Midnight Run

Chapter Eight

That night, Kingston barely slept.

He went through his usual post-run wind down, complete with a long, hot shower to get his blood flowing again, but in all honesty, he didn't have any trouble getting his blood flowing that night. He'd barely noticed the cold for once; stretching out with Nora had provided a welcome distraction from the winter weather, and Kingston flushed when he remembered the feeling of her body under his hands.

"Get it together, boy," he muttered, plumping up his pillow and trying yet another position. "She's a run buddy, nothing more."

But his body clearly disagreed with him, and the more Kingston thought about her, the more turned on he found himself getting. Flipping onto his back, he closed his eyes, trying to dispel the vision his brain had conjured up of Nora in bed beside him. Don't be a flake, he admonished himself, dragging his thoughts away from Nora and focusing on the barista he'd been mooning over. How can you forget those big brown eyes? Sure, Nora was fine to look at, but he was pretty sure he was only obsessing over her because of their intimate cool down session. Quit thinking with your balls, boy.

Drawing his thoughts firmly away from the runner, Kingston tried to recall the details of the other face that had filled his mind for days. I wish I knew her name. He focused on remembering every detail from the few times they'd met; the way her hair hung in loose waves around her face; the sweet, simple honesty that shone out of her gaze; the particular way her apron clung to her in all the right places. Kingston smiled, but his thoughts couldn't quite let go of Nora, and in his tired state just before he finally dropped off to sleep, Kingston decided that the runner sort of reminded him of the barista.

He woke up with a stiff neck, and when he rolled over to check the clock, he cursed softly. He'd slept way past his alarm, which he realized with a sinking heart he'd never set, and he sprang out of bed and started pulling on his clothes. There was only one clean suit hanging in his closet, and Kingston cursed himself again. "How did you forget to send out the dry cleaning this weekend? Get it together, boy." As his fingers hurriedly buttoned up his crisp blue shirt, he promised himself he'd stop mooning over the girl at the coffee shop. In fact, he decided, he wouldn't even go there for a week.

His resolve lasted until lunch time. No one had chastised him for his late arrival at the office, although Carrie had pouted angrily when he swept in, and Kingston had thrown himself into work that morning to make up for being tardy. But despite his best intentions, when he left the office at noon, his feet led him directly to the little coffee shop, and he scanned the space eagerly, hoping for a glimpse of her.

Another girl was behind the counter, and he vaguely remembered seeing her before when PB had been working. As he approached the register, inspiration struck, and he smiled down at the barista.

"How's it going today, hon?"

She grinned up at him. "Better now that you're here. You're becoming quite the regular."

Kingston paused. "You could say that," he said, his eyes drifting away from her face as he tried to catch a look at the back room behind the counter.

"So, what'll it be?"

Dragging his eyes back to her, he smiled. "Cup of coffee, to go. What's your name?"

Her eyes got wide, and her smile nearly broke her face. "Laurel. What's yours?"

"Kingston," he said, his gaze skimming over the girl and looking behind her once more. "Um, do you like working here?"

She leaned forward, and Kingston caught a flash of a hot pink bra strap, and he swallowed nervously. "It's okay, I guess." Her eyes traveled down his body before returning to his face. "You make it loads better."

Kingston took the cup of coffee she offered, trying not to let the barista's obvious interest distract him. "Do you, er, like your coworkers?"

She rolled her eyes. "Who wants to talk about them? I'd rather hear about you," she offered suggestively, leaning forward even more.

Kingston took a step back. "Nothing much to tell," he said, glancing behind the counter one last time before retreating to the door with a wave. Laurel looked annoyed, but he was too frustrated with himself to really notice.

Sipping his coffee as he walked, he shook his head ruefully. "That totally backfired," he grumbled to himself. "Now she probably thinks I'm interested in her!" With a sigh, he downed the rest of his coffee and headed back to work, promising himself that he'd do his best to forget the mysterious barista.