Chapter 13

There are few things Rick loves more than Prospect Park at dusk, summer buzzing all around. The dying light filters through the trees, making them glow from the inside out, and the heat relaxes its grip as a light breeze flows in to cool the earth. Grass, thin and soft, tickles along the exposed sides of his feet. No obligations, no deadlines. Not a single reason to rush. Perfection.

Perfection made all the more - well, perfect by the woman gliding along at his side, the hem of her lilac sundress loose around her thighs and a pair of Jackie O sunglasses riding high on the bridge of her nose. Rick swings his arm back and forth, his loose grip on Kate's fingers taking her along for the ride.

"No more pencils, no more books, no more ungrateful teenagers texting during my lectures," he sing-songs and she laughs, the curling ends of her ponytail brushing along her bare shoulders as her head shakes.

"I don't think that's how it goes."

"I took a little creative liberty and updated it for our modern times," Rick says, leaning down to press his grin against her cheek. "I'm a writer, I can do that."

He can just see the arch of one eyebrow over the top of the oversized frames.

"You really like to use that 'I'm a writer' thing as an excuse for your ridiculousness, don't you?"

"Maybe, but you think my ridiculousness is charming so -" He shrugs one shoulder, reaching over to sneak the dripping ice cream cone from her hand. Lifting it up to his lips, he takes a long lick, grinning at her around the tip of the swirl of strawberry softserve. "I win."

"You win the jackass contest," Kate huffs, grabbing for her dessert but Rick stretches out his arm, holding the cone just out of her grasp. "Hey -" one sandaled foot with its perfectly painted toes stamps at his - "just because you got scared and dropped your ice cream doesn't mean you get to steal mine."

"One, I was not scared -"

"Yes, you were."

"- I was being cautious. That bird was flying right at my head. I had to do something."

"And your first instinct was to shriek in terror and hide behind me? My hero."

She delivers the jab in a dry deadpan but the twitch at the corner of her lips gives her away, the smile she's working so hard to repress straining to escape.

"You didn't see the look in its beady little eyes. The bastard wanted to peck my face off." He raises their joined hands and draws a circle around his head with his index finger. "My face, Kate. You like my face."

Her smile breaks free and he can only imagine the eyeroll happening behind those dark lenses.

"Yeah, I suppose I do."

Rick leads them toward an empty bench. Kate sits down next to him, her ever-present satchel resting on her lap, and crosses her legs, the loose back of her sandal slapping against her heel as she flexes her toes. He offers her the cone and she takes it with a playful glare, her shoulder pressing against his side when he stretches his arm out along the back of the wooden seat.

"What was your two?"

Rick blinks, forcing his attention away from the way her lips hug the tip of her ice cream.

"Huh?"

Kate swallows and offers him the cone, the tips of her fingers sticky with melted ice cream. "You said 'One, I was not scared'. What was your two?"

Ignoring the growing pink puddle on his thigh, Rick leans in and presses his lips to hers, licking the sweet taste of strawberry from the corner of her mouth. Kate sighs and sinks further into him. The cone wavers in the corner of his eye and Rick reaches up to grab it just before it topples from her slack fingers.

"Two," he grins, lips still brushing hers, "sharing is caring."

They finish the cone together, passing it back and forth while they watch the world rush by. Rick spins stories for the passersby and Kate pulls out her camera. She takes a picture of an old woman feeding squirrels, clouds lit up with the technicolor sunset, a fat brown dog in a stroller. He watches her, trying to decipher her pattern. What draws her to one image over another.

He knows better than to ask. She won't be able to tell him, no more than he could tell her why some of his characters speak to him more clearly than others. Sometimes the best things about art are unexplainable.

Tucking her camera into her lap, Kate leans her head against his shoulder. Her hands flutter - straightening the hem of her skirt, picking a piece of lint off his pants, buckling and unbuckling the flap on her bag. The fidgeting goes on for minutes before he reaches out with his free hand, stilling hers.

"What's going on?"

Her soft sighs makes ripples down the front of his cotton t-shirt.

"I have something to tell you."

The persistent knot in his chest tightens. Rick takes a deep breath, his lungs fighting to expand. Kate wraps her fingers around his and the grip anchors him, helps him pull in the air he needs.

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure you're going to like it," she hedges, picking at the dry skin along the edge of his thumbnail. "It might upset you."

A curiously cold heat blooms low in his abdomen. No. He can handle this. Whatever life altering revelation she is going to drop, he can sure as hell catch. With a deep breath he pushes the words out, proud when his voice doesn't waver like his gut.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me, Kate."

She lifts her body off his, twisting her torso to look into his face and sliding her sunglasses up to rest on top of her head, and he wants nothing more than to pull her back against him- safe, secure. Solid. Her eyes glow almost golden in the dying light and she locks them on his. Kate pulls in a shaky breath and the anxiety that makes her body tremble seeps out through her fingers, into his. It creeps up his arm and threatens to seize his heart, halted only by the sound of her voice, still calm when she speaks.

"I read your book."

The urge to vomit hits him hard as the anxiety lunges for his heart once more, the ice cream in his stomach turning sour.

"You - You did what?"

"I read your book," Kate repeats, her tone even and he can't decide if he wants to kiss her or strangle her. This is not the time for calm, at least not for him.

"Where did you - How - It's not in print."

"I know. I found it at a used book store. You didn't tell me the name so I had to do some digging but -" Kate shrugs one shoulder, the corners of her mouth turned down in a self-conscious frown. "I wanted to read it."

His tongue feels thick and foreign against the roof of his mouth. Swallowing, Rick nods, his head bobbing on his neck like a tacky Hawaiian doll on a the dashboard of a cab. The skin on his scalp crawls and he opens his mouth only to pop it right back closed again.

"Rick - "

It must have taken her hours, days, to track down a copy of that god forsaken book. No one - no one - had ever even asked let alone…

"What did you think of it?"

The words are out before he can stop them and he finds himself holding his breath because the story is awful. He knows it is, has heard it from multiple sources. Powerful sources, important sources. But if he hears it from her, this woman with all of her talent and creative spirit, if she confirms it then -

"I liked it."

His eyes roll of their own volition, hand pulling away from hers as he scoffs. Kate tightens her grip, refusing to let him go, and he looks up at her, scanning her face for any trace of pity.

"Stop," she says, still in that measured tone, the once upon a time lawyer making an appearance. "I liked the book, Rick. That's not to say that it didn't have a some issues. The prose was a little belabored and -"

"Pretentious."

" - the plot -"

"What there was of one, you mean."

" - was fairly cookie cutter 'white guy has a mid-life crisis' but," she carries on, ignoring his interjections, "the bones of the writing itself are good, Rick. The characters are fleshed out and real, the dialogue is sharp. As for the other stuff - most of the problems are just as much the fault of your editor as yours." She squeezes his hand, her thumb pressed hard into the meat at the base of his palm. "It's very clear to me that someone with real talent wrote that novel. Young talent that needed to be edited and polished, but talent nonetheless. I wish you could see it the way I do. That you could be proud of it."

His eyes burn as he stares at her. Kate stares back, unblinking, the truth of her words written plainly across her face. She really did like it. Thinks it's worth something.

That he is worth something.

Without speaking, Rick stands, turning to pluck the camera from her lap, tucking it into the bag before hanging the long strap off his own shoulder. Her eyebrows furrowed, Kate stands next to him when he tugs on her hand, following as he turns to lead her down the path and out of the park.

"Okay," Kate huffs from behind him, "this whole not talking thing was cute at first but it's gotten kinda old." She tugs on his hand, pulling his arm back. "What the hell is going on?"

Keys in hand, he keeps walking, pulling her along in his wake. Ricks opens the door to his apartment and guides her inside. He hits the lights and drops her bag on the coffee table.

"Rick, seriously -"

"Sit down," he says, pointing at the couch. "I'll be right back."

"No." Kate stands in the middle of his tiny living room, her face a strange mix of concern and frustration. "Tell me what's going on here. Are you that mad that I read your book?"

His free hand comes up to cup her flushed cheek. She sways into the touch and he leans in, presses his mouth to the slope of her frown.

"Sit down," he repeats, softer this time, lips still brushing hers. "Please. I have something to show you."

Kate drops onto the old brown couch, her spine straight and eyes wary. He can't really blame her, not after the silent ten block power walk he just dragged her on. But he - He had to do this before he lost his nerve. Holding up one hand in supplication, Rick backs out of the living room.

"I'll be right back."

He jogs over to the closet. Reaching up over his head, he grabs one handle of a battered banker's box on the top shelf and tugs, stumbling backward from the weight. The closet door stands ajar as he heads back toward the living room. Toward Kate.

Her eyes track him from the moment he appears back in her line of sight, focus jumping back and forth between his face and the box pressed against his stomach. The coffee table creaks a little when he sets it down, the musty smell of old cardboard wafting up.

"I'm not mad that you read my book, Kate." Rick circles around to sit down next to her, reaching out for her hand. The slide of her fingers against his palm calms the painful churn deep in his gut. "I'm amazed. That you wanted to, that you found it, that you actually read the whole ridiculous thing."

"It's not ridiculous," she insists, her shoulders dropping as her spine finally loosens. "I know you can't see it but it's not."

"You're right," he confirms with a nod. "I can't see it. When I think of it, all I can remember was what was wrong. All I can feel is the pain of having my dreams shatter."

"I'm sorry."

He shrugs, scooting closer until their hips are pressed together. "There's nothing to be sorry about. I try not to trade in cliches very often but - what's past is past. There's nothing I can do to change it. But that's not -" Rick rests his free hand on the creased and bent lid of the box. "You remember when I told you about the book, I said that I had a few other manuscripts?"

He looks up when she fails to answer and finds her watching him wide-eyed. A faint blush races up to tinge her cheeks and her head bobs in a quick nod. A repeat of a previous one he assumes, based on her unwarranted embarrassment.

"Well-" he stalls, taking off the lid and tilting the open top of the box toward her. His lungs seize as she scoots forward, lip caught between her teeth, tentative fingers reaching almost in slow motion for the reams of paper inside. "These are them. Some of them, anyway."

Kate snatches her hand back, the other coming up to meet it. They fall to her lap and she curls her fingers into her skirt, eyes lifting to meet his.

"Can I?" Her chin dips toward the table. "I mean is it okay?"

"Of course. I'd like you to read one, Kate. I- I trust you." The words leave him in a rush and he's amazed to hear the strength of his own declaration. He does trust her. Trusts her to tell him the truth about his words. He trusts her more than anyone else. Ever. He wants her true opinion- raw, brutal. "I mean, if you want to. I won't force you -"

The hot press of her lips cuts him off. She's gone as quickly as came, her focus back on the pile of stories in the box. One by one, Kate pulls them out, fingers running over the title before placing it on the coffee table and diving in for the next manuscript.

"The ones at the bottom are the oldest," he rambles over the twisting gurgle of his gut. "Probably about five years. There's another box under my bed with even older ones but you really don't want to read those."

Kate cuts her eyes at him, hands clutched firmly around one of the manuscripts. The bound stack of paper thumps against her thighs when she drops it into her lap. She reaches up to cup his cheek, her thumb stroking over his chin. His eyelids flutter and she goes out of focus, a halo of artificial light radiating out from behind her head.

"You're a good writer, Rick," she tells him and he swallows back the instinctive rebuttal. "Maybe even a great one. I want to read your words. All of them. Okay?"

He nods, tongue glued to the roof of his dry mouth.

Hand falling away from his face, she bobs her own head in a decisive little nod before picking up the pages in her lap and flipping open the cover. Pressure builds up in his chest as her eyes travel over the words, a wave of nervous energy threatening to burst open the dam of his ribs.

"Okay," he says, the cresting wave carrying the words up and out of his mouth. "That one is a little rough. The main character is a CIA agent in exile but my research was a little lacking - for obvious reasons; there are some things you just don't Google unless you want to end up on a government watch list. - so the realism took a major hit."

"Rick?"

"Yeah?"

Kate smiles and flips the page, never looking up. "Will you be quiet? I'm trying to read."

Quiet. He can do that.

His eyes scan the room as she flips another page, her nails scraping against the paper. His cheeks burn at the sight of the basket of laundry perched on the kitchen counter, a loan sock dangling over the edge, and the dirty dishes stacked in the sink. He takes a deep breath and the staleness in the air has his nose crinkling. Kate's first time in his apartment and he didn't even have the wherewithal to spritz some air freshener or open a window, much less clean up a little. Something to show her he's not a complete middle aged bachelor cliché.

Kate shifts in her spot, a finger falling to a line in the middle of the page. Her brow crinkles as she retraces the words before moving on, and his teeth sink into his tongue. He can do quiet. He can. He c-

He can't.

"I know the main female character is pretty two-dimensional and sort of a 'dumb blonde' type but I promise I've gotten better since then." He hooks a thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the dark doorway to his bedroom. "The most recent one I'm working on has a female protagonist. A cop. Homicide detective, actually. She's smart and amazing at her job and there's so much about her that I want to explore that I'm thinking I might want to start a series -"

The manuscript hits the coffee table with a smack and Rick jumps, his heart leaping up next to his adam's apple. A whirl of lilac fills his vision and suddenly his arms are full of Kate, her body warm and soft as she presses up against his chest, her knees nestled on either side of his hips. Teeth scrape over his bottom lip and he grunts, neck arching back to seek more of the delicious pain.

"I guess," she husks, one hand slipping into his hair as the other slides down his chest; her fingers hook into his waistband and his hips jerk, entire body surging up into hers, "if you won't let me read in peace, I'm just going to have to find a way to shut you up."

She thumbs open the button on his shorts, nimble fingers working their way inside, and Rick groans, his own hands reaching up to run over her back, searching for the tab of her zipper. The metal teeth release and the bodice of her dress falls, revealing the smooth skin of her chest. It calls out to him and he willingly answers, leaning forward to skim damp lips over the smattering of freckles across her sternum.

"Do your worst," he breathes, watching the goosebumps rise up out of her skin.

Kate laughs, low and sexy, and his hands fist in the loose material at her waist.

"I think," she whispers, pressing her mouth next to his ear, her hips rolling like a wave in the cradle of his palms, "you'd prefer my best."

Sharp pain low in his abdomen pulls him up from a dreamless sleep. Rolling out of bed, Rick pads into the bathroom. He relieves himself and runs his hands under the tap in an automatic routine, never bothering to even reach for the light switch before ambling back out into the bedroom.

He's about to tumble back into bed, brain still fuzzy with sleep, when the bare expanse of mattress stops him in his tracks.

He sways on the spot, the cold fingers of dread skittering down his spine jolting him awake. Only the pale purple puddle of her dress, half the skirt splayed out under the bed, restarts his heart. He grabs a fresh pair of boxers out of the dresser and hops into them on his way to the door.

The single syllable of her name stalls halfway up his throat when he sees her there, tucked into the corner of the couch, legs stretched out and a pillow balanced on her thighs, one of his manuscripts spread out across the top. She flips the page, eyes flying over the lines of text as she devours the story.

Standing in the shadows, he watches. The flick of her tongue over the tip of her finger before she turns the page, the mindless way she twirls one lock of hair around and around. His t-shirt hangs off her body, the plain cotton made luxurious simply by virtue of being against her skin. Her bottom lip rolls up over her teeth, incisors sinking in and blanching the pink skin white, and he can't help himself.

Kate jumps when he drags the tip of one finger up along the arch of her left foot. She slams a hand down onto the open pages in her lap, keeping them from sliding to the floor, and looks up at him with glassy eyes.

"Sorry," he gruffs, throat scratchy with sleep. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"Yes, you did," Kate chuckles as he scoops up her ankles.

Dropping down on the couch next to her, he drapes her calves over his lap and shrugs. Her toes curl as he draws random patterns over the tops of her feet, her skin cool against his fingertips.

"How long have you been up?"

She ruffles the ridge of pages she's read, mentally calculating. "Couple of hours, maybe. What time is it?"

"Three-ish."

"Then, yeah," Kate nods, her eyelids drooping, "it's definitely been a couple of hours."

Circling one slender foot with his hands, Rick works his thumbs into the muscles along the arch. She lets out a soft moan and he grins, pressing hard against her heel.

"You couldn't sleep?"

She taps a finger against the pages on her lap. "I told you I wanted to read."

"It'll still be there in the morning."

"It is morning," she rebuts, her lips curling up into a sleepy smile.

Rick pinches her pinky toe. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I - I -I -" One hand lifts to cover her mouth as she yawns, her jaw cracking with the force of it. "I was only going to read a little but -" She shrugs, the neck of his shirt falling off one shoulder. "I got sucked in."

Something that might be pride blooms inside his chest. She crawled out of bed at one in the morning to read his book. Wow.

"Really?"

"Yes, really," Kate confirms with a smile, her sleepy eyes soft and warm. "This is good, Rick. Really good. Has no one else ever told you that?"

"No one else has ever read it," he confesses and her head cocks to one side, eyebrows meeting in an adorable furrow. "Well, other than me."

"No one?"

Rick shakes his head. "I just - I couldn't do it. Not after everything."

Pulling her feet from his lap, Kate puts the open manuscript on the coffee table and leans forward. She brushes her nose along the side of his, her warm breath bathing his chin and the tips of her fingers playing over the jumping muscles of his chest. He wraps an arm around her waist and she shifts onto her knees, body sinking into his.

"Thank you," she whispers, lips feathering over his cheek. "For letting me be the first."

He wants to return the sentiment. To thank her for her passion and her faith and for the way she makes him feel like he can be more than who he is. Wants to thank her for the way his heart skips a beat when she says his name and how her lips fit so perfectly against his and for the strength he gains simply by holding her hand. But the words stay lodged in his throat, stuck behind the boulder of pure emotion he can't seem to swallow.

Kate brushes a kiss to his mouth and a hum vibrates inside his ribcage. The boulder shifts, a corner sliding off, letting the words slip up through the pass and off his tongue.

"Thank you," he murmurs, fingers threading through the curtain of her hair, "for wanting to." He presses his lips to hers, welcoming the comforting weight of her against his chest. Her jaw flexes against his thumb, closed lips straining to contain her yawn. "Come on, let's go back to bed. The story will still be here later."

"Will you actually let me read it uninterrupted later?" Kate huffs even as she slips off of his lap and holds out her hands.

"Depends," he tosses back with a sly grin as he grips her palms and pulls himself up off of the couch. "You have any other tricks to help shut me up?"

She hums an affirmative as he wraps her in a hug from behind, the two of them lumbering toward the bed like an an awkward four-legged bear.

"One or two, but I'm not sure if I should use them just yet. I wouldn't want to make it seem like you're being rewarded for bad behavior."

"Guess you might not get much reading done then," he rumbles in response, nose nuzzling the spot behind her ear that he discovered makes her go weak in knees.

"Oh, I don't know about that. That roll of duct tape I found in your nightstand might come come in handy." Kate spins in his arms, the backs of her thighs hitting the edge of the mattress and a coy smile tilting at her mouth. "In more ways than one."

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts and comments are always appreciated.