Any Way You Fight It Read online

  "No problem."

  "And thanks for taking me. I know you went out on a limb for me."

  I just shrugged. "You're welcome."

  I drove home wondering how we'd ended up at this point. There was too much to process. I needed a quiet night in tomorrow to work it out.

  Chapter 12

  By Friday afternoon I was dead on my feet. The worst part was Saturday was my busiest day of the week. Maybe I shouldn't have gotten up and gone to the gym at six in the morning three days running, but the truth was I couldn't sleep anyway.

  Normally my mind raced in pleasant, if rather dull, circles between my job, my friends, and my family. Sometimes there had been flirtatious guys and not-quite boyfriends to consider or matchmaking pursuits, but for the last few years nothing had gotten under my skin and into my thoughts like Luke.

  Now, the truth was I was off-kilter. I couldn't sleep well and when I did there was Luke making me all hot and bothered. I went to sleep and there was Luke. I woke up and bam, he was back. It was frustrating in all manner of ways. I was hot and bothered anyway, so I had decided I might as well work out. I'd hoped physical exhaustion would bring me sleep but that hope had been misplaced.

  I was closing up the agency when Luke texted me.

  O'Shaunnessy's?

  I hadn't seen him since Tuesday night, though he'd texted to thank me and sent a couple other texts as well. The girls kept taking sneaky photos of him and sending them to me. They found themselves hilarious. Me not so much.

  I really should go home.

  My phone beeped again.

  Just one drink, please?

  Why was I such a sucker? When I arrived at the pub, the others were already in a booth. Luke was in the corner with Piper next to him and Aaron on the end. Lucy and Chase were snuggling on the other side together.

  "Look, Scooby, the gang's all here!" I declared as I walked over and dumped my briefcase on the floor.

  Aaron hopped up and gave me a hug. "You look tired, cuz."

  I loved Aaron; he was probably the sanest relative I had. "A little bit."

  There was a pitcher of beer on the table and he poured me one.

  "This is classy," I said.

  "They're running a special of some sort. Two jugs for one. Larry was kind of insistent."

  "I'm too tired to care," I declared, taking a sip of the bitter amber ale. "So, a good week, everyone?"

  "Can't complain," said Chase, "I was in Bermuda."

  "We hate him, right?" I asked. There were nods all around.

  "Of course we do. He's a total bastard!" Piper declared. Her language was more colorful than ours peppered as it was with expressions that were tolerated in Australia more readily it seemed.

  "Sorry, just doing my job."

  "Save it pretty boy," I said.

  "You're awfully grumpy!" he said.

  "Yes, thanks for noticing!" I gave him a grin. "Just tired. So, how are things in the world of pies?"

  "Good," Piper said. "We've started interviewing some kitchen staff to free Lucy and me up."

  "Good for you," I said.

  "You should do the same," Lucy advised. "You need some help, Cherie."

  "How about you wait a few days to pick on me and give me advice? I'm not much up for it tonight."

  "I'm not picking on you. I just . . ." Chase gave her hand a pat as if to say enough.

  "Thanks, Luce! So, Luke, how much longer are you here?"

  I wanted to know how attached I should get to Luke and also to not being the only single person at the table.

  "Well, I'm heading back tomorrow and then there'll be some back-and-forth for a while."

  So that was it. He was going back to the Big Apple and our so-called friendship would fade away. "Well, you'll be glad to get out of that hotel and home I bet."

  He just shrugged.

  Whatever. I finished my beer and stood to go. "I'm really sorry but I'm kind of exhausted and cranky tonight. I should have just gone straight home. I'll catch you guys later."

  There were lots of byes and rest-ups, but when I caught Luke's eye, there was something else. I'm sure he didn't doubt my reason for leaving but there was something else there. Was it sadness? Regret? I couldn't quite tell, and I was too tired to care.

  #

  An hour later, I was on my pink sofa in my yoga pants and favorite Snoopy T-shirt when there was a knock at the door. I didn't even take a peek because at seven thirty my Nona was the only person likely to show up. I flung the door open expecting to find a small Italian woman, and instead I found the gorgeous Nordic prince that was Luke.

  "Hey," he said.

  "Hi." I felt a bit self-conscious, but first of all we were just friends, and second, he had shown up unannounced.

  "I brought you dinner. It's Indian."

  "Uh, thanks, I think."

  "I didn't get a chance to talk to you and I wanted to. You said you were tired, and so I figured you might not want to cook, and I'm rambling."

  I grinned at him. "Yep, you are. Come on in, that smells really good."

  "I probably should have called first, but I was worried you'd say don't come," he said, placing the delicious-smelling takeout on the counter.

  "I would have."

  "I can go. If you like." His heart wasn't in the offer, though, I could tell.

  "No. Stay. Eat. Flop on the couch." He turned to survey my apartment. The main room has a kitchen that's all white with marble counters. The overall look is shabby chic, even though it's not so chic anymore: white furniture, iron light fittings including a large candelabra in the living space, my very pretty pink sofa, and a pink tartan wing chair. I have a small dining table that seats four and of course an armoire to hide the TV. It's simple and pretty girly. There's a small office alcove off one side that looks over the yard and a bathroom and bedroom off the other.

  "This is cute. It's quite a contrast from your work space."

  "Yeah, well, if I set up a pink real estate office I don't think, sadly, too many men would take me seriously. Obviously, I went in a different direction for that."

  "So I gather you still like pink," he said, eying the sofa.

  "You gather correctly." I grabbed some pink bowls and plates and put them on the table along with the food. "Drink?"

  "Just water."

  I grabbed a jug of water from the fridge and some glasses. "Here we go."

  "So you made a pretty hasty exit tonight."

  "Yeah, well, I was tired and I should have skipped it. You know, some days are like that."

  "I think your friends are worried about you."

  "Are you their envoy?"

  He shook his head. "No, I'm here for myself. I just wanted to see you."

  He really was too sweet. That part hadn't changed. "And here I am in all my glory."

  "You look great to me. I like the casual version of you, maybe even better than the gutsy business one."

  "Yeah, that's just because that's how you remember me."

  "Maybe." He shrugged.

  "Okay, help yourself. And maybe we can eat on the sofa."

  "Sounds good to me."

  We loaded our plates with rice and luscious curries and naan bread. "Man, this smells good!"

  "I remembered you liked Indian," he said.

  Of course I liked it. I'd eaten my first Indian meal with him on one of our very few out of hiding dates.

  "Yeah, I do. Remember that date? Man that was complicated just getting there."

  "Maybe for you. I just remember it being a really lovely day."

  He was right; it had been a lovely day. We'd wandered around Boston together, holding hands and making out. "It was."

  "Life was simple back then," he said.

  "Maybe for you, buddy. My life is a whole lot simpler now."

  "How so?"

  "Now I don't answer to anyone. I don't have to make up excuses about where I go or what I do or justify my choices."

  "You don't think being an adult is harder?"
<
br />   "Not than being a teenager. Heck no! I'm not saying it's easy, but it's not harder."

  "I don't think most people feel that way, Cherie."

  "Yeah, well, most people are nuts!" I said before taking a fortifying spoonful of dhal. I did like Indian food, but I really liked eating Indian food with Luke.

  We sat there in amicable silence enjoying our meal. I wondered if this was what married people did. I hadn’t really had a proper adult relationship to find out.

  That was kind of sad. I wondered if Luke had done this with Marigold, his late fiancée.

  "You want to tell me about Marigold?" I asked.

  His face fell. Okay, that was a mood killer.

  "We don't really want to talk about her," he replied.

  "We don't?"

  "Definitely not."

  "Okay." That was kind of weird. "But why not?"

  He sighed and put his plate down on the coffee table. "Because I was enjoying my meal, enjoying your company, and because it is definitely not my favorite topic of conversation."

  "Okay. Well, if you ever want to talk. I'm a good listener."

  His expression was unreadable. I'm usually pretty good at telling what someone was thinking, especially men but now I had nothing. Then all he said was thanks before picking his plate up and resuming his meal.

  We returned to the silence but now it was awkward. Every scrape of a fork on the plate, every gulp of water sounded loud and jarring.

  "So, back to New York tomorrow?"

  "Yes." Then he paused as if he'd had a great idea. "You should come with me."

  "To New York?"

  "Yeah. Come after work and stay for a couple of days."

  "I can't do that," I said, shaking my head.

  "Why not?"

  "I have work, I have stuff . . ."

  "You could come back Monday night. I know you don't always open on a Monday."

  "I usually do." I corrected him. The truth was I did that mainly because it felt so wicked not to work on a Monday, even though I worked Saturday instead.

  "But you don't have to."

  "I can't just go to New York."

  "Why not? You just told me how it was great being an adult because you didn't answer to anyone, so you can go, if you want."

  He had me there. Sneaky devil turning my own words on me like that.

  "I need more notice."

  "What for? Pack a bag tonight. We could even take the train. What time is your last open house?"

  "I finish at three."

  "See, we could take a four o'clock train. Be in New York for dinner."

  New York for dinner. That did sound exciting. But I couldn't just take off with Luke. I mean he was supposed to be just my friend. This seemed way more intense than that. Then again, if Piper had suggested it, I probably would be in.

  "I'd have to find accommodation." And last minute it would be expensive.

  "You can stay with me. I have a spare room."

  "Really?" Who lives in New York and has a spare room? Nobody, that's who. I may not know much but I know about real estate.

  "Yes, really. It doubles as a home office, but, yes, I do. Come on, what do you say? Take a chance."

  "So even though I am tired and as busy as I've ever been in my life, you think the practical way to deal with this is to catch a train to New York for two days and come home even more exhausted?"

  "Sure, what else are you going to do? Your washing?"

  I didn't like his derisive tone because the truth was I did plan to wash on Sunday, not just my clothes but my car, too. How boring was I? No wonder I was single. I was boring and in a rut and goddammit!

  "You know you want to," he teased.

  He was right I did want to. I wanted to go to New York. If I said yes then I'd be obligated. I'd have to spend two whole days, and ahem, nights alone with Luke. Cute, kind, sexy Luke who was so in love with his dead fiancée he couldn't even bring himself to talk about her. I'd just have to keep reminding myself that we were just friends and this would be just a fun weekend away, but if I could do that I could go to New York. I could walk down Fifth Avenue, I could have a really good bagel and cream cheese, and I could gaze in the window of Bergdorf's.

  "All right. I'm in!"

  Chapter 13

  I was standing outside my last open house of the day. My business cards were neatly arranged on the kitchen island. The house smelled like vanilla and coffee, to mask the smell of mothballs the residents preferred. I'd artfully arranged a bowl of overblown roses on the coffee table, which I hoped would distract from the hideous green shag carpet, and my cute little sign with the opening times was dangling from the front porch.

  I was creating the illusion for the owners that a nice young family might come in and buy it, because that's what they wanted, but I knew my least favorite developer Marcello Mastrioni was the most likely buyer. I didn't care about that so much, but it irked me that he felt he needed to come to every open house. He did that because he was a sleazy old man who liked to see me squirm. I knew that he never visited the homes male agents showed if he just planned to knock the place down. Sometimes being a woman sucked.

  Still, even the sight of his town car pulling up wasn't going to mess with my good mood. I was going to New York. I had the phone to my mouth and was talking to Lucy when Mastrioni approached.

  "Just on the phone with a buyer. Head on in," I said to him. He didn't look pleased. He clearly wanted my undivided attention.

  "So, you're really just taking off to New York with Luke? That is so romantic!"

  I checked Mastrioni was out of ear shot as another car pulled up and a nice-looking Asian couple hopped out. "It's not romantic, we're friends."

  "Whatever." Add Lucy to the long list of people who weren't keen on buying that. "It's exciting anyway."

  "I know." I handed the couple that was walking up to the house a flyer and waved them in. "Anyway, I have to go. Buyers."

  "Okay text me. I'm going to need regular updates. Unless you're too busy. Then text me anyway."

  "Bye."

  A few more prospective buyers arrived. I handed out flyers and told them some of the features of the home.

  Mastrioni came back out the front. "Why do you even bother? You know I'm going to buy it."

  "Maybe someone will outbid you," I said casually. He was standing a little too close and his eyes were definitely not on my face.

  "Unlikely," he said with a sneer.

  "But not impossible." I wanted to go into the house and stand safely beside the lovely Asian couple who I could see through the bay window, but he was blocking my path.

  "You should have told the sellers to take my first offer. Did you even pass it on?"

  "Of course I did. You know I'm obligated to give all offers to the sellers They just wanted to see if another offer came."

  "You mean if another offer came from someone else?"

  I shrugged. "It's their house, so it's their prerogative to do what they like. They'd prefer a young family buy it than see it knocked down. It's not personal."

  He took a step toward me. I could smell his sickly cologne and his warm garlicky breath was in my face. "You don't like me, do you?"

  "I don't know you," I replied.

  He was about to place his hand on my hip. I could see it moving; holy crap, I did not want that man touching me. And then a warm familiar non-sleazy voice interrupted. "May I have a flyer please?"

  It was Luke. "Certainly, sir."

  "And I was wondering if you tell me how I know where the plumbing is in the yard, in case I want to extend."

  "Certainly, I'll show you."

  "This isn't over," Mastrioni said.

  "It is for now, unless you'd like to come discuss plumbing with us."

  He gave me a sneer and left.

  We made it inside and I felt myself exhale. All I wanted to do was give Luke a big hug, but when some customers approached with questions, I pulled myself together and got on with the job. I was nothing if
not a professional. I wasn't scared of Mastrioni so much as revolted. It wouldn't be good for my business if he turned on me because I was selling houses he wanted, yet trying to avoid him was exhausting and distracting. You'd think the man would have better things to do with his Saturday than come and creep me out but obviously not. I felt both revolted by and sorry for him.

  Half an hour later, I closed the door to the house and pulled down my open house shingle.

  "Is it always like that?" Luke asked.

  "Hopefully. You want people through, that's how you make sales. It's so depressing if you sit there alone and no one shows."

  "That happens?"

  "Not here, right now, but there are whole tracts of this country where you take months to sell a house. It's soul-destroying for sellers and agents."

  "And do sleazebags like that show up everywhere?"

  "That one shows up only where I am. He's my own personal sleazebag." We climbed in my car and drove to a parking garage near South Station.

  "I don't like that."

  "I don't much like it either, but I can't take a body guard with me and he's just creepy, he never does anything."

  "Hmmm."

  "Don't think about it. We're going to catch a train to New York. Let's focus on that instead," I said as I pulled into a spot.

  "Got it."

  #

  I knew I was tired but when I woke up on the train with my head on Luke's shoulder somewhere in New Jersey there was no doubt about it. Hopefully I didn't drool on him. I was too nervous to check; I mean, what if I had? I'd have to get on the next train back to Boston.

  "Ohmygod, I'm so sorry," I said, extricating myself from him.

  "It's fine." He was reading something on his tablet. "It was kind of nice actually. Cozy."

  "Please, my falling asleep on your shoulder was not nice."

  "It was. Apart from the snoring," he deadpanned.

  "Oh my god, did I really snore?"

  He burst out laughing. "Of course not. You're easy to fool."

  I whacked him. "I'm not sure I like you anymore."

  "You're going to have to pretend seeing as you're coming to stay at my place."

  I had tried not to think about that too much. Was it weird that I was going to stay with Luke? Would it be strange walking around his place in my pajamas? Probably. Oh well, if he really was just my friend maybe not, but was that all there was?