The Note (Manhattan Nights #5) - Natalie Wrye Page 0,79

a racehorse, over eighty dollars now, and instead of running it up all the way home, I hand over my credit card to the driver, hoping it’s not maxed, hopping out into the rain.

Horns honk in the congested street. Yellow taxis clog the avenues. The sound of jackhammers still plows away in the distance. And all of it—all of the noise, the discord, the turmoil of the City? It all mimics the inside of my mind, and I’m once again faced with the reality that I could leave.

Run from New York. Run from the city.

Run to a quieter place, one with more peace. Away from the sirens and the smell of wet concrete.

God, sometimes running away feels like the only option. Especially on a day like today.

And still I stay.

Heading up the block, hunched against the winter rain, my long coat wrapped around my shoulders, bag held tight, I lose myself in the pandemonium that is Manhattan.

Because New York is in my blood.

It’s a city that’s toughened me in unimaginable ways, pieced together the beautiful mess that I am.

If there’s only one place that I feel comfortable, that feels like home, it’s here.

And as I settle in against the set of double doors I’d been searching for on the street, I realize that this damn city is my security, my safety.

New York is my home.

I’d lied, begged and borrowed all to live here.

I’d searched for safety all my life, a real home. But there was no home like the one I’d been born in…or the one I found for a few beautiful moments in Noah Quinn’s muscular arms.

I try to shake off the feeling of being with Noah, however, even as I shake off the rain.

Under the awning of The Alchemist’s front door, I sigh, finally having reached the restaurant-pub when I remember, reaching for the door, that it’s Sunday…of all days.

A day where the doors don’t open until mid-afternoon. And I stand there, dumbfounded, soaking wet, ready to dive back onto the wet street when the double doors open behind me, and Rick, prick that he is, pops his head out, his blond hair shiny and pale as he looks at me.

“What the hell?” He glances up at the sky and down at me. “Somerset, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Currently? Wondering how to swim home.” I sniff back rainwater. “You?”

“Running the books a bit. We don’t officially open up for another two hours.”

I stare back, my voice deadpan. “Gee, I hadn’t noticed, Rick. I’ll see ya.”

But the overly primped manager reaches for me, his fingers locking around my wrist. He’s never touched me like this before. He’s never touched me at all. And I have to fight back a shiver, suppress a small chill that runs down my spine as he looks at me, his cocoa-colored eyes almost black underneath the dark sky.

He finally lets me go.

“We might not be open for another two hours. But that doesn’t mean you can’t wait inside.” He straightens to his full height. “Are you on shift today?”

“Not officially.”

“Why don’t you come on for work then? I know you could use the extra money…”

It’s a comment laced with latent curiosity. But I step inside anyway.

As I cross the threshold, I wonder quietly to myself why I can’t shake the cold settling on my skin, the silent frigidity seeping into my bones as I walk inside with Rick alone.

I inhale a deep breath, shrugging the feeling off, and for the first time I can remember, notice that Rick actually looks happy to see me.

The bar manager smiles.

NOAH

“Can we push this piece of shit car any faster?”

Jase rolls his eyes. “For Christ’s sake, it’s only a Ferrari, Noah. And the answer to your question is: Yes, we could. If we want to end up on the side of the goddamned highway in a ditch.”

Lachlan adds in. “Grandfather always did warn us about those ditches. At least we’d be the best dressed corpses anyone’s ever seen.”

He’s right, you know. We would be in our three-piece tuxedos.

Crammed in what should be a two-seater for Jase and Mindy’s honeymoon trip, we’re instead heading back on the highway to New York. The thought of me loving anyone this much has my brothers sent into overdrive to help, but their commentary on the ride over is the last thing I need, each brother voicing his own opinion as we drive into the city to find the woman I love.

And Lachlan’s the worst. He pipes up for unprompted advice