door. He had to duck to keep from hitting his head. "Mind your head."

  "I don't have that problem," Matthew grumped, pointing to the top of the doorframe an inch over his head. The man was so freaking adorable.

  Jax held his hand out to Matthew, loving how Matthew didn't hesitate. He put his hand in Jax's and followed, just like he used to when they were kids. It struck Jax then how trusting Matthew had been, and perhaps still was, when it came to Jax. When they were kids, wherever Jax led, Matthew was there right behind him, never questioning or concerned.

  "How come you were never scared when I dragged you along on all my crazy misadventures?" Jax had always come up with the most ludicrous ideas. Like stealing a tarp from the school gardener so they could throw it over the jungle gym to make a fort. They'd each taken one end, ran off, only to get chased down the football field. Unfortunately, it had been an incredibly windy day, they were both tiny things, especially Matthew, and the tarp ended up opening like a parachute, sending them flying back onto the grassy pitch. They'd giggled their faces off until the gardener caught up with them and dragged them to the principal's office. Jax had told the principal it was his fault. That he convinced Matthew to do it. Whenever they got caught, he always told the principal it was his fault. Matthew didn't like it, but Jax always found a way to make Matthew forget all about it.

  "Because I knew you'd never let anything happen to me. I was safe with you. Always."

  Jax wr
apped an arm around Matthew's waist, tentatively pulling him closer, and felt his pulse pick up when Matthew didn't pull away. Jax felt a little silly now. The guy had been all over the world, seen countless wonders, historic monuments, experienced the finest of everything. Hell, he probably lived in some high-rise penthouse with a view that blew this one out of the water.

  "Oh, wow. Jax, this is incredible."

  "Yeah?"

  Matthew nodded, his silver eyes sparkling as he looked around. "I can see the city from my apartment, but it's nothing like this. I mean here, you feel like you're a part of it all rather than looking in from the outside. Does that make sense?"

  "Absolutely. No one comes up here but me. When things get too much, or I need to think or get inspiration, I come up here. It calms me. I was spending more and more time up here, so I brought a few things up and claimed it as my own. Not even my dad comes up here." It wasn't much, but it was his space. He'd brought up an old but clean loveseat with a warm fuzzy blanket and some throw pillows, and placed it in the center of a big rug he'd bought from a secondhand store and that he'd shampooed. His furniture might be used, but Jax was a stickler for cleanliness. He didn't have much growing up, but what he did have, he took good care of.

  A large canopy he'd secured to the floor protected the loveseat and rug from the rain and snow, the sides allowing him to close them with a zipper when he wasn't here. He'd also brought up a sturdy wooden table and two chairs, and an electric heater for cold nights. Around the roof and canopy, he hung white Christmas lights. It was like the clubhouse he'd always wanted but never had. With a smile, Jax took Matthew's hand in his and led him over to the loveseat. They sat down, Matthew sitting close enough to Jax that his leg was pressed against Jax's.

  "Matty, you have to know I never wanted to leave. I didn't have a choice."

  Matthew remained quiet, letting Jax say what he needed to. There was so much he wanted to say. Where did he start? He supposed a good place was the night he'd experienced a broken heart for the very first time.

  "My dad got in over his head with some really nasty people. He owed them money, money he didn't have. One day, I was walking home from school when a van pulled up beside me. A bunch of guys jumped out and grabbed me. They told my dad all the horrible things they'd do to me if he didn't pay what he owed them by the end of the week." Jax swallowed hard, his gaze on his hands. "I'd been through a lot of shit in my life, but that was the first time I really thought I was going to die."

  Matthew gasped, putting his hand over Jax's. "Oh my God. They kidnapped you?"

  Jax nodded. "I was locked up in this tiny, filthy room for three days. I was terrified. My father sold everything we owned, and they let me go. My dad grabbed what little was left, and we ran. We hitched a ride to Pennsylvania, then Ohio. We kept moving until we reached Nevada, where my dad hustled pool for a while. I was desperate to talk to you, but I was scared. I argued with my father when we left, crying and screaming that I didn't want to go. He said if we stayed, they'd come after us again. I didn't care. When he said they'd come after my friends... that did it." Jax shook his head, feeling the sting in the back of his eyes. It was such a long time ago, but damn if it didn't still hurt. "The thought that someone might hurt you because of me, because of my dad, terrified me. When we found out the same guys had burned our trailer, I knew we'd never be able to come back."

  Matthew took Jax's hand in his, lacing their fingers together. "Jesus, Jax. I'm so sorry. How did your dad get involved with those people?"

  "My mother was the one who worked because my father couldn't. He'd tried. But back then, the PTSD was too bad. He'd just turned twenty when he was deployed to Vietnam, and when he came home to my mom... it was bad. He tried hard, but the world had changed. He'd changed. He was never violent, never hurt us. He was haunted by night terrors. He'd have episodes at all hours of the day, triggered by certain sounds, smoke, flashes of light. He felt guilty that he couldn't provide for our family, and after my mom died in a car accident on her way home from work, the guilt ate away at him.

  "Time and time again, he was let go from whatever job he'd managed to get, even the one at our school. He'd always been good at sports, and one day he won some money at pool. That's when it started. His problem wasn't so much the losing as the never knowing when to quit. He'd be ahead, and instead of walking away, he'd keep going until he'd not only lost his winnings but got in over his head. Which was especially bad, considering how shit he was at judging people." Jax shifted uncomfortably, his gaze everywhere but on Matthew. What must the man think of him? That he was a loser? That he could have tried harder to get away from the unfortunate circumstances of his childhood? He'd tried. God knew Jax had tried.

  "The reason I never wanted you to come over wasn't just because we were poor," Jax admitted quietly. "I didn't want you to see my father beat to hell. He never went to the hospital, because we didn't have the money for it. I took care of him. Cleaned his wounds, splinted any broken fingers, bandaged him up. I went to the library a lot, checked out books on first aid." Jax shook his head and chuckled. "The librarian thought I wanted to be a doctor."

  "You were just a kid," Matthew said, his rough voice getting Jax's attention. "How could your father do that to you?"

  Jax was taken aback by Matthew's anger. "He's not a bad guy, Matty. I mean, he clothed me, fed me, looked after me as best he could. He'd go without dinner because there wasn't enough for the both of us. He spent all his free time with me, read me stories at bedtime when he wasn't too worn out. A lot of the time, he fell asleep guarding the door. I hated that we had to live like that. Always looking over our shoulders, but at least we were together. I wasn't going to let them put me in foster care, and my father refused to give me up. We were family. A fucked-up family, but we were all we had. Then a few years ago, my dad was reading the newspaper and found out the guys who'd kidnapped me had been gunned down. We could come back to the city.

  "I was so excited because, finally, we could come home. We could start fresh. I could open the studio I wanted, and my dad promised to keep himself out of trouble." He sat back with a sigh, warmth flooding through him when Matthew leaned against him, his head on Jax's shoulder.

  "It didn't last long. I've lost count of how many times I had to bail him out of trouble. This last one was the worst. His last debt cost me the studio's rent money. I don't know what the hell I'm going to do."

  Matthew sat forward to look at Jax. "I'll give you the money."

  "No," Jax snapped, startling Matthew. He softened his tone when he next spoke, and he brought Matthew's hand to his lips for a kiss. "Sorry. I didn't mean to sound so harsh. I don't want money from you, Matty. That's not why I brought it up."

  Matthew frowned at him. "I know that, but Jax, this is your studio we're talking about. I can help."

  Jax released Matthew to fold his arms over his chest. "It's my problem, Matthew. I'll figure it out." Matthew was clearly frustrated, but Jax wasn't about to give in. He refused to be some pathetic charity case.

  "Jax, it's no big deal. If you want to pay it back, we can work something out. You can pay whenever you're able."

  "I'm not borrowing money from you, Matty, and that's the end of it."

  Matthew looked like he wanted to argue some more. Argue was the last thing Jax wanted, so he changed the subject. "Hey, do you remember that Polaroid camera you used to take to school?"

  Matthew blinked at him. "Yeah, of course. You remember that?"

  "Yep." Jax smiled at him. "I still have my album."

  "You do?" Matthew looked surprised. He really had no idea how much his friendship had meant to Jax.

  "I was looking through it before I got up the courage to come see you in your office."

  "I have mine too," Matthew admitted somewhat bashfully.

  A breeze swept through the roof, blowing Jax's hair into his face. He ran a hand through the thick mass of hair, smiling at Matthew. "I should probably get it cut, huh?"

  "Don't you d
are."

  Jax was caught off guard by Matthew's protest. He'd caught Matthew staring at his hair more than once. "That so?"

  Matthew's cheeks flushed. "I mean, um, it would be a shame."

  "You like it?"

  Matthew reached out, then paused. "May I?"

  "Sure." Jax's heart pounded in his ears as Matthew slipped his fingers into Jax's hair. It wasn't easy to maintain, by any means, but Jax didn't mind. It was the only thing he had that made him unique in any way. He supposed that and his art, but what he did in the studio wasn't exactly trending, as one guy had so charmingly put it. There had not been a second date.

  "It's so soft."

  "Lots of conditioner," Jax said with a laugh. Matthew continued to stroke his hair, and Jax closed his eyes, unable to stop the contended sigh before it left him. He didn't dare open his eyes. Instead he enjoyed Matthew's gentle hands on him as Matthew played with his hair. "You like that?" Jax asked, receiving a soft yes. Opening his eyes, he took hold of Matthew's wrist. "Come here." He pulled Matthew toward him. "Sit on my lap."

  Matthew swallowed hard but did as Jax asked. He stood and straddled Jax's lap. Taking hold of Matthew's hips, Jax pulled Matthew up against him, then wrapped his arms around Matthew's slender waist.

  "Better?"

  Matthew nodded, and Jax closed his eyes again as Matthew slipped both hands into his hair.

  "If you braid my hair, this date is over," Jax deadpanned, loving Matthew's soft laugh.

  They were quiet, the only sounds those of the city around them, but it was a comfortable silence. Jax had never been able to just sit with someone. Most people felt the need to fill every moment of silence with talk, and sometimes Jax just wanted to sit and be.

  "You sure you don't mind me touching your hair? I know some guys don't like having their hair or beards touched."

  "Baby, you can touch anything you want." It was out before Jax realized what he'd said. Shit. He opened his eyes, sucking in a sharp breath at the heat he found in Matthew's stormy silver eyes. Matthew's brows drew together.

  "Don't tease me."

  Jax met Matthew's eyes, his gaze unwavering. "I wasn't teasing."

  Matthew studied his face as if he was looking for any signs that Jax might not be telling the truth. Jax meant every word. Were it anyone else, the invitation would never have left his lips. Matthew could do whatever he wanted to Jax, and he would relish it. As if coming to some sort of decision, Matthew nodded. He leaned in and kissed Jax. The moon paled in comparison to the glow spreading through Jax. His Matty was kissing him.