Heading East (Part 2 of 2) (The True North Series) (3 page)

I came back a few minutes later and handed her a tall paper cup. “Hope you like it. It reminds me of you.”

She took a sip and her eyebrows drew together. “Cinnamon-flavored coffee?”

“To go with your famous cinnamon rolls,” I said, sitting down across from her, our knees
touching underneath the small table.

For the next few minutes we sipped our drinks in silence with our gazes locked. There was so much to say. I needed to clear the air before I ran out of time.

So I began at the simplest place. “It’s good to see you. I’ve missed you.”

She didn’t say anything. I didn’t really expect her to. It would have taken an act of Congress to make her confess that she missed me too, even though I could tell by the way she looked at me that she shared the sentiment.

“I’m sorry about the way things ended,” I continued. “I never meant for you to find out that way, and in such a public manner.”

Her gaze hardened. “No point rehashing the past.”

“I meant it when I said I’m not that same guy who came to Alaska to play with your emotions.”

“Sure, if you say so,” she said, her voice edged with steel. “Either way, it’s over.”

“In that case, I’d like to be friends.”

“Friends?” she asked as if I’d said something completely unbelievable.

“Yes. I’ve lived here all my life. I can help you. If you ever need anything, even just a recommendation on a good restaurant, all you need to do is ask.”

“I can manage. Thanks.” She stood up and gathered her things, but before she could go I grabbed her wrist and slid a business card into the pocket of her jeans.

“Just in case you need to get a hold of me.”

“Yeah, I won’t be needing it.” She held up her cup. “Thanks for the coffee anyway.”

I watched her walk away from me, never once blinking until she had exited the establishment and walked beyond the window.

3

KAT

I couldn’t believe it. In this huge city, where over eight million people live, what were the chances of running into Luke? And he couldn’t have shown up at a more opportune time. Just as I was beginning to spiral into a panic attack, when my chest was getting tight and my vision started to swim, he had appeared out of nowhere like some sort of superhero in a freaking suit and tie.

He had held me like that before, had acted like my shield against the world until I was able to find my center and calm down. Now he’d appeared again, as if summoned by my desperation.

I stopped and turned back towards the coffee shop, peeking in through the edge of the window to make sure my frazzled mind hadn’t just made him up—but nope, he was just where I’d left him. He rose to his feet, all six foot two of him, put on his dark grey suit jacket,
then straightened his red patterned tie. The suit was definitely tailored to his body, the fit comfortable across his wide shoulders and tapering down slightly to his narrow waist. The pants were impeccable and ended at just the right length over his black Oxford shoes.

I’d never had a thing for men in suits before—preferring the outdoorsy, lumberjack type—but Luke looked incredible. Refined and worldly and completely out of my league.

I let out a breath, mentally saying goodbye. He’d asked to be friends, but such a thing wasn’t really possible. Not between us.

“You’re still here.”

Luke’s deep voice pulled me from my thoughts and I realized he was standing in front of me on the sidewalk. He smiled, the skin crinkling around his eyes, as he put his hands in his pants pockets.

“I don’t think it’s possible to be friends,” I blurted out, shaking my head.

He frowned and I realized then just how much I’d missed that look on his face. “I think our past is not insurmountable.”

I motioned between us. “Look at us. The jeans and tee shirt girl doesn’t belong in the world of the suit and tie guy.”

He touched the lapels of his jacket. “Take all of this off, and we’re the same underneath.” One dark eyebrow rose and the corner of his mouth lifted. “With a few distinct differences, of course.”

I avoided his direct gaze, afraid to discover that he still had some power over my body. I was in New York for me, to live my dream, not to be swept away by his sweet words and sexual attraction. I’d gone down that road once and it hadn’t ended well. “I gotta go.”

As I turned away he grabbed my hand, the heat of his touch holding me in place. I remembered that large, warm hand, the feel of his palm caressing my skin. I thought of it almost every night.

“Come to my place tonight. Let me cook you dinner.”

I meant to say no. Really. I opened my mouth to tell him where to stick his dinner but I got stuck in the pull of his nearly colorless gaze. The rational part of my brain was shouting at me to leave before I made another mistake, but I couldn’t make my legs move. To find Luke in this city of millions was like finding a little pocket of peace inside the madness. “Where do you live?” I finally asked.

He smiled. “I get off work at five. I can come pick you up around five-thirty.”

“I think I’ll take the train.” Hell, if I was going to get sucked back in, I might as well go down fighting.

Later that day I lay on my camping cot, staring at the cracks in the yellowed popcorn ceiling as I took stock of my life. I’d locked up my home in Alaska, flown clear across the country, and rented the first apartment I was able to afford—even though it had been outside of Manhattan—and, in less than twenty-four hours, I would be attending my first ever higher-level class. I’d bought the books and various other necessary supplies. In that regard I was ready as could be.

My home life, on the other hand, was not as organized. So far all I had was an uncomfortable camping cot, a folding table and chair, a few pots and pans that had come in a cheap set, and paper plates and cups. In the corner was my luggage containing my clothes, my sketchbooks, and the clothing I’d made over the years.

It wasn’t my idea of a comfortable home yet, but I hadn’t planned on staying in New York for the long haul anyway, especially now that Luke knew I was here. As soon as this nine-month course was over, I was out of here.

At five o’clock I made my way across town to Luke’s apartment. He lived in the Flatiron District, and it took me two train transfers before I was finally at his street. I walked by the famous Flatiron Building, taking a quick picture and wondering how it looked inside with that tight corner angle.

On the way I spotted a grocery store and ducked inside. The store was small and the aisles narrow; it reminded me so much of Laurie’s General Store. I didn’t realize until that moment, as I stood in the aisle between sanitary products and foot powder, that I missed Ayashe and all of its crazy inhabitants. Or maybe it was just the familiarity that I missed.

After grabbing a bottle of wine and paying, I walked the rest of the way to Luke’s apartment building on East 20
th
Street, finding the Interior Decorating store he’d told me about. I craned my head to look up at the eleven-story white brick building, in awe of its many neoclassical architectural details. I found the doorway to the apartments on the left and rang the buzzer. A few seconds later his deep voice came on over the intercom. “Take your time coming up. I need a few more minutes,” he said and buzzed the lobby door open.

I made my way inside, wondering why he’d need extra time, when the answer slapped me upside the head.
Of course.

I hurried into the elevator and jabbed at the eleven
button, willing it to hurry so that I wouldn’t miss catching Luke in the act. When the doors opened I hid in the far corner of the hall, sure that at any moment a woman would come slinking out of his apartment.

After five minutes of no movement the brown door opened. Luke stepped out and looked around, spotting me right away. “What the hell are you doing there?” he asked, walking over to me with bare feet.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Giving you a few minutes to kick the woman out of your apartment.”

“Woman?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you need a few extra minutes to get rid of whoever you had stashed in there?”

He shook his head and laughed, grabbing hold of the strap of my bag. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” he asked, pulling me back to his apartment. “I’d just gotten out of the shower and needed to get dressed.”

The drips of water just inside the front door helped to prove his case.

He closed the door and turned to me, the amusement on his face now gone. “Is that what you really think of me?” he asked, his eyes stern.

“I don’t know what to think of you, to tell the truth,” I said. “Not since—”

“You think I’m still sleeping around, that I’m still seducing every woman I come across.” It wasn’t a question but a statement, and an accurate one at that.

“Well, isn’t that why you invited me here? To seduce me?”

“No. I invited you here because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you again.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. To get out of having to issue an apology I handed him the bottle of wine, set my book bag down, and turned my attention to the apartment. My mouth fell open as I took in the open-plan space with exposed brick walls and wood floors. The modern kitchen was directly to the left, all steel and white glossy surfaces, separated from the rest of the space by an enormous island with a stove and sink in the middle. Across from it was the living room with its dark brown leather sofa, wall-mounted widescreen TV and a reclaimed wood coffee table on top of a tan shag rug.

“Holy shit,” I said, walking towards the glass wall beyond the living room that led out to an open-air courtyard. I pushed aside the glass door and walked out, lifting my head up to catch the last rays of the summer sun.

The patio was paved in brick and butted against the brick wall of the neighboring building, and across the way from Luke’s apartment was another glass door that led to who knows where.

I turned back to Luke, a little startled to find him standing so close behind me. “This is a Fancy Dancy place.” I pointed to the roof above both apartments. “Is there a pool up there or a garden with a hedge maze?”

He grinned. “It’s unfinished, though I have plans to turn it into a balcony one day.” He grabbed my hands and tugged me toward the other set of glass doors. “Come on, there’s more to see.”

“We can’t go in there!” I said, digging in my heels.

He gave me a wink before he slid open the door without problems. “This is still part of my apartment.”

I threw my hands up. “What the hell!” I cried, my voice echoing in the large space that was a mirror image of the other space. I turned to him and wagged a finger. “You are out of control. How can you afford to live here? My apartment’s the size of your kitchen and I’m bleeding out the ass to pay for it.”

He stuck his hands in his pockets and chuckled. “My dad left it for me in his will,” he said with a shrug. “I was renting it out until recently.”

“Christ on a cracker, this place is huge,” I said, walking over to the immense wood desk by the back wall and admiring its intricately-carved legs until I caught sight of the other end of the room.

The front of the apartment was different from the other apartment in that there was no kitchen; instead there were two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that wrapped around the corner and were absolutely overflowing with books. In front of that sat an oversized leather armchair and a round table on top of which was a mug and rolled up newspaper.

I immediately sat down, sighing as the well-worn leather molded around my body. I ran my finger along the brass tacks at the front of the armrest and imagined Luke sitting here every morning, reading the paper as he drank his morning coffee.

“You like that chair?” he asked with one dark eyebrow raised.

I grinned, leaning back and stretching my legs out. “When you’re not looking, I’m sneaking this chair into my bag and taking it home with me.”

“You’ll have a hard time taking it on the train.”

“At least I’ll be guaranteed a seat.”

He chuckled and held out a hand. “Come on, the food’s going to get cold.”

I stood up to go when the door at the other end of the room caught my eye. “What’s over there?”

“The second bedroom and the en-suite bath,” he said. “There’s only a bed in there right now. I haven’t done much to the place, as you can see.”

“Where’s your bedroom?”

His eyes sparkled with amusement. “So you
do
want to see my bedroom.”

I gave him a withering look. Okay, I’d walked in on that one.

In the absence of a dining table, I sat at the island counter and watched while he opened the oven door, his thin tee shirt stretching across his wide, muscular back as he pulled out a foil casserole dish.

It struck me then how strange this entire situation was, so familiar yet so foreign. Never in a million years did I think I’d be sitting in Luke’s home, waiting for him to feed me.

“What is going on behind those blue eyes?” he asked as he scooped something cheesy and rich onto two plates.

“I was thinking you must be a used car salesman because you somehow talked me into coming here,” I said, accepting the plate. “I came to New York with the intention of never seeing you again.”

“And what was your plan if you ran into me on the street?”

“I’d walk by and pretend you didn’t exist.”

He set down two glasses of wine and sat on the stool beside me, our arms nearly touching on the granite counter. “For the record, I didn’t make you do anything you didn’t want,” he said, his eyebrows drawn. “You came here of your own volition.”

My eyes flew around his face, my fingers itching to reach up and caress his angular features. I cleared my throat. “I guess I just wanted to see what you’d been up to these past five months.”

“Not much. Went back to work. Moved out of my old apartment.”

“Why did you move?”

He shrugged. “I just wanted a fresh start. I felt like a different person and no longer fit into my old life.”

I looked down into my plate, aware that he’d just put into words everything I’d been feeling but had been unable to express. The only difference was that I was still searching for the place where the new me could feel at home.

“I’ve been working on my music,” he said, grinning over at me. “Writing songs and performing them in small venues.”

I tried to act surprised. Really, I did. “Oh.”

He studied me for a moment, a smile in his eyes. “I recorded a demo, too.”

Now
that
was new information. “So does that mean you have a record deal?”

“No, I recorded the demo on my own then sent it out to recording companies hoping they’ll like what they hear and sign me on.”

“And?”

His gaze swung away and he took a drink. “Still waiting.” He set the glass down and squared his shoulders. “So what about you? What have you done the past five months? Apart from getting accepted into one of the most prestigious fashion schools in North America, that is.”