Page 21 of Donner

The interior of the house was warm, but not overly so. "You live here?" I asked. It was obvious from the pictures on the wall of Beau and a tall blond woman who looked just like him.

"Yes. It was Mom's, and then she left it to me."

I walked over to the nearest picture, where Beau looked to be about ten, holding a fish he'd caught, presumably from the lake in the background.

"Food's getting cold," Beau said behind me. I followed him through a doorway, past a kitchen counter that served as part of a hallway between the kitchen and dining room. Afternoon light filtered through the vertical blinds. He motioned for me to sit at the Formica-topped table in a chair with a cracked vinyl seat cover. He'd already laid out the boxes of pasta, meatballs, and sauces to choose from. He'd even gotten me a bowl of mixed vegetable salad. I was as human as the next guy, but my reindeer loved vegetables, especially artichoke bits and sliced red cabbage. I wondered if Beau liked wild game the same way.

After we'd eaten our fill, Beau turned the conversation toward the room, and the house beyond.

"It's nowhere near as nice as the hotel," he said.

"It's cozy. I like it." It wasn't Beau, though. I got the impression he wasn't here much, even when he wasn't staying in penthouse suites with random strangers.

"I've been meaning to sell," he said. "I'd like to be closer to downtown, but everything is so expensive, and I haven't had the time."

I wanted to tell him to sell it and move to Christmas Village with me, but my apartment was even tinier than his little house, and he'd be trading his yard for a community park covered in snow most of the time.

"What about you?" he asked. "Do you have a house?"

My hair suddenly felt too tight in its ponytail. I pulled it out and ran my fingers through it, buying myself some time to answer. "I live in an underground apartment," I said. "No windows. It's easier to heat the compound that way."

"How far underground?"

I swallowed. "Twenty stories."

Beau whistled. "That must be dark."

"My friends won't visit because it creeps them out. It's bigger than most places I can afford, and I pay less for heating. I take the bus to and from work when I don't feel like flying." I glanced at him, expecting to see him cowering at the thought of living so far underground, but he had the same curious gleam in his eye as he had when the otter had swum near us.

"Why don't you look disgusted?"

"What do you mean?"

"None of my friends want to visit me, but something tells me you would."

He shrugged. "Military training, I guess? I've bunked underground before. Whether it's two stories or twenty, it's all dark when the power goes out. All I want to know is where you keep your flashlight and extra batteries in case of emergency."

I couldn't help but smile. This guy I'd just met a few days ago had already moved up to my second-best friend, all because he wouldn't be afraid to visit my apartment. If only I could get him there.

Chapter 12

Beau

I'd brought my overnight bag with me, knowing we would make this stop at my home. I grabbed it from behind my seat in the truck and brought it inside to switch out dirty clothes for clean. When I scooped the last t-shirt into the hamper, something hard lodged in the zipper opening. It was my black tourmaline necklace. I'd taken it off when Jax had mentioned jacuzzi and I'd forgotten all about it. I could hear my mom chiding me for almost losing it again. Instead, I affixed the clasp behind my neck and let the stone warm to my skin temperature beneath my shirt.

Once my bag was empty, I packed enough to last me the remainder of Jax's trip. While I got a thrill showing Jax around the place, I struggled to call it my house, though I'd been the only one living there for the last two years. It wasn't mine, not really. My mom's ghost still lived there in every picture and in all the design choices. I could remodel, I suppose, but when I'd been working, I didn't have the time or the energy. After Jax left, I would probably clean it up to sell.

The idea of living underground intrigued me, though. Jax had seemed so sad because his friends wouldn't visit his apartment twenty stories down. Granted, working elevators, ventilation, and power would be a must, but it wasn't a deal breaker for me. Perhaps I liked to live dangerously, but I wanted to know everything about Jax's apartment, including what art he had on the walls.

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, I grabbed my favorite picture of my mom and me from my dresser, fitting it into the laptop compartment of my bag, alongside my laptop, since I'd had it with me the night I was fired. The photo of us on the beach at sunset was the only thing I would miss if the house burned down. Part of me selfishly wanted to share this moment with Jax, to tell him about my trip to the beach with my mom when I returned home from the military. We'd both been happy, then.

Gods, I missed her.

The sun was still high in the sky when we drove back to the hotel. The silence stretched between us along with the miles, but it didn't seem unnatural or uncomfortable, the way it usually did with others. Instead of speaking, I reached across the bench seat to grab Jax's hand. I curled my fingers around his.

The hotel lobby throbbed like a dance club with the sheer volume of voices. It was Sunday night, and it looked like a new batch of folks were checking in for the week, along with their herds of children, some laughing, others screaming.

In the army, I'd learned to decipher threat levels from crowds, and the skill aided me as a bouncer. The folks in the lobby were hyper, but not angry.

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