Before she could begin, she had one last chapter to close on her past. Jaye slid her cell phone out of her pocket, closed her office door, and called David.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Mitch stared at the brick mansion’s black-lacquered front door and felt a heavy weight thud into his gut. For seven days, he’d tried to move on without Jaye and flubbed spectacularly. He wasn’t used to such abysmal failure. For the first time in his life, he needed someone more than he needed anything else.
Needing her didn’t scare him.
Living without her did.
He jabbed the doorbell and listened to the chimes echo inside the house.
The door swung open and the bright light from the porch’s massive lantern illuminated a tall man in a dark suit. The distinguished features and raven hair belonged to Simon Davis.
Dark eyes scowled at Mitch’s red T-shirt and jeans. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Mitch Blake. I spoke to your wife a few hours ago. She’s expecting me.”
“Fine. Come in.” Simon opened the door wider and gestured toward an arched opening at the back of the elegant foyer. “The kitchen faucet is leaking. The constant dripping is driving me crazy. Think you can fix it?”
Not expecting such a request, Mitch frowned. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Follow me.” Simon Davis led him into a sprawling kitchen.
The marble countertop, sparkling chandelier, and massive stainless steel range gave Mitch an uncanny sense of déjà vu. This place looked a lot like his grandparents’ house, who’d made a fortune in real estate.
Simon pointed to the offending faucet. “Rip the damned thing out and install a new one if you have to.”
Mitch studied the fixture. “Hm. Looks brand new.”
“Yes. It was installed last week. Been dripping ever since.” Long fingers drummed on the counter. “Do you need any tools?”
“I’ve got some in my truck.” Happy to do something with his hands to release some tension, Mitch trailed his fingers along the faucet’s curved neck. Finding no cracks, he unscrewed the nozzle with a deft twist. A variety of small pebbles bounced into the sink. “Looks like a bunch of sediment clogged the spout. Not unusual with well water.”
He rinsed off the faucet tip, reassembled the piece, stepped back and crossed his arms, waiting for a drip. The faucet stayed dry.
“I’ll be damned. That was an easy fix.” Simon clapped him on the shoulder. “How much do I owe you?”
Give me your daughter. Mitch searched for any sign of her and found none. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“No, I insist. You came all the way out here to help.” Simon opened his wallet and offered a crisp one hundred dollar bill.
Mitch lowered his arms and met Simon’s gaze. “Sir, I don’t want your money. I’m here to see Jaye.”
Simon’s goodwill mutated into a frown. “There’s got to be a mistake. She isn’t dating a plumber.”
His insides twisted into a tight coil. “Who is she dating?”
A sneaker’s rubber sole squeaked against the marble floor. Mitch turned toward the sound and caught sight of sideswept bangs, chocolate brown eyes, and pink lips that unmanned him. Jaye.
“Mitch?” She halted by the kitchen island and her keys clattered to the counter with a loud, piercing thump. “What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you.” He recognized her yellow jacket and black running tights and felt a thrust of panic when she didn’t run toward him.
Her brown eyes widened. “This place is off the map. How did you find me?”
“You listed your parents as an emergency contact on your contract.” Mitch shifted toward the gleaming refrigerator in an instinctive move to block her escape. All those years playing college football snapped his brain into defensive mode, only this time he wasn’t stopping a running back from getting past him but a stunning brunette.
Her father stepped into view. “Jayson, do you know this man?”
“Yes. He’s a client.”
A client. Nausea rolled his stomach.
The delicate tap of high heels entered the kitchen. Mitch turned his gaze toward a woman who looked a lot like Jaye. “Hello, Mrs. Davis. Thank you for inviting me.”
“You invited him?” Simon glowered at Cecelia. “Why?”
Mitch didn’t like the sharp accusation in Simon’s voice. “I didn’t give your wife much choice. When I called, I was halfway here.”
“Damn.” Jaye turned on her heel and walked into the adjoining living room.
Her softly muttered curse set off an alarm in his head. Hell, didn’t she want to see him? Mitch prowled after her, unwilling to let her out of his sight.
She stopped in front of the massive hearth and whirled to face him. “I don’t want to argue again.”
“I’m not here to fight.” He noticed the faint smudge under her beautiful eyes. Had she been having trouble sleeping, like him? Or had she been working nonstop with little time for rest? His stomach cramped at the possibility she hadn’t missed him at all.
Her gaze skidded to the kitchen, where her parents spoke to one another in sharp bursts and left the room, stiff-backed and grim like two boxers heading to their separate corners after a brutal round.
Mitch had the feeling Jaye had refereed their fights for too long. Sadness pulled at her shoulders like an invisible weight rested upon her.
She straightened her spine and looked at him. “I’m moving in two weeks. Maybe to California.”
Pain sliced through his abdomen, a hundred times worse than when the shard of glass cut his forearm. “Why?”
The luscious curve of her lips thinned. “Because I want to start over. I’m leaving Davis Software. With any luck, I’ll find another job writing code.”
Something had happened over the past seven days, something bad enough to convince her to walk away from her job, from her family…from everything. The truth wasn’t difficult to see. Only one person could drive her away from Davis Software—her father. Anger poured through Mitch, making his hands twitch
