Chapter Five - Forget About It

Stay at his place? Kate shifted her head to the side, studying the man who stood, almost reluctantly, in her foyer. He didn't want her to stay. Not really. Kate knew full well he wanted to be left alone. Whether that was the result of a bad day at work or if he was one of those people with a natural inclination to be standoffish, she couldn't say. And speaking of rough days at work—what on earth did Jaxson do for a living? Kate took in the enormous pink fuzzy slippers he'd put on before they'd left his house, and she suppressed the urge to pry.

She was almost afraid to ask about his day job. Did he dress … like that? She couldn't imagine what kind of employer would allow a man to come to work dressed in women's clothing. Then again, maybe she did know of a place or two that would allow, even encourage, her strange neighbor to show up for work in such an outrageously flamboyant costume. Kate didn't dare ask him such a personal question, though, even if she found herself increasingly, morbidly, curious about the oddity that her neighbor presented.

Did she want to stay with him tonight? Better yet, did she trust him? The answer to the first was, unequivocally, yes. The last thing she wanted to do was ramble around, alone, in this empty house, especially right after a break-in. And there had been a break-in tonight, no matter what nonsense the police had been spouting about the lock being damaged from the inside out.

She'd worry about the specifics of all that later. Right now it was late and she was exhausted. The past forty-eight sleep deprived hours had finally caught up with her and, coupled with the adrenaline rush and subsequent crash, she was ready to drop. But the question remained—did she trust Jaxson? She supposed that depended on what was at stake.

"Are you coming or not?"

Did she believe he was some sort of crazed person who would harm her? Not really, no. For now, she figured, that had to be good enough. "I'm coming. Thank you."

"Yeah, sure."

The wind was howling when they walked out the door. Kate took the time to lock up, pulling tight on the knob to make sure the door had properly latched.

Wind-whipped leaves swirled around Jaxson and Kate's feet, and fat, stinging raindrops pelted them on their mad dash across the driveway.

"Wait!" Kate held her hands over her head and raised her voice to be heard over the roaring of the full-out storm. "I forgot to lock my car!" A bolt of lightning split the night sky close by, behind Kate's house. The boom that followed drowned out Jaxson's response.

"Tough shit!" he shouted, slamming the key into the lock and shoving both himself and Kate into his kitchen. He steadied her when she slid wetly across the slick white tile, almost taking a header into the table in his effort to keep Kate upright.

"But—"

"Forget about it. Nobody's crazy enough to be out in this," he said, frowning at the growing puddle of water accumulating beneath himself and Kate.

"New York," she blurted, embarrassed the second the words left her mouth.

"What?" he asked, reaching to snag a pair of hand towels from the counter top.

"I-I'm sorry, that was probably rude," she stammered, accepting one of the towels and forcibly composing herself. "But it just hit me, your accent," she explained, taking another deep breath and cursing herself for letting her neighbor knock her so far off kilter.

But that wasn't fair. It wasn't him, exactly. Other than his initial reaction when he'd found her on his doorstep—which she'd decided to let go since he'd apologized, helped her, and seemed genuinely sorry for his less-than-cordial behavior—and his, er, unconventional dress, her neighbor seemed normal enough.

He was so bold, though, and direct, his personality at odds with the image he projected to the world. Silk and pearls colliding in a confusing mix of rough, granite features and eyes that saw too much. It was … unsettling.

Jaxson coughed and narrowed his eyes, and Kate was mortified to be caught staring at him—again. "Sorry. Um, earlier, when we were waiting for the police, I knew you sounded different. You're from New York, right?"

"My family lives in Manhattan," he said after several moments had passed.

"That's where you lived before you came here?" Kate asked, struggling to keep up their conversation while she rubbed at her arms with the daisy-print towel.

"No." He tossed his own towel onto the counter and took a can of soda from the fridge. "I came here from Brooklyn."

"Oh." She wrapped the slightly damp but still fluffy kitchen towel around her right hand, tilted her head to one side, and began squeezing long sections of hair through the fabric in an attempt to wring some of the moisture from the strands. "That must have been an exciting place to grow up," she finally said, nodding when Jaxson held out a red-and-blue can. "Thank you."

"It was okay," he mumbled, avoiding Kate's eyes. "Look, if you're hungry, I've got sandwiches."

"No, thank you." She popped the tab on her cola. She usually reached for coffee—light cream, no sugar—instead of soft drinks, but the icy, sugary rush was fortifying after the night she'd just had.

Jaxson shrugged and turned back to the kitchen part of the room, while Kate took a seat on one of the two bleached-wood bar stools that were partially tucked beneath the overhanging counter on the dining room's side.

Deciding she'd done the best she could currently manage with her hair and clothing, she set the towel on the Formica, close to her elbow, and focused her attention on Jaxson as he began to assemble bread and cold cuts from a foil package. She sipped her drink as she eyed the sandwich taking shape on the other side of the kitchen. It did look good, and the last meal she'd eaten was a pack of vending machine taco-flavored tortilla chips, crushed and sprinkled over Olivia's idea of dinner—iceberg lettuce, one cherry tomato, and a shredded baby carrot. Jaxson added several thin slices of white cheese onto his creation before topping it off with a thick slice of deli-style bread. Kate's stomach growled.

"Is that provolone and Italian bread?" she asked, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.

"It is." One corner of his mouth twitched up.

"Um, actually, I am a little hungry. Would you mind if I made myself a sandwich?"

Jaxson glanced up briefly. "Here, take this one."

"Thanks." She flashed him a grateful smile, digging in without further encouragement when he wrapped the sandwich loosely in a paper towel and set it in front of her. "So, tell me about Manhattan, or I guess, Brooklyn," she said when he'd made himself another sandwich and moved the second bar stool to the other side of the counter so that he was sitting across from her. Outside, thunder boomed and a gust of wind struck the front of the house with enough force to rattle the front door in its frame.

"Jesus," Jaxson muttered, shaking his head.

"It's okay, you'll get used to it," Kate said, unconcerned with the storm that raged outside their door. Georgia weather wasn't all that different from Florida. Slightly less rain, maybe. But she was no stranger to storms. Jaxson, though… "This is a lot different from New York, I guess."

"Yeah," he snorted. "A little. The heat, the humidity, the storms. They didn't tell me it would rain every other day." He shook his head.

"They?"

He looked momentarily taken aback. "My aunt and uncle," he finally replied. "Sorry. You were asking about New York, weren't you? That's kind of distracting." He smiled wryly as another boom of thunder seemed to vibrate the very foundation of the house.

"It's okay. I understand." Kate shrugged. "After my dad died, Mom took me and Lilly to her cousin's farm up in Wisconsin and it was rough."

"Yeah?"

"Hmm." She sipped her cola and nodded. "We didn't stay long, and all I really remember is being frozen all the time. The North Woods may be a beautiful place, but I don't think we would have ever gotten used to the cold."

"So you ended up back in Florida."

"Georgia," Kate corrected absently, watching the muscles in Jaxson's jaw work while he chewed. "I'm from Georgia. The house next door—my house—actually belonged to my aunt, Viola Leclere, my father's sister. She passed away last month. For some reason, she left the house to me and Lilly Ann."

"For some reason?" Jaxson popped a lone corner of bread into his mouth before wadding up the paper towel and pitching it across the kitchen and into the trash can. "What makes you say that?"

"I don't know." She shook her head and shoved the remainder of her own meal away, pushing back from the counter top and resting her hands on the tops of her thighs. "I guess it's not so out of the ordinary. Aunt Viola never had any children. But we weren't close. Lilly and I hadn't been out here in years." Kate shrugged. "And we didn't keep in touch. No letters or phone calls, nothing like that."

"She didn't tell you about her plans, you know, before she died?"

"No." She frowned. "My cousin Olivia was the attorney who handled Viola's will and estate and even she was surprised. Viola was sick. She'd been diagnosed with breast cancer and was in the hospital when she decided to have her last will drawn up. Out of the blue, she calls Olivia and flies her down here from Chicago to handle the paperwork. Four or five weeks later, Olivia was calling to tell me Viola was dead." Kate sighed, noticing for the first time how Jaxson was leaning forward and to the side, elbows resting on counter top as he regarded her thoughtfully. Not speaking, not looking away, but calmly, patiently waiting for her to finish spilling her thoughts into the space between them.

Suddenly, she didn't want to. Her mouth felt dry and she fumbled with her drink, telling herself it was the condensation on the can that made her feel like she was all thumbs. Kate drained the can in two long swallows and tried not to be appalled at how much she had just shared with someone who was more or less a complete stranger.

No, that wasn't right, she thought as she pursed her lips and slid off the stool to dispose of the can and what was left of her sandwich. Jaxson didn't quite fit into the "total stranger" category. But in no way did she know him well, and he was moody and wore women's clothing, and…

And she'd just had to remind herself of those facts. A cold chill mist settled over her skin like a film, and she told herself to stop acting like a fool. Sure, she was alone and a little scared and loaded down with responsibility—not to mention the sharp end of lingering grief for her mother—right now, but her mercurial neighbor was not the answer to her problems. At all.

By the time she'd turned around and made the short trek from one end of the kitchen to the other, Jaxson was standing up.

"So, um, this is a great house," Kate said, crossing her arms over her chest and curling her fingers closer to her palms. It was true. The house had a classic charm that she envied. The air here felt pleasantly cool instead of flat-out cold, calm instead of turbulent. The light was dim and gentle, and appliances hummed in the background. Somewhere in the house, the steady ticking of a clock could be heard, and Kate dreaded the moment when she would have to go back to the dusty, oppressive silence of her own house.

"Yeah," Jaxson agreed easily, as if he hadn't really noticed before she'd brought it up.

"Is this a family home?" she asked, following as he led the way through the sitting room and up a dark staircase that she hadn't noticed when they'd been in this room earlier.

"No. It's just a rental. Watch out, somewhere here in the middle there's a place in the carpet that sticks up."

"Oh, I think I just found it." Kate gasped, wincing when she fell forward on the stairs and banged her shin hard. Above her, Jaxson stopped and swore under his breath before he backtracked to help her to her feet. He kept one hand wrapped around Kate's arm, just above her elbow, until they made it to the second-floor landing.

"Sorry. I keep forgetting to replace the bulb up here. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just clumsy," she said, stepping away from him to face the long, dark hallway.

Jaxson walked a few feet past Kate, and suddenly the hall was illuminated in a soft, golden light. "Come on, I'll give you the grand tour. Then you can pick which room you want for the night."

"How many bedrooms are up here?"

"Six."

"Wow."

"Yeah. So, you've got five to choose from."

Outside, the storm peaked. They strode toward the first of the six bedrooms as rain pinged loudly against the roof and windows. A flash of blue arced across the sky, casting the large bedroom in an eerie light the minute Kate and Jaxson entered the room.

"This room will be fine," Kate told him, turning a slow circle as Jaxson closed the door behind them. She wandered closer to the window, peering at the rain-soaked, wind-whipped world beyond the pale lace curtains. "There's a bathroom through that door?" she asked, turning to the left.

"Yeah. I think there are towels beside the sink. And there ought to be blankets in here somewhere." Jaxson's voice was muffled for a second. Then he emerged from the walk-in closet, a thick chocolate-brown fleece blanket clutched in one arm, a set of navy blue sheets in the other. "Found 'em."

"Thanks." Kate held out her arms for the bedding, but Jaxson didn't move.

"I'll help you make the bed," he offered after standing awkwardly in the middle of the room for a moment.

"Oh, okay." She nodded, moving to the other side of the bed and catching the end of the sheet he draped across the full-sized mattress. "So," Kate said casually as she tucked her end around the corner of the mattress, then straightened. "You never said why you came to Florida. How come you left New York?"

Deep rumbling outside seemed to match the sudden shift in Jaxson's mood. For some reason, Kate realized as she stood facing him now beside the bedroom door, her question had struck a nerve.

His face was a tense, irritated mask before even that much expression was shuttered. "It was time for a new start. I'll see you in the morning."

"Jaxson, wait—"

Another sharp crack and resounding boom echoed around them, and the lights flickered one final time before the room went black.