Home > Caught Up in Us (Caught Up In Love #1)(3)

Caught Up in Us (Caught Up In Love #1)(3)
Author: Lauren Blakely

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, sweetie,” she said, and dived into her usual million questions. “How are you? How’s school? How’s Jill? How are My Favorite Mistakes?”

“I’m great. School is fine. I’ve never had a better roommate. And I’m working hard on the business. But, how are you? What’s going on with you and Dad and the shop?”

I could picture her waving a hand in the air to make it seem like my question was no big deal. Then sharing a smile as a customer walked into the store. Then again, maybe there weren’t that many customers.

“Everything is just fine. A young woman even came in this morning and tried on one of your necklaces.”

“Awesome. Did she buy it?”

“No, but she said she’d come back tomorrow.”

“So, are you still getting plenty of late summer tourists?”

“Oh sure. Of course,” she said quickly, but I wondered if she was just trying to seem strong for me.

“What have you been up to today?”

“I rearranged some of the window displays.”

My heart sank. That could only mean business was still slow. If there were customers, she wouldn’t be spending her time prettying up the windows. She’d be at the cash register, working the counter, ringing up little sundries and gifts for all the tourists who streamed in.

The very same counter where I was standing five years ago when Bryan asked me out on our first date.

Blinders, Kat. Put your blinders on.

We talked more about her day, then I told my mom I loved her and said goodbye.

As I left the building, I nearly dropped my phone when I saw Bryan waiting for me. The image I had wanted most to see all those months after he left me.

Chapter Three

He was framed by Washington Square Park and late afternoon clouds behind him.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said as I neared him. His friendly manner made the coil of anger rise perilously close to the surface. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he could set off fifty different emotions in me with one look. Impervious would be my new watchword.

“Who would have thought,” I replied, keeping a distance in my tone. I reached for the movie charm, touched it once, as if it brought me power and strength. Nearby, a mime walked an imaginary dog and a grown woman in a Glinda dress created giant bubbles with a wand, to the delight of a few toddlers chasing them.

“So I was thinking,” he said. “What do you say we start over? Just forget the past, and move on, and we’ve got a clean slate. We just met today.”

“Easy for you to say,” I muttered under my breath.

He raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t heard me and I chose not to repeat myself. Crossing my arms, I waited for him to make the next move. So he tipped his forehead to an open bench. “Want to chat for a bit?”

No. I don’t want to chat with you. I don’t want to be near you. I don’t want to let you close to me again in any way, shape or form.

Except, I might have no choice but to be civil with him. I’d do my damndest tomorrow to switch mentors, but if I couldn’t pull it off, then I’d have to be cordial. Sure, a clean slate seemed as good a ruse as anything. I could pretend he’d meant nothing to me. After all, I’d been over him for a long time. Seeing him again had simply stirred old memories, like dust in an unused room. You cough a few times, then leave.

I played along. The past was gone, and I’d just met him today. I smiled the kind that didn’t reach my eyes, and I extended a hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Kat Harper. I’m an aspiring jewelry designer.”

He shook my hand. “Bryan Leighton. I run Made Here. We make things like this,” he said, and fingered the onyx cufflinks on his sleeves. “Nice to meet you too.”

We walked to the bench. It was long enough that we didn’t have to be too close. I sat on the far end, hoping he’d take the hint. But he barely left any room between us when he joined me. With him so close I couldn’t think straight. I could only wander over to the part of my brain that remembered how we couldn’t keep our hands off each other that summer. He was always touching my back, my legs, my waist. If hands had any sort of permanent memory, mine surely recalled the lines of his flat stomach, his firm chest, his sculpted arms.

Stop!

I pictured profit and loss statements. The array of numbers erased the images of us.

He leaned an arm against the back of the bench. “So tell me about your jewelry designs, Kat,” he said, then looked down at my necklace.

I thought about how I’d answer anyone else who’d asked the question. I’d say: I always loved dressing up as a kid and rooting through my mom’s jewelry box to find bangles and necklaces and rings. But they hardly fit so I began making my own jewelry, playing around with designs and styles. I started with necklace-making kits for kids, stringing together beads and baubles and little charms on wire. In junior high I even sold some of my necklaces at local craft fairs, then moved onto heart pendants in high school. After I turned eighteen I had the idea of making a charm necklace. But one that meant something. One that celebrated the mistakes we made as we moved past them.

Instead, I kept my reply clinical. “They’re charms that mean something to the wearer.”

“My Favorite Mistakes,” he said.

“How did you know?” I was surprised he knew the name of my line.

He gave me a sheepish grin. “I like to stay on top of things. Know who’s up and coming,” he said. I wasn’t sure if this was personal, if he’d been researching me because of our past, or simply because he was a smart businessman. I reminded myself not to read anything into it. This was business, purely business. Then he moved his hand towards my neck. “May I?”

“Do you want me to take it off?” I asked, tripping on the unintended double entendre. I wanted to kick myself.

“I like it on.” Running a finger against a miniature skyscraper charm, he grazed my skin and a spark shot through me. I looked away, so he couldn’t read my eyes, and see what I’d felt. I stared at the sky instead. The clouds had become grayer. There was a heaviness to them that spelled rain soon.

“What’s this one?”

“A friend of mine in college had a lead on a super cheap sub-lease on the upper east side that I almost moved into before I started the MBA program. I didn’t get the apartment, and I was devastated at the time.”

“So you made a charm?”

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