Someone to Watch Over Me (9 page)

Sobering instantly, Jax gave her a small smile and settled for brushing the hair back from her face and tucking it behind her right ear. “You know something? You’re a really nice woman.”

She bore it fairly well, all things considered, and stared up at him with eyes that were huge and might have been telling him that she was frightened or that she might actually have been pleased by the compliment. He was usually so good with women and compliments, so smooth. He knew just what to say.

“You understand. You said so yourself. That you’d almost lost yourself, and it feels good to have someone who understands.”

“You’re not lost, Jax. You’re just tired and angry, but you’re still exactly who you were before you lost your mother.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” he said. After all, he’d never thought she’d been disappointed in him. He’d known she hadn’t liked the way he went through women, but that was a completely different thing than being disappointed in him.

He wasn’t sure he could bear to know he’d disappointed her.

Jax looked up to find Gwen staring at him.

“Did something happen today?”

He shrugged and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Reading of the will.”

“And you didn’t like something in your mother’s will?”

“Oh, it was great. She left everything up to me, just threw the whole thing into my lap. How do you like that?”

Gwen frowned and said, “Why?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like her to do that. She tried the whole time she was sick to make things easier on all of us, and this…I would have sworn she’d made a list of everything she owned and who she wanted to have it.”

“Maybe it just got to be too much for her. I mean, maybe she kept putting doing a real will off or she thought she’d have more time….”

“No, Gwen. It wasn’t like that. Her death was a painfully slow, dreadful slide. We saw the end coming a mile away. In fact, she lasted longer than anyone expected.”

“Maybe she just didn’t want to spend her last bit of time dividing up her possessions.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “It just seems out of character for her not to have taken care of it. I mean, the woman planned her own funeral, right down to what color blouse she wanted to wear and which Bible verses she wanted read. I just think there had to be a reason she did this.”

“She never said anything to you about it?”

“No.” Just like she’d never before said she was disappointed in him. “I just want to know why. I need to know.”

“There’s no one you can ask? No one she would have confided in?”

“I’m not sure.” He ran through a list of her closest friends in his head. Who would she talk to about what she’d done with her will? Or why she was disappointed in Jax?

Gwen put her hand on his arm. “Well, you don’t have to figure it all out tonight.”

He looked down at that hand, thinking he liked having her touch him. He liked it a lot. She felt like an anchor on
a strange and bewildering day. He had to fight the urge to grab on to her and just not let go.

He thought he’d feel better if he did and couldn’t remember a single time in his life when he’d leaned on the strength of a woman. Except for his mother.

“Is there something else?” Gwen asked. “Something more than her asking you to divide up all her things?”

Jax frowned. “Figured that out, did you?”

“Just a hunch.”

“Yeah, there’s something else. But I don’t even want to think about it, much less talk about it,” he admitted, looking around at the walls of this house, at all her things surrounding him. “Of course, I can always concentrate on getting rid of my mother’s stuff piece by piece. That should eat up a good bit of my time and maybe keep me from thinking too much about anything. Which reminds me—what are you going to take?”

“I don’t know,” Gwen said. “I haven’t made up my mind.”

“Dog’s included in the list of available items, by the way.”

“She left you the dog?”

“I’m telling you, she left me absolutely everything and just said to divide it up. It’s bizarre. Especially when it comes to Romeo. I mean, she loved that dog. She was crazy about him, and she knew he drove me nuts. Why wouldn’t she even name someone to take the dog?”

Romeo padded into the room, his head downcast, his big sad-eyed look on. He sidled over to Gwen and she just ate it up.

“Hi, baby,” she said, going down on her haunches to ruffle the fur on his head. “Did you have a bad day, too?”

Romeo whined pathetically.

“Guess he figured out that his fate is entirely in my
hands,” Jax said. “I should be grateful my mother didn’t leave everything to him.”

Romeo and Gwen both gave him unhappy looks at that.

“I’m sorry,” he said to Gwen. “Bad day. How long do you figure I can get away with that as an excuse?”

“Please tell me you like this dog more than you let anyone know?” Gwen asked. “Because I really like Romeo and I want to know he’ll be okay.”

“I don’t like the dog. And my mother knew that. She knew it.”

“So, she was counting on you. She trusted you to do the right thing with him and with everything else. She showed complete faith in you—”

“No. Not that,” he said much more sharply than he intended.

Gwen stared at him once again. “Sure you don’t want to tell me the rest of it? The part that’s eating away at you?”

“I’m sure.” He closed his eyes, wishing he could take back everything he’d said.

When he looked down at her again, she had dropped to her knees with her arms around the dog. He had his head resting on her shoulder, snuggling against her, and Gwen had tears in her eyes.

She was trying to soothe the silly dog, petting him and telling him everything was going to be okay. Jax had the craziest thought. He wished he could be in the dog’s position. That he could whine and fuss and cry, and some nice woman like Gwen would wrap her arms around him and just hang on, telling him everything was going to be okay. That he didn’t have to do anything but fuss and whine and mourn his mother. No holding anyone together. No decisions to make. No one counting on him.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally.

Gwen got to her feet, and she didn’t quite look at him when she said, “You’ll figure it out, Jax. All of it.”

“I hope so.” If he didn’t, it would haunt him forever.

“You will. Just give it some time,” she said, obviously ready to go. “You’ll be okay?”

“Sure,” he lied.

What else could he do? Fall apart?

Jax stood there and watched her go, wondering what it was about her that had words falling out of his mouth with things he’d had no intention of sharing with anyone. He thought about her when he was here alone and when he was surrounded by his weeping sisters and his mother’s miserably lonely dog.

Somehow, Gwen Moss made it better. He thought about her when he shouldn’t, and he’d been quite happy to call her over just a few minutes ago to—

Jax muttered under his breath as he remembered why he’d asked her to come over—to beg her to take something from this house.

But Gwen was gone, and she hadn’t taken a single thing.

He was batting 0–6 that day at getting rid of things, and he was starting to think his mother’s possessions were going to haunt him every bit as much as her words.

Well, that had gone really well.

Gwen felt guilty for deserting him that way, but she’d gotten all flustered. All she could think about was getting him to hold her again, this after the poor man just lost his mother.

How selfish can you possibly be, Gwen?

She hurried home, hoping he had no idea what she’d been thinking, then feeling even more guilty because she was still thinking of no one but herself. She hadn’t cornered the market on suffering. Jax and his whole family were suffering, too.

She got home and noticed how different things were. The shades were pulled up. Afternoon sunshine danced across the pretty table by the window and the polished wooden floors. Flowers from the garden rested in a vase on the table and another on the kitchen counter. The world around her didn’t look like such a scary place, and maybe—just maybe—she was getting better.

Jax had been a part of that.

Maybe instead of thinking of herself, she should be thinking of how she might help him. That sounded smart, maybe even kind.

Even if a part of her just really wanted to see him again?

Gwen wrestled with her own conscience over that one. In the end, she went with something her aunt Charlotte always said. That a woman could never go wrong acting out of kindness.

So, she would be kind.

She would try to help Jax.

And she knew just the kind of help he needed.

Gwen picked up the phone and the local phone book—a tiny thing—and found his mother’s number. She dialed before she could think too hard about what she was about to do.

Jax answered, not sounding too happy at all.

“Hi,” Gwen said. “It’s me. I just wanted to tell you that I have a lot of spare time, and…Well, it’s easier for me if I have something to do and I’m not here in this house all alone worrying and thinking about everything that’s happened. The counselor I see told me I needed to get out more and to be around other people. So…well, I was thinking…You need help, right? And I need something to do. Maybe I could help you with your mother’s things. It would be like therapy for me. It would be like you were doing me a favor.”

She added that last part because she felt sure that Jackson Cassidy was much more comfortable helping other people than letting anyone help him. And it wasn’t a lie at all. It would be helpful to her.

“So…What do you say? Can I come over sometime and help pack things? Or sort them? Or deliver them? Anything like that?”

He was silent for a long time, long enough to make her nervous and self-conscious. She wasn’t one to invite herself to a man’s house.

“Besides,” she added, “I miss Romeo, and I think he misses me. I have to make sure you’re taking proper care of him and not grumbling at him too much.”

“Oh, sure.” he said. “It’s all about the dog.”

“You’re right. It’s the dog I really want to see.”

“You should know, he flirts with anything that moves, and he never met a female he didn’t like.”

She laughed. “I’ve heard the same thing about you.”

“Yeah, well…That would be true, too. You need to understand that, Gwen. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Jax, I always knew that was true. And I know I’m not…Well, I hear you have pretty varied tastes, but I doubt they run to mousy brunettes who are afraid of their own shadow.”

“You’re not a mouse,” he said.

“Yes, I am, and I’m afraid of my own shadow most days, but I think I’m getting better. You will, too. I know right now it feels like you won’t, but you will.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Just consider the possibility, okay? Maybe it doesn’t seem likely that one day you’ll feel better, but you’ve got to admit, it’s possible.” He stayed silent, and she added, “Come on. How about remotely possible?”

“Okay. Remotely.”

“Good. So, I can come over sometime and help you?”

“Sure.”

“How about tomorrow?” Now that she’d learned how to push, she was getting really good at it.

“Okay. Tomorrow.”

“I’m done with work at six.”

“I’ll be here,” he said.

G
wen got more and more nervous as the day went on. She’d practically forced her company upon this man, this really, really beautiful, sad, lost man.

And it wasn’t as if she was being selfless here.

She was going to see him because she wanted to see him. She liked being around him. She felt safe with him, and she really hoped she wasn’t going to try to push her way into his arms again, to see how that felt.

Bad Gwen. Bad, bad Gwen.

She’d told him she wanted to see the dog, and that was nearly an out-and-out lie. Gwen really didn’t lie. She wanted to see the dog, but she wanted to see Jax more.

So she felt guilty and nervous, but excited, too.

Bad, bad Gwen.

She was trying very hard not to think of what she might wear. She was Gwen the mouse, after all, and mouse brown was her favorite color. She must look so dull to him. If he ever noticed how she looked.

Gwen stood in front of her closet and frowned. Had brown been
in
at some point in the last few years? How had she possibly managed to acquire so much of it?

She wanted to look like a normal woman with Jax. Not one who’d been traumatized and was still hiding from the world, but not one that was flirting or out to pick up a man, either.

What did one wear to help a newly made friend pack up his dead mother’s things? Were there books about this stuff?

Jeans sounded right. She had jeans somewhere. She found them in the bottom of a drawer, pulled them out and tried them on, surprised to find them a bit snug. Her appetite had been stronger of late, but Aunt Charlotte’s dryer did get awfully hot. Maybe they’d shrunk.

She turned around and studied her reflection in the mirror, trying to figure out how she’d look to a guy.

Bad, bad Gwen.

She made herself stop looking at the mirror and rummaged through her closet for a shirt. Brown, brown, black, gray.
Good grief, Gwen.

It looked as if white was the best she could do, a truly bold fashion step, but maybe she was ready for it.

Gwen pulled off the blouse she wore to work and slipped the white thing over her head. It was simple as could be. Just a plain, white, short-sleeved, cotton thing.

Was it a little tight, too?

Gwen frowned again, thinking once more about Jax looking at her. He wasn’t even interested in her. He was nearly sick with grief over losing his mother.

Maybe she should call and cancel.

Maybe she should call her therapist.

And say what?
I think I like a man. Isn’t that awful? I need to come see you right away.

Gwen sat down on the side of her bed, frustrated and nervous.

Okay, she liked him.

That wasn’t so horrible, was it? Women were supposed to like men, not fear them. She’d always imagined she’d find a man to marry someday and have children with him. That would be hard if she didn’t even like men. So this was not a bad thing.

Not that she was imagining sharing her life with Jackson Cassidy.

She could like him, couldn’t she? And she’d certainly be safe with him, because he wasn’t the least bit interested in her as a woman. So this was perfectly fine, perfectly reasonable.

He could be like a practice guy. A get-your-feet-wet-in-the-dating-world kind of guy.

“Okay,” she told herself, looking at her own reflection once again, as if she’d suddenly sprouted wings or a tail or something.

She did look different in her jeans and bright white top. Her hair was halfway falling down from the way she’d had it piled on her head, and on sheer impulse she pulled out all the pins and let it fall to her shoulders.

Instantly, she lost that librarianish look she seemed to cultivate lately, and it was too much, too fast. She scraped her hair back into a high, tight ponytail, which, if she was not mistaken, did things that were okay for her face, maybe even nice. She didn’t have that pale, hollowed-out, dark-circles-under-the-eyes, maybe-I’ve-been-seriously-ill look anymore that she’d acquired after the attack.

All that yard work wore her out but in a good way. She had been sleeping better, and there was some color in her cheeks, which was kind of nice, too. She dabbed on some lip gloss, but only because her lips were dry. Really, that was the only reason.

And then before she could get scared all over again, she rushed out the door and took off through the alley toward his house.

“Gwen?” Jax nearly didn’t recognize her as she stood at the back door.

She gave him an odd look, then quickly glanced down at herself, frowning when she eyed him once again. “Is something wrong?”

“No. No. Of course not.” He was afraid he still had that blank stare on his face. Either that, or a stunned one.
Gwen?

“I thought we might be moving things or digging through dusty basement things or…I don’t know what, really. So I pulled out an old pair of jeans.”

“Great,” he said, standing aside and motioning her to come in, doing a real double take at the way she looked.

He felt a very unwelcome spark of interest and immediately felt guilty for it. She was here to go through his dead mother’s things, and she was a mouse. A little, brown scared-of-her-own-shadow mouse. He’d just told her she didn’t act as shy and quiet as a mouse, but he was used to her dressing like one.

Well, she didn’t look like one now.

Her vulnerability was still there. He suspected it always would be, and he’d never really found vulnerability all that interesting before…And he really had no business changing his mind about that right now, either.

She just…well, she was one nice-looking woman. Well, a man couldn’t help but notice, could he? It wasn’t like he was going to do anything about it.

“So?” she asked. “Where do you want to start?”

He got lost for a second, thinking of starting something he definitely couldn’t start.

“I don’t know,” he said.

He’d been here all day and hadn’t accomplished a thing, except to wonder some more about why his mother had done this to him. She had to have a reason. Maybe there was a letter somewhere in this house for him to find, a message, another rip-your-heart-out kind of thing, like that little zinger she’d thrown in there at the end about being disappointed in him.

He couldn’t wait for that.

“Okay,” Gwen said. “Do you know of anything in particular that she’d want someone to have? Say, your sisters? We could start there.”

“They won’t even talk to me about it,” he admitted. “I barely get the words out, and they start to cry or change the subject or just leave. They don’t want anything except her.”

“Well, I’m sure they believe that now. But it’s always nice to have something you can touch or hold, to remind you of someone who’s gone. My grandmother died last year, and I have a quilt that used to be on the bed in her house where I slept. It reminds me of the dozens of days and nights I spent with her, and I think of her every time I see it. It’s like having a little piece of her still with me. Your sisters will see that. You’ll want some of her things, too. Can you think of anything you’d like?”

Jax shook his head.

“Well, we could always start with really impersonal things. Linens, little kitchen gadgets, stuff in the attic or the basement that no one’s touched it in years.”

“That sounds good.” How broken up could anyone be over towels and sheets?

At least, that’s what he thought. But once he’d gotten out the empty boxes to put things in and a garbage bag and was ready to go to work, and the only thing left to do was open the linen-closet door, he wasn’t so sure.

He stood in front of that door long enough that he felt like a complete fool, until Gwen, who was behind him, put her hand on his shoulder and said, “Want me to start?”

“No.” He sighed heavily. “It’s crazy, I know. She doesn’t need towels or sheets anymore. She can’t use any of this stuff, and it’s not like we need to have this house sitting here, like a shrine to her. It’s not her. It’s not her life. But doing this feels like taking her life apart, piece by piece, and I don’t want to do that.”

“Well, we don’t have to. Not now. You can wait until you’re ready—”

“What if I’m never going to be ready?”

“You’ll get it done. One day,” she said, that soft hand back on his shoulder.

Jax closed his eyes and took a breath. She could slide her arms around him right now, and that would be fine with him. If she would just hold on tight and not let him go, because he needed someone to hold him together. He was afraid he was going to come apart completely, that pieces of him would just start to fall to the floor until he was nothing but a pile of dust.

Over a stupid linen closet!

“Gwen?”

“Hmm?”

He couldn’t quite get the words out.
Hold me. Please.

But he could and did put his hand on hers and draw it around him. She resisted only for a moment and then he felt her coming closer, felt her soft curves settle against his back. Her other arm slid around him, locking around his waist, and her head rested against his shoulder, and it was so nice to have someone close. Maybe so nice to have
her
close.

“Just give me a few minutes,” he said raggedly. “Okay?”

“Sure.” She snuggled a bit against his back, settling in.

He let his head fall forward until his forehead rested against the door he couldn’t open, and let himself lean on her, as much as he’d ever leaned on a woman in his entire life. His breathing was uneven and he couldn’t even have said exactly what was wrong now, just that he felt as if he was choking again and had felt so alone he couldn’t stand it, until she put her arms completely around him and held him until the worst of the emotions passed.

When it was over, he eased around in her arms, until they were face-to-face and he was holding her, too.

That was nice. He couldn’t help but notice the way she fit into his arms. He stared down at her, her long, dark hair pulled back in that little-girl ponytail that showed off the bones in her face, her cheeks kissed by the sun and stained the prettiest shade of pink, her eyes big and wide. And then he noticed a solitary tear spilling out of the corner of her eye.

He brought up one hand to cup the side of her face. His thumb caught that tear, and he asked, “Is that for me?”

“For both of us, I guess. For everyone in the world who’s hurting right now and sad and lonely. I get so lonely sometimes.”

“Me, too,” he said, then he touched his lips to her cheek, brushing the moisture away.

He heard her catch her breath and slowly raised his head, nuzzling the tip of his nose against hers for a moment before asking, “Too much?”

“No,” she whispered.

If she’d been anyone else, he’d have kissed her like crazy, right then, but this was Gwen who was afraid of her own shadow, and all she’d been trying to do was get him through a bad moment. She was not the kind of woman who’d consider going any further as a reasonable remedy
for making him feel better. But she was here, and she was in his arms, and he didn’t feel so lost or so much like he was drowning with her there.

So he leaned back against the wall himself and brought her along with him, letting her lean against him, and covered her mouth with his. He tried his best not to frighten her, touching her as softly and slowly as he could.

Her arms went slack for a moment, and then they latched on to him once again, pulling him closer. He had to fight not to plaster her against him with his arms.

Gwen,
he kept telling himself.
It’s Gwen. Don’t scare her.

She stood up on her toes to get closer to him, and he grinned. She was so sweet. He finally lifted his head once again and saw a real smile on her face.

How had he ever thought she was a mouse?

Her face had a little glow to it, and it held none of the worry and sadness he’d always seen in it. She looked so happy, like she’d won a prize.

And he was definitely not a prize to a woman like her.

“Gwen?” he began, knowing he had to say this now.
I am not the man for you.

“I didn’t get scared,” she said in the same way she might tell him she’d won the lottery.

“Good,” he said.

“I mean, not at all!” That beautiful smile came back again.

“Well, I guess you are getting better.”

She nodded, beaming. “Can you believe it? I wasn’t sure if I even believed I’d be better someday.”

“Hey, you were the one who was preaching possibilities to me just yesterday, remember?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t even believe what you were telling me? Because I’ve gotta say, I found it pretty convincing, Gwen.”

“I believed that you’d be better, but I had my doubts about me. Especially when it came to the man-woman stuff….” She blushed furiously and took a step back from him. He let his arms go lax, but he didn’t let her go. She stared fixedly at his chest and frowned. “But I was okay. Wasn’t I?”

“You were perfect,” he said, and she smiled up at him again.

“You, too. I think you could turn kissing into an art form.”

“You mean, it’s not?”

She laughed out loud then, and for a moment, the whole world seemed brighter. That sound was like the sun, dazzling with light as it broke through the clouds on a miserable, gloomy day.

Gwen was happy, and he’d forgotten all about how lousy he felt, at least for a moment, and all things seemed possible.

He pulled her back into his arms, and she came quite willingly, snuggling against his chest this time. He let his chin rest against the top of her head and closed his eyes, giving himself a few more moments of bliss.

“You know, everyone I asked about you said the same thing—that you’re the nicest man, and I kept thinking, how nice could he be if he goes through women that fast? But then, they said you always managed to stay friends with all those women.”

Jax wasn’t sure he understood how, but it didn’t really matter right now. She knew what he was like, so he didn’t have to worry that she’d go and get the wrong idea, and that was a relief. Because he really didn’t want to hurt her.