Midnight Run

by Charity Hillis

  MIDNIGHT RUN

  Once Upon a Desire

  By Charity Hillis

  MIDNIGHT RUN

  By Charity Hillis

  Published by Charity Hillis

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2015 Charity Hillis

  Cover Designed by Quixcy Designs, 2015

  This book is a work of fiction. Characters, locations, and events are products of the author’s mind, or have been used in a fictitious manner. The author acknowledges the right of all trademark holders for products mentioned in this work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or to actual events, is purely coincidental.

  License Statement:

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Copyright

  A Note from the Author

  Coming Soon: Cutting Loose

  CHAPTER ONE

  Sometimes, Nora felt like the only reason she bothered getting up in the morning was her daily run.

  Cold mist swirled across the trail, making Central Park feel ghostly and foreign, and Nora’s feet hit the ground with a rhythm as familiar as her heartbeat. She’d stopped running with music after her first 5k; the songs that had once pushed her to keep going when she didn’t think she could take another step became superfluous as the runner’s high took over. Now, the city provided her soundtrack, and her runs were almost meditative.

  Somewhere across the park, a dog called out a greeting, but Nora couldn’t see him. The dense fog still obscured her surroundings, making it seem as if she were running in a dream, and Nora wasn’t sure how long the other runner had been following her until he pulled up alongside her.

  She heard him before she saw him; the echo of footsteps that didn’t quite match her own, and then, suddenly, a tall figure with jet black hair loomed up at her elbow.

  She gave him a quick nod as he pulled alongside her, her brown ponytail bobbing with the motion, but the guy barely glanced in her direction. Maybe he didn’t notice me in the fog, Nora thought, fighting down the irritation that flared as the other jogger moved ahead without acknowledging her at all.

  But the run had turned sour, and Nora was distracted as she finished her final loop around the park. By then, the fog had started to lift, and the air was sharp and smelled like snow. Drenched in cold sweat, Nora hurried through her cool-down and rushed to catch her train, glancing at the cloudy sky nervously. The sun had started to rise while she ran, but the buildings around her blocked it from view. It would be tight, but she should still have time to hit her apartment and shower before her shift. And besides, she thought grimly, it’s not like anyone will notice if I’m a few minutes late.

  ***

  She was wrong; they noticed. Books and Brew had been getting increasingly popular, and now that NYU was back in session, the coffee shop was slammed by the time Nora punched in, thirty minutes after her shift was supposed to start. Her manager, Todd, tugged on his moustache and glared at her pointedly as she took her place behind the register, and Laurel, one of the other baristas, rolled her eyes.

  “Looks like the princess is late again,” she announced to Caity, another girl behind the counter.

  Caity snorted. “What’s the matter, Nora? Did your morning run turn into a walk?”

  Nora felt her cheeks heating up, but she tried to ignore the girls and their barbs. Self-consciously, she pushed her tortoiseshell glasses higher on her nose and tried to smile. She usually got along pretty well with everyone, but from the moment Laurel and Caity had been hired, it was almost like they had it out for her. Nora wasn’t sure what she’d done to piss them off, but that didn’t stop them from tormenting her.

  Luckily, there wasn’t enough down time for the girls to do more than snipe at her when she first came in, and Nora was soon up to her elbows in lattes and coffee grounds, juggling three orders at once all while trying not to slip on the old, cracked tile floor. The college kids liked Books and Brew because it had atmosphere; the mismatched walls gave off a funky vibe, and the broken ceramic tile that covered the floor, left over from a long dead business that had filled the space before the coffee shop existed, made everything feel a bit old-fashioned. Cleaning the cracked tiles, however, was hellish; coffee and spilled milk had a way of collecting along the grout lines, and the floor looked pretty disgusting at the end of each day. If Nora hadn’t taken to scrubbing it on her hands on knees after the shop had closed every night, she was pretty sure the health inspector would have shut them down already.

  When there was a break in the customers, Todd pulled her away from the counter. “Some kid tossed his cookies in the front corner,” he said, jerking his thumb toward the offending spot. “Grab the mop and take care of it, would you?”

  Nora bit her lip. “Shouldn’t we let his parents clean it up?” And isn’t it, like, a biohazard?

  Todd rolled his eyes and ran his hands over his salt and pepper hair. “They’d left before I noticed. Chop, chop, Nora, get on it.”

  She cringed, but she nodded. With a tug, she tightened her ponytail before tackling the job, but the elastic band snapped and dropped to the floor. Her hair, which had still been wet from her shower when she headed to work, cascaded around her face in loose waves, and Nora reached for the spare elastic she always wore around her wrist. Her fingers only met skin, however, and Nora remembered with a sinking sensation that she’d been too late to grab a spare hair tie that morning.

  Her eyes swung back to the counter, and for a moment, she debated asking one of the other girls if they could lend her one, but she dismissed that idea almost immediately. Grabbing the mop, a yellow “wet floor” sign, and a pair of elbow-length rubber gloves, Nora pushed her way through patrons to the pile of puke on the floor. Her stomach churned, and she glanced at the counter again, wondering if there was any way she could get out of it. Laurel caught her eye and smirked, and Nora sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears. There was no way anyone else would clean up the mess, especially not since Todd had specifically told her to do it, so she might as well stop dawdling.

  Pulling the chairs out of the way, Nora slopped water over the floor, wrinkling her nose at the smell. She wasn’t sure which was worse; the vomit, or the stale mop water. I must have forgotten to empty the bucket last night, she chastised herself. And of course nobody noticed.

  Reaching under the table, Nora slid the mop back to the wall, hoping she could reach most of the mess. There wasn’t really room to move the table out of the way, not during business hours, and Nora didn’t relish crawling into any leftover vomit when she was finally able to give the shop a good cleanin
g that evening. Bending over to check under the table, she pulled the mop back and heard a startled “Oomph” from behind her.

  As she whirled around to apologize to whoever she’d just hit, her foot skidded on the wet floor, and Nora flailed, her arms wind-milling as she started to fall. She gritted her teeth, anticipating the sharp pain that waited for her tailbone when she hit the floor, but it never came. Large, warm hands wrapped around her upper arms, pulling her upright with a jerk. Trying to ignore the pain in her shoulders, Nora looked up and caught her breath.

  Her rescuer had to be one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen. No, scratch that, she thought as her eyes took in his sinewy, powerful frame. The most gorgeous. He towered over Nora, and his short dark hair and chiseled jaw made him look like he’d walked out of the pages of a magazine ad.

  Gray eyes met hers, and the tan skin around them crinkled as the guy smiled. “Careful, hon. That floor’s pretty slick.”

  Nora’s heart fell out of her chest. He had a perfect southern drawl, like something out of a trashy soap opera, and his inky hair and deep tan completed the picture. For a moment, she wondered what he’d look like in a pair of tight jeans slung up with one of those wide, beefy belt buckles. She stared at him stupidly before she shook herself and forced a smile.

  “Thanks; I was just mopping, and then I hit something—“ she swallowed. “Did I hit you?”

  He shrugged. “No harm done.”

  “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry. Can I buy you a coffee or something to make it up to you? I swear, we don’t usually put our customers in danger or anything,” she babbled, pushing her glasses high on her nose nervously. She was aware of how ridiculous she sounded, but somehow unable to stop the flow of words. “I mean, whatever you want, just to say I’m sorry.”

  His smile stretched wider. “Back home, I’d be the one buying you coffee. But I guess that’s New York for you!”

  Embarrassed, Nora tried to backpedal. “Where’s home?” She asked, plopping the mop back in the pail and watching his expressive face.

  “Texas,” he drawled, his accent even thicker when he said the word. “What about you? Seems like just about everyone I’ve met in New York is from somewhere else.”

  Before she could answer, a tall, chic blond slipped up to Tex’s side and slid her arm around his waist with a quick glance at Nora.

  “Sorry I’m late, sweetie,” she purred, her perfectly made-up lips pouting sweetly. “I got held up in that meeting.”

  Shifting his attention away from Nora, the gorgeous guy gave the blond the same heart-stopping smile he’d offered to Nora. “No worries, darlin’.” He glanced back in Nora’s direction, his eyes bright. “Thanks for the chat, hon.”

  Nora nodded, her throat thick. “Any time. Um, be careful; the floor’s wet.”

  The Texan laughed like she’d made a joke, and Nora flushed, remembering how’d he’d caught her. “Of course,” he offered solemnly. Before he turned away again, he gave her a quick wink, and Nora’s cheeks grew even hotter.

  She watched as they walked toward the counter, the blond’s black heels making her legs look even longer in her charcoal pencil skirt, and the Texan’s tall, dark frame the perfect contrast to her leggy beauty. He didn’t put his arm around her or anything, but the blond’s territorial expression made it pretty clear that he was off limits. Nora sighed and dragged the mop and bucket back behind the counter.

  From the back, she strained to listen, catching the Texan’s slow drawl as he ordered drinks, but Nora didn’t come around the counter to help. She dawdled with the mop, dumping out the murky water and refilling the bucket. By the time she came out front again, the Texan and his date had left, and Nora breathed a sigh that was half relief and half disappointment.

  He wouldn’t have been interested in you, anyway, Nora thought crabbily as she looked down at her lean runner’s body. Guys like that want girls who know how to wear makeup and a pair of high heels and walk like they own the world. Nora had never known how to pull that kind of confidence off; the only time she felt even remotely powerful was when her feet were pounding the pavement.

  “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.

  CHAPTER TWO

  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.