Darkness Before Dawn (18 page)

"I wouldn't bet on it," I respond, picking the magazine back up to continue idly looking at pictures. I don't care where I sit, I just love that he gets defensive about his window seats. I've had to listen to enough of his stories to know that he hates arguing with passengers about sitting there.

He lets out a breath and puts his phone away in the breast pocket of his jacket. "Are we seriously having this conversation right now?"

I bite down on my lip to keep from laughing at his serious face. "Are you really going to pout about it?" I razz.

"I'm not pouting! You know I hate sitting in the aisle and middle seat! My legs are too long for people to cross and go to the bathroom! And why the hell do people go to the bathroom during a two-hour flight anyway? I don't get it! Did they not know they had to pee before boarding the airplane?" he exclaims, throwing his hands up as his eyebrows draw together and his jaw grinds.

I sputter in laughter, tears forming in my eyes at his outburst. "You're so cute," I say with a smile, grabbing both sides of his face and giving him a smack on the lips.

"You're such a pain in the ass," he says with a light laugh as he flicks my hair away from my eyes.

Our trip to New York ends up being the best idea ever. Cole fills me in on why the interview is so important. Apparently, it's a pilot they're filming for a new show. It isn't news to me, as he's been talking about the plans for this show for what seems like three years now, but the fact that they gave him the opportunity and he almost passed it up is a lot to take in. His interview with Jack is the first for the show called
Inside the Locker Room With Cole Murphy.

Everything is a success and the views are amazing, which means he gets to film four more interviews in hopes that the show will continue to air. It bothers me that Cole even worries about things like his show flopping, when he knows it won't. He's too charismatic for anybody not to want to watch, and every time he mentions being worried about it, I find myself trying not to roll my eyes at him.

We spend most of Saturday morning packing up his house, which he was finally able to sell. I'm sure he didn't profit from the sale because he hasn't mentioned it to me, but I don't have the heart to ask, even if he says it doesn't matter.

"Let's go to the city for lunch," he says after taking the last box of things downstairs. The only thing left is the clothes in our closets. The mention of food makes my stomach rumble in anticipation.

"Sure," I reply, giving myself a once over in the full-length mirror beside me, and shrugging when I decide that denim capris and a T-shirt should be fine.

"Nope, you have to change," Cole says, interrupting my thoughts. I purse my lips and raise an eyebrow as I wait for him to elaborate on that. "We're going somewhere after lunch and I know you would kill me if I let you leave dressed that way. Just put on whatever cute little dress you have in the closet."

I gape at him. "Are you serious? Whatever cute little dress I have in the closet? I only have a handful of things here and half of them are cocktail dresses!"

"So wear a cocktail dress," he replies with a shrug.

"It's three o'clock in the afternoon!"

"So wear what you're wearing. Let's go," he says with an eye roll.

I return his eye roll and place a hand on my hip. "Umm...no. I'll change, thank you very much." I disappear into the closet and angrily sort through my wardrobe, dismissing everything. Everything either makes me look fat, is for cold weather, or isn't cute enough. I wish I hadn't decided to join him on his trip so last minute.

"Cole," I shout from the closet. "Can we go to a store and buy something that I can wear?"

His laugh resonates through the almost bare room and I hear his footsteps approaching.

"Blake, it's not that big a deal, I shouldn't have said anything. Just wear what you want," he says with a comforting smile.

"Except you did say something and now that's it, the seed is in my head and whatever I wear isn't going to be good enough," I reply, throwing my hands up in frustration.

He strides up to me, backing me against the wall, making the wire hangers clink and the clothes scatter to the floor. He cups my chin and looks straight into my eyes, his green eyes warm and serious.

"Anything you wear is good enough. Anything. You make everything look good. Just wear what you're wearing," he says before dipping his head to kiss my lips softly. When he pulls back, he brushes the hair out of my face and taps my nose, walking back out.

"Yeah, but you're wearing a sports jacket," I mutter at his back. He shakes his head and shrugs off the jacket. "You're still wearing a nice Polo," I say, looking down at myself again. I'm wearing an old Kiss shirt, capris and a pair of flip flops. I look like a bum compared to him. He pulls his shirt over his head and I am momentarily frozen, torn between running up to him and jumping on his muscular back so I can bite his shoulder blade or letting it go because I'm starving, for food. The way his wide back looks and his jeans hang off his hips makes thirty different scenarios of us naked and sweaty cross my mind. He twists his body around, the movement causing my eyes to trail down his rippling abs and back up to his face slowly.

"One track mind," he teases with a smirk on his face, before turning back around and continuing his walk out. I drop the dress I have in my hand and break into a sprint, jumping on his back and circling my legs and arms around him before biting his shoulder, his neck and placing a wet kiss on his cheek as his body shakes in laughter. I bury my face in his neck and squeeze him as hard as I can.

"I love you," I murmur against his neck before sliding off slowly.

He turns around and smiles softly at me. "I know, baby. Now let me go dress like a bum." My mouth pops open as he laughs and gives me a hard smack on the ass before turning back around.

Once we're both dressed casually in jeans and T-shirts, we leave the house and take a train to the city. Despite his original plans, I convince him to take me to Serendipity because I am dying for a deep fried Oreo ice cream. We eat and he humors me by pretending to be John Cusack while I pretend to be Kate Beckinsale, because I mean, isn't that what the cool kids do at Serendipity?

"You suck at remembering lines," I say with a smile and an eye roll.

"That movie is way ahead of my time," he says with a deep chuckle.

"Oh please, how many times have you watched it?" I snort, knowing that he's seen it at least five times with me. Nineties movies are our thing, granted, Home Alone always takes the cake, but I still love them all.

"It's always playing on AMC, dammit," he mumbles below his breath, making me laugh loudly before I turn to see Spencer watching us, equally amused.

"We have no privacy," I whisper. "At all. Am I the only one that gets annoyed with that?"

Cole groans. "Blake, we need them, please don't start this again. They're good people and they are going to make sure nothing happens again. And we have Connor and them."

"Don't remind me," I reply, swirling my spoon around the melted ice cream. If it weren't for Mark and Connor confirming who my grandfather is, I would think they were trying to play a bad joke on me. It's just too much to deal with, which is why I haven't even considered meeting him yet. As much as I want to see my father because I'm morbidly curious, I'm not sure I can go through with it. Connor says he doesn't even know I'm alive, which makes it easier to stay in hiding. It also makes me wonder how he doesn't know I'm alive if Connor, Mark and my grandfather all know that I am.

"Are you sure you don't want to meet them?" Cole asks, disrupting my thoughts.

"I don't know, Cole. I don't know anything anymore," I whisper, looking up from the ice cream for a second before returning my gaze to it. He puts down his spoon and places his hand over mine, completely covering it before squeezing it once.

"You know me," he says in a low voice that makes me snap my eyes back to his.

"And that's all I need to know," I reply just as quietly.

As we stroll hand in hand around the city, which proves to be sticky, as summers in New York usually are, we fall into comfortable conversation about the buildings and how much nicer the people are in Chicago.

"Don't say I didn't warn you about your clothes," he says, giving me a pointed look.

"You keep saying that!" I say, exasperated. "Let's just go buy some damn clothes."

He grins widely. "Okay, let's do that."

I'd forgotten how much I absolutely hate shopping with Cole. I've been standing around playing hanger rack for him and following him around the entire department store as he looks at all the sports jackets.

"I've never met anybody that needed this many freaking sports jackets!" I exclaim when he places the fifth one on my aching forearm.

"I'm not getting all of them, don't worry," he says with a wink.

I let out a huff and take a seat on a couch while he continues to walk around and I see a pretty sales girl walk up to him and take out her measuring tape. Cole shakes his head and smiles at her, politely declining, but she continues to follow him around while I just watch as an amused spectator. Cole keeps looking over his shoulder and smiling stiffly at her, but she's clearly not getting the picture. She just keeps following him and checking out his ass while I laugh from my seat. Cole snaps his head to me and pleads for me to help him but I decline, still laughing. He narrows his eyes at me and laughs a little, shaking his head in disbelief before making his way over to me. The girl, who is still following him, looks at me with wide eyes when she spots me and realizes that he's not alone. I smile at her for a moment before Cole covers me with his body, making me squeal as I lay back completely on the flat surface of the couch. He bites my bottom lip lightly before sucking it into his mouth.

"You like that? Watching other girls flirt with me knowing I only have eyes for you?" he murmurs against my lips. I gasp in surprise as his body leaves mine with a push up. His green eyes sparkle with mischief as he runs his tongue between his teeth ever so slowly, calling my attention to his mouth. The clearing of somebody's throat causes us both to snap our heads in that direction. Watching us with dropped jaws are two blond curly haired kids, no older than ten and their pissed off mother. I look at Cole, who is smiling sheepishly as stands, pulling me up with him. We stand awkwardly in front of the family, apologizing with our eyes and facial expressions as the mother continues to scold us with hers.

"That was pretty hot." Our heads turn in unison to a teenager standing by with a pair of jeans in his hand and a Slurpie in the other. He sips on his drink and shrugs at the woman who is glaring at him.

"Jonathan, you do not make comments of approval about those things in front of your brother and sister!" she says before turning to us. "And you two should be ashamed of yourselves! This is a public store!"

"Honey, what's going on?" A deep male voice chimes in from behind, making us turn around. "Oh hey, Murphy! Are you back on the night show?" the man asks cheerfully when he sees Cole.

Cole recovers his composure and chuckles, extending his hand to the stranger. "I'm actually filming a new segment for the channel. It'll air on Sunday nights. It's called "Inside the Locker Room." Check it out, I just did an interview with Jack Carter." The man's eyebrows raise in approval as he nods his head.

"Nice. I'll be sure to tune in! I miss hearing your take on games—you and I have similar views on things. Well, it was great to meet you, sorry I can't stick around to talk longer but we're back to school shopping, you know," he says with a bored expression before signaling toward his family. "Oh, I'm so glad you're safe! Martha, this is the girl that was kidnapped by those people." Martha's glare eases on me before she says that she's glad I'm safe. We awkwardly wave goodbye to the teenager and little kids before turning to pay.

"That. Was so freaking weird," I mutter under my breath. Once we pay, we both go to separate dressing rooms and change into our new clothes, at Cole's insistence. I think it's strange that he wants us to wear something nicer so much that he's not willing to go back home, but it's Cole, his appearance is everything. He was probably embarrassed to be spotted looking like "a bum" to begin with.
No wonder he dated so many models.

As soon as we get in the cab my phone starts to ring. I pick it up while Cole informs the driver where to take us, but the line is silent. For the first time since we got to New York, I start to feel panicky. Cole questions the call and I tell him it was nobody. When the cab starts to slow down and asks us to pay, I get a text message from the same number.