Midnight Run (2 page)

“Here,” Laurel said, shoving a carafe full of
milk at her and snapping Nora out of her thoughts. “The skim’s out
over there.”

Distracted, Nora rounded the corner to the
small busing station near the door, where napkins, sugar, and
carafes of milk with careful chalk labels waited. She wiped it down
before depositing the milk and grabbing the empty container, and
she noticed that the cream was getting low, too. Picking that up,
she headed back around the counter just as a girl with a huge
laptop pushed her chair back, knocking into the cream and slopping
it all over Nora. Nora bit back a curse, but the girl didn’t even
notice the mess as she began packing up her bag, and Nora shook her
head, annoyed.

Once she’d washed her hands and wiped down
the front of her apron as best she could, Nora took over the
register so Laurel could take her smoke break. Her eyes checked the
clock, and she exhaled loudly.

“Surely it’s not that bad,” a female voice
said, and Nora whirled back to the register, her cheeks red, but
then she sighed in relief.

Colleen was one of her regulars, but still,
Nora tried not to complain to her customers about anything at work.
Laurel and Caity seemed to have no such compunctions, but that
didn’t mean Nora felt comfortable bitching, even to someone as
grandmotherly as Colleen with her immaculate silver hair and lovely
blue eyes. Nora gave her a genuine smile and rang up the order
without even asking. “How’s your day so far, Colleen?”

The older woman shrugged gracefully. “Better
than yours, it would seem.” She studied Nora’s face and smiled.
“Although I do like the way you’re wearing your hair today.”

Nora’s hand went for her neck, and she shook
her head ruefully. “Hair tie broke, and I haven’t had a chance to
scrounge up another one.”

“Still, it suits you far better than that
runner’s tail you always wear. Don’t take this the wrong way, but
for a moment, I didn’t recognize you.”” Colleen tucked a five in
the tip jar as Nora turned away to start her dark chocolate double
shot mocha.

Nora smoothed her hair away from her face
with a smile. “I’ve never really been a fan of my hair,” she
admitted. “It feels weird to have it down.”

“Weird can be good, and in this case, dear,
I’d recommend that you get used to feeling weird. It’s very
becoming like this.”

“Maybe.” She handed Colleen her drink. “I
hope the afternoon is good to you!”

“You, too, dear.” The older woman waved
before she headed for the door.

By the time they’d locked the doors behind
the last customers, Nora was dead on her feet, but she still filled
a bucket of soapy water and got down on her hands and knees,
scrubbing the ancient grout lines while Laurel and Caity restocked
for the next morning. Finally, she left the coffee shop well after
the winter sun had set.
At least it isn’t an all-night
place
, she thought as she glanced at the dark street.
Then
I’d probably never make time to run.
As it was, she staggered
home to the apartment she shared with her best friend in a haze,
and by the time her head hit the pillow, Nora had almost convinced
herself to skip her pre-dawn run the next day.

Almost, but not quite.

When Kingston moved to
New York, he hadn’t realized how long it would take him to adjust
to the weather.

It got cold back in Texas, that was for sure,
but it was the kind of cold that went along with a desert; sharp,
clean, and fairly clear. The cold in Manhattan seemed to ooze out
of the ground, seeping into the streets and buildings like the
villain of some old b-movie. It made his lungs burn, no matter how
carefully he dressed each morning for his run.

His breath hung in the air in front of him, a
ghostly cloud in the early morning light, and Kingston shook his
head.
Why the hell did I move here in the middle of winter? I
didn’t even have the good sense to get here in time for the New
Year’s shindig.

True, he’d had a choice; when the bank back
in Fort Worth offered him a promotion, they also gave him the
option to transfer to one of their other branches. Kingston knew it
was juvenile, but something about New York City had always felt
like a fairy tale to him, and he was giddy with anticipation when
he realized that he could transfer there. So he picked Manhattan,
but the bank decided when to send him.

At least they let me have a holiday at
home
, he thought, veering around an early morning dog walker as
he continued his run through Central Park. His mom had been teary
when he’d announced his promotion, and she was still moping by
Christmas dinner.

“Why did you have to pick somewhere so far
away? You won’t even be in the same time zone anymore, King.” She’d
said, spooning out far more mashed potatoes for him than was
strictly necessary.

He’d leaned over to kiss her cheek. “It’s not
permanent, Ma. Just a chance for me to see what the fuss is about,
that’s all.”

His father pointed his fork at him. “But
permanent or not, you’re not going to give it anything less than
your all, right son?”

“Of course, sir.” Kingston knew he was
probably the only almost-thirty-year-old who addressed either of
his parents so formally, but his father commanded respect. “I’ll do
the job right.”

Now, three weeks after the move, Kingston
still hadn’t settled into a rhythm that seemed right for New York.
He ran before the sun came up because that was what he’d been used
to back home to escape the blistering heat of the day, but the
frozen air didn’t seem to force the same schedule on other runners,
and he rarely saw anyone in the park. He missed running with a
group; back home, he’d been a member of a handful of running clubs,
but his favorite group were the Midnight Runners. There was no
earthly reason to run at that hour, not even the heat, but Kingston
had loved the diverse group of other nutty sports enthusiasts.
Maybe I should see if there’s a club like that here.

His steps slowed, and he began his brisk cool
down walk, but once he stopped running, the cold seeped through his
clothes and into his bones, and Kingston gave an involuntary
shiver. Cutting his walk short, he hurried back to his apartment a
few blocks from the park. He knew the building was a prime
location, if the price of his rent was any indication, but he
hadn’t rented it for prestige; the apartment was conveniently
located to both his new job and the park, and since work and
running were the only things on his agenda, and since he had a
considerable chunk of change saved up after living at home through
college and for all the years since, Kingston figured he was
allowed to splurge a little bit on real estate. His mother would
have fainted if she’d seen the price tag and the tiny studio that
accompanied it, and his father would have shook his head and called
him reckless, but Kingston didn’t care.

He didn’t plan on telling them, either.

CHAPTER THREE

Nora got up with her alarm, despite the persistent
ache across her shoulder blades leftover from a day at work, and
laced up her running shoes. Her roommate, Carl, hadn’t been home
when she went to bed, and he was snoring when she tiptoed into the
kitchen, but somehow, he’d still left a sticky note for her on the
coffee pot.

“Kick butt, sweetheart.” Nora grinned and
slapped the sticky note on the back of her phone before she
strapped it to her arm. Hurriedly, she scribbled her own note,
wishing Carl a “rocking day”, and then she headed out into the
city. They’d been best friends since ninth grade, when Carl moved
to Nora’s small town and freaked everybody out with his pierced
ears and flamboyant personality, and the sticky note tradition was
almost as old as their friendship. Sometimes, if Carl was in a
particularly nostalgic mood, Nora would find her morning note
folded into a tiny paper football, like they used to fold and flick
across their desks back in high school.

Living with Carl had certainly made New York
more fun; before he broke up with his last boyfriend and moved in
with her, Nora had had a string of awful roommates, people she’d
only met because she’d put up flyers in the neighborhood. Still,
awful or not, she’d managed to keep a steady stream of co-renters
for the five years she’d lived in the city, and now that Carl was
there, it was starting to feel more and more likely that she’d be
able to stay in New York long-term.

She’d always loved the glitz and the glamor
of the place, and even five years as a barista hadn’t spoiled that
for her. After all that time, she was making alarmingly good money
at the coffee shop; Todd had a lot of turnover with the staff, but
those who stayed more than a year were rewarded with big raises
every few months and crappy health insurance.

Running, coffee, and the city
, Nora
thought with a smile as she started her run.
What more does a
girl need?
True, with her crazy schedule, it had gotten harder
and harder to keep up with her folks back home in Pennsylvania, but
everything had seemed fine when she was home for Christmas the
previous month. Still, Nora made a mental note to try and give her
mom a call sometime that weekend.

As her feet pounded the dark asphalt, Nora’s
mind wandered, and her six-mile loop of the park flew by.
I
really need to start running the park twice
, Nora thought as
she checked the time on her phone and headed back across town to
get ready for work.
That would almost be a half
marathon.

Back at the apartment, she took her contacts
out carefully before stepping into the shower. Even though she had
the kind that could be worn all day, even to bed, Nora always wore
her glasses for work; getting a coffee ground stuck under her left
contact years ago had been lesson enough for her. Now she only wore
her contacts for running.

Stripping off her sweaty clothes, Nora jumped
into the shower, relishing the feel of the hot water against her
cold skin. Running in the winter was rough, but not as bad as
running in the summer; at least her body temperature had a chance
to equalize in the winter, instead of staying feverish all day
long. Nora wanted to linger under the spray, but she wasn’t ready
to risk another late entrance at Books and Brew, so she skipped
conditioning her hair and rinsed off as fast as she could.

The mirror hadn’t even had a chance to steam
up by the time Nora was finished, and she studied her face for a
moment. High, pale cheekbones framed her hazel eyes, and Nora
grimaced. She’d always hated how bland she looked; brown hair,
brownish eyes, and pale lips that didn’t look right with any color
of lipstick, no matter how many times she let the women at the
makeup counter in the mall back home do her colors. Remembering
what Colleen had said, Nora didn’t slick her hair back right away.
Watching her face in the mirror, she cautiously scrunched up the
ends of her toffee colored hair, and light, bouncy waves hung
around her face, stopping just above her shoulders. She shrugged.
Might as well try something different for a change.
Carl had
been after her to color her hair, but Nora was never sure she could
pull off any of the bold looks he suggested.

“Plain little bird,” she muttered as she got
dressed and grabbed her bag. Gran had always said that about her,
and Nora had never worked up the courage to tell her how much it
hurt.

When she made it across town, Books and Brew
was hopping, but this time, Nora wasn’t late. Todd scheduled her
long shifts, but he hadn’t made her open since she told him about
running; if she’d had to get to the coffee shop before five, she
could kiss her runs goodbye.

Laurel was making drinks when Nora got there,
but Caity wasn’t in site.

“Morning, Laurel,” Nora said quietly as she
tied on her apron and headed to the register.

Laurel grunted. “I guess.”

Nora decided to try to be friendly. “Did you
have a late night?”

Laurel nodded, brushing her dark,
asymmetrical bangs off her forehead. “Yeah,” she glanced cautiously
at Nora. “There was a rave out in Brooklyn.” She dropped her voice
conspiratorially. “Didn’t make it home wearing my own panties, if
you know what I mean.”

Nora almost grimaced at the image, but she
forced herself to nod sympathetically. “Um, yeah, I’ve had nights
like that.” The closest she’d ever been to a rave was a movie she
saw last summer, and she didn’t even want to think about whatever
Laurel meant by the underwear comment, but she wasn’t about to
admit that, especially not when Laurel was being almost civil to
her. “Do you need some aspirin or something?”

Laurel snorted. “Just need to get through
this shift.” She handed a customer his latte and looked at Nora
over her shoulder. “Are you going to take his order?”

“What?” Nora spun around, her cheeks
instantly hot. She’d been so fixated on trying to make nice with
Laurel that she hadn’t heard the customer who’d been standing there
waiting. Her eyes locked on his tan face, and Nora cringed,
thinking about the underwear exchange. How long had he been
there?

Tex’s face lit up. “It’s you again, hon. Nice
to bump into you.”

Nora’s skin started to tingle under his gaze.
“You, too,” she finally managed to say.

He leaned on the counter, his eyes skimming
her face before coming to rest on the menu board beside her. “So,”
he drawled, “what’s good here?”

“Um, I don’t know,” she stuttered, “I mean,
everything is pretty good. As long as you like caffeine.”
Oh my
gosh, what’s wrong with me?
“The coffee is great,” she finished
lamely, trying to figure out why her brain seemed to have deserted
her.

Gunmetal gray eyes met hers, and Nora caught
her breath for a moment. “I guess I’ll just have a coffee,” he said
with a smile that nearly sent Nora into cardiac arrest.