Page 57 of Bracing The Storm

I take my seat at the kitchen table and wrap my hands around my mug, smiling in anticipation. Waiting for Patrick to come is so wrong it feels almost right. For a moment, I fantasize what it would be like to do it every day—dinner ready and waiting on the table, maybe even a kid or two playing in their PJs, waiting for daddy to come home from work and tuck them into bed.

Then I remember the guy is a freaking rock star. My fantasy is as realistic as the notion of Santa Claus.

I only notice Patrick’s presence when he settles in the chair, making himself comfortable only the way someone who truly belongs in this house could.

“You’re frowning. A penny for your thoughts,” he says. His smile hints that he’s not serious, but the glint in his eyes tells a different story.

“It’s nothing.” I wave my hand and force a smile to my face.

“I take it your date with Duncan didn’t go according to plan?”

Trust Patrick to be as blunt as usual and just get to the point.

“What makes you say that?” I ask.

He points at my high heels and I realize I’ve forgotten to take them off. Also trust him to notice something as irrelevant as my choice of footwear.

“Oh, these.” I shrug. “There was no plan. They were a gift so I just put them on. I was going to make my lack of interest clear to him but something came up.”

“That something would be me.” It’s not a question; it’s a statement. There’s no surprise in his tone; just his usual insouciance, as though he wouldn’t have expected it to be any other way.

“Not you, per se. The big revelation about you,” I correct. “There’s a difference.”

“I’m not convinced there is,” Patrick says. “Though I can’t say that I’m sorry to have thwarted your plans for the night.”

Our eyes connect across the small distance. There’s something in his expression that takes my breath away. It’s dark and brooding and makes my heart falter a little in my chest. I can feel his gaze all over me, caressing my entire body without so much as a single touch. Suddenly, the large kitchen seems too small and I find myself struggling to catch my breath. I’m glad to be sitting because my knees feel so wobbly I doubt I could stand on my two feet. He has that effect on me.

We fall silent for a moment. I want to avert my gaze, but I can’t seem able to pry my eyes off of him. I want to run and hide and never see him again, but I can’t bear the thought of not being near him. I have enough experience to know that can only mean one thing—I’m deeply, madly, without a single doubt attracted to him, yet I’m rendered helpless in doing anything about it.

Eventually, Patrick resumes the conversation, his voice low. “You wanted to tell me about my mother. Now would be the time, Lori.”

I nod and fold my hands in my lap, eager to focus on something other than the heat that is scorching me from inside.

Chapter Nineteen

One year earlier

During the few weeks I had been working at Joe’s diner I soon learned that when the boss asked you to do a double shift it wasn’t a question; it was an order. Unless you didn’t mind losing your job, you didn’t argue or object; you simply said “of course” and “thank you”.

It was almost midnight when the last customer finally left and I closed up for the night. By that time, I had been on my feet for twelve hours straight and would be expected to arrive at my second job—a laundry service for an upmarket hotel downtown—in less than five hours. But I didn’t mind. After losing my job as an assistant with one of the most prestigious investment companies in NYC, I was grateful I had a job at all. My previous boss had made the calls before I had even exited the building, wrecking my professional reputation so no other investment company would hire me, at least not until the investigation was completed.

Luckily for me, Joe wasn’t interested in my previous career or professional reputation. All he cared about was whether his employees were on time and pushed themselves to the brink of exhaustion for the minimum wage he was willing to pay. Iassumed he had other means of income besides the diner, but that was something you didn’t comment on either. I worked all hours I could get my hands on, and yet the wage he was paying me was barely covering my monthly rent. The laundry job went toward taking care of my lawyer’s expenses. Any tips paid for food. My aching back and the blisters on my feet were part of my new life now, like an annoying fly you couldn’t be bothered to swat at.

I finished wiping the tables and proceeded to take out the trash when I glimpsed a small figure hovering outside the window front. I inched closer to the glass to get a better look.

The soft light coming from the streetlamp cast a golden glow on the woman’s face and clothes. She was dressed in a nondescript dark coat that seemed too heavy for her small frame. Her hair was light in color, maybe an ashen blonde or gray, I couldn’t tell from the distance.

Drug addicts weren’t a rare occurrence in this part of town. Some were more dangerous than others, and I couldn’t risk being mugged or worse—all for a few bucks that Joe would probably deduct out of my hard-earned cash. But there was something about her, maybe an air of dignity as though she hadn’t quite given up hope just yet, that instantly made me trust her enough to open the door.

“We’re closed,” I said through the open crack and pointed to the sign saying so.

“I didn’t realize it was so late already.” Her voice was melodious, thick with an accent I couldn’t place. Most likely British, Scottish or something like that. Despite my lack of expertise when it came to placing accents, I could tell from the way she talked that she had a certain level of education.

Curious, I opened the door just a little bit more and dared to venture outside. As I came nearer, I noticed she was older than I thought. The darkness accentuated high cheekbones that couldonly be the result of malnourishment or illness. Her eyes looked slightly sunken in their sockets, the effect exacerbated by the pallor of her skin. Whatever hardship had befallen her, it was a recent event and she hadn’t yet learned to push her pride aside and ask for help.

In that instant, I made up my mind.

“I think I have a few minutes to spare if you want to come in.” I pointed at the door behind me. “There’s some coffee left and a few sandwiches. They’re probably stale but still good.”

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