Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
K at quietly slipped out of bed and pulled on leggings and a comfy sweater—her Saturday morning loungewear.
Except today she didn’t have time to lounge.
Her apartment was still a mess, and she had to be at the community center by ten-fifteen to be ready for the kids at ten-thirty.
She’d give Nick a few more minutes to wake on his own.
As she hand-washed the champagne flutes, her thoughts drifted. Suddenly, life was so full. So much had happened in two short months—and overnight. She had a love life. There was a gorgeous, amazing man in her bedroom.
She smiled at the feel of Nick’s warm hand at her back. Or not . His lips brushed her cheek.
“Morning, angel.”
“Morning.” She gestured toward the counter of dirty dishes. “Look what’s still here.”
“Yeah. I hate it when that happens. Guess we kind of got distracted last night.”
Grinning, Kat turned. “That’s one way to put it.”
“I have no regrets.” He playfully nuzzled her neck. “Hey, do I smell coffee?”
Kat heard the hopefulness in his voice. “Mugs are in the cupboard, top left.”
He filled a mug then topped off hers with fresh coffee and leaned against the counter, facing her.
And Kat went shy. Her face warmed, and she looked away from Nick’s intense gaze. It was so…so intimate. And yet so ordinary, natural. As if they woke up together every day.
“How we doing on time, Boss?”
Kat glanced at the clock on her microwave. “Okay, but we probably need to get moving, especially if you want to stop and grab something to eat. There’s a great cafe on the way.”
“Let’s do it.” He gave her a little nudge. “You shower first.”
By the time Kat showered and dressed, Nick had put away the dry dishes from last night, finished washing those that were left, and wiped down the counter.
“Wow. Thanks for doing all that,” Kat told him.
“Had to do some guessing on what goes where. Hope you can find everything.”
“The price of free labor,” she said with a smile. “Shower’s all yours.”
She raised her brows when he hesitated.
He took a slow sip from his cup before speaking. “This is probably a good time to ask… should I…pack up my things?”
Heat flashed through Kat. The question caught her off-guard, but she appreciated that he asked, didn’t assume.
Last night had been incredible, and just the thought of waking up snuggled against him again took her breath away.
Swallowing hard, she shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “No need for that.”
A lazy smile spread across his face before he pulled her close and planted a kiss on her lips.
While Nick was getting ready, Kat took the opportunity to check her cell phone and found a new text from Mia.
—You’re not bailing on us today, are you?—
And deprive them of the opportunity to get Nick’s help? No way. Kat had the feeling Nick wasn’t just tagging along, that he actually wanted to pitch in today.
—No. In fact, I’m bringing a guest helper.—
Should she keep her friend in suspense or answer Mia’s silent question and mention the sleepover?
Somehow it seemed like gossiping about herself.
And last night was more than that— the memory of some very private moments sent a flush to her face.
With a catch in her breath, Kat tucked the phone back into her purse.
Ten minutes later, she took Nick’s arm, and they walked the short distance to Bebe’s Cafe.
“We dining in or carrying out?” Nick asked inside.
Kat surveyed the line. “Let’s eat here. I hate it when I get stuck beside someone who’s eating on the subway.”
“Good point. Hadn’t considered the subway etiquette.”
“Haha. Manners, even on the subway. Imagine that.” Kat ordered a large chai tea and an almond pastry for herself as well as two dozen cinnamon sticks to take for the kids.
They usually had twelve to fifteen kids show up for the art class.
It was cheap babysitting in an area that wasn’t exactly poor, but where parents might struggle to pay the bills—or expose their kids to art outside of school.
Food in hand, they slid into a small booth, and Kat leaned forward. “Okay, now I want to hear all the details of the HomeBuilder’s deal.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Nick lifted his steaming breakfast croissant. “You mean I don’t get to eat this?”
Rolling her eyes, Kat flopped back against the padded booth. “Oh, all right. Go for it. Jeez, you haven’t told me anything. Are you not the least bit excited?” He was so easy-going that she sometimes wondered if he ever had any highs or lows.
“Sure.” He swallowed and then took a drink of orange juice. “But I’m pretty excited about eating this, too.”
Kat shook her head and picked up her fork then popped a piece of pastry into her mouth.
“Here’s the short version,” Nick said between bites. “Three spots, filmed back-to-back starting in April. Probably air late summer. They flew me in at the last minute Thursday night so I could be here for a planning meeting yesterday.”
“But…” He hadn’t mentioned the most important part. “Did they say where they’d film the segments?”
A slow grin spread across his face. “As a matter of fact, they did. About an hour away in Connecticut.”
Kat let out a choked laugh. “Seriously? Why didn’t you tell me that already?”
“Sorry. Haven’t had a good opportunity until now.”
“So they film all three segments at once?”
“Looks that way.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking Connecticut would be a nice place to visit.”
He returned her smile, and the light in his eyes sent heat rushing to her face.
“I like the way you think.”
“No reason you can’t come a little early, though, right?”
He reached across the table and grasped her hand with a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry. I’ll be here for the opening of your show.”
“Okay.” Her voice came out breathy, and she fought the urge to join him on the other side of the booth.
“Do you know where your parents will stay that weekend? Should I book a room in the same place?”
Her heart thumped. She hadn’t thought that through. He probably couldn’t stay at her place. She hated to make him pay for a room, but too many surprises at once could send her mother into cardiac arrest.
“Hmm. That’s probably a good idea. I’ll find out if Dad has booked anything.”
“Just let me know.”
“Hey, mind if I ask something personal?”
He stopped eating and gave her his full attention. “Shoot.”
“Is HomeBuilders paying you? This isn’t a free-but-look-at-all-the-exposure opportunity, is it?”
“You’re a little young to be so cynical, sweetheart.” He shook his head but smiled at the same time. “Yes, they’re paying me a nice sum. I would’ve done it for less, but I don’t work for exposure anymore.”
Relief whooshed through Kat. “Good. Artists should be paid for their work.” She nodded toward his empty plate. “Ready to go?”
“Sure.”
Holding hands, they walked the short distance to the subway. Only a few people dotted the seats inside.
“This’ll only be about fifteen minutes,” Kat told Nick.
“So this volunteer gig isn’t part of your job? The museum isn’t a sponsor?”
“No, but I love doing it. Sure, it scores me points with the museum and looks good on my résumé, but it’s also a lot of fun.”
“You like the kids?”
“I do. I like exposing them to art. We focus on freedom of expression. Every time we start a new session, we ask them what color the sky is, and they all say blue. Then we show them a bunch of pictures of sunsets and sunrises where the sky is pink and orange and purple. And stormy skies that are green and gray. Then we ask what color an apple is, and they all say red, so we show them pictures of apples that are dark red, and medium red, then pinkish. And apples that are yellow and green. It’s so fun to see when they get it. ”
Grinning, Nick caught the hand she’d been gesturing with. “You’re obviously good at it. Ever think about teaching?”
“Absolutely not,” Kat said. “Haven’t you ever heard those who can do , those who can’t teach?
No, thanks. Anyway, it takes a certain kind of person to teach day after day after day, and that’s not me.
I’m perfectly happy doing an occasional volunteer job.
This just-for-fun class is the kind of thing I loved as a kid—when I could talk my mom into it,” she added.
He let her “those who can’t, teach” comment go.
Yeah, he’d heard it before, but Kat was right about one thing.
It took a special person to handle kids and connect with them, keep order, and inspire at the same time.
His mother had been a public-school teacher for thirty years.
Kat wanted success on a grander scale. He hoped that happened for her but would like to see her open her eyes to other possibilities as well.
Something stirred inside Nick as he listened to Kat.
Art gave her such joy and energy. How sad that a kid had to struggle to simply explore her interests and talents.
Knowing this about Kat’s mother definitely changed his perception of her.
He couldn’t wait to get the Andrews job done.
The only snag was, he’d just spent the night with her daughter. And liked her—a lot.
Nick ran a hand over his jaw, remembering his last encounter with Kat’s mother. Man, he was going to have to work on his poker face before the next trip to her place. At least the job would be done before Kat’s exhibit—he could only imagine Rebecca’s reaction when he showed up.
“Does your mother know you do volunteer stuff like this?”
“I’ve mentioned it, but my mom believes in supporting the arts philanthropically as a member of high society. She doesn’t want to get her hands dirty down in the trenches.”
“Who does she think is going to train and inspire the performers of the future?”
“It would never cross her mind.”
“That’s too bad.”
“This is our stop.” Kat turned to Nick after they exited the car. “Nick, please don’t mention this to my mom or try to convince her that what I’m doing is good or important or whatever. That ship has sailed. Nana and I gave up a long time ago.”