With one hand on the wheel, Xavier rested his elbow on the window well and rubbed his lips in thought while he drove his Jag through the rain-soaked streets. A yellow glow from the lampposts hit the drops on his hood and windshield. Somehow, it escaped his notice it had stormed while they'd been in the restaurant. He supposed he'd had his own storm brewing.

Peyton had forever and always maintained the ability to clobber him with the equivalent of an emotional battering ram. ...