A Light in the Dark_Survival of the Fittest Page 7

  The sidewalks were empty, the stone steps vacant, as the museum stood tall against the night sky. Bailey sat down on an iron bench across the street from the entrance and tucked his hands in his jacket pockets. The structure, much like the artifacts inside, was magnificent.

  “Hey,” a female voice said from behind him a few minutes later, “what’re you doing out here?”

  When he half turned to find Brie climbing off a bicycle, a lightness filled his chest.

  “I was out for a walk. What about you? Big night out on the town?”

  “Hardly.” She walked her bike over next to the bench and sat down beside him. “I’ve been grading papers.” She widened her eyes at him and then smiled, the teacher teasing her student.

  Going along with her game, he sucked in a sharp breath and grimaced before returning her smile. They faced forward, each lost in their own thoughts as they stared at a building full of history and stories of those who’d come before.

  “It’s beautiful out here at night.” She let out a soft sigh. “It’s one of my favorite places.”

  Bailey turned his face to study her profile, the soft curve of her lips, the sharp cheekbones. “It’s not the only thing that’s beautiful.”

  His compliment had the desired effect. Her cheeks flooded with color and her mouth twisted as she tried to hide her pleasure. “You are trouble, Bailey Honeycutt.”

  “The worst kind.”

  Chapter 8

  The night air was cool, but as Brie sat beside Bailey on the bench across from the museum, the inkling she’d had for some wine after a long day vanished. Being near him set off a live wire of energy, like she’d downed a shot of expresso. Though passing cars sounded in the distance, they were alone on the street enveloped in a quiet she found both welcoming and, if she were being honest, thrilling. Staying away from Bailey was best, her head knew it to be true, but she couldn’t deny the pull she felt when he was near.

  She tucked a few unruly strands of hair behind her ears as a breeze moved around them. Bailey’s scent, a mix of sandalwood and soap, floated along with it and filled her with a desire to scoot closer to him. Instead, she dug her toes into the dirt and kept a respectful distance.

  “It’s nice out here at night when the world is quiet.”

  “Is that what you were looking for? Quiet?” She slid her gaze from the vastness of the museum and studied the man beside her. His face was thoughtful and his eyes a little sad as he considered the roof lines of the building.

  “I’m not sure exactly, but this is where I ended up.”

  Her breath caught in her throat as it occurred to her it was a sign. There he was, the man she’d been thinking about on a loop for most of the week, sitting outside one of her favorite places.

  He grinned at her, almost playful, “You want to know the truth?”

  “Always.”

  “It’s kind of a big day for me.”

  “Oh?”

  He nodded and swallowed. “It’s the third anniversary of my cancer being in remission and I guess I was just missing home. I’m sure that sounds ridiculous, but—”

  She shook her head and touched his hand with hers. “No, not at all.” Her heart twisted, as though unsure rather to beat wildly in triumph at the feeling of their touching hands or sink with sadness. He was so young and though she’d read about his past struggle online, seeing the man in front of her dealing with the aftermath of something that had forever changed him, weighed on her soul.

  His eyes met hers. “I’m glad you found me out here.”

  “Me, too,” her words were no more than a whisper. In that moment something between them changed, or at least something for her. The resolve she’d clung to, the assurances of doing the right thing, the scars she continued to carry from her past relationship, none of it stopped the flood of longing filling every corner of being as she sat beside Bailey.

  She yanked her hand back and mentally berated herself again for stopping. She should’ve kept riding and gone home the way she’d planned because sitting beside him in the seductive night air when he looked as he did now, all she wanted to do was lean over and kiss him.

  “What are some of your favorite pieces?” When he nodded toward the museum entrance and offered her an easy smile, she wondered if he’d sensed her unease and asked to provide a distraction, or maybe he was naturally curious.

  Either way, she was thankful for the change in subject. She relaxed against the bench and settled into one of her favorite topics. “It’s hard to choose.”

  “Try.”

  “Okay, okay. Let’s see, there are the paintings by Cezanne, Picasso, Rubens, and Uccello.” She tilted her head to the side and held up her hand to count off on her fingers. “There’s also the Alfred Jewel, if you haven’t seen it, you should make it a point to check it out. Oh, and the Messiah Stradivarius. It’s a violin and it is beautiful. I’d imagine a musician such as yourself would like to see that one in person.”

  “I’ll have to do that.”

  She saw him grinning out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t care, she was too caught up in her own enthusiasm. “Another one of my favorites and it’s one collection that might surprise you, are the Posie rings.”

  A crease formed between his eyes and he gave a slight shake of the head.

  “They are, as one would assume rings, but these rings date as early as the fifteenth century. They contain short inscriptions on their surface and while once done mostly in Latin, during the sixteenth century they were more commonly done in French.”

  “What do these rings you love so much say? And, let’s hope it isn’t along the lines of one ring to rule them all.”

  She laughed. “No, nothing quite so foreboding.” One of her shoulders rose and fell. “Usually, some sort of sentiment of love. They were common gifts amongst lovers.” Catching herself too late, her face flamed at the term.

  Bailey reached for her hand and traced a line down her finger with the tip of his own. “It sounds like a nice tradition.”

  She let out a nervous giggle. “It’s still done today on wedding rings, but we definitely weren’t the first to think of it.”

  “Who knew you were such a romantic, Miss Freeman.” He turned his hand over and gripped her fingers between his, light pressure and comfort in the gesture. She couldn’t stop herself from looking down at their joined hands and though all her alarm bells were sounding in her head, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away.

  “Can I tell you something, Miss Freeman?”

  She eyed him, suddenly nervous. “I guess so.”

  “I find myself struggling to think about anything other than kissing you, but since I’ve promised to behave until our date at the end of the semester—”

  “Now, wait just one minute—”

  “Please, Miss Freeman,” he grinned, “don’t interrupt. Since I’ve agreed to wait to, let’s say, make a move, I’m going to have to insist that you allow me to walk you home. Now, before I go against my better judgement and kiss you right now on this bench in front of God and anyone else who happens to walk by.”

  Too stunned to do anything else, Brie’s mouth opened and closed and opened again and then she burst into laughter. “You were right the first time. You are ridiculous. Who says in front of God and anyone else?”

  “Don’t all of you British women love your striking gentlemen of the Austen era?”

  She laughed again. “You’re mental.”

  “Maybe, but that doesn’t change the fact that I want to kiss you.” Bailey stood and pulled her to her feet. They stood facing each other, their clothes touching as they held gazes for one heartbeat, two. “We’d better go.”

  Her breath exhaled in a rush as disappointment reverberated inside her. There was no denying she’d wanted him to kiss her, and lu
ckily for them both he had stronger willpower than she did. One more breath and her mouth would’ve been on his and to hell with the consequences.

  As they headed in the direction of her flat, Bailey steered her bike along the bumpy streets. The sounds of car horns, laughter, and noise from surrounding rooms sharpened as they got closer to her street, but it was lost on Brie. She was caught up in the sounds of Bailey, his laugh, his voice. And, what surprised her more than anything was how comfortable she was with him. It was as though they met this way every night.

  They stopped outside her place and as Bailey released her bike back to her, her fingers lingered on his a second longer than was necessary. “You aren’t what I expected, Bailey Honeycutt.”

  “Right back at ya, Miss Freeman.”

  ~ ~ ~

  A bell chimed overhead as Bailey opened the coffee shop door. The place wasn’t big, but with the temperatures hovering a little over freezing, there were plenty of people inside in search of warmth. He waved when he spotted Simone sitting at a table for two near the street facing a window.

  “Hi,” she stood and kissed his cheek, “it’s been forever.”

  “Hey, Simone.” He shrugged out of his jacket and slung it over the back of his chair. “How’s everything?”

  “Absolutely crazy.” She slumped in her seat. “I mean, don’t get me wrong I’m pumped for this show and the opportunity, but time is short, the budget is nonexistent, and one of the lead actors is a complete idiot.”

  “Forget I asked.”

  She laughed, and the sound reminded him of home. Since Lexie had married his brother, Simone had become a fixture around their house. The entire group, Simone included, had also spent almost every night at the beach the summer after his ordeal. Seeing her was like getting a little piece of home away from home.

  “You look great by the way. Does that mean Oxford’s agreeing with you?”

  He grinned and settled in while the patrons around them drank their coffee and worked on their laptops. “I’d like to think so.” He glanced around at the students and then through the window at the street outside. There weren’t any paparazzi waiting around the side of the building, or appointments he had to keep. “It’s easier here in a lot of ways.”

  A barista appeared at the counter and called Simone’s name. “One sec.” She jumped up and then returned a minute later with two cups. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.” Bailey sipped at the bitter coffee and let the heat from it warm him. “So, tell me about this new show you’re working on.”

  Simone blew out an exaggerated breath. “This is my first day off since I got here a month ago, if that gives you some idea.”

  “That’s tough. I almost feel bad I made you drive down. Maybe you should be sleeping or something.”

  “God, no. I needed to get out of there and I was in desperate need of a friendly face.” She smiled at him revealing the dimple in her cheek. “Now, if we could find a way to trade in this wind and rain for a day at the beach, life would be perfect.”

  Bailey turned his mug in circles on the table. A day at the beach did sound appealing, possibly with Brie alongside him. His mind wandered until he drummed up an image of what she might look like sprawled out beside him in the sand. Her eyes hidden by large sunglasses and her white skin glowing, curves visible in a form fitting swimsuit.

  “Hello, Bailey, are you there?”

  He stopped spinning his cup and cut his gaze up to find Simone with her head ducked toward him. “I’m sorry. You mentioned the beach and I got caught up in the idea.”

  She smirked. “Is that all it was?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Your face indicated it might be more than that . . .” she drummed her nails on the sides of her cup, “like maybe you had someone in particular on your mind.”

  When she continued to gaze at him with a slight grin tugging at the corner of her mouth he raised his hands in front of him. “Okay, guilty. There is someone—”

  “I knew it,” at her outburst several people at nearby tables turned in their direction. “Sorry,” Simone lowered her voice. “Tell me everything. I bet she’s gorgeous. Lexie is going to freak.”

  Laughing, he sat up straighter in his chair. “Sometimes I forget that you and Lexie are basically the same person.”

  Simone shrugged. “So, are you going to fill me in here?”

  He sighed, but couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Look, it isn’t anything yet. I just enjoy her company.”

  Simone tapped her mug on the table. “That I understand all too well. There’s an actor onset and you know . . . he’s been keeping my company some.”

  “Really?” Bailey arched an eyebrow at her. “You have been busy.”

  “Oh, shut up. It’s not serious. He’s an actor for Christ’s sake.”

  “I thought you didn’t do actors?”

  She whimpered. “I know. I’m breaking my own rule, but being over here and not knowing anyone. I guess I was lonely and he isn’t so bad, if you don’t mind that whole needy, narcissistic thing.”

  “He sounds great,” Bailey shook his head, “really.”

  “I know I’m pathetic.” Simone buried her face in her hands.

  “No, you’re not. You just need to find someone who you actually want to be with.”

  “Don’t we all.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and gripped her mug. “Well, that’s enough about me. What about you? You clearly like this girl. What’s the holdup?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Please, spare me. Is it the whole celebrity thing? Does she not know who you are?”

  “No, she knows who I am.” He took a deep breath and answered in a rush, “She’s my teacher this semester.”

  “Whoa, Bailey’s hot for teacher.” Simone hit the table and sent their cups tittering. “Don’t you have to be like a hundred years old to be a professor? Wait, is that your thing?”

  “She’s a grad student.” He narrowed his eyes at Simone. “Have a little faith in my taste, would you?”

  “Oh, I have faith, but you can’t blame me for wondering. I mean, when’s the last time you dated anyone?” There was an awkward pause while she waited for the answer he didn’t need to give. She knew he hadn’t gone on more than a first date here or there in the last few years. Everyone in their inner circle did.

  “Listen,” she covered his hand where it was resting on the table with her own, “I’m not going to pretend that I understand what you went through and how it made you feel because I don’t. What I do know is that you deserve to be happy. If this girl can do that for you, go after her.”

  “Listen to you Dr. Phil.”

  Eyes wide she nodded. “Oh, I can give some good advice. I just can’t seem to take it.”

  When they finished catching up an hour or so later, Bailey walked Simone to her car where it was parked against the curb in front of a bookstore.

  “Thanks again for driving down.” He leaned in and hugged her. “It was great seeing you.”

  “You, too, Bailey.” She kissed his cheek and he felt the tip of her cold nose brush his skin. “Take care of yourself.”

  “Will do.” He stepped back while she folded into her small European rental car and rolled down the window. “I may need you to drive back down here one day and help me go Christmas shopping.”

  “I might be able to do that.” She cranked the engine and blew on her hands. “Don’t forget to ask the cute teacher out.”

  “Maybe when you dump the actor.”

  “Touché, Honeycutt. See you soon.” She offered him a wave and then she was off.

  As Bailey walked toward campus, he paused in front of a display window for one of the many shops lining the street and watched while a woman balanced on top of a step ladd
er. Using one hand for balance, the lady in the red sweater tacked up a long piece of garland in one corner of the window. When she stepped down and turned, she offered him a warm smile and then she moved the ladder and repeated the same process. It wouldn’t be long now, not until Christmas and not until the end of the term.

  Grinning at the idea, Bailey tucked his hands into his coat pockets and started down the street. As a cold wind whipped between the buildings and cut through his clothes, he wondered if for the first time in his adult life if he would be getting a white Christmas. He moved along the sidewalk, but stopped when he spotted an art studio sporting the name Splash Pad across the street.

  Gesturing a thanks to a cabbie for allowing him to cross, Bailey jogged over to the building and let himself in. There were bound to be several studios in the area, but he had to check.

  “Hello, can I help you with something?” A girl with brown hair and large rimmed glasses said from her place behind the counter.

  “I was wondering about a class you may offer here. I believe the instructor’s name is Brie Freeman.”

  “Oh sure, Brie.” The girl smiled and pulled out a sheet of paper with a list of available classes and their schedule. “Brie oversees our sessions on the human form.” She slid her finger midway down the page. “It’s on Wednesday nights at seven. Would you be interested in signing up?”

  He debated for a half second and then handed her his credit card. He wasn’t sure he possessed the talent to attend, but any excuse to see Brie would be worth the potential embarrassment.

  Chapter 9

  Chilled to the bone, Brie let the door swing closed behind her as she blew out a breath. She unwound her scarf and hung it on the coatrack, which, like most things in Splash Pad, was splattered with an array of paints and scarred with use.