Love Beyond Words (City Lights, #1)(9)

“Good night, Natalie,” he said.

“Good night,” she replied, disappointment biting deep. She couldn’t even bring herself to say his name.

He walked out for what she thought must be the last time. He’d decided Niko’s was too busy to be productive. He wouldn’t come back, she was sure of it.

But he returned that next night, and the night after that. Sunday she was off, but Monday he was there. And so Natalie found another routine: hers and Julian’s. Every night he came in, every night he ordered a pastry and coffee, and every night he scribbled in his book, neither of them saying much more than cursory hellos and goodbyes. Natalie didn’t trust herself to initiate anything, and for whatever his reasons, Julian said nothing, reserving, it seemed, all his copious words for his composition book. Natalie resigned herself to the fact he obviously wasn’t there because of her. He was there to work, plain and simple.

The strange ache in her heart wasn’t as easy to explain.





Chapter Four


Toward the middle of October, the black sky was frosty with the promise of winter. The stars glittered coldly and the wind tore at the awning above the door. Inside the café, Julian and Natalie were at their customary places, like actors in a movie. Extras with no lines, just set pieces; the café empty but for the two of them. Julian’s hand flew back and forth as his coffee grew cold beside him.

Shortly before ten o’clock the door banged open. Natalie jumped in her seat as two men stomped inside, the odor of stale alcohol billowing around them. They jostled and nudged one another as they caught sight of Natalie behind the counter, and snickered in a way that made her skin shiver. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Julian had set down his pen and was watching them intently.

“What can I get you?” Natalie asked.

The two men ogled the pastry display, then her.

“What’s good?” one asked.

“I’ll tell you what’s good,” muttered the other. They both leered at Natalie, and then chuckled together as if they were being coy and clever and not crude and obvious.

“I’ll take a beer,” said the first. He had hair the color and texture of straw, and wore a Warriors sweatshirt, stretched taut over his immense bulk. Muscles on top of muscles, and a neck as thick as a tree trunk. The other man had dark hair, and eyes that were bloodshot and hooded. He peered blearily at the menu that was written in lively colored chalk on the wall behind Natalie. His blue windbreaker was stained and rustled when he moved.

Natalie realized with an ugly knot of fear that she was taking inventory of the men in case she was forced to identify them later in some official capacity. There was danger in their loose laughter, an edge to their voices. Her eyes flickered to Julian. The image of a hunting cat came to mind; though still seated, he looked ready to fly off his chair.

“Where the f*ck you see beer?” asked the guy in the windbreaker.

“We don’t sell beer,” Natalie said. “Only coffee.”

“See? No beer. Dumbass.”

“What else you got?” the blond demanded. His eyes grazed Natalie, up and down, as one would a menu. “Cute,” he said, “but small tits.”

The windbreaker burst out laughing. “Damn, Garrett.”

Natalie’s face burned. “I think you had better leave.”

“Come on, he’s just teasing,” said the windbreaker. “Besides, you gotta be friendly to us. Customers are always right.” His gaze went to her chest. “And he’s right.”

He laughed at his joke but his friend, Garrett, only smiled an ugly little smile as he leaned over the counter. “Yeah, be friendly. Be real friendly…”

Julian appeared beside the men. He was as tall as they, strong and lean, but they each outweighed him by a good fifty pounds. “I need a refill,” he told Natalie, holding up his empty coffee mug. “Can I…?” He inclined his head at the coffee machine. His face revealed nothing but she felt better. The way he looked at her, knowing and calm, reassured her.

Natalie eased a breath. “Go ahead.”

The pair of men eyed Julian with churlish expressions and muttered to themselves. She heard only a few words, but it was clear Julian was an annoyance to be waited out. They weren’t done yet.

“This place is dead,” Garrett told her. “Lock up and come with us.”

“Yeah, we’re friendly guys,” said the other. “Let’s have a date.”

Behind Natalie, Julian steamed milk in a small tin pitcher.

Garrett reached out and ran a finger over Natalie’s wrist. “Get rid of him and let’s go, eh?”

Natalie snatched her hand away and stepped back. Julian, smooth as silk, slipped into her spot, holding the milk pitcher used for making lattes and cappuccinos. It was throwing off thick plumes of steam for such a small pot; Natalie could hear the milk still bubbling and boiling inside. Julian leaned against the pastry display; his entire attitude casual and relaxed.

“I think it’s time the two of you leave. There’s nothing for you here.”

“Is that a fact?” asked the windbreaker. “Who do you think you are, *?”

“He’s the milkman,” said Garrett. “That supposed to scare us? Get the hell out of here before we break your face. This is none of your business.”