on the table by the gym door buzzing.
“Hello?”
“Jax?”
“Hi, J.C.,” she said, turning off the lights in the gym and heading through the door. “What’s up?”
“I’m not good at this shit, so I’m going to cut to the chase.”
“Ooooo-kay.”
“Mad’s worried about you. Chewed my fucking ear off in the car this morning. She thinks we need to get you into the city more often.”
Jax walked through one of the sliding glass doors that led to the pool and sighed. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah. That’s what I said, but you know Mad.”
She cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder, then reached for the waistband of her leggings, shimmying them down her legs until she stood on the pool deck in her sports bra and a pair of matching black-and-aqua boy shorts.
“I know Mad.”
“She kept driving around until I promised I’d invite you to hang out. So…there’s a game on tonight. Football.”
“My fave,” she said sarcastically.
She reached down for her leggings and threw them on a lounge chair, then stepped over the hot concrete to the stairs that led to the shallow end of the pool. Her father hadn’t believed in heating outdoor swimming pools, so the water was icy cold on her feet.
“I’m heading to Mulligan’s to watch it. You’re welcome to meet me there if you want something to do.”
Mulligan’s. A popular hangout near UPenn that had satellite TV and showed all the European soccer games, or—as European purists like her brothers preferred to call it—football. She grew up watching them sit side by side on the couch in the den, beers in their hands, farting and belching as they exclaimed in French over every little—
Her eyes flew open and a smile spread slowly across her face as Gard’s words resounded in her head: Because we can’t sit on a couch together watchin’ a game, drinkin’ beer, and belchin’.
“What time does it start?” she asked eagerly, unable to mask her sudden rush of excitement.
“The game? Eight thirty. Wow, Jax! I thought you hated football. I never thought you’d say yes!”
“I do hate football and I’m not saying yes,” she said. “I have to go! Je t’aime. Adieu!”
“Jax? Jax! Wait a sec—”
But she was already out of the pool and hustling into the house. If they didn’t have any beer in the house, she had just enough time to go into town and buy some.
Chapter 6
Dressed in jeans, a simple black V-neck T-shirt, and white tennis shoes, Jax walked across the lawns of Westerly at twilight, a six-pack of Big Easy IPA hanging from her fingers.
She’d jumped on the Internet to figure out if there were any breweries in Louisiana and had been delighted to learn that there was a very popular one, Abita, that distributed all over the country. And luckily, Haverford was the kind of town that had a posh liquor store with a walk-in cooler that sold beers from everywhere. She’d squealed with delight when she discovered not only several kinds of Abita beer available but a type actually called “Big Easy.” It had felt like a sign.
Part of the reason she’d shut down Mad’s suggestion about moving into Philadelphia was that there was a strong likelihood she’d be recognized there, and she couldn’t bear it after the way her life had collapsed under the pressure of being constantly stalked in LA. Out here in Haverford, she felt relatively safe. No one had recognized her or bothered her during her short jaunt to the village, and she loved that measure of anonymity. She was finally breathing easier for the first time in months.
Crickets chirped noisily at Westerly, which smelled of cut grass and fresh mulch. A light summer breeze blew her loose hair off her shoulders and she breathed deeply, hoping this wasn’t a massive mistake. Hmm. What exactly did she hope to get out of tonight?
She walked across the carpet of green as she mulled over the question. She felt safe at Le Chateau, but she also felt lonely…though she hadn’t when Gard was there with her today. She wanted his friendship. Companionship. She wanted him to answer a few of the myriad questions she had about him. She liked looking at him. She felt a little thrill of victory every time he smiled or laughed instead of scowled or growled. Maybe he needed her just as badly as she needed him. And maybe it just felt nice to be needed.
Besides, friends drank beer and watched soccer together, right? Anyway, if he looked angry to see her, she could