Jax sat at the bar drinking a cup of black coffee and scowling around the near-empty room. He was in a foul mood, and he had been ever since he’d dropped Sarah off the morning before. And what made his mood even worse was that he just couldn’t figure out why the hell he was in such a bad mood to begin with.
OK, Sarah had thrown his whole state of existence into a tailspin. That much was clear. He’d hit on her, and she’d turned him down; he’d asked her to stay for coffee, and she’d run out of the crash room; he’d tried to get her number, and she’d shut a door in his face. But that was her right, wasn’t it? If she didn’t find him attractive or whatever, then why was he so irritated about it? Why was he so hung up on this one woman, when he had dozens of others who’d give him what he wanted?
