Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Ten minutes later, they turned onto the street where the bookstore was located, tucked on the corner at the far edge of downtown where the storefronts began to thin out toward the beach.
A gelato shop with striped awnings sat beside it, a handful of people lingering outside with their dripping cones, while across the street a small park spread beneath swaying palms and towering jacaranda trees dusted with purple blooms.
The bookstore itself had an old-fashioned charm.
Wide bay windows framed displays of stacked hardcovers, handwritten staff recommendation cards, and a faded poster for an upcoming author event.
Six brick steps led up from the sidewalk to a weathered blue door, framed by hanging baskets filled with ivy and tiny white flowers.
It didn’t look mysterious in the slightest. Just a cozy neighborhood bookstore.
Which made her wonder if their information was wrong.
Still, they’d come this far. There was no reason not to check.
Jax opened the door for her with an easy, gentlemanly sweep of his hand, another unexpected contradiction she added to the growing list of things about him that didn’t quite fit together.
As she stepped inside, there was a soft murmur of conversation coming from a reading area off to the side, where three women sat around a coffee table with books and cups of coffee from the urn on the table by the window.
Several more people browsed a crowded bestseller display near the counter where an employee was ringing up a purchase.
"Doesn't look anything like a former nightclub," Jax commented.
"I was thinking the same thing. But let's find out." They waited a moment for the young man at the register to finish with his customer, then stepped forward, "Hi," she said. "We were wondering if you could tell us about this store's history. We heard it might have been a nightclub at some point."
"Uh, I don't know. I'm nineteen, and it's been a bookstore as long as I can remember."
"It was probably before that," she said. "Is the owner here?"
"Mrs. Hancock isn't here today. She'll be in tomorrow. Her family has owned the building for a long time, so she would know."
"Okay, thanks." She turned away from the counter, feeling a wave of disappointment. "I guess this was a wasted trip."
"We're here. Let's look around," Jax said, leading the way to the back of the store.
She was surprised he wanted to look further, but she followed him into the back stacks, where more kids and adults were selecting books. A back door marked "Employees Only" was closed but probably led to the back room and maybe an office.
"We're above street level," Jax said, his gaze focused on the window.
"So?"
"I'm wondering if there's a basement."
"Did Walter say something about a basement?"
"No, but he mentioned a dark, intimate club. There are a lot of windows on this floor. Let's go back outside."
As they made their way out of the store, she once again found herself more curious about him than the nightclub. He definitely seemed to have picked up a scent of a story that he couldn't let go of.
"Are you a journalist?" she asked as they left the building.
"No personal questions, remember? But, no, I'm not a journalist."
"You seem like someone who has a good head for investigating. Are you a cop? A scientist? A treasure hunter?"
A faint smile played at his lips. "All good guesses, but I'm just looking for a basement."
She followed him down the stairs and around the side of the building, stopping abruptly as they saw a ramp leading down to another door, a white door. Still, it felt like that door could be the one they were looking for.
Jax was already heading down the ramp. She had to move fast to catch up to him. "What are you doing?" she asked as he tried the door.
"It's locked."
"That's not surprising. I'm sure this is part of the bookstore. Maybe where they keep inventory."
"Probably. But maybe it was once a club."
She looked around the area. "It has that feel of a club entrance, with the ramp from the sidewalk and the door here. I wish the owner was here, so we could ask. We'll have to come back tomorrow."
"Maybe we don't need her—just Walter. If we bring him here, he might recognize the entrance even without the red door."
She frowned at that suggestion. "I don't think we should bring him here until we know for sure this is the place. Otherwise, he might get upset or more confused."
"You could be right," he muttered.
"Let's go next door," she said impulsively. "I wouldn't mind getting a gelato, and maybe someone there knows the history of this place."
"Why not," he said with a low level of enthusiasm, but she didn't really care. She wanted to know more about the mysterious club, and she also wanted to know more about him. A trip next door might help satisfy at least one of her questions.
The gelato store was crowded, and as they waited in line, her gaze swept across the tubs of interesting-looking flavors. "What are you going to get?"
"Probably chocolate or vanilla."
"With all these flavors?" she asked.
"I'm not that big on ice cream."
"This isn't ice cream; it's gelato."
"I don't know the difference."
"Well, I don't, either. But I've been here before, and their gelato is homemade in the back. Last time I got the salted caramel, and it was delicious. They let you mix flavors, too."
Amusement warmed his gaze. "You're very excited about this," he said.
"Like I said, it's really good."
"Then get two of whatever you're getting."
"Really? You're going to trust my opinion?"
"You've been here before. It doesn't seem like too big a risk."
"Okay, I accept the challenge."
"It wasn't a challenge. It's just a gelato order."
"But I want to get you something you'll like. Since I know absolutely nothing about you, that makes it trickier. But I do know that you like chocolate and vanilla and probably don't want to veer too far from the basics, so I think I've got it."
"What?"
"You'll see," she said, tossing him a smile.
A moment later, they stepped up to the counter, and she ordered two cups of dark chocolate mixed with black cherry.
Since the teenage girl filling their order didn't look like she'd know much about the building next door, she waited until they had their cups of gelato and were moving toward the cash register where an older woman was ringing up customers.
"Hello," she said. "Are you the owner by chance?"
"I am. Nancy Holmgren. Is there a problem?"
"No problem. We were just wondering if you know anything about the building next door, if it was always a bookstore, or if it was possibly a nightclub at some point?"
Nancy's gaze widened. "That's an odd question."
"A friend of mine, an older man, is trying to remember where this club he used to go to was located," she explained. "He said it had a red door, and someone else thought it might have been where the bookstore is now, but the owner of the bookstore isn't in today, so I was hoping you might know."
"I think it might have been a club a long time ago, but I don't know if the door was red. You need to talk to Ellen; she owns the building. She works most days."
"Her clerk said she'd be in tomorrow."
"Then she's your best bet."
"Thanks," she said as she paid for the gelato, waving off Jax's offer of a twenty-dollar bill.
They headed outside to a table on the patio. "Looks like we might be right about the club being in the basement," she said as they sat down.
He nodded as he spooned up some gelato and took a bite.
"Well?" she asked impatiently. "Do you like it?"
"Very good. Both flavors. Excellent choices. I don't think I've had black cherry before."
She was probably happier than she should be that she'd picked something he liked. "Now that you know you can trust me with your gelato order, maybe you can tell me something else about yourself."
"We made a deal, Kaia."
"I know. But your reluctance to talk about yourself makes me more curious, not less. Tell me something, anything. It could be small. Your favorite color, your first car, what you like to eat for breakfast. How hard could that be?"
He took several more bites of gelato, then said, "I like a dark forest green, and I often eat eggs for breakfast. Happy?"
"Not really, but thanks for sharing," she said dryly.
"My first car was a beat-up old truck. It felt like a Ferrari to me."
Now they were getting somewhere. "Did you buy it yourself?"
"Inherited it from my grandfather. And that's all I'm saying about that."
"We were just getting started."
"Why do you care who I am?" he challenged.
"You're my neighbor, my partner in investigating a long-ago nightclub, so it would be nice to know more about you."
"My life story is not that interesting. And we're not partners investigating a crime."
"I didn't say crime. I think it's an unrequited love story.
And I doubt your story is boring. If it were, you'd be happy to share.
Trust me, I've listened to a lot of men tell me the most boring stories about their lives that you could ever imagine.
I dated a dentist once, and let's just say I know more about flossing than I ever wanted to know. "
His blue eyes sparkled and as he fought back a smile, she felt her stomach clench. He really was a very attractive man, especially when he wasn't trying so hard to look cold and disinterested.
"I can't believe the men you've met are that boring," he said.
"Most guys are far more interested in talking about themselves than getting to know me. They ask very few questions."
"Maybe that's because you're the one asking too many questions."
"I really didn’t ask about floss."
This time a small laugh escaped his lips. "Fair enough. So, what is your story?"
"You want me to share while you stay silent?"
"You just said no one has been interested in getting to know you or asking questions. But if you don't want to talk, that's fine. We can stick to our rules."