LUCKY:
A Love Lane Romantic Short
By Olivia L. Thomas
Copyright © 2015 by Olivia L. Thomas
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Editing by: C&D Editing
Cover Design by: Natalie Catalano
Dedication
To my husband and children. I couldn’t have done this without your support.
Kate Winters is down on her luck. Dumped by her boyfriend and alone, she is faced with the daunting task of moving into a new apartment. With no money to hire a moving company, Kate turns to the one man she knows will never turn her away.
Hiding behind black glasses and a computer, Henry has spent each day at Klein Associates silently pining over his very beautiful co-worker. Now that Kate is available, Henry is ready to shed his quiet persona and go after what he wants.
What starts off as a hard day of moving furniture turns into a night full of surprises and passion when Kate and Henry get Lucky.
Lucky is book one in the Love Lane romantic short story series.
Each book can be read as a standalone but are best enjoyed in order.
Prologue
Standing on the sidewalk in front of 534 Love Lane, I have an overwhelming sense that everything is as it should be. With my eyes closed, I tilt my head back and face the bright, early morning sunshine. Rays of pink and yellow dance behind my eyes as the cool summer air bathes my face.
Dropping my head back down, I open my eyes and look straight ahead at the three-story, brick, 20th Century Colonial Revival apartment building with its large, columned entry and bright green door welcoming me to my new life.
I can’t help thinking back over the past few stressful months as I take a deep breath and let out all of the pent up tension in one long exhale. This building and my new apartment on the second floor are where my life starts anew. No more loveless relationships, no more putting my job ahead of my happiness. No, this place is my new beginning. This beautiful building on this pristinely quiet street in Brooklyn Heights is where I am going to find my happiness.
Chapter One
“Son of a bitch,” I yell while banging my fists on the vending machine window. It is taking all of my strength not to burst into tears or, better yet, kick the fucking shit out of the damn machine.
“For the love of God, all I want is some chocolate. Give up the goods,” I wail again in frustration.
Just when I thought my life couldn’t possibly get any worse, here I am, hands gripping the sides of a vending machine and fighting for a piece of candy that I know will only lead me down a path of caloric destruction. Chocolate today, my good friends Ben and Jerry tomorrow and so on until I find myself in a corner surrounded by empty bags of Skittles rocking back and forth and mumbling about chasing rainbows.
God, I’m such a mess.
“Hey, Kate, honey, how about you take a step back. I think the poor vending machine has taken enough abuse for one morning and I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole office heard you yelling.”
I turn at the voice and realize in my embarrassment that Mindy, my co-worker and best friend, has been at the coffee counter this entire time, watching me make a complete ass of myself. I can’t believe I just attacked the vending machine. I am so mortified that if I could magically make myself disappear right now I would. I have officially become one of those people who bring their personal problems to work. What the hell is wrong with me? I briefly consider blaming it on my period. That seems like a reasonable excuse for losing ones shit right?
“Sorry, Mindy, the last few days have been shit.”
“I noticed. Here, take this.” Mindy hands me half of her chocolate chip muffin then walks over to the communal table where she pulls out a chair for me with a slight nod, indicating that I should take a seat. I follow and slowly lower myself down into the chair.
“So, what’s up?”
Hesitant to show my failings yet desperate to talk to someone, I can tell just by the look of acceptance on Mindy’s face that she won’t judge or criticize. She is here to listen to me vent and nothing more, which is just what I need.
“Braydon and I broke up,” I tell her with a mix of anger and sadness.
Mindy places her head on my shoulder and snuggles in showing giving me the support I am desperate for. “I never liked that asshole.”
“You did too, stop trying to make me feel better by lying.”
“Girl code dictates that as your best friend I am allowed to change my opinion of Braydon without cause. It further states that it is my job to lie to you if necessary in an effort to make you feel better. If you want I can go get the codebook.” Mindy makes a move as if she is going to get up from the table when I grab her arm and let out a strangled noise that could only be considered a cross between a chuckle and sob.
“No need for the book. I believe you. Thank you for trying to make me feel better.”
“Good, because the codebook also says that I get to now make unending emasculating jokes about the size of Braydon’s dick. What do you call a guy with a one-inch dick? ”
“What?”
“Braydon!”
“Really Mindy? That’s the best that you got?
“Well what do you expect? You just dropped the breakup bomb and I haven’t had time to prepare. I promise that tomorrow I will be on my game and full of cock jokes. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“All joking aside how are you really doing?” Mindy asks in a more somber tone.
“Honestly, not that great. I just keep thinking that I have wasted the last five years of my life. Everything I thought I was building, everything I have been working my ass off for is gone. Poof! I have nothing to show for it: no wedding ring, no babies, no mother-in-law to complain about, no nothing. I busted my ass, working nights and weekends, gave up family functions and date nights, drinks with friends, all for my career. And where did it get me?” I say this with a wave of my arms, indicating the small office kitchen. I end with a defeated groan and drop my head on the table.
While it feels good to get out all my frustrations, loneliness, and self -defeat, I still feel horrible and want that damn chocolate bar. Only after I am done purging do I realize we’re sitting in the small kitchen that is open to all employees. God, I hope no one else witnessed my meltdown. The last thing I need is people in the office talking about me.
“Who’s the whore?” Mindy asks in true friend fashion.
I can’t help it. I begin to laugh. Full belly laughs, complete with tears begin to spill out of me, although the tears could just be left over from my pity party. Still, while I appreciate the sentiment from Mindy, I quickly correct her.
“Braydon swears he didn’t cheat on me, and for the most part, I believe him about the sex part. I’m not stupid, though. I’ve seen what Candy looks like, and I know how Braydon’s mind works, so I am pretty sure the two of them have been physical in other ways.”
“Candy? Are you serious? Is she a stripper?” Mindy asks with an excited wide smile.
“Right! That was my first thought too but she actually works at the bar, fully clothed, with Br
aydon.”
“Whatever, I still don’t like her,” Mindy says putting an end to talk about Candy and turning serious. “You need to listen to me, Kate and listen good. Your life has not been a waste. You have a successful career in advertising, an amazing best friend who loves you, and a supportive family. All of those late nights and extra work have put you on the track to be a superstar in this industry, so don’t ever devalue your hard work. Everyone goes through this at one point or another. As for Braydon, it sucks that he gave up, and yeah, maybe you did, too, but doesn’t that tell you something? Like maybe there is more out there for you than each other?”
I know she is right. I have been having this same conversation in my head for days now, ever since Braydon sat me down and told me it was over. I honestly can’t blame him. We grew apart, and he found someone else. That’s life—it happens—but man, does it suck.
Braydon and I had some great times in the beginning. Meeting just after I graduated from NYU, we fell for each other quickly. He was the sexy bouncer at the local bar with aspirations to one day own his own pub, and I was the naive new graduate, living on my own for the first time and thinking life was going to be one long episode of Sex in the City. I was trying to act out every adult fantasy I’d ever had.
There was no courting or butterflies in your stomach with Braydon and I; it was more of a Mack truck of lust directed right between my legs. We tumbled into bed after only exchanging a few words, and it was months before we came up for air. The sex was amazing; we couldn’t keep our hands and mouths off each other. We fooled around everywhere, without regard to who may walk in on us: in the bathroom of his bar, the elevator in my apartment building, parked in his car on the side of the street. It was a free for all, and we reveled in it. We fucked and fucked and fucked some more until we were sweaty and sticky and completely spent. But after coming down off the high of our combined orgasms we had very little to say to each other. As much as I wanted and as much as we tried, you can’t build a relationship on sex alone.
I knew back then that, once the sex started to taper off, the chances of Braydon and I riding it out for the long haul were slim to none. We had very little in common and were practically strangers outside of the bedroom, but when he asked me to move in, I stupidly said yes, thinking we would grow more alike with time. I wasn’t taking my future into consideration. I simply wanted the freedom to be under Braydon each night. Also, if I am being honest with myself, I may have also said yes out of fear of being alone. I became comfortable and complacent in our pseudo relationship.
Three years later, the extent of our conversations consisted of, “What’s for dinner?” I can’t even say we were ever truly in love. Part of me is glad Braydon finally met someone who can give him everything we couldn’t have together. He is a good guy, just not the guy meant for me.
“Ugh, I know you’re right, Mindy. It just still really hurts and I may be feeling a tiny bit insecure right now.” I say while pinching my thumb and index fingers together.
Raising her eyebrows, Mindy gives me a pointed look. The kind of look that tells me she knows I’m full of it.
“ Ok, maybe a shit-ton insecure. What if no one else wants me? What if I end up alone forever? I can’t even become a crazy cat lady! I’m allergic. What am I going to do?”
“Damn straight I’m right, so suck it up and stop your bitching. And don’t worry about the cats, you can always get a bunch of birds or maybe even a ferret.” Mindy retorts with a wink. With a more serious tone, she continues, “You’re only twenty-four. It’s not like you’re me and have to start over at thirty. Believe me, any guy worth a fuck in my age group is already taken. You’re young and single in New York, with a killer body on top of your stellar personality. You should be able to find someone in no time at all.”
I do need to get over myself and start thinking about everything I have to offer. I am young, have a great job in an amazing city, and I like to think I am interesting enough to hold my own in a conversation. With my long, chestnut hair that falls in waves down my back; my dark brown eyes; and flawless skin—moisturizing is key people—I think I am fairly easy on the eyes. It also doesn’t hurt that I have a decent body. Years of dance and gymnastics as a kid followed by a love of yoga as an adult has helped maintain my slender weight. The fact that I am also a foodie—this is New York, after all—has helped give me curves to my hips and chest that any guy would find enough to grab on to when needed.
Taking a deep breath and pulling myself out of my own self-inflicted pity party, I square my shoulders, and with a determined stance, I muster up enough gusto to even convince myself. “You’re right, Minds. I need to stop bitching and look at this breakup as an opportunity. This is my chance to find that one great love of my life.” A girl can hope, right?
“With that thought in mind, I guess the first step in my newfound singledom is to find a place to live. The apartment I shared with Braydon is in his name, so I have to get out.”
“Oh, honey, are you still in the apartment with him?” Mindy replies with a pitying look.
“Yeah, but it’s okay. Braydon has at least been nice enough to give me the bed while he either crashes on the couch or at Candy’s place. I spent all weekend scouring Craig’s List and making calls, but in order to afford anything larger than a shoebox in Manhattan, I need to find a place with a roommate. Scary isn’t a strong enough word to describe the conversations I’ve had over the last few days. I did, however, find a few decent places in Brooklyn. It isn’t the Manhattan location I have always wanted, but it is a move in the right direction at least.” I give her a wistful smile.
“My only concern is that, after my security deposit, first month’s rent, and things like food and dishes to eat off of, I’ll have nothing left over to hire a mover. Granted, I don’t have much in the way of furniture—Candy will soon be enjoying the comforts of my Temperpedic mattress—I still need to get my stuff moved,” I mutter as Mindy glances over my shoulder at what must be one of our co-workers walking past.
“Oh, oh!” Mindy begins practically jumping up and down still looking out the door of the small kitchen. “I know someone who would be more than willing to help you move.” Mindy says looking back to me with a devilish grin.
What the fuck was she looking at? I turn toward the door but don’t see anything.
“Seriously, not this again, Mindy. You know Henry isn’t my type. He’s way too shy, and those glasses do nothing for me.”
“Geeze, I’m not telling you to sleep with him, although you never know. He may be packing some serious heat. I’ve checked out the Chucks that he wears on more then one occasion. You know what they say about guys with big feet. Besides, how do you know he isn’t your type? Maybe he is exactly what you need.” Mindy lifts her shoulders with a questioning glare. “Just bat your eyelashes, show a little cleavage, and I’m positive he’d offer to move the earth for you if you asked.”
Henry started working at Klein Associates about six months ago. He is a sweet guy, but not someone I would ever consider my type. For starters, he is really quiet. He’s not necessarily one of those awkward, stumbling over his words quiet types, just politely quiet and reserved. In no way can I picture Henry “packing heat,” as Mindy so eloquently put it and I’ve never looked at his feet. Who does that? Taking me against a wall in some seedy bar bathroom or ravaging me in a stairwell is probably so far out of his comfort zone he wouldn’t even know what to do. Then again, as much fun as those experiences were, do I really want a repeat of my relationship with Braydon?
“Maybe,” I reply, “but I’m not really into using men, regardless of how desperate I may be. I’m sure I can figure something out. Maybe, if I beg my parents, they’ll take pity on me and help.”
“Well, if you change your mind, you know where his office is.” Mindy gives me a wink, and proceeds to get up from the table and saunter out of the kitchen.
***
Henry
Walking past the lunchroom, I hear Ka
te say my name. I am just about to turn back around and walk in to see what she wants when the next words tumble out of her mouth and make me stop abruptly.
“You know Henry isn’t my type. He is way too shy, and those glasses do nothing for me.”
Damn, that hurt like a punch to the gut. I have no idea what they are talking about or how my name came up but now I’m glued in place, eavesdropping. I should probably keep walking; the fact that anyone can walk by and see me being a complete perv is making my palms sweat. This is Kate, though, and I really want to know what’s happening.
I could tell the moment she walked into the building this morning that she wasn’t herself. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and her usual morning greeting didn’t hold the same enthusiasm. Did I do something wrong that I don’t remember?
I’m wracking my brain for possible answers when Mindy starts speculating about the size of my dick and tells Kate to just show some cleavage to get what she wants from me. What the fuck? Okay, so yes, if Kate asked for a favor, it’s pretty much a guarantee that I would do everything in my power to help, regardless of her tits. A little cleavage wouldn’t hurt, though. Great, now I can’t get the image of her naked chest out of my head.
Tossing that thought aside before I really start to look like a perv with a hard on, I remain standing as still as possible and continue listening. I am a bit more relieved when it sounds like Mindy is actually on my side and encouraging Kate to at least consider the idea of us. Us?
When I hear the sounds of a chair scraping along the floor, I take that as my cue to move along, but not before I make a mental note to corner Mindy later today and find out what the hell is going on.
Chapter Two
Lucky: A Love Lane Short Page 1
