I back away from him and head for the kitchen area of the open-plan apartment. My refrigerator is pretty bare, but I have sandwich fixings and water. I throw turkey and Swiss between slices of organic whole-wheat from the bakery next door, and take him a plate with a bag of chips.
He blinks, startled. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
His accent throws me. I need to get back to work and close the bar, but I sit on the coffee table in front of him instead. “Where are you from?”
“In general? Or tonight?”
“All of it.”
A faint smile curls his full lips. Already, color is returning to his face, but still my heart won’t stop racing. “I came from the hostel across the street,” he says. “At least I would’ve done if it hadn’t burned down.”
“And in general?”
“St. Ives. Cornwall.”
“You’re British?”
“No, I’m Cornish.”
“There’s a difference?”
“Probably.”
His faint smile fades, and I miss the effect it has on me. Even with his dazed expression, Jax is ridiculously gorgeous. But his smile is nuclear. It’s hard to believe it’s real. “I’ve gotta go back to work for a bit and close the bar. Are you going to be okay?”
“Hmm?” Jax blinks again. “Sorry. What?”
“Eat your sandwich,” I say instead of repeating myself. “And get warm. I’ll be back in a couple hours. Bathroom’s down the hall.”
He nods and I force myself to stand and back away from him. Common sense tells me he’s cold from however long he’s spent outside with no coat, and the shock of watching the hostel burn to the ground caught up with him while Eve was waiting for me to answer my damn phone.
Common sense hasn’t been my friend for a long time.
Leaving Jax alone makes my skin itch.
I do it, though, because I have other responsibilities. I go downstairs and close the bar. Clear tables, mop floors, and send my guys home for the night. Then I cash out the registers, bypass my usual stop in my office, and take the cash bag to the third floor with me. As I let myself into my apartment, it occurs to me that the total stranger in my home is more of a risk for stealing the night’s take than he is for dying on my watch, but that’s not how my brain works. I don’t do logic. I do fear and agitation, and I’m not ready for the sight of Jax sprawled out on my couch.
But as I shut the door behind me and glance into the living room, I see he’s not asleep yet. He’s exactly where I left him. All he’s done is eat his sandwich and take his shoes off.
He’s set them neatly next to the hiking boots I haven’t touched in months. We have the same size feet. I can’t say why I notice that, but I do. I file it away somewhere, and set the cash on the kitchen counter. “You’re still up,” I say for the sake of saying something.
Jax stands and approaches the counter. His gait is steady now, and his long legs hold him up instead of wobbling like they did earlier. He’s as tall as me, and just as broad, but his build is hard to gauge beneath the thick So-Cal hoodie he’s wearing.
I resent that hoodie, and I don’t understand that either. He’s down on his luck and needs a port in a storm, not a weirdo bartender mentally undressing him.
Jax leans on the counter, stretching out his back and his elegant neck. “I thought it was a dick move to pass out on your couch without having a proper conversation.”
“I wouldn’t have minded.” At least, not for the reasons he’s worried about. “How do you know Eve?”
“Uni. We were on the same course for a bit before I dropped out.”
I dissect his Brit speak. He’s talking about college, and somewhere in the back of my fractured mind I remember that Eve studied marine biology in the UK before she quit school to teach yoga to Burlington hipsters. “You’ve been friends a while, then?”
“Off and on. Before I came here, I hadn’t seen her for a while. And her boyfriend doesn’t like me, so I don’t see her much now either.”
“Why doesn’t he like you?”
“No idea. He doesn’t say.”
