Kate wakes up to a late morning sun beaming gently across her face. She throws her cotton comforter to the side and squints at the alarm clock at her bedside, eyes bleary. She can't recall the last time she slept til 11 o'clock, but finds that she can't bring herself to regret it.
She feels rested, light, and…happy.
She slides out of bed easily and shuffles to the kitchen, running a hand through her lightly rumpled hair. She reaches for the coffee pot in the corner, hand brushing against a piece of paper. She pours herself a cup and takes a tentative sip, humming softly as the warm liquid caresses her throat.
The note is from her father.
Katie,
I'll be at Mrs. Steiner's all day tinkering around her furnace. Why she needs heat in the dead of summer is beyond me.
Kate laughs gently. The old woman hadn't changed at all.
Enjoy your day off. If you go into town at all, will you pick up some milk?
Dad.
Kate smiles, sets her cup down on the counter on top of the note. A great start to the day.
Half an hour later, Kate's out the door, a small wad of cash shoved in the back pocket of her jean shorts, sunglasses hanging off the front of her old college tee shirt. Her long hair whips around her face in the summer breeze.
She pulls out her old ten-speed that she'd paid five bucks for at a garage sale a few summers ago. She wishes longingly for her motorcycle, loves the stability of the hard metal beneath her body. She'd left in Manhattan, though. Would've stuck out like a sore thumb if she drove it around here, anyway.
Her trip is short, the center of town only a little over four miles from the house. She locks her bike on a parking meter in front of a small bookstore. She pushes the door open, wrinkles her nose out of habit as the musty smell hits her nose.
She'd come to love it though, associates it with memories of curling up in the corner with a paperback by the dusty window, watching her mother's fingers skim over her favorite mystery titles.
Her eyes flick behind the counter quickly. She sighs, doesn't recognize the teenage girl with her nose buried in an old Baby-Sitter's Club paperback. She flocks immediately to her favorite section, eyes scanning the C's. She lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding as her eyes land on his first novel.
She removes it from the shelf and flips through it, searches for signs of wear or tear. It's perfect, apart from a few dog-eared pages.
She'd read the book, certainly, but hadn't managed to get her hands on her own copy. After stumbling upon it at the library one afternoon, she'd devoured it in a couple of days. She'd immediately ran to the bookstore and bought the rest of them, but the first one had been out of stock. The store wouldn't order it for her and she hadn't been able to find it elsewhere. It was odd, really, because it hadn't even been one of his best. Kate loved it, sure, but mostly for sentimental reasons.
She starts to walk to the counter, book clutched protectively under her arm, when she hears voices approaching. She pauses, listening.
"…great if you have it. I've had a hard time getting my hands on it."
Castle, Kate realizes with a smile. She makes a move towards him, still out of sight, when it hits her.
She'd told him that she had to work today. If he sees her there, he'll know she lied, will surely want answers.
Answers that she isn't ready to provide.
She replaces the book hastily and dashes to the corner, hidden behind a break in the wall. She chances a glance in his direction, finds him talking to the girl she'd spotted behind the register. She twists her ear, but can't make out what they're saying.
Five minute have hardly passed before she hears him walk out the door. She sighs, closing her eyes as she rests her head against the wall. Close one. She goes back to his section, looks for the book where she replaced it, but it isn't there. She scans the titles quickly, but doesn't find it.
Unless. She looks towards the door and then back at the shelf, puzzled.
Why would he buy his own book?
She finishes the rest of her errands quickly, even manages to stop at the shoe store on the corner for a pair of heels. The only shoes she'd ever kept at the house were her Keds and flip-flops, and she doesn't really want to wear those to dinner with Castle.
She's hardly known him two days and she already thinks of him fondly as Castle, a man who drives her up a wall and makes her blush in a single breath. She has a hard time reconciling him with Richard Castle, the author who'd kept her sane in the whirlwind of her mother's death. She knows they're one and the same, can feel it in the way his words wrap around her in speech and in print.
Once she's back home, she props the bike against the side of the house, a reminder to fill the air in the tires when she gets a chance. She pushes her sunglasses up her face, threading them through her hair.
"Need a hand, Katie?" She startles a little at the sound of her father's voice behind her. She shakes her head, bags in hand.
"No, thanks. I'm—" She turns to him and swallows hard when she sees that he's not alone. "Fine," she finishes weakly as Castle's face looks back at her. He's smiling at her, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. Her heart sinks.
"Mr. Castle stopped by to see you, make sure you were okay since he didn't see you at the shack today. Were you supposed to work today?"
"No, Dad, I wasn't," She says, managing to keep her voice even. He's only digging her hole deeper, but he couldn't have known.
"Must've been a miscommunication." Castle shrugs, as if it could be that easy, but she doesn't believe him, that he'd let it go so easily.
"You two have plans this evening?"
Jesus Christ. She wishes he would just stop talking.
"Dad, can you give us a minute, please?" Kate asks. His interest is peaked, it's written all over his face. He nods slowly, though.
"I'm sure there's a game on somewhere, anyway."
"It was great to meet you, Mr. Beckett."
"Please. Call me Jim." The two men shake hands before her father takes the bags from her and heads into the house.
She searches his face, biting her bottom lip. He forces a quick half-smile, but lets it drop off his face.
"I lied to you," she says simply. He nods shortly, waits for her to continue.
"I'm sorry. It—" She shakes her head, looks down at her feet. "I know I haven't given you a reason to trust me, but—" She looks up at him again, meets his confused stare. "I'm not ready to tell you yet."
"I don't understand, Kate. You're not ready to tell me what?"
She sighs. "There's a reason why I lied to you last night, Castle. I didn't have to get up early for work. I—" She pauses. "It has to do with my father. But I just can't—I can't tell you now, not yet when I've only known you a couple of days."
"You don't trust me yet." His tone isn't accusing, only understanding.
"Actually, no. It's the fact that I feel like I can trust you already. It scares me and I don't want to do or say something that I'll regret later."
"Okay," he says simply.
"Okay?" She's surprised, thought for sure she'd have to fight harder.
"Kate, I can't ask you to reveal your darkest secrets after two days. I get it. I wish you hadn't lied, but I get it." He shrugs.
She smiles. "So, what? You showed up at work today because you couldn't wait until tonight to see me?" she teases, breaking the last remnants of tension.
He grins. "Actually, I came to bring you something."
Her eyes flick to his empty hands. "Well, where is it?"
His smile falters a little and his brow furrows, as if realizing for the first time that he doesn't have it with him. She holds back a laugh.
"Huh. I must've left it at home."
"Forgetting things already? You must be getting old, Mister Castle."
He narrows his eyes playfully. "You better watch it, Beckett."
"Or else?" she retorts.
"Or else…" he trails off, leans in close, breath tickling her ear. She shivers.
"Maybe I'll just skip the goodnight kiss," he whispers. She sighs, almost doesn't register his words. If she just tilt her head a little to the left—
"See you tonight, Beckett." He says in his normal voice, pulling away from her. She jumps a little, frowns.
He starts to walk away, grins back at her.
"Six o'clock sharp!" She calls after him, lips twitching in amusement.
She watches him turn the corner before she makes her way towards the front of her house, shaking her head.
That beautiful man.
It's 4:26 a.m. I have no idea why I'm still awake, but alas. A friend brought it to my attention that it's probably not likely that Kate would have any kind of summer break from the Academy. I probably should've done some kind of research into that, but I didn't. So for all intents and purposes in this story, there's a small break. Have a great week!
Olivia