Midnight Run

Chapter Four

Kingston wanted to linger at the coffee shop and watch the cute girl behind the counter, but he didn't think he could be away from the office for very long. At least this time no one asked me to bring coffee back for them. He didn't mind being polite and looking out for his coworkers, but it wasn't hard to see that the coffee requests during his first few days on the job had been a subtle power play from the other men in the office; Kingston sensed that they were quietly putting him in his place, letting him know that, even if he'd been a mover and a shaker at the branch back home, here in the city he was still the new kid, no better than an intern in their eyes.

Despite the office politics waiting for him as he hurried back to the skyscraper with blue reflective windows, he couldn't keep his thoughts away from the girl. She'd charmed him to pieces the first time they'd met with her big brown eyes and sweet smile, and he'd been more than a little annoyed that Carrie had shown up when she did.

He pushed through the chrome and glass revolving door and strode across the lobby to the elevator. When he'd first transferred, he'd planned on taking the stairs every day as part of his half marathon training, but thirteen flights got old real fast. Still, I should add stairs to my regimen; maybe I should ask the group for suggestions? He'd finally joined a midnight runner's group, and it hadn't taken long before he felt right at home with the other runners.

The elevator doors opened, and Kingston tried to slip by Carrie's desk without drawing her attention, but her familiar voice stopped him. "Hey, sweetie. Did you bring me any coffee?"

He paused, a polite smile on his face. "Sorry, Carrie, I was in a rush."

She pouted at him from behind the reception desk. "Aw, no worries, I guess."

Kingston sighed. "Next time I'll grab you a cup," he promised, wishing he had it in him to be anything but polite to a woman. His mother had raised him right, but Carrie made him wish he'd kept his kindness to himself; ever since he invited her along for coffee that first time, she'd been pestering him each day, and Kingston swore he could feel her eyes on him while he worked. He hadn't wanted to peer over his cubicle to see if that was true or not, but he never seemed to make it past the reception desk without getting caught in a pointless conversation.

Carrie stood up and leaned toward him, and Kingston's eyes dipped to her neckline for a moment before he caught himself. She smiled at him knowingly. "Why don't we skip the coffee and get a drink tonight, huh?"

God, he hated pushy women. "No, thanks," he said, trying to keep his smile from slipping. "I've got a late night training session, so I'll need to catch a few hours of sleep right after work."

Her smile slipped. "Late night training session?"

He nodded. "I'm planning to run the half this spring."

Her brow furrowed for a moment, but then Carrie laughed. "Oh, Kingston. You're just too sweet for words; did anybody ever tell you that?"

Not sure why she was laughing or how to respond, Kingston just tipped his head toward her and retreated to his cubicle. The sound of Carrie's giggles followed him, and he shook his head in confusion.

Taking a swallow of his now-cold coffee, his thoughts drifted back to the pretty girl at the café, and he wondered if it would be too obvious if he suddenly started going there every day on his breaks.

"Knock, knock," his boss wrapped his knuckles on the top of the cubicle, and Kingston jumped, spilling coffee down the front of his shirt.

He bit back a curse, digging through his desk drawer in search of napkins while his boss watched. Making a couple of futile dabs at his chest, he grinned ruefully up at his boss. "What did you need, Mr. Fitz?"

The older man leaned casually against the flimsy wall. "I just wanted to see how you're settling in, Price"

He sort of hated that his boss insisted on referring to everyone by their last name, no "Mr." or "Ms." in front of it, but he tried not to let the rudeness get to him. Just because the other man wasn't as polite as he'd have liked didn't mean Kingston had to answer him in kind. "Fine," Kingston said. "The office may be bigger, but the work is similar to what I was used to back home." He grinned. "Only there's more of it."

Fitz quirked an eyebrow. "How long are you planning on being in this position?"

"As long as it's a good fit, I guess," Kingston said slowly. "But I don't have any plans to leave."

"Then a word of advice, son. You might want to stop referring to Texas as 'home'."

Kingston dipped his head in acknowledgement, trying not to look embarrassed. "You know how it is, sir," he said. "New York takes some getting used to, but I'm very happy here."

Fitz nodded without answering, and he moved away, leaving Kingston alone with his work. He glanced over his shoulder once, wondering if he'd given his boss the answers the man was looking for, and then he shook his head. No use worrying. I've just got to make sure I do my job, and do a damn good job at it, too. Things had been much more laid back in his old office, and Kingston hadn't quite adjusted to the feeling that everyone he worked with in New York was sizing him up, waiting to see if he'd sink or float.

Throwing the empty coffee cup in the trash, Kingston's thoughts returned to the pretty barista with a smile. Pretty barista...PB. He chuckled at the nickname. "We'll go together like peanut butter and jelly," he joked to himself as he thought about her. And maybe, he thought, turning back to his computer and starting to tackle his inbox, I'll have the guts to ask her name the next time I see her.