Being grounded really isn't the worst thing. Knowing my friends all went into town together really sucked, but there are some nights that I don't mind hanging out on my own. School by day, porch reading by night. If I'm honest, second to the old dock by the lake, my front porch is my absolute favorite place to be. From this spot, wrapped in a blanket with Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy in hand for the millionth time, I take in the view of my tiny town.

To my left is the road that leads to Luxberg High, to a blinking yield light that curves into our Main Street. I can't see all the businesses from this swing, but I can see the library, our post office, and part of Kane's bar. We are fortunate to not have neighbors to our left or right, a location that does not go unnoticed by some very jealous women in town, but the Parker's home across the road has a very similar view from their own porch. To my right, thick greenery hides the lake. You can just barely make out the road that leads to the old dock; in fact, if you didn't know where it led, you'd likely never think twice about it. Some of the trees are so high that some days my house gets no sunlight—unfortunate for my mom's flowers. And just like the way our porch wraps around our old home, Lake Lux wraps its way around to our backyard. Where a hidden, mile-long road could take you to a dock, from my backyard the lake is more like a backdrop. It's far but visible, and absolutely beautiful. Somedays, the water looks like liquid silver, reflecting the trees around its banks like a mirror.

No denying it—our home, and the home across the street, are the envy of town in terms of location. It's the definition of private and peaceful. I cannot fathom how my brother, Felix, managed to leave this place for college. The thought of living outside the boundaries of town scares the crap out of me. I always considered myself a Luxberg-Lifer until my night with Tyler Porter. Nothing stays a secret here, and just the thought of anyone hearing that we had sex in the back of his car on homecoming weekend was enough that I filled out an application to the same school as Felix. Thankfully, it's still a secret, because I haven't heard back. Not that I blame the University of Northern Iowa for skipping that library science degree application, because my grades are lacking in every subject but literature.

"My game starts at seven!" Sydney's voice trails through the open window behind me. "I'm going to be late!"

The storm door opens and slams closed. My little sister ignores me as she rushes to our mom's SUV, dressed in green and gold softball uniform. I keep my nose in my book, reading about a whale falling from the sky. The porch swing stills for a moment, and I use my toes to start rocking it again. The door beside me opens and slams shut once more, this time revealing both of my parents. They too are dressed in our school colors, both in sweatshirts for a cool spring night. Mom appropriately chose a softball sweatshirt. My dad, however, stuck with football. Even though he will sit there and support my sister's sport choice, in his mind there are only two acceptable sports—football and golf.

"You want to come with, Gabs?" My dad gives a tug on my ponytail before descending the few steps down to the grass.

I look to my sister. "No. Take pictures if she gets hit in the face again though. I'm really disappointed I missed it last time."

The 13-year-old in the backseat of the car holds her hand out the open window. Her middle finger lifts in my direction with a cocky smile.

"Sydney Renee!" Mom's firm tone scolds. "I'll make you walk!"

She holds her ground. In fact, her arm raises a few inches higher out of spite. My mother mutters her own curse words while Sydney, our dad, and myself all find it more than amusing. We love to fight, but we love each other just as much. At least that's what I remind myself when I'm ready to kill her for stealing my things out of my room without asking. The whole family just enjoys seeing how worked up we can get our mom, because she's probably the sweetest human on the planet. It takes a lot for her to cuss, and when she does, everyone makes fun of her for it.

"Eat at the bar tonight, okay?" I watch my mother smack Sydney's obscene hand gesture down and push her hand back into the car. "There is money on the table. We are eating at the game. No Cole. No Morgan. Dad's orders."

"Got it." I nod, returning to my book. I try and hide my growing smile, knowing that the bar they are referring to is Kane's Bar & Grill, and that means I get to see Kane tonight.

"Try not to burn the place to the ground." Mom smiles sweetly, "...again."

"That only happened once. And it was your poor parenting skills for not informing me that tin-foil is not supposed to go in the microwave!"

With a shake of her head, she pulls the car from the driveway and enters the road.

It's not like I burned the entire place down. It was just one small portion of the kitchen—a few cupboards, the microwave, the stove beneath it, and the pantry. She later thanked me, because dad finally had to succumb to her constant pleas for a kitchen renovation. The stainless appliances really are a nice update. They added value to our house. They're welcome.

Once the car is out of sight, I slam my book shut and head inside. Waiting for me on the counter is a fifty-dollar bill. That means I could eat my weight in cheese fries tonight. Or...I eat lightly and pocket the rest for a trip to the bookstore when I'm not grounded. I like the latter.

After grabbing a sweatshirt from my room, I decide to leave my car parked and walk to the bar. It takes an exact total of eleven minutes to reach Main Street by foot. The announcer of the softball game's voice can still be heard on this side of town. While most businesses are closed for the night, only the two bars remain open. Mickey's Landing, which sits right beside Kane's, has always felt more like a slightly upscale restaurant than a bar. With owners not from this area, it definitely isn't the most loved of the two from those that live in Luxberg. In fact, Mickey is known for hiking up the prices of the food and drinks during peak seasons—when all the rich people would show up to stay at their summer cabins on the lake. His daughter, Lilly, is in my grade and the head of the cheerleading team. She makes sure to get her parents to sponsor as many school activities as possible, making them a little more likable for the people who live here year-round.

Kane's bar is definitely a different crowd than what you'd find at Mickey's. Just opening the door hits your senses with an overpowering blast of stale beer and grease. The floor is almost always sticky as you walk on it. Old black iron chairs with brown leather are paired with wobbly, square tables covered with red and white checkered tablecloths. The whole place is darkly-lit, with the exception of a few pool tables on the other half of the establishment that have Budweiser lights hanging above them. Felix and I spent many nights perfecting our billiard skills at those tables. Even though I'm too young to sit there, per Kane's rule of having to be 21, the best part of the whole place is the bar. Not the actual wooden slab itself, but the wall behind it. That's where there are pictures of Kane's and my own family growing up. Our parents have been best friends since their own high school days, and their whole tale is told in photographs above the bottles of alcohol. Kane Senior, the original owner of the bar and star quarterback of Luxberg High, dated my mom, cheer captain, until their senior year. That's when my dad swooped in as the rival quarterback from a few towns over and captured her heart. Everything in town revolves around team spirit, and mom chose an outsider. I always loved that about her—a town rebel in her own way. Kane Senior found his own wife shortly after, and the two couples stayed close until their own kids were born. Now, here we all are. Kane and Tyler are two siblings that we aren't actually blood related to. And thank God for that, because Kane Alexander Porter is seriously drool-worthy in a total non-sibling way.

Passing my drunken uncle, who is currently passed out with his head lying on the table, I manage to squeeze my way to the bar, where I'm able to stand between two claimed barstools. Everyone in the place is dressed in their green and gold, and the radio blaring behind the bar is just barely loud enough to make out the Luxberg softball game over the jukebox. I just make out that Sydney's team is leading four to three in the third when a basket of the most wonderful smelling, freshly buttered popcorn appears in front of me.

"Hey." Kane grins with dimples sinking into his cheeks. My own smile reacts. "What can I get you tonight, Gabs?"

It's bad when one of the worst parts of your brother going off to college is that you don't get to see his best friend as much. Even though Kane is one year older than Felix, the two are practically inseparable—especially when it comes to football. They took Luxberg to state for the first time since our parents' senior year. Town golden boys are an absolute understatement when describing the pair of them, and Tyler is definitely following in those footsteps.

Tall, dark, handsome, funny...the only issue with having a crush on Kane Porter is that Felix would stroke out if I even looked twice at him. Overprotective big brother at your service. I think his real problem is that if something ever did happen between us, and it ended poorly, he'd have to deal with a rift between his best friend and a sibling. No dating friends—that's the unsaid rule. So, Kane Porter will need to remain something nice to look at.

"The usual." I roll my eyes, finding his question ridiculous.

From the back of his jeans, Kane pulls out an order pad, drops it to the bar top and clicks his pen. "Funk burger," he begins writing with a smile that remains playful. "Extra funk, extra onion, no pickles but fried pickles on the side?"

"Correct." I nod.

"With fuck-tons of ranch?"

"Is there any other condiment in my vocabulary?"

"No." He chuckles, continuing to write. "Cherry Sprite?"

"I'm feeling crazy tonight, Kane. Make it a Pepsi."

"Holy shit; she does try new things." He winks before walking off towards the kitchen.

With it being game night, not one table in the place is free. Surprisingly, there are barstools open, but again, it's against Kane's rules to sit at the bar if you're underage. If he ever risked the liquor license of this place, his dad would probably kill him. Kane Senior had to give up the reigns when his wife was diagnosed with breast cancer. Kane had to take over the family bar the day he turned 21, and even though he won't admit it, I've overheard my parents say that he's the breadwinner for his entire family now. So, as much as I want a seat, it looks like my night of ogling the bartender will be cut short. I'll probably be eating from home, unless someone leaves.

Leaning my elbows into the bar, I try to hear what's happening with the game. If they lose, I'll find some obscure way to blame it all on my little sister. Loaded bases are two words that catch my attention. Maybe it would have been a good night to go to the game, even though I'm not at all interested in sports. I'm the black sheep of the family when it comes to that.

"Books." Two tattooed hands land on the bar on each side of me, caging me into my place. "You haven't come back to visit. I'm starting to believe you really are afraid of me."

There is no guessing whose tattooed arms are around me, because I knew Jax was here the moment I heard him call me Books. His husky voice is taunting me playfully—hard to be afraid of that. I am wondering why my Kane Porter smile just turned into me grinning like a complete idiot. Thankfully, with his front against my back, Jax can't see it.

"May I help you with something?" I question.

"Just wanted to see if you changed your mind."

"Well, as enticing as a good hump and dump sounds, I'll have to pass."

He laughs, and if that's not the most attractive sound I've heard from him yet, I don't know what is. Good grief—I am a mess around this guy. Not one peep has been said about his past, and I have to say, I'm pretty disappointed in the town gossip pool lately. I was correct in assuming the town would hear that he is a criminal, but no one knows the mystery of Jackson Parker. My own search may have ended when my dad ended any hope of getting to know him better, but my curiosity did not.

Kane reappearing with a Pepsi in his hand and finding me in this position was surely not how I imagined tonight going. Thick dark eyebrows lift high on his head as he passes the drink across the bar to me. Jax, even in the bar setting, sticks out in Luxberg. No one else is covered in tattoos, and I'm sure that by now, Kane has heard the rumor that the new residents have a criminal son. There's a glance over my shoulder to the man who has me trapped, and another glance back to me that has Kane looking way more worried than he needs to be—well, at least I think he doesn't need to be worried.

"You okay, Gabs?"

"I'm fine." My eyes roll. "He's my friend's brother. He's just a manwhore."

"Hey now..." Jax's body vibrates with laughter against my back. "You don't know me well enough to call me that yet."

"You sure?" Kane asks again.

I nod. I'm sure. I'm fine. I'm also sure that if at any point I did not feel comfortable around Jax, that I could have his ass tossed right out of here. There's some serious hesitation from the bartender, but eventually, he has to walk away and tend to his other customers.

I'm not sure why I thought turning around would be a good idea, but I do. With two arms still surrounding me in my place, I'm now front to front with Courtney's brother. The smile on Jax grows. Meanwhile, my stomach is twirling, and I have no way of stopping it.

"Surprised you're not pushing me away yet," he jokes.

"I haven't made up my mind yet. Still might. I get the feeling that you don't get turned down often."

His head cocks. "Correct. Although, you haven't turned me down yet."

"No?" I ask. "I think I did..."

"You have not. You see, I haven't presented an offer to you yet. I asked if you were interested. You are merely a girl infatuated with the town's tattooed troublemaker. You obviously haven't had luck with that Google search of yours."

I don't answer, and that is his answer. I've tried every combination of his name that I could think of, and there is nothing on him. Jackson Al-something Parker does not exist on the internet, and I'm not even sure how that's possible.

"Let's face the facts here, Jax. You are some sort of tattooed troublemaker. I won't be taking you up on any offers. In fact, my dad says that I shouldn't be anywhere near you. Pretty sure your house, and the fifty-foot radius around it, is considered off-limits."

His green eyes roll. "All that does is punishes Courtney. She takes enough shit for what I did."

Why would she take shit for something he did? That makes no sense.

"And you did what exactly...?" I attempt, cocking my own head back at him and knowing this is a useless question to be asking.

"I broke the law," he answers smugly.

Gee, thanks, Captain Obvious.

"Should you even be in a bar when you are on probation? I thought there was a rule about that."

"I'm not drinking." His lean on the bar is released, liberating me in the process. "I'm waiting for my burger."

Right. Food. That's what I actually came here for tonight. Glancing around the crowded bar, seeing it even busier than when I initially came in, I find no open tables. It seems like even Uncle Tim was kicked out for the night with the need for more space. I suppose my own burger will be eaten from the porch. Not the first time and certainly won't be the last. I'm just glad to see Kane's bar doing well.

"Let's play pool."

"Excuse me?" I shift by wandering eyes back to the guy in front of me.

"Pool. We should play."

"No." My head shakes and I cross my arms. "We really shouldn't."

"The food will be a while. This place is packed," he motions to the bar. "And you aren't tall enough to sit at the big kid table. Unless you're finally ready to admit that you're afraid of me."

I can't be afraid of what I don't know. What I do know is that I definitely don't need word of me playing a game of pool with Jax Parker getting out. I know exactly whose ears wouldn't find that amusing. That's just asking for another week to be added to my grounding.

"Neither. I'm thinking your probation officer wouldn't like it, and I'm not sure who would be in hotter water—you or me."

"I'll risk it." Jax proceeds to the pool table without me.

Cues hang from the walls behind the row of pool tables, and Jax is careful to select one. I'm not the only person watching as he begins to chalk the end of it. There are multiple women in this room who can't stop staring in his direction. With tattoos, without tattoos, it doesn't matter. Jackson Parker is seriously easy on the eyes. They're seeing him in some washed out jeans, a white Champion tee, and an unzipped, gray hoodie—hot. They should have seen him last week in nothing more than pajama pants. He may have this bar's attention, but it's evident that I have his. His gaze could light me on fire right now.

Jax smiles. "One game. I won't tell Daddy Dan if you don't."

Sighing, and knowing that there are no empty seats behind me that aren't at the bar, I cave. One game—I can play one game while I wait for my food. He might just slip up and give away a hint that will help my search.

"I knew you were interested," he says cockily, chalking the pool cue.

I take the chalk right out of his hand, shaking my head. "Not interested," I remind him. "I'm just entertaining you while I wait for my own food."

"Right." Placing his cue down to set the table, I pick my own personal favorite from the wall. "Do you know how to play?" he eyes me. "I can't imagine an 18-year-old having this type of skill set with it being a bar game. Do I need to explain the rules?"

"How do you even know how old I am?" I ask in return. "And I thought you have a thing for not following the rules..."

"You voted." He begins gathering balls and rolling them to the center of the table, peering up to me. "I saw the sticker on your backpack. And I only break the ones that need to be broken."

That confirms what my dad told me. Whatever he did, he does not regret doing. He and my dad are in for a long probation period, if that's his way of thinking. My dad is very easy to get along with, if you follow rules.

"Well, we are breaking the rules right now," I remind him. "I'm not supposed to be near you. So, you feel that this is a rule that needs to be broken?"

Jax stands straight again, placing one end of his cue to the sticky bar floor below and wrapping both hands around the opposite end, allowing his weight to lean into it. He smirks, causing my stomach to launch itself into my palpitating chest. "I plan to break lots of rules with you. Ladies first, Books."