Manhattan Cinderella

by Kate O'Keeffe

  Her green eyes are warm with compassion. She places her hand on my bare skin. While her touch is electrifying, it’s also reassuring. It’s all I can do not to press my lips to hers and show her that somehow, in just one short day, with everything in my life whirling around me, I want her.

  But telling her that would be completely crazy. Hell, it is completely crazy. But, as I sit here next to her in a crowded club, all I know is there’s something about this woman that’s captivated me. I want her in my life, however that looks, I don’t know.

  “Cole, I—” She presses her lips together. “I’m so sorry you went through that. Feeling alone is, well, it’s truly terrible.”

  “You know about feeling alone?”

  She nods. Her hand still on my arm, she says, “This isn’t the place. Do you want to leave?”

  She’s read my mind. Immediately, I nod, the corners of my mouth twitching into a smile as I grab the chance to lighten the mood. “Are you propositioning me, Ms. Davis?”

  She lets out a short, sharp laugh. “No!”

  And because I want her, and because I’ve exposed my fragile underbelly, I reveal more by quickly saying, “Pity.”

  Her eyes light up, and I think I can make out a blush in her cheeks in the low lighting. “I meant do you want to get out of here to talk?”

  Although I want to do a whole lot more with this girl than talk, I’ll take what I can get. “Sounds great.”

  She turns to her friends and says something to them. The singer is loud enough that I can’t hear a thing. When Izzy glances my way with what looks like approval in her eyes, then returns her attention to Gabby, my foolish heart leaps.

  Eventually, Gabby leans across and plants kisses on both of her friends’ cheeks. She hooks her purse over her shoulder and turns to me. “Okay, Tennessee, let’s go.”

  “It sure was great to meet you both,” I say to The Ellas. “Hopefully, I’ll see you again some time.”

  “Oh, I think you will,” Izzy replies as she shoots Gabby a quick glance.

  “Bye, Cole. It was great to meet you, too,” Raffy adds. “We’ll see you at the concert. We’ve got tickets.”

  “Sure. Great.” Though it’s only been a couple of minutes, she’s somehow managed to help me forget my mom, Rex, my loneliness.

  We walk out of the club, and I tilt my head at the bouncer, who acknowledges me with a jut of his chin. We walk up the steps onto a surprisingly quiet and almost abandoned street. I drink in the only silence I’ve had since arriving in Manhattan. I glance at the woman at my side. Perhaps the universe is giving me a sign to take advantage of this rare and romantic moment?

  I slip my hand into Gabby’s. She glances up at me and her expression changes from surprised to quietly happy. We entwine our fingers as we walk slowly down the street.

  “I’m really glad you came tonight,” she says. “I can see why you’re playing with Rex Randall at The Garden. You’ve got some serious talent.”

  “Right back atcha.” I give her hand a squeeze. “Where do you want to go?”

  “How about I continue my Manhattan tour guide duties?”

  “I wondered when the tour was going to resume. I paid good money, you know,” I tease.

  She quickly retorts, “I like to think I offer good value for money to my guidees.”

  “Guidees? Is that even a word?”

  She shrugs. “I’m making it one. And I’m in charge, remember?”

  Gabby being bossy is all right by me. I chuckle as we turn a corner onto a busier street, the silence I’d enjoyed now just a memory. Gabby does her thing and manages to hail a cab in about twelve seconds flat.

  Once in a cab, I reach across and take her hand in mine once more. Her eyes flash to mine and we hold one another’s gaze.

  Yeah, we’re acting like a couple of love-struck kids. I don’t give a damn. Being with Gabby feels amazing, and I’m going to let whatever happens between us unfold. Because I want this.

  No, scratch that. I need this.

  Soon, we come to a stop outside a subway station. I read the sign: Brooklyn Bridge City Hall Station. Before Gabby has the chance to pay, I pull out my wallet and count out the fare. “I’ve got this.”

  We get out of the cab and I look around me. I point at the subway station sign. “So, which is it? City Hall or Brooklyn Bridge?”

  “Well, I’m guessing City Hall is closed at this time of night. Brooklyn Bridge okay with you?” This time, she’s the one who reaches for my hand, instantly stirring my desire for her.

  We walk across the street toward the bridge. In a moment of panic, I wonder if I’ll be able to see down, to see how far above New York Harbor we are. I stop in my tracks my body tense.

  “What is it?” Gabby asks.

  Fleetingly, I consider if I should make up some excuse, gloss over the fact heights are my nemesis. Not a lot of people know about my height phobia. In fact, I can count the people who know on one hand. I want Gabby to be one of them. “I’m afraid of heights,” I say simply.

  “You are?”

  I shrug, embarrassed. “It’s stupid, I know.”

  “It’s not stupid at all.” She places her other hand on my arm. It’s reassuring, sweet—and makes me want her all the more. “Have you always been afraid of heights?”

  “Since I can remember. I put it down to basic life preservation. I mean, why would anyone in their right mind want to be up high where they can fall? Humans aren’t designed to fly.”

  Gabby bites back a smile.

  “See? You think I’m stupid,” I half tease.

  “Oh, no. It’s not that. I’ve got an image of you trying to fly up over the top of a building.”

  “How did I look?”

  “Like Superman. Only hotter.” Her smile spreads across her face, and my desire for her sparks, low in my belly, all my blood directed down below.

  “You like the idea of me in tights, do you?”

  “I think you’d make an amazing superhero.” She begins to toy with my fingers, and I swear it makes thinking straight an impossible task. “Look, the walkway is nowhere near the edge, so there’s nothing to be worried about. You can’t even tell you’re on a bridge, really.”

  “Can you see directly down to the water below?” She shakes her head and I let out a relieved breath.

  “If you get too freaked, we can leave. Okay?”

  “Okay.” I do my best to push thoughts of falling from bridges to my certain death from my mind and focus on the woman at my side. It’s surprisingly easy.

  “This is an iconic bridge, you know. One of the most famous in the world.”

  I study the overhead structure looming above us, with its long steel cables reaching out in front to two pointed archways. “Hit me with your facts, tour guide.”

  “Facts? Let’s see. Well, I guess the bridge is really old.”

  “Is that part of the official Brooklyn Bridge guide? ‘Come visit Brooklyn Bridge: it’s really old?’”

  Gabby’s laugh is light and soft. It makes me smile. “Maybe?”

  “So, you’re telling me you know the number of annual visitors to Central Park, but you don’t know anything about one of the world’s most famous bridges? You’ve gotta work on your knowledge bank, Kermit.”

  “I could make something up if you like?”

  “No. This is perfect, just like this.” I glance at her and wonder if she knows I’m talking less about the bridge, and so much more about being with her.

  The look on her face tells me she’s guessed—and that she feels it, too.

  We walk under the first archway, and I can see the lights of Brooklyn far across the harbor, an illuminated bridge stretching across the dark water beside us. We come to a stop and turn to look at the glowing Manhattan skyline, the buildings soaring up to meet the sky.

  “I’m glad you brought me here,” I say.

  The tenderness in Gabby’s upturned face has my heart expanding. I step closer to her so our bodies are almost touching. My
heart pounds with anticipation as my eyes glide from her mesmerizing eyes down to her parted lips.

  Heat pools low in my belly, urging me to do what I’ve wanted to do since the moment I met her. I cup her face with both hands, lean down, and press my lips against her full, sexy mouth. She responds in a split second, wrapping her hands around my wrists and kissing me back, opening her lips further. I slide my tongue against hers, tasting her for the first time, breathing in her fresh, womanly scent.

  The little moan that slips from her lips tells me all I need to know, and I deepen our kiss, pulling her into me until our bodies are pressed against one another. I run my fingers through her hair. I find the soft skin at the nape of her neck, her own hands skimming my back, driving me to the brink.

  Everything, from the moment we met at the studio, to our walk through Central Park, to singing our songs to one another at The Mandolin tonight, everything, it’s all been foreplay for this very moment. This moment I’ve wanted from the second she crashed into me and I caught her in my arms. It feels like we’ve been crashing into and catching each other all day. Now, finally, she’s where I want her to be. In my arms.

  Too soon, she pulls away, her breath shallow, her lips still parted. The look on her face is a mixture of surprise and good old-fashioned lust. It’s exactly what I want to see, and I want to kiss her again and again, until our lips are swollen and raw.

  “That was—” Her chest rises and falls with each breath.

  “Yeah, it was.” Dazed by the shared passion, I reach out to smooth a stray strand of hair blown across her face by the gentle breeze.

  “I wasn’t expecting this,” she says. I know she’s talking about more than our kiss—as incredible as it was.

  “No, me neither.”

  She chews on her lip and glances down at her watch. “It’s nearly midnight. I’ve got to get back soon.”

  “Can we stay for a little longer?”

  “Sure.” She leans up against me and I wrap my arms around her. I enjoy the feel of her body against mine. “It’s a pretty darn spectacular view, right?”

  “It is.”

  She turns her head and looks up at me. “That song—”

  “I sang it for you.”

  “You did?” Her voice is breathless.

  “After your song, I wanted you to see who I am, what made me me. Is that crazy?”

  She shakes her head, her features soft. “No. It’s not at all. It’s the opposite of crazy.”

  Urged on by her words, I continue, “I spent a lot of time alone when I was a kid. My mom was out working three jobs to support us. We never had much money. I first wrote that song when I’d been to a fathers thing at school. I’d seen all the dads with their kids, and it’d been hard, you know?”

  “Your dad wasn’t around?”

  With a shake of my head, I say, “Nope. I didn’t even know who he was. It seemed all the kids in school knew their parents, even if they weren’t together. I felt like an outsider, like I didn’t belong. I know lots of kids do great with only one parent. For me, it always felt like there was a part of me missing.”

  “Why did your mom not tell you who your dad was?”

  I look down as I utter, “I don’t know.”

  “I guess she was just trying to protect you. I get that.”

  I clench my jaw. She’s done a lot to “protect me” lately. But, before I say more, Gabby puts her other hand on my arm. “Whatever her reason, I’m sorry you were lonely.”

  “Music was my refuge. Corny as that sounds.” I avert my eyes, focusing on the glow of lights from the Manhattan skyline as they reach up into the blackened sky.

  “Thank you for sharing that with me. It means a lot that you trust me.”

  “I wanted to tell you.”

  “Have you met him now?”

  I’m not ready to talk about Rex, not even with Gabby. It’s too raw, too unknown. Hell, I’ve only managed to spend ten minutes with the guy.

  And I don’t want to talk about what my mom did.

  A lie twists my belly. I’m torn, torn between wanting to share everything with this woman, and knowing I need to protect myself, to protect the fledgling relationship I’ve begun to form with my father. I’m not ready to share him with the world, no matter how good it feels to have this woman in my arms.

  “No. I’ve never met him.”

  Chapter 11

  Gabriella

  It’s just before six and I got up at five, my usual time, making sure the penthouse was clean, tidy, and organized. That way, Sylvia won’t have anything to complain about. In our room, I pick up clothes, straighten my bed, and open the blinds—and all the while my mind is clouded into a thick, wonderful fog with Cole.

  The way he sang that song, the way he shared his story with me, the way he kissed me. I bite my lip as a smile busts out across my face. Holy moly, the way he kissed me.

  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been kissed before. And the kisses have been good, some better than others, but generally speaking, not bad at all. But kissing Cole? He’s in another league altogether.

  Last night, he wanted to see me back to my place, like the old-fashioned Southern guy he is. But I’m not ready for him to know how I live. I want to live the illusion for a while longer, the illusion I don’t have a stepmonster keeping me down, and I don’t have to stay to protect my kid sister.

  I look around the room. Satisfied with the results, I allow myself a happy twirl. I’m channeling the inner-Julie Andrews à la Sound of Music I never knew I had, and it feels incredible.

  My phone beeps and I pick it up. My heart flutters when I see a text from Cole.

  Last night was amazing.

  I type out a quick reply.

  It was. Thank you for spending it with me.

  Thanks for being such a good tour guide. I like what you do on bridges.

  A surge of need hits me as I recall the way his lips felt, his strong, hard body pressed against mine.

  Ditto. You’re up early.

  You know us farm types. What are you up to today?

  Can you believe I forgot that shoe? Got to get to the cobbler first thing, then the cleaners. You?

  I watch as the little dots flash on the screen, telling me he’s replying.

  Got a meeting. See you later?

  I’ll be at the studio for the practice.

  Catch you there xoxo

  As I read his kisses, my belly warms. I fire off some kisses to him, then turn my attention to my morning tasks.

  “Morning, Cece,” I say loud enough to wake my sleeping sister. She groans in response. “You need to get up. We’ve got lots to do before you go to school.”

  Cece pulls the covers over her head. “I don’t want to. It’s too early.” Her voice is muffled by her pillow, but her whine sounds every inch the complaining fourteen-year-old she is.

  I perch on the end of her bed and shake her legs through the covers. “Come on. It’s six. We need to get your chores done. I don’t want any trouble from Sylvia.”

  I take the worn quilt on her bed between my fingers. I smile at the memory of how Mom made one for each of us and gave them to us on our respective fifth birthdays. I remember thinking it was such a boring gift when I was five, particularly in comparison with the other much more exciting gifts I received. But now that I’m grown and she’s gone? Well, let’s just say my priorities have changed since then.

  Cece spies me over the top of the covers. “Why are you in such a good mood?”

  I can’t stop a grin from creeping across my face. “No reason.” I sound completely unconvincing. If I was ever interrogated, I’m sure I’d be broken in three seconds flat.

  Cece’s interest is piqued. She pushes herself up onto her elbows and narrows her eyes at me. “It’s because of that guy, Cole. I was right. Last night was a date!”

  I shrug, a blush blooming on my cheeks. “Whether or not last night started out as a date doesn’t matter. It ended up as nothing short of magical.”


  Cece’s face lights up as she returns my smile. “Tell me everything.”

  “Okay, but then you have to get up. I’ve got to get something done early today. Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “We met at The Mandolin, where we both sang our own original songs, and then—”

  “Hold up. What did he sing? Was he good?”

  Like the lovesick girl I am, I place my hand over my heart. “Oh, Cece, he was so good. His voice is smooth and low, and he has this effortless stage presence that just works, you know?” I choose not to share Cole’s experiences with her. Not yet, anyway. Although he sang a song about his loneliness to a roomful of strangers last night, somehow, the story behind his song has become something private between him and me. “And then we went for a stroll across Brooklyn Bridge. He’s not been to Manhattan before, and—”

  “A stroll?” Cece’s face is full of amusement.

  “Yes. People stroll, you know.”

  “If you say so. And?”

  “We checked out the view.”

  “And?”

  “And there may have been some kissing.”

  Cece sits bolt upright in her bed and lets out a squeal, flapping her hands in the air like an excited seal.

  “Shh! You don’t want to wake up the hideous trio, remember?”

  She slaps her hand over her mouth. Speaking through her fingers, she says, “You kissed? I knew my dress would work. I knew it!”

  I roll my eyes, but I’m beaming. “That’s right, little sister, Cole kissed me only because I wore your dress last night.”

  “Well, you did look super cute in it. Now what? Are you seeing him again today?”

  “He’s got a meeting this morning and I’ve got my band duties.”

  “But you so want to see him again. Don’t you?”

  I bite back a smile and nod. “He’s nice.”

  “Nice? Seriously, you’re killing me with your passion for this guy, sis.”