by Lisa Fox
She crossed the room and pulled a chair over to sit by his side. She took his hand in hers, so frail now she worried she might crush the delicate bones. Her father’s hands had once moved downed trees, led men, held her gently, fixed her scrapes and bruises, lifted her up, high over crowds. Those hands were long gone, only a shadow and a ghost remained.
“It’s good to see you.” She petted the back of his hand and tried not to choke on the words. “I forgot to bring you your maple cookies this time. I’ll have them for you next time though for sure.”
Her dad made no response, not that she expected him to. He was staring off out the window, miles and miles away from her. She had to swallow hard before she could go on. “I heard you had quite a day. Maybe you should put aside all that dancing for now.” Her lame joke fell flat. “My day was much quieter. I wrote a lot.” She tried to think of something to add, but that’s all she had done. “Pretty boring, I know, but I love it.” She scrambled for more to say. What else was there? There wasn’t anything in her life besides writing anymore. “I’m getting a new website. Something really spectacular. Done by a man named Ryan.”
She paused. Ryan. Just the thought of him made her heart a little lighter. She glanced at her dad and then quickly away. This was not the appropriate time to be thinking about Ryan. Maybe there was no appropriate time. She couldn’t get involved with anybody. Not now. Maybe not ever. “He’s really nice.”
“You remember the carnival?” he asked suddenly, joyous delight lighting up his entire face. “You loved the cotton candy.”
The sudden burst of conversation made her cringe. She had no idea what he was talking about, but she forced a smile on her face nonetheless. At least he was speaking, acknowledging her presence in some way. Sometimes he didn’t. “Yeah. That was a great day.”
His eyes went hazy again, and Grace bit back the tide of emotion that threatened to gush out of her in an uncontrollable wave. Thankfully, she was saved from having to come up with any further conversation by a white-clad nurse.
“Excuse me,” she said, stepping into the room. She held a tray with a number of needles. “Mr. Betancourt needs his medication now.”
“Of course,” Grace replied, and then turned back to her father. The lump in her throat made it difficult to speak, but she forced the words out nevertheless. “I’ll be back on Friday like always, okay?” She gave him a swift kiss on his soft, sunken cheek. Two more minutes, she told herself, you only have to keep it together for two more minutes. “I love you, Dad.”
He nodded vaguely, but it was obvious that he was far away, that he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. Her heart clenched, but her eyes were dry when she gave the nurse a tight smile and left the room. Keeping her gaze rigidly forward, she walked calmly down the tastefully appointed hallway, out onto the manicured grounds. The rental car beeped when she disengaged the locks. She climbed inside, the cloth seat hot against the back of her thighs. Alone at last, she put her elbows on the steering wheel, buried her face in her hands, and bawled.
Chapter Three
Ryan couldn’t believe how nervous he was. He circled the meeting room for the twelfth time, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Coffee, cups, condiments, fresh flowers, laptop, notebook, pen. He circled the room again, the opposite way. Everything was still good. He glanced at his wristwatch. Two minutes to four. Grace would arrive any second.
He’d thought about her every single day since their last meeting. During his morning runs, he thought up funny things to say to her, different ways to make her laugh. He reflected on the color of her eyes while crammed on the subway with the other commuters, the memory of the way her freckled nose scrunched up when she giggled heating him up inside. Alone in bed at night, he’d imagined what her skin would feel like against his, how she might close her eyes and sigh into his ear. And when finally he drifted off to sleep, he dreamt of her smile.
His heart skipped when the door handle turned and a wide grin broke across his face as she entered. God, she just lit him up, made him hot and chilled, feverish. She crossed the room, and his first instinct was to take her into his arms, hug her close, and breathe her in, but he refrained. This was a business meeting. He had to at least try to pretend like he was a professional. He held out his hand to her. “Hi, Grace.”
She took his hand with a smile. “Hello, Ryan.”
Her hand was soft and cool in his, delicate, but also strong, her grip firm. Touching her was like being hit by lightning, an electric shock to all his senses. Getting a woman he’d decided he wanted was never a problem for him, but this was different. Somehow the stakes felt a whole lot higher. He held her hand longer than strictly necessary, making the contact last as long as possible. She didn’t pull away. When Ryan finally dropped his hand back at his side, his knees were trembling a little bit. Her effect was insane. He tried his best to pull himself together and gestured to the seat beside him.
She moved around the table toward him, and he held out the chair for her. Today’s skirt came down to her knees, a somber charcoal gray and very straight. He wasn’t sure why he noticed that. He was not a connoisseur of women’s skirts. He sat down beside her, his gaze running from the top of her thigh all the way down to her strappy sandals. It was a lovely view, and he had to forcibly pry his eyes away from her long, slender legs.
“Okay,” he said, making himself focus on the laptop’s screen. “I’m going to show you a few designs we came up with. You don’t have to love the whole package. You can pick parts of what you like from each of them, and Kat will adjust the designs. Once we have a solid working template, I’ll build your website around it.” He glanced over at her. “How does that sound?”
“Sounds good.” She reached into her purse, pulled out a piece of paper. “I got that list of fun things you asked for.”
“Great,” Ryan said, and placed the sheet next to the laptop. “We’ll go over that later.” She sat close beside him and he was very aware of the warmth of her body. He was pleased to discover that she smelled like spring, a light, cheerful floral scent. Heat rushed to all the right and very wrong places. He shifted his butt in the seat. Now was not the time to think about how good she smelled. He angled the monitor more toward her, and his knee brushed hers. “All right, here’s the first one.”
The first image Kat had created filled the screen. It depicted a bright day, sunlight reflecting off the rippling waters of a large lake. On the right side was a rustic-looking inn, almost like a gigantic, multilevel wood cabin. The image was crisp, clean, with lots of white and blue tones. It had a distinctly summertime feel, and Ryan could easily imagine people boating on that lake or enjoying refreshing cocktails on the deck of the inn.
She smiled, but he could tell she wasn’t that impressed. “That’s really nice.”
“There’s more,” he assured her.
She shifted, her thigh pressing against his under the table, and Ryan’s breath caught in his throat. “Where do these images go? Are they headers? Or will they be backgrounds?”
“Headers,” he told her, trying really hard not to concentrate on how near she was, how he could see every single individual freckle across the bridge of her nose. “The list of pages will go beneath whatever image you choose and then we’ll create you a front page. That usually features your latest release information, or any upcoming appearances, stuff like that.”
She nodded, and he clicked on the next example. It was once again an image of the inn on the lake, but it was done in more a graphic novel style illustration. It was predominantly black and white with slashes of color here and there for dramatic effect.
She leaned closer to the screen. “Wow, that’s not what I pictured at all, but I love the drawing.”
He made a mental note to tell Kat that later. “Great. That’s something we can work with.” He clicked for the next display. “This is the last one.”
The image showed the lake at night, a million stars in the deep, indigo sky. The lights in the inn were gl
owing softly, giving it a feeling of warmth. In the distance, there was darkness though, an ominous cast across the wide lake. Something was out there. Something sinister. The juxtaposition between the undefined dark and the comforting light made the inn seem even more warm and inviting, a safe haven in the night.
Grace gasped, her fingers hovering over the screen. “That’s the one.”
Ryan smiled. “Kat thought you might like that one the best.”
“She was right.” She returned his smile and his blood ran a whole lot hotter. “You guys do good work.”
He almost giggled. Like a school girl. Christ. “Thanks. But this is only the first step. Next, I get to build you something people can actually use.”
She practically glowed. “I can’t wait.”
He could stare at her all day and be just fine with that, but he had sense enough to realize how weird that would be. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away from her and picked up the piece of paper she’d given him earlier. As he looked over her list, a question occurred to him that had been hovering in the back of his mind ever since they met. “So, how did you get talking with Ron anyway? Do you know him well?”
“No, I’ve never met him in person. Tennyson Landry invited me to one of the networking salons he does with Sharpe Designs. Marketing for Artists. I’m not the best at promo or publicity, but I need to be. I went to see what everyone had to say. I really liked what I heard, and I let Ten get me an appointment.”
“Do you know Tennyson well?” he asked, unable to help himself. The name was oddly familiar, but he couldn’t place it.
“We grew up next door to one another. I actually hadn’t seen him in a few years. I was surprised when he got in touch. Through Facebook no less!” She laughed and shook her head. “He isn’t exactly a social media kind of guy.”
Now he remembered. He had met him. Tennyson was that big guy who was dating Stacy Saunders in marketing. What did he do? A painter? A musician? Something like that. “Well, I’m glad he told you about us.”
She laid her hand on his shoulder, a light touch that made his skin hum and his clothing way too tight. “Me too.”
Sweat formed on his brow, and Ryan wiped it off with a curious frown. Wow, she really did affect him.
Grace waved her hand in front of her face, her forehead creasing. “Are you warm?”
Yes. “Yes.”
She cocked her head to the side, listening. “I think the A/C’s off.”
That couldn’t be right. There was no reason the A/C would be off in the middle of the day. But she was correct. Not only was the room hot, it was stuffy too. He got up and went to the door, headed toward reception. Grace followed closely behind him. People were milling about the large foyer, and it seemed dimmer than usual. “What’s going on?” he asked another programmer.
The guy pointed up at the dark lights. “Power’s off. Not sure if it’s us or a blackout. Maintenance has gone to check.”
“Right,” Ryan said and walked to the front doors. He looked outside and found people were pouring out the shops and buildings, standing around on the sidewalks looking confused and stressed. The traffic lights were out, but there were plenty of cops on the scene, directing the sudden glut of cars. Some people seemed to be having difficulty getting their phones to work, while others barked and shrieked into theirs.
“Looks like it’s more than us,” he called back. “Anybody got a radio?”
“I think I can get something,” Jodi, the receptionist said. Just about everybody was downstairs now, practically the whole staff gathered around the front desk. She scrunched up her face and did something to her phone. The thing squawked and then male a voice came through loud and clear. “…give us twenty-two minutes…”
Everyone burst into applause.
Jodi held up her phone up high over her head. “Details are still coming in from the tri-state area. New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania are all reporting power outages…”
Someone groaned in the back of the room. “Well, there goes the subway. Looks like I’m walking.” Other people grumbled as well, a few of the women complaining they didn’t have the right shoes for a power outage.
“No timeline has been released for when power will be restored. The mayor’s office urges… ” the radio host went on.
“All right, people,” Ron said, getting everyone’s attention with a clap of his hands. “I think we can call it a day. Get home to your families. I know many of you live far. Does anyone need a place to stay tonight? You’re all welcome to come home with me and Alan.”
“I do,” a programmer said. “I really don’t want to walk to Hoboken.”
“I think I’ll get a hotel room,” another said. “Stay in the city tonight.”
“I don’t think a hotel is a good idea,” someone else replied. “They’re going to be booked. And think how hot it’ll be. You can’t open the windows in a hotel room.”
“Where do you live, Grace?” Ryan asked as people all around them went about making plans.
“West 80th.” She looked toward the doors. “I have a long walk. Do you think I can get a cab?”
“Probably not,” he said. “I can’t imagine there would be any free out there.” He touched her shoulder. “I’ll walk with you.”
“Do you live that way?”
Ryan laughed. “No, I live out in Coney Island.”
She shook her head and gave him a dazzling smile. “No, that’s insane. You don’t have to walk me uptown. I’ll be fine.”
He thought about the kinds of things that could happen to a pretty woman walking alone in a blackout with all the cops distracted. “No, I’ll walk with you.”
She shook her head again. “Really, you don’t have to. That’s an awful long way for you to go, and New York is perfectly safe.”
Sure, New York was fine in general, but people often reacted badly when they felt they could get away with it. There were going to be lots of opportunities for mayhem tonight. Without a doubt, there would be looting all across the city, and who knew what else. There was no way he was going to let her walk alone. “I like exercise.”
She wanted to object again, he saw it in her face, but she paused, and then laughed instead. “Okay, fine. Let’s go.”
“Great,” he said, feeling much better already. “Let me just grab my things and we’ll get out of here.”
She nodded in agreement, and he bounced away from her, light on his toes. He didn’t know why he was so happy. He was going to be walking for miles and miles and hours and hours. But he felt like he’d just won the lottery or something. He dashed back to the meeting room, grabbed his laptop, and cleaned up the coffee service tray. He debated whether or not to bring the computer with him, but ultimately decided he didn’t want to carry it around. He dropped it off at his desk, grabbed his keys, and said goodbye to Ron and his coworkers. Everything taken care of, he escorted Grace out the building.
“Let’s take Broadway,” he said, heading for the avenue. “It’ll take us all the way up the west side.”
“That’s perfect. I live a block off Broadway, between West End and Riverside Drive.”
The sidewalks were flooded with people and they wove their way through the executives and tourists, shoppers and drones. Cars were backed up as far as the eye could see and the smells of gasoline and asphalt were heavy in the summer air. Cops stood in the middle of the cross-sections trying to keep the traffic flowing in an organized way. The atmosphere could have been bad, but it wasn’t. People were smiling and there was a lot of laughter. Caught up in the good vibes, Ryan took Grace’s hand. He thought he might be the luckiest man in the city when she curled her fingers through his.
They dodged a man in clown makeup and costume, laughing together as he passed them by. Grace smiled over at him, showing off those breathtaking little dimples. “Your eye looks much better.”
“Thanks. I usually heal pretty quickly.”
“Have you been boxing long?” she asked, swinging their clasped hand
s between them.
It felt good to be by her side, to be holding her hand on this beautiful summer day. He wasn’t much of a romantic by nature, but this was nice, perfect in its simplicity. “A few years. Back in Philly”—he glanced over at her—“that’s where I’m from, my first job was with an IT company that had a lot of military contracts. Mostly the Marines. One of the sergeants I worked with was an avid fighter. He got me into it. When I moved here, I decided to keep it up. I like it.”
She squeezed his hand. “Hitting things is fun?”
“Yeah, but it’s more than that. It’s a science. It requires strategy, way more than strength. Precision, split second planning, offense and defence. It’s all about outsmarting your opponent on every level, not just hitting him harder.”
“I can see why it would appeal to a military man. Were you a Marine?”
“No way. It was the first job I got right out of college. Great experience, but very regulated.” He laughed and shook his head. “I’m not really a regulations kind of guy.”
They crossed 8th Street, and he lightly caressed the back of her hand with his thumb while they walked. Her skin was soft, warm. “I think I like it the most though because it lets me be free. There’s only the moment, my opponent, my next move. When I’m in the ring, there are no worries, no regrets.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” she said, looking up at him. “That’s what writing is like for me. Immersive and wonderful. It’s an escape, but also a destination.”
He nodded. He liked that a lot. “The best possible destination.”
She nodded back. “Like a tropical island.”
“With an open bar.”
Her laughter vibrated through his chest. Being with Grace was far better than anything he’d imagined on those long, lonely nights while he was waiting to see her again. Not even his best fantasies compared to the actuality of her presence.