Jaxson's Song by Angie West Page A

new vacuum sweeper. The light began to flicker,
and she glanced at the chandelier overhead. One of the fixture’s
five bulbs dimmed again and she frowned. Light bulbs. That’s what
she’d forgotten. Oh, well, she had the rest of the night off;
picking up a box of bulbs later at the grocery store wouldn’t be a
big deal.
    Kate gave the floor a
final lingering appraisal before switching off the
vacuum.
    “ Through the sleepless nights ,”
she sang alone with the radio, her voice trailing off when static
crackled over the air. After a few moments, she gave up and
switched the radio off.
    The hose and attachments
detached easily and made a satisfying, job-well-done sort of snap
as she replaced the parts in their individual compartments. She
unplugged the cord from the wall and wound it, wrist over elbow,
until she’d created a long, loose loop to hang haphazardly over the
vacuum’s handle. Years of Olivia’s nagging made her bend down and
grudgingly wrap the cord around its designated clips.
    Kate nodded to her new
cat, who was perched on the back of the sofa, grabbed the yellow
plastic sack containing the new lock kit and a screwdriver set, and
headed toward the entrance hall, stopping only long enough to stow
the sweeper in the small utility closet off the kitchen.
    She passed the thermostat
on her way out, and paused to punch the buttons that would kick the
AC down a couple of notches.
    Her flip-flops slapped the
floor, and the bag swung against her bare thigh as she shoved at
the screen door, set the catch at the top of the door to hold it
open, and stepped into the warm, brilliant mid-morning
sunshine.
    Kate swiftly set the bag
onto the wide, flat top rail, dug into it, and began to lay her
purchases out in a neat row. A series of beeps sounded and she
fished her phone from the pocket of her shorts, tapped the icon on
the main screen. Three text messages; two were from Lindsey, the
first inquiring about her first night on the job; the second was a
picture of a grinning skeleton.
    Kate snorted. “Funny,
Lindsey.” The most recent message was from Lilly and said simply,
“Call me.”
    “ 15 min ☺ ”
she typed back, then slid the phone back into the shallow denim
pocket of her cutoffs. From her other pocket, she took a pocket
knife and carefully cut across the top of the thick plastic that
encased the screwdriver set.
    She selected the
neon-green-handled Phillips and made quick work of swapping out the
old brass single-key lock knob for a new pewter finish deadbolt. As
she worked, her eyes kept straying to the house next door. Jaxson’s
car was in the driveway, along with a late model Buick that looked
as if it had seen better days.
    Once, Kate thought she saw
a curtain twitch to the side, but didn’t see anyone looking out at
her, and the fabric quickly fell back into place, so she figured
somebody must have brushed up against the window. What reason would
Jaxson have to be concerned with what she was doing? Frowning, she
crouched and raised the tool to secure the final screw.
    What was wrong with her
that she was drawn to what he was doing? No, that wasn’t fair, she
decided, lining up the screw with the pre-drilled hole in the knob
plate.
    She wasn’t drawn to him.
Hadn’t he already proven himself to be a foul-tempered jerk? That
and strange. Kate forced her gaze away from the now undisturbed
window and refocused her attention on the task at hand. No doubt
about it, Jaxson Green was an odd duck. Kissing him had been a
mistake, she insisted, giving the screw one final twist before
rising to her feet.
    Her mind drifted back to
last night and what amounted to the wildest—okay, the only wild
thing—she’d ever done in her life. While Lindsey and many of the
other girls in her sophomore class were at dances and parties, Kate
was working after school to supplement the disability checks that
barely paid the rent, let alone put food on the table. After
graduation, when most of the people she knew were