1. Colder

Kensington Square was a rainy,slick mess. The air was soft and mercurial in that way April had. Cutting in the morning, warm and sweet in the afternoon, then back to brisk for that kind of good sleep only spring could offer. The days were longer, which I appreciated even if it was a soaker.

People dashed from their cars to storefronts, dodging pedestrians because they all had somewhere to be. Some with umbrellas, some with hoods, most with frowns of annoyance, and then there was me. I was off to the side, so I didn't get trampled. Though it was a bit more difficult to move me if I didn't want to move—being six-foot-two had its advantages—but I didn't bother finding cover.

I didn't mind the rain.

I tipped my head back and let the fine mist of it wash away the sweat from my workout. Running in the rain was my favorite thing about the spring in New York. The slap of my trainers, my breath puffing out, and the cool, clean air in my lungs.

"Colder, what are you doing out there? Get inside before you catch your death."

The doorman of my building stood under the awning with his hands on his hips. He was an older gentleman with a quietly lived-in face and a ready smile most of the time. Right now, it was more of a furrowed brow.

I shielded my eyes against the increasing rain. My apartment building speared up taller than most of the businesses on this side of Kensington Boulevard. The dark-tinted glass didn't dare streak. Instead, the rain beaded up and neatly rolled down to collect in the grates that discreetly lined the building.

No flooding for The Heights. I was pretty sure not a speck of mud or trash dared to mar the sidewalk in front of the building, either. It was the jewel of this part of Kensington Boulevard's rehabilitation. Two stately Sycamores framed out the front of the building giving us some well-needed shade in the hellish summers.

I jogged over with a grin for the older man. "C'mon, Murray, it's a beautiful spring day."

"So you say. I've been damp all day. Get in here. And don't you be tracking in all that wet or Deb will have your hide."

Fun time was over.

I ducked under the awning and slicked away the wet on my face and hair. I thanked Murray when he handed me a towel. As always, he was ready for all the seasons. The Heights was a bougie place for a guy like me. Then again, I could only afford one of the studio apartments and that was because Deb liked me.

She had to, since she was my aunt and had been looking out for me ever since my mom died.

Deb Gordon was an institution at The Heights. She'd been one of the few people to survive the takeover when a billionaire conglomerate had started renovating most of the damn block. In fact, that guy had loved the area so much he lived on the premises.

Not that Royce Warner showed his face too often since The Heights had opened several years ago. There was still a waiting list a damn mile long for the dozen apartments, even the studio ones. Thankfully, Aunt Deb had become indispensable and had slid my application to the top of the pile when I'd moved back to the area.

I was pretty sure it was only so she could keep an eye on me.

Aunt Deb was a worrier, and I enjoyed a bit of motherly attention. Especially since she left me to my own devices most of the time.

I quickly toweled off my arms and hair, tossing the towel into the discreet bin under Murray's station. "Where is Deb, anyway? Did she happen to make any of those lemon bars?"

"Do you think about anything other than food, boy?"

"Not after a run." I grinned down at Murray. "I need the fuel."

He wrinkled his nose and took a step back. "And a shower."

"It was a good run. The girls' track team from the college was out too. Incentive."

Murray sighed. "I remember those days. I used to run five miles a day myself."

I glanced at his midsection. "When did you stop?"

Murray patted his belly. "When I married my Kate. She's a good cook, what can I say?"

I arched a brow at him. "Should still be running it off."

"Watch it."

I laughed and stomped off the worst of the wet on the mat, rolling my eyes when he hustled over to open the massive glass door for me. I would never get used to that part. "Catcha later, Murray."

The lobby gleamed with fresh polish on the floors. The obsidian and ivory speckled checkerboard grid covered the huge common area. Colorful rugs sectioned off the room. One near the massive couches that made a U-shape around the fireplace, creating a cozy spot for people to hang out.On the other side of the room there were a half dozen intimate tables and a coffee station with a machine I was pretty sure you needed a degree in engineering to work.

The floor-to-ceiling windows framed out three sides of the space, showcasing the add-on to the old brick building. They were tinted for some privacy, but still allowed people to see the grandeur inside. The left and right windows were full of trailing greenery in massive, ornate boxes. I didn't know much about plants--just how to kill them, to be honest--but the room had always seemed classy to me.

The Heights was a mix of super cash-heavy business types and a handful of us up-and-comers. I wasn't fully on-board with my upward climb yet. I was having too much fun. Most of the people who lived here were young professionals. There were a few loft apartments, two bedrooms, and a handful of studios like mine.

Instead of loitering in the lobby as I usually did, I hurried over to the elevators on the right side where my apartment was. I waved to my aunt, who was behind the desk. She was held up with a resident and I was able to slip by without a lecture about tracking wet everywhere.

I tapped the button and hopped into the car when it opened. Inside was just as classy and slick as the rest of the building. The elevator was mirrored and gilded in brass with an art deco bent, an ode to the original architecture without the old tech.

"Hold the elevator!"

I slapped the open-door button as a woman in a pink raincoat breathlessly skidded on the floor. She shrugged her oversized sunny yellow bag onto her shoulder. I didn't recognize her—which was impressive, since I knew everyone in the building.

"Thank you. Ugh, this rain, huh? Three, please."

Hmm. That was my floor. How had I not seen her before? "April in New York is full of it."

"Isn't that the truth? I forgot how wet it could be."She pushed her hood back and damp auburn hair tumbled around her shoulders. She was pretty in that way that made a man straighten up and want to hold a door open for her. Her beauty was simple and stunning—she had huge blue eyes and starred lashes, thanks to her wet cheeks. I wasn't sure the last time I'd seen a girl without a face full of makeup.

"Visiting?"

"Just moved back." Her smile was shy. "Do you live here?"

"Yeah, sorry." I held out my hand. "I usually have better manners. Colder Banks. I didn't realize anyone had moved out."

A small frown wrinkled the space between her brows. Her hand was small and cool as she slipped it in mine. The shake was firm, but brief. Then she quickly tucked her hand back into her jacket pocket. "Naomi."

Interesting. No last name. Cautious, maybe. I didn't blame her—women needed to be. Kensington Square might be a relatively safe city, but it was still a city.

"I've lived here a long time. I kinda know everyone." I smiled gently at her. "If anyone gives you trouble, let me know."

Her cheeks pinked adorably. "That's nice of you. Thanks."

The doors slid open, and I gestured her forward. She glanced over her shoulder when I followed her. "Guess we live on the same floor, Naomi."

"Oh." Flustered, she tucked a hank of damp hair around her ear. "I guess I'll see you around then."

"I guess you will." I stopped at the first door, digging my keys out. "This is me."

She licked her lips. "I'm down the hall." She paused, then she seemed to think better of it and rushed down the hall.

She stopped at Iona Bradford's place. More interesting there since I wasn't aware she had a new roommate. I wondered what had happened to her sister, but that curiosity was for another time.

Stepping inside my apartment, I tossed my keys into the chipped bowl my niece had made me in art class. I only had a few minutes to get a shower in and get across the street for my shift at Lonegan's.

I loved living near my job. Commuting was a pain in the ass, especially since my ancient Toyota had seen better days.

My studio was comfortable with a king-sized bed taking up much of the space. I loved sleeping almost as much as playing, and I'd made sure to get top of the line there. Rain pelted the slim window near my bed as well as above me on the skylight. One of the perks of the third floor was the pure light up here. Not awesome if you didn't want to wake with the sun, but thankfully, that never bothered me.

Even after working late nights at the bar, I didn't mind waking to full sun.

A bookcase closed off the space for my bed for a bit of privacy and created my living space. I dug out my phone and stuck it on the charger, which activated my music app that piped through the speakers around my apartment. I made a pitstop in my galley kitchen and filled one of my water bottles, draining it once, then refilled it for the night and stuck it by my phone.

My bathroom was on the other side of the kitchen, and just as tiny. I swiped my hand over my face and decided I could get away with another day before I had to clean up my short beard. I shucked my workout gear and tossed it directly into the stackable washer in my bathroom. With the water steaming up the room, Bad Wolves serenaded me as I shampooed and sang along.

I was still singing as a chill Blue October song took me through my pre-work routine. A bit of gel for my stubbornly curly hair that already needed a cut, and moisturizer because thirty was coming at me like a freight train. Years of traveling across the country bouncing from job to job had been fun, but most of the work had been outside until I'd tired of sleeping under the stars or in shit boarding rooms.

I'd found that I was damn good at working at restaurants and bars. I liked people and was quick at picking up on the mood of a room. I'd finally settled on bartending, finding that it had the perfect blend of casual conversation and a fast pace.

I walked down the narrow hall to the dresser beside my bed, grabbing my standard uniform for the night.

My boss kept it easy, just black T-shirts over black jeans. The shirts had a small Celtic tree of life on the front and Lonegan's logo along the back. For a little flair, I paired it with my favorite octopus buckle for my leather belt.

Thursday nights were usually wild, and I'd probably wish for a few extra arms by the time the night was through.