The Escape

by Alice Ward

  I didn’t like him much at first. Too quiet in the beginning. Too serious.

  After a while, I got him to lighten up. A little. And if it wasn’t for him, I’d have flunked out my first semester, or might even possibly have gone to jail.

  Nah. I wasn’t that bad. But I hadn’t been that good either.

  “Honey, why don’tcha come down to Nashville on Sunday? You can talk to your daddy in person and work everything out. Besides, I’ve got a concert invitation I want ya to look at. It might end up being a tour, so ya might want to stay the week, or most of it anyways.”

  I scanned my mental calendar. Nothing. Nothing. And Nothing.

  “Sure. I’ll be there. Face to face with Dad is better anyway.”

  “Crud.”

  “What?”

  “Your daddy’s discovered I’m missin’. Better cut this short and hide the phone.”

  I laughed. “Stay away from the lions. Be safe and see you soon.”

  “All right, baby boy. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  As the line disconnected, I nearly laid my phone down, but stared at it instead. Scrolling through my contacts, I came to her name. Journey.

  It was barely seven-thirty in the morning and she was most likely still asleep. Or she might teach morning classes too and could be in the middle of a downward dog. Actually, I had no idea how she spent her days or even what she did outside of yoga.

  But I wanted to know. I wanted to know everything.

  That ass flashed in my mind again. Those eyes. That smile. Her lean strength and quick feet. She obviously ran in addition to teaching yoga because she’d hauled ass after the purse snatcher. In a race, she’d give me hard competition.

  It had taken courage to go after him, and I liked that. Liked that she’d smiled instead of gotten pissed off like some women would that I’d helped. Liked that she seemed to like me even though it appeared she had no idea who I was. Liked her sense of humor, her openness, the thoughts she wasn’t able to hide on her face.

  Yeah… I liked her.

  And I was looking forward to tomorrow night. To seeing her again.

  Unless she had changed her mind.

  Staring at her name on my phone, I typed out a quick message. Still plan on being Wicked? Where do I pick you up tomorrow night?

  I found myself holding my breath as I waited for a reply. Feeling stupid, I tossed the phone onto the table beside me, then snatched it up when it vibrated against the wood.

  I’m looking forward to it.

  I had her address now. A quick Google showed me she lived in Murray Hill, not too far from here. I was tempted to text her back but didn’t want to appear over eager. Opening another tab, I searched for restaurants with private rooms. Not the fancy places. I knew all of those already. That was where I would normally take a date. But Journey wasn’t like the women I normally went out with.

  My phone buzzed in my hands. It was a text from Mom. Take her to Philip Marie. She’ll love it. xoxo

  I grinned and texted back. I’m on it.

  A quick search had me calling up their number, although the restaurant wasn’t open so early. From their website, I could see that their last reservation for a regular table was eleven-thirty. Perfect. Instructing Siri to remind me to make the reservation later, I tucked my phone in my pocket and headed downstairs, hoping for breakfast.

  And I found it. Actually, I found Anne and Ray, Grant’s housekeeper and chef, puttering around in the kitchen. Married for over twenty years, the couple had lived in the downstairs quarters since Grant moved into the penthouse nearly four years ago.

  Grant Sommerfield came across as a class A son of a bitch to most people. His demeanor was so closed off, his emotions so carefully hidden behind a blank face that it was difficult for people to know him well.

  But he was also a damn softy. Anne and Ray Murphy were prime examples. When Grant started buying up New York real estate, he’d learned of the Irish couple who’d just been evicted because they were short one dollar on their rent. He’d been pissed and tracked the couple down, who had been forced to spend a few nights in a shelter. When he’d learned that Ray was a cook and Anne a maid for a hotel, he’d hired them on the spot, offering them room and board in addition to a fair wage.

  Ray was doing something amazing looking to a roast that appeared to be close to going into the oven for dinner tonight while Anne was polishing silver that didn’t appear to need polished. They were talking softly, smiling and laughing as they seemed to enjoy each other’s company.

  They both looked up as I walked in. “Good morning, Mr. Levington,” Ray said, giving me a beaming smile, his Irish brogue making me smile back. It always did. “What would you be likin’ for breakfast this fine morning?”

  Anne was already pouring a cup of coffee for me, leaving it black as I preferred. “Here you go, sir.” Her brogue was even thicker. “Anything else ya be wantin’?”

  I smiled at the older woman and ordered an omelet with everything but the kitchen sink from Ray.

  Later that morning, I made the reservation and lucked out and got the cellar room when another couple had to cancel last minute.

  I took that as a sign that my little, seriously hot and sweet yoga instructor, might just be someone I’d need to hold on to.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Journey

  “He’s here!”

  Jasmine jumped up from her place on the lobby sofa and headed toward the front door, her short legs nearly a blur as she raced toward the man in the silver suit.

  My breath released as I took him in.

  The way he smiled and opened his arms to Jasmine. The first time Jaz hugged him after her burger Tuesday night with such enthusiasm, he’d looked stiff and ensure of what to do. In only three days, he was hugging her back, and I could hear his rumble of deep laughter from where I sat, and the sound vibrated low in my belly.

  It made me smile.

  He looked like a man who needed more laughter in his life.

  Of course, what did I know. I’d officially spent less than two hours total in his company, and although his Wiki page claimed that he was single, surely a man like him had a woman in his bed every night.

  I wanted to be one of them.

  Although I should have been startled at the thought, I was growing used to the dirty thoughts revolving around in my brain over the past week. Dirty thoughts that included both Grant and Nash. They revolved in my dreams, both visiting me at night and during the day when my thoughts wandered from a task.

  “We’re going to move that bus, Journey,” Jazzy yelled. “Hurry. Hurry.”

  I laughed at my sister’s enthusiasm and stood up, pulling my bag up over my shoulder. The movement was as natural as breathing. I couldn’t even remember the last time I carried a purse. I had a nice leather hobo bag Mee-maw gave me several years ago, but I rarely used it, preferring a backpack or messenger bag to hold all my stuff.

  Now, I wished I had something a little classier. Because even with all my fantasies, I knew Grant Sommerfield was out of my league. I looked more like the courier who carried his mail than anyone he would take to dinner at one of the luxurious restaurants he probably frequented.

  Yet… when his eyes turned to me, the dark depths of them seemed to grow even darker.

  “Good evening, Journey.”

  So formal. So polite. Maybe I misread him after all.

  But when I placed my hand in his, goose bumps raised on my skin. My favorite peasant blouse, the one of a million colors, fell off my shoulder as he clamped my hand between his heavy ones. His eyes fell to the bare expanse of flesh, and I could almost feel the heat of his gaze licking at my skin.

  “Good evening, Grant.”

  Jasmine came up beside us. “Grant said that we’re going to ride in his car. Isn’t that cool?”

  My eyes shot up to his. “But our bikes…?”

  “I’ll have them delivered.” He glanced over at his driver. “Wayne will help load your
things.”

  With great reluctance, I pulled my hand away and began to pick up a bag. The driver rushed forward. “Allow me, miss.” He gave me a broad smile and a wink. I couldn’t help but smile back.

  “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure, miss.”

  Jasmine picked up her special bag, the one with all of her treasures — including her makeup. “I’ll carry this one because it’s very precious.”

  The driver’s smile grew broader. “Well then, it’s very smart of you to hold on to it yourself.”

  Jaz shot me a look, her eyes wide. “He said I’m smart.”

  I reached out to smooth a hand over her hair. “You are smart.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t Star Spangled Banner me.”

  Both Grant and the driver looked exceedingly confused. “She means, don’t patronize me,” I explained. “Several years ago, Jazzy got patronize and patriotic mixed up, and it’s been a joke between us ever since.”

  Jazzy beamed. “Knock. Knock.”

  “Oh no… we’ve started something.”

  Grant took the bait. “Who’s there?”

  I bit my lip. Please be a clean joke. Please be a clean joke.

  “Europe.”

  I groaned and lifted a hand. “Jaz—”

  Grant bulldozed over me. “Europe who?”

  “Jaz!”

  But Jazzy ignored me. “No. You’re a poo.”

  Both men laughed, and after a second, I joined in. Jazzy slapped her thigh. “I’ve got a million of them. Knock—”

  Divert. Divert.

  “Aren’t you ready to move that bus?”

  She whirled toward me. “Yes. Let’s move that bus.”

  Hitching her special bag farther up on her shoulder, she marched toward the door, the driver right behind her. There was only one bag left, and I grabbed it, but Grant covered my hand.

  “Allow me.”

  Could he feel that?

  The heat and electricity that flowed off of him and into me?

  As if he was reading my mind, he said. “I feel it too.”

  It must have been the bemused expression on my face because, surely, he wasn’t able to tap into my brain. My churning gut. Lower.

  Pulling my hand away, I took a step back.

  “Hurry!” Jasmine shouted from the door. “You’ve got to see this car!”

  Jazzy to the rescue.

  Turning to follow, I felt Grant behind me. From the corner of my eye, I saw him hand over the bag to his driver. Saw them speak in low voices, but my main attention was on Jasmine and the car in front of me.

  “It’s a Mercedes Maybach, Wayne told me,” she said.

  “Wayne?”

  She rolled her eyes. “The driver. He gets to drive this car all day long. Look… there are seats that ride backwards. Have you ever seen seats that ride backwards? Isn’t that weird?”

  Sure enough, there were two seats facing the back, and as I sank into the butter soft leather of the one facing forward, there were many inches between my knees and Jaz’s. The door on the opposite side opened, and Grant slid in, smiling at us both.

  “I love your car. It’s so soft and pretty.”

  Grant’s eyes flashed to me then to Jaz. “Thank you. When you get back from camp, we’ll get together and take a long ride in it, if you want.”

  I blinked. The future. I might get to see him in the future.

  “That would be great,” Jazzy said.

  The discussion that followed was one that I barely paid attention to. Jasmine was curious about all the buttons and what they did.

  The reclining seats. The blinds that moved across the windows. Grant pushed some button and the empty seat in front of him lifted up, revealing a small television screen underneath.

  “Wow. This is so cool. I saw a movie with a jet plane on it. This is even better than the plane.”

  “Have you ever flown?” Grant asked her.

  With wide eyes, she shook her head. “Is it fun?”

  Grant nodded. “Maybe I can take you for a ride on my plane one day too.”

  As they spoke, I sank farther back into my seat. I’d known Grant was rich. That much was obvious. But he was rich-rich. No, rich-rich-rich. What would he want with a little nobody like me?

  A warm hand covered my arm, and I looked down. Grant’s hand was so big, it covered my forearm from wrist to elbow.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, and I realized I’d allowed myself to sink down into a depressing rabbit hole.

  I shot him a bright smile. “I’m terrific. Sorry, just got lost in thought for a moment.”

  He frowned. “Something bad?”

  I strained for some excuse, anything but admit how I’d been feeling just a moment before. Miss Johnson came immediately to mind, and I used her poor living conditions to divert his attention. “I’m just worried about one of my elderly patients. She has trouble leaving her building because the stairs are so heavily damaged outside. She has to call emergency services if she even needs to do something so simple as go to her doctor appointments. And her landlord is terrible. Her air conditioning unit went out earlier this week and he wouldn’t replace it. I was able to get one donated, but now I’m worried about mold and—”

  His frown deepened. “Where does she live?”

  A HIPPA alert tripped through my mind. “I can’t say because of patient confidentiality.”

  “Can you say if it’s a private home or an apartment building?”

  That would be okay. “A building.”

  “Can you give the building address without breaking confidentiality laws?”

  I considered the question, but… “Why?”

  He met my gaze full on. “One of my personal hobbies is to find homes and buildings that need… help. I enjoy giving them some attention and bringing them back to their former glory.”

  Did he do that with people too?

  “It’s like flipping?” Both our gazes shifted to Jasmine, who was kicked back in her reclining seat. “I like watching those shows.”

  “Exactly.”

  I turned back to him. “Have you always enjoyed restoration?”

  A dark cloud settled over his features. “My parents did.”

  Did?

  “And you helped them out?”

  The cloud darkened further, and I felt the sadness and other emotions coming off him in waves. He lifted a hand and touched the scar on the side of his mouth. “Yes.”

  I wanted to know more. I wanted to ask additional questions, but the car was pulling to a halt. “We’re here!” Jasmine cried, fumbling with her seatbelt.

  Placing a hand on Grant’s, I waited until his full attention was on me, which only took a millisecond. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For stirring whatever memories I stirred with my question.”

  I expected him to deny it, but he didn’t. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

  My fingers itched to reach up and touch his scar too. The sadness was connected to it, I felt certain.

  But the door opened behind me, and Jasmine leaped out. “Come on. It’s time.”

  “Yes. It is time,” Grant repeated.

  I let go of his hand and reached for the button for my seatbelt. “Yes. Time.”

  The outside of the building was exactly the same. I didn’t know what I was expecting… maybe the bus Jasmine had wanted.

  Grant lifted a phone to his ear. “We’re here.” He paused a moment, then added, “Good.”

  He pocketed the phone and we all walked up the front steps, Jasmine taking the lead. The Mercedes’s engine roared to life, and I looked back as it pulled away from the curb.

  Grant smiled. “Wayne is running an errand for me.”

  I nodded. “He seems very nice.”

  “He is. He’s been a loyal friend for a number of years.”

  There was more to that story, but I didn’t ask because we were inside the building and moving past Charlie and Charles Sr.’s apar
tment. As if he had been watching for us, the door opened and Charlie appeared, his eyes looking dead as he watched me pass.

  As if sensing my discomfort, Grant’s hand went immediately to my back, steering me toward the inside stairwell. Once we were on the steps, he moved behind me, as if creating a human shield between me and the other man. Even though I could protect myself, I appreciated the gesture. Appreciated how nice it was to not have to always fend for myself.

  “The elevator should be fixed by the middle of the week,” he said as we reached the third floor. “We’re waiting on parts.”

  I looked back at him. “Really? That elevator hasn’t worked in forever.”

  “Well, it’s going to work now.”

  “A bus!”

  Rounding the corner, I laughed when I could see what Jasmine was seeing. It wasn’t a real bus, of course, but a large cardboard cutout of one completely covering the door.

  Tears immediately hit the backs of my eyes at Grant’s thoughtfulness, the desire to please my sister. “Thank you for doing that,” I told him, swiping at the outer corner of my left eye. “She’ll be talking about this moment forever.”

  “I’m glad it’s made her happy.” His hand came to my lower back again. “Glad it’s made you happy.”

  I smiled and turned to face him, regretting the move when it forced his hand to fall away. “I don’t know what’s on the other side of that door, but I love it. No matter what it is, I love it. And I appreciate it. I know you’ve gone way outside of what your responsibilities are for Jaz and me. I’m grateful.”

  His eyes softened even more. “I know. And I’m glad to do it. More than you can know.”

  “Move that bus.”

  The spell between us was broken by my excited sister. Grant stepped away and moved to the tail end of the “bus.”

  “Ready?”

  He was looking at me even as Jasmine jumped and clapped, her pure happiness ringing out in her laughter.

  I exhaled. “Ready.”

  Jaz “vroomed, vroomed” as he pushed the bus to the side and revealed the door. It shone with a fresh coat of paint, making me even more curious as to what was behind it. With a flourish that would rival Vanna White any day, he pushed it open.

  Jasmine was the first inside, and she squealed in delight. Rushing in behind her, I gasped.