Chapter Two
T
he walk down Spring Street to Aaron’s apartment building felt like it took forever, even though it was only a couple of blocks. Probably because he stopped every few feet and turned, intent on heading back to the deli. So as not to draw attention to himself, he pretended to be absorbed by all the fascinating Christmas displays in the store windows. Nutcrackers, train sets, mechanical Santas, candies, cakes and babies in mangers.
Why the hell had he left
the cafe? He didn’t even try to find out when she got off work, or when she’d have another free day. Nope. He’d just left. Like an arrogant asshole, quite frankly.
He nodded to his doorman, deciding to take the eight flights up by stair
s rather than elevator. The exercise was good, but not nearly enough. His apartment was empty, lonely, lacking anything truly personal as he’d only just bought the place when he moved back to the States, and had left most everything sentimental back in Scotland.
He emptied his pockets onto the console table, the white card with green swirls sticking out in his mind.
City Café. Damn but he was taken by Darla. And why?
He groaned and headed toward the glass windows, staring down at
the people walking the streets below, but not really seeing them. Born in New York City, when his parents divorced he’d moved back to Scotland with his mother. He’d been back a few times to visit his father in the States, but never decided to make it his permanent place of residence until now.
The precise reason why he’d
come back was exactly why he shouldn’t be even thinking of flirting with Darla, let alone asking her to dinner.
Four months had passed since Megan, his fiancé
e, had passed away. She’d suffered weeks hooked up to machines following a heinous car accident that left her in a coma and with no prognosis that she’d come back. He’d been against her family pulling the plug. But ultimately, it had been their decision and after an intense legal battle, the judge had decided in favor of Megan’s family’s wishes. The plug had been drawn and he’d watched her die.
Scotland held too much pain for him
following that. After wallowing for months, making a drastic change had been the only thing that kept Aaron going.
But the quiet of his apartment was enough to do him in.
Being Friday, he had several days until he started at his new job. His dad’s production company—soon to be his as his father was planning on retiring before the end of the year. One of the foremost companies in the city. They worked with many of the top television shows and celebrities. One month and then he’d be CEO. Over the next few weeks he’d be groomed to take over. Not that he wanted it, but it was either this, or sitting in the dark in his flat in Edinburgh, refusing to return phone calls to the BBC where he worked. Television ran in the blood.
Aaron changed into jogging clothes, fished out his
mp3 player and plugged in some soothing metal tunes. Old school style. He loved Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath and Def Leppard. Some might say that that particular style of music was the exact opposite of soothing, but to Aaron, it was perfect. It bled out all the anger he felt inside, and drowned out the sadness of having lost his future.
Crisp winter air hit the bareness of his legs, and he pulled his sweatshirt hood over his head, tightening the strings so wind couldn’t tunnel through the gaps. Pressing play on the
mp3 player, electric guitars and drums belted into his ears followed by the first words in
Pour Some Sugar on Me
. He set a grueling pace. Intent on getting himself good and exhausted. Ten miles was his goal for the day.
An hour and fifteen minutes later, he was back, drenched in sweat and having made it ten and
a half miles. He took a different path today, not sure which route he liked best. Maybe in NYC he’d be different than in Scotland. Maybe here he’d not be so rigid, scheduled. Maybe he’d go with the flow and let things happen as they did.
Fate would be what led him.
He frowned, taking the stairs once more, his quads and calves feeling a nice, exhausted burn. Fate had already fucked up his life. Maybe rigidity in some things was good.
He tossed down his keys, and walked into the kitchen, not bothering to turn down his music as he opened up the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. He chugged half of it before taking a breath, and then finished it off, tossing the plastic into his recycling bin.
On the way to his bedroom, he peeled of his clothes, not really caring where they fell. Into the shower he went, steaming water making puffs of clouds in the bathroom. He stood beneath the hot water as it streamed in rivulets over his face, his chest, abs. Hands against the wall, he ducked his head and stared down at the drain.
The hig
h of his run was sucked dry by dark memories, and his black mood returned.
The only good thing
that happened today had been meeting the woman in the deli.
Darla.
Her name was just as enticing as she was. Walking through the door for a sandwich, he’d not expected the spark of attraction upon seeing her smile. Hadn’t expected to find himself staring at her, feeling that intense interest in his gut. No one had made him feel like that since he’d met Megan, and he’d sworn no one would make him feel like that again. He’d been merely existing. Walking through life. Waiting for something to happen that might bring him back.
And then he’d walked into
the deli.
Darla
made him smile. Made him feel good. Even if he was attracted to Darla, he couldn’t do anything about it. Megan still lived inside his mind, his heart. She probably always would.
After unpacking a few boxes and drinking a couple beers, he watched the sun set over the city. Dinner was a thought.
The only things in his fridge were water bottles, beer, eggs and bread.
He didn’t really feel like an omelet.
Aaron shucked on his jacket and headed back outside. Staying in his apartment alone with his thoughts and the haunting spirit of his fiancée well and truly sucked. God he couldn’t wait for Monday. He’d find every reason possible to stay late at the office.
He wandered down
Spring Street, watching couples walking arm in arm, trying to keep each other warm. People by themselves shuffling by, their noses tucked into their scarves, and kids running ahead of their parents, scooping clumps of snow from the piles forming along the edges of the sidewalk where store and restaurant managers were having it shoveled. A group of singers dressed as Christmas elves played violins for pedestrians, a sleigh-shaped basket in front of them collecting donations.
None of the places he passed appealed to him. No hotdogs. No Thai. No pizza. No bars. Nothing satisfied his appetite.
And, truthfully, he wasn’t even that hungry. What was he looking for?
And then he saw her. Darla.
He glanced up at the cross street—Broome Street. She’d come out of her deli and was locking the door. Snow fell in heavy flakes on the woven hat she wore and the string of Christmas lights around the door and window display twinkled red and white. She called good night to someone and then turned, stopping dead in her tracks as she saw him some dozen paces away.
“Hi,” she said, giving him an odd look.
Dammit if his stomach didn’t tighten. He’d not even realized he was heading this way. Maybe he’d done so subconsciously—heading toward the one thing that had made him smile in months. “Hey.” He walked closer to her, but stopped, feeling awkward.
“We, um, closed for dinner already…” She trailed off, like she was going to ask if he wanted her to open the door back up, but thought better of it.
He couldn’t deny the feeling of excitement that simmered when he’d seen her. He liked looking at her. Liked the way it made him feel. Until he remembered Megan, and then he felt like a complete ass.
He chuckled, hoping to sound nonchalant. “That’s all right. I was just taking a walk. I live near here.”
She curled her lip in a cute smile. “So, you weren’t stalking me?”
Aaron couldn’t help but smile back.
“Definitely not stalking you.” But if he was honest, at least with himself, he’d admit that he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. Maybe he was crazy, but there really was a spark between them. If anything, when he was in her presence, the overwhelming depression he’d felt for the better part of the last several months abated. He felt like he could be someone different. Someone new.
And then again, not new, he
could be
himself
. His old self. Not the damaged shell of a once lively human.
She hooked her thumb behind her
, started to turn a little and gave him a lift of her brow. “There’s a place—” She chewed on her lip. “Do you want to get some hot cocoa?”
He smiled. “I haven’t had any since I was a kid. I’d love some.”
Memories of coming in after a day of playing in the snow with friends ran rampant.
“That long? I’d go nuts without a cup of cocoa at least three times a week.
Especially on snowy nights like this one.”
Aaron walked up beside her and put out his elbow. She took his arm as though it were natural
, her warmth seeping into him. Taking a moment to steady himself, he said, “Lead the way.”
Darla smiled up at him. “You’re about to have the best hot cocoa of your life.”
Why did looking at her face, filled with anticipation and excitement make him wish he was having the best something else of his life? Like her legs entwined with his between silken sheets.
They walked around the corner and into a
lively chocolatier shop.
“We were wondering when you’d come in,” the woman behind the counter said to Darla, then eyed Aaron with an appreciative glance. “And this time you brought a friend.”
Darla smiled up at him and then turned back to the woman. “Nancy, this is Aaron. He’s come all the way from Scotland.”
“Oh, Scotland!
I’ve always wanted to visit. Two of the usual?”
Darla glanced up at him. “Do you have a preference?”
“The usual works for me.”
“I hope you like it.” She gave him a funny look. “It’s not everyone’s favorite.”
Aaron sucked in a breath and made a
yikes
face.
Darla laughed, the tinkling sound as sweet as bells tolling Christmas morning.
He caught himself staring at her, cleared his throat. “Mind if we sit by the window?”
Darla nodded. “People watch?”
God, she was infectious. “Yeah.”
A small round table with two chairs cleared by the window and they hurried to take it.
“Everyone’s come out tonight for the best cup of hot cocoa this side of Manhattan,” Darla said.
He winked.
“I’m prepared to be impressed.”
Her face colored a little and she smiled, leaning forward like she was about to share some deep
, dark secret. “Silly question—did they have hot cocoa in Scotland?”
Aaron
chuckled. “Yes. In fact, there was a great place down the street from my flat in Edinburgh.”
“Another silly question—are you considered a Highlander?” She lifted her brows and gave him a funny look.
“Well, I didn’t live in the Highlands, but my mother’s family is from the north of Scotland, so technically I’ve got Highlander blood in me.” Leaning his arms on the table he tilted toward her. “Are you into Highlander romances?”
A flush as red as holly berries covered her cheeks.
“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just into Highlanders.”
The woman fa
irly knocked the wind from him. He was hard pressed not to swipe the candle and little box of sugar off the table and sit her on it while he tasted her for dessert.
“Because of the kilts?” he asked with a
devilish grin.
“Maybe.”
She gave a coy shrug of her shoulder. “Or maybe it’s more than that.”
Before he had a chance to respond, the waitress brought over two mugs the size of soup bowls, filled with steaming chocolate,
a swirl of whipped cream, chocolate shavings and a cinnamon stick.
“The works,” she said, setting the mugs down.
“And, our special chocolate decadence scones on the house.”
“Thank you,” Darla beamed at the
chocolaty mounds served on a porcelain plate. “You guys know me well,” she laughed.
“Enjoy.”
“Chocolate fan?” he asked.
“Absolutely.”
She lifted her mug and took a sip, her eyes closing in ecstasy. “Your turn.”
Aaron smiled, and reached forward
, wishing he could see that very erotic look on her face when she lay beneath him. “You have a little cream…right here.” He swiped the clump of cream from the corner of her mouth.
He wasn’t sure who was more surp
rised at his knee-jerk reaction—him or her. Touching her like that… it was intimate. Not what he intended to do. And yet, he liked it. Was starting to really like her. Too much. Lust was one thing, but…emotionally he wasn’t ready for more than a tumble in the sack.