Heading East (Part 2 of 2) (The True North Series) (11 page)

“See, you told me you weren’t a relationship kind of man, that you didn’t do commitment. Imagine my surprise when I found out that not only do you have a girlfriend, but that you’re living with her, that she moved here from Alaska for you.”

“That’s inaccurate information.”

“Just tell me this: do you love her?”

I faced her, intent on getting my message across so that maybe she could move on. “It’s true, I wasn’t a commitment kind of man until I met her.”

Sabrina blinked and turned away, facing the brilliant New York skyline. “One day the novelty of falling in love with the woman who saved your life will wear off and you’ll see her for who she really is.”

“I’m not in love with her because she saved my life. The falling in love came after,” I said. “And I know who she is. But more importantly, she knows exactly who I am and she’s still here. That says a lot about her.”

“I know who you are,” she said quietly. “I was here for you long before she came along.”

“
Brina—”

“Please don’t call me that,” she said, wiping at the corner of her eye.

“Look, I don’t like that you’re hurting, but there is no chance of you and me ever getting back together. Kat is a permanent fixture in my life whether you like it or not.”

“You two don’t fit together. You see that, don’t you?” she asked, clearly losing the battle to control her emotions. “Her, in that stupid, nonsensical dress, and you, one of the most eligible bachelors in Manhattan. You’re slumming it, Luke. And everyone knows it.”

“Enough,” I said, setting my glass down on the balcony wall. “Don’t insult Kat. She’s done nothing to deserve it.” I caught movement from the corner of my eye and saw people crowding around my mom and Kat, who were both rolling out a large birthday cake. Without saying another word I left Sabrina standing by herself on the balcony and rejoined the merriment.

People sang and I blew out the sparkler candles. I would have thought it all too much for a thirty year old man had it not happened every year since I can remember. My mother, perhaps to make up for working a lot, had always made a big deal over birthdays and holidays.

After the cake was cut I pulled Kat away from the crowd and, making sure the balcony was clear, took her outside. Kat leaned on the railing, her mouth agape as she stared out at the bright lights of the city. “This is gorgeous. I’ve never seen the city from this high up before.”

I stared at her profile, lit partly by the lights in the apartment, and marveled at the perfect mixture of beauty and strength, grace and
unrefinement, tough and soft. She was a study in contrasts, a difficult puzzle with a thousand tiny pieces that I would gladly spend my entire life trying to solve.

Perhaps noticing I was staring, she turned to me and asked, “What?”

“Nothing.” I walked around her and wrapped my arms around her middle, hugging her to me as we stared at the night sky. I touched my nose to the soft skin on her back and breathed her in. “I’m incredibly lucky to have you.”

“You don’t have me yet,” she said, craning her head to grin at me.

“You’ve admitted you’re my girlfriend.”

She reached back and ruffled my hair. “But the chase continues.”

I set my chin atop her shoulder. “It’s only a matter of time before I catch you, Kat,” I rasped against her ear. “And when I do, I will tackle you to the ground and spread you out and claim you over and over until you’re calling me West again.”

She turned in my arms, a smile playing along her lips. “You won’t have—” She stopped, her face filling with horror. “Motherfucker.”

“What?” I asked, stepping back.

She reached back and felt around. I spun her around and saw that a seam in the back of her dress had split. Her eyes flicked up to mine as she tried to hold the two pieces together to keep from exposing skin. “I knew I should have reinforced it, but I ran out of time…”

I unbuttoned my shirt and took it off. “Here, wear this over your dress until you can get to the bathroom. I’ll ask my mom for a sewing kit.”

“What about you? You can’t go back in there in a white undershirt.” When she put on the shirt, she turned to me in horror. “It’ll look like we just had sex out here.”

I grinned. “That wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

“I don’t want your mom thinking I’m some floozy!”

“She won’t.”

Kat stared at me for a long time, trying to figure out how to proceed. Finally I reached over and knotted the ends of the shirt at her middle. “There. I’ll go create a
diversion and you run off to the guest bedroom at the end of the hall. I’ll be there in a few minutes with a sewing kit.”

She nodded, her eyes flicking back to the party inside. “Okay.”

“Go.”

13

KAT

I waited in the beautifully decorated bedroom, pacing on the tan carpet at the foot of the massive dark wood bed. The room was covered in warm neutral colors and was as comfortable-looking as it was sophisticated.

I sat on the leather bench at the end of the bed then shot back
up, belatedly realizing that sitting down would likely make the rip worse. I went over to the stand-up mirror in the corner and lifted Luke’s shirt away from my back, seeing that the rip was as bad as I’d imagined.

I’d been having a good time, actually relaxing and talking to people in this huge penthouse apartment—of course the universe would find a way to knock me down a peg and remind me that I’m a first floor kind of girl.

My beaten down reflection stared back at me, the girl who thought she was Cinderella, who thought a fancy dress could buy her way into a new life with the prince. I guess, now that the dress was falling apart, my ride home would turn into a pumpkin too.

Tears blurred my vision and I swiped at them, no longer caring if my mascara ran. In the mirror I saw the door open and Luke slip inside with only an apologetic look on his face.

“Mom can’t find her sewing kit,” he said, approaching me as if I was a wild animal ready to take flight if spooked.

“Then I’ll just stay in here for the rest of the party.”

He set his hands on my shoulders, but what was meant to be a reassuring gesture instead reminded me that we were worlds apart. “Hey, remember when you didn’t care what people thought of you?”

“Yeah.” I opened my mouth to say I’d been so much happier back then but realized it might not be true. I’d been stagnant in Alaska, neither moving forward nor backward. At least here I was trying to force myself to grow, even if it cost me my peace of mind.

“I’ll go get the car. I’ll take you home.”

“I can’t make you leave your own birthday party.”

“Well you can’t stay in here all night.”

We stared at each other in a battle of the wills. I could be a self-absorbed jerk sometimes but at that moment, I knew there was no way I was backing down. I retied the shirt around my middle and just hoped for the best. “It’ll be fine,” I said, taking his hand. “Let’s go enjoy the rest of your party.”

The dress rippe
d a little more during the night, but thankfully the button-down shirt was long enough to hide it. Even if I felt awkward and stiff, watching Luke from across the room talking and laughing with his guests convinced me that I’d made the right decision to stay.

“Thank you,” Luke said later in his apartment. “I know it couldn’t have been easy for you to stay.”

“Nothing’s been easy for me my entire life,” I said in a moment of self-pity. “But I get by. Or at least I try.”

He took my hand and squeezed it.

I stared at our tangled fingers, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s hard not to envy you and your perfect life. You live on your own terms. You’re not always being judged as never enough.”

“Except I am,” he said, his grey eyes holding me in place. “By you, by recording companies.”

The air seeped out of me. “Oh.”

“But my dad always told me that when life knocks you down, you get right back up. The winner is the one who stands up last.”

“I’ll help you up if you do the same for me,” I said, a lump forming in my throat at the realization that I was well and truly binding myself to him. “As your girlfriend, I think it’s my job.”

He lifted his hands up to cradle my face and took a step closer. “And as your boyfriend, I think it’s my job to kiss the hell out of you,” he said a moment before he bent down and proceeded to do just that.

That night I stayed up to fix the dress and sketch more ideas. Luke’s shirt over my dress had given me ideas on mixing menswear with gowns, of creating a look that was both masculine and feminine. I didn’t know if it would amount to anything good, but I figured it was about time I finally put both feet in the ring and lifted my fists up to fight.

At around four-thirty in the morning I crept into Luke’s bedroom.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, opening his arms and ushering me into his bed.

I fit myself into his embrace, pressing my cheek against his shoulder. I tried to think of something to say but nothing seemed appropriate in the moment. All I knew was that I didn’t want to sleep alone that night, not when the one person in this city who believed in me was sleeping just within reach.

He tangled his fingers in my hair and held me closer against him, sighing with pleasure. “Best birthday ever.”

When I woke up the next morning to find Luke’s arms wrapped around me, it was like being back in my bed in Alaska, reliving one of the happiest times of my life. In that one perfect moment before our issues came back to light, I allowed myself to bask in a moment of peace.

“
Mmm, good morning,” he said, his arms tightening around me as he pulled me against his chest. He nuzzled the back of my ear, letting out a lazy, satisfied noise.

“Morning,” I said, smiling when I felt his erection against my backside. I waited, seeing if he’d try anything, but he simply held me for long moments, seeming to enjoy the cuddling.

“I think I deserve a medal,” he said some time later.

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not the first man to show self-control when in bed with a woman.”

He laughed deep and rich. “No. For making you into a cuddler. Though I should get an honorable mention for that one as well,” he said and pressed his scruffy cheek against mine. “I could stay like this all day.”

“I can’t. I have a ton of things to get done.” I tried to break free but his arms were like bands of steel, holding me in place.

“Like what? What could be more important than staying right here?”

“I have to buy fabric and start on those three pieces.”

“You know what you’re making?”

I smiled to myself. “I think so. I hope it’s good.”

“I guess that’s a good enough reason to let you go,” he said, but showed no signs of doing so. “In fifteen minutes.”

~

For the next few days Luke and I lived nearly separate lives. I spent most of my spare time sewing, trying to bring my ideas to life, while he was mostly successful in staying out of the way.

The night before my designs were due my phone began to ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Luke said.

I walked over to the glass door to find him in his apartment, staring at me through the door. “Hi,” I said with a quick wave.

“Would you like to come over?”

“I can’t. I still have a ton of work to do.”

“You’ve been working too hard. You deserve a break.”

“I can’t take a break until these are finished.”

“A shame, really.” He reached up to undo his tie then
unbutton his shirt. Then, with a grin, he pulled his shirt off and stood there in his dress slacks, looking sexier than any man had a right to be. With one hand he pulled off his belt and let it hang down to the floor.

I closed my eyes and took in a ragged breath, trying hard to keep my focus. Honestly, I wanted to say
screw it
to the clothes and just go over there already. “Yeah, a damn shame.”

“Kat, look at me,” he ordered in a soft growl.

I lifted my eyes to the sexy man across the patio and saw that he was palming his cock through his pants.

“I’m thinking about you.” He grinned. “Would you like me to elaborate?”

“I’d like…” I forced my eyes away and back to the dressform in the middle of the room, the halfway finished dress hanging on it. “I’d like for you to stop.”

He made a noise between a groan and a whine. “You have a will of steel, Miss Hollister,” he said. “If you need a break I’ll be over here, thinking of you.”

I managed to stay away from Luke, which was harder than I’d anticipated. I even consciously avoided climbing into bed with him at night, even if every part of me wanted to curl up in his arms and feel his warm skin against mine. With the time apart I could feel my walls breaking down as I saw how much he wanted me yet respected me enough to stay away when needed.

Late one Thursday night, long after he’d gone to bed, I saw his light go back on and spied him padding around in the kitchen. Then, with two mugs in hand, he came into my apartment. “Hi,” he said in a gravelly voice, sliding the glass door shut with his elbow.

“What are you doing up?” I asked, drinking in every inch of him like a dehydrated dog goes after water.

“Checking up on you.”

“I won’t be done for a little while.”

“That’s what I thought.” He approached me with a sleep-rumpled face and handed me the cup. “Here.”

I stared at the cup of coffee, my throat tight with emotion. I took a sip and cleared my throat, hoping to dislodge the words that were stuck there.

“Are you alright?” he asked, touching my shoulder.

I nodded, finally meeting his eyes. “I was just thinking… apart from my dad, who’s legally bound to do it, nobody’s taken care of me before,” I said, tears prickling my eyes. I yawned to hide my sentiment. “So… thank you. I guess. For the coffee.”

When I looked up his eyes were full of warmth. “It’s my pleasure. Taking care of you is the most natural, gratifying thing I’ve ever done. I’d make you a hundred thousand cups of coffee if you asked.”

I bit down my smile. “I might need that many to survive this fashion program.”

He glanced at the dressform while sipping his own coffee. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

I shook my head. “Unless you can use a sewing machine.”

“I think my sewing skills would make your professor run screaming.”

“Go back to bed. You have to get up in three hours.”

He set his mug down and carried the leather armchair over. “I’m staying up with you.”

“What for?”

“Moral support,” he said as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re just going to sit there and watch me work?”

“And look pretty,” he said, lifting one leg up on the other knee and settling back into the chair.

“In that case, here,” I said, throwing a piece of fabric at him. “Iron that for me?”

“Now that I can do.”

The garments were finally finished at around five thirty in the morning. I stepped back to admire my work, holding each one up in front of the mirror, my chest expanding with pride. Perhaps it was sleep deprivation, but I could almost imagine my designs were good enough to grace a runway, even if it was nowhere near Bryant Park.

And there, as the sun’s rays were starting to peek over the apartment’s brick walls, I came to the realization that this—fashion—was what I was meant to do. And damn it, I was good at it. If Professor Ramirez couldn’t see that, it was his loss.

After zipping the three pieces into a garment bag I turned to cast a rueful gaze at Luke, who was fast asleep on the rug on the floor, his head propped up on a bolt of fabric. The poor man had stayed up; even if I’d only had a few things for him to do, he had chosen to stay with me until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.

I yawned and dropped down on the floor beside him, fitting myself into the crook of his arms.

“Mmm, what time is it?” he asked, gathering me to his side.

“Close to six,” I said, closing my eyes.

He kissed my forehead and settled back down.

I placed my hand on his bare chest and spread my fingers out. “Aren’t you going to the gym?” I mumbled, barely able to stay awake.

The last thing I remembered was Luke’s rumbly voice saying, “No way am I moving, not when I finally have you in my arms again.”

~

Traveling to school with the large garment bag in my arms was not an easy task, especially avoiding wrinkling the fabric, but I made it with plenty of time to spare.

The class was abuzz with excitement, everyone walking around the room looking at each other’s projects. I kept mine hidden until Professor Ramirez walked in the door and announced that we had to leave the room. “I’ll call you in one by one and we’ll assess your work together.”

I was still rushing to hang mine onto dressforms when Professor Ramirez reached my table. “Did you complete the objective?” he asked, even as all three garments were already on display.

“Yes.”

“Then please join your classmates outside.”

I started to leave but something made me turn on a heel and come back. “I just want to say that, no matter what you think of me, I know my pieces are good,” I said, building steam with each word. “I love fashion design. I’m even good at it
sometimes. So even if you hate these, even if you’re convinced that I need to drop out of this course, the fact of the matter is that I’m staying.”