Curse And Craving

2

“It’ll do. Let’s go up and check out the bedroom and bath.” The stairs didn’t creak, which was a bonus. The bedroom contained a queen-sized bed with a small particle board chest, and while cramped, it also had two large windows making it feel more spacious. The bathroom was lined in white tiles throughout and had a shower stall, commode, and pedestal sink—not exactly overflowing with storage, but it was decently clean and very doable. “Oh, Becca. You’re going to love it here. I just know it.” Her whispered comment was rife with excitement on my behalf. “I’m not sure about love, but I’ll definitely manage.” I was being a touch difficult. If I was honest, I felt the same bubbling excitement. An electric energy hummed through my body and bolstered my spirits with hope. I could do this. I could really do this. Deep down, I’d always known I could, or I would never have taken the job, but I was the queen of second-guessing myself. Anxiety and indecision were my constant companions, which was why I clung to feelings of certainty and confidence when they surfaced. I flashed Ashley a giddy grin. “Let’s get unpacked, then we can explore.” “Girl, I’m so glad you’re excited, but I’m exhausted. Once we unpack, I’m taking a nap.” “You can’t! They say that’s the worst thing you can do for jet lag.” “When have I ever listened to what they say?” She arched an angular brow. I rolled my eyes. “Whatever, but don’t wake me up when you can’t sleep tonight.” “Don’t you worry about me. Now let’s find the sheets. That bed is calling my name.” ASHLEY FOLLOWED through with her threat and was passed out minutes after the last bag was unpacked. I brought the most I could manage in two giant suitcases and shipped two additional boxes that wouldn’t arrive for a few more days. The pull of sleep deprivation tugged at my limbs, but I wanted to get on local time as quickly as possible since I would be starting my job in two short days. The thought filled me with anticipation. I’d been out of school for two years waiting tables, unable to snag a job in my desired field until now. That was why I’d been so torn about accepting the position. I didn’t want to leave the US, but I desperately wanted the job. Once I could add museum curator to my résumé, finding a job back home would be so much easier. All I had to do was put in my time, perhaps a year or so, and the rest would come. It’s not like Belfast was all that bad. It was just different, and I wasn’t much for any kind of change. The sooner this city became my new normal, the better. Seeing as how the museum was a crucial piece of my new life, I decided it would be my first outing. I’d used Google maps street view a dozen times to walk virtually between work and home, but nothing was like seeing the city with my own eyes. Throwing on a jacket, I left a note for Ashley, then slipped from the apartment. I didn’t plan to go into the museum yet. I simply wanted to walk the route and take a quick tour of the neighborhood. Even though it was still nearly two months from the middle of winter, early November in Belfast meant limited daylight. The sun was already lowering midafternoon and would be fully set around four thirty. There was still plenty of light to see for my afternoon stroll, but my work commute would be in the dark. Fortunately, my time in New York City had helped me overcome that particular fear. If you can’t walk city streets at night in New York, you don’t get out much. Maybe now that I was out of a large city and making decent money, I could buy a car. Not right off the bat, but sometime in the near future. A grin lit my face. I bit my bottom lip to contain my excitement and keep from looking like a lunatic smiling at herself. “Where do you think you’re going?” called a deep voice in a slow Irish drawl. While I might not have been a New Yorker born and bred, I had been there long enough to know that you do not, under any circumstances, talk to or make eye contact with strangers who call out to you. However, this voice was so commanding, so compelling that my steps faltered. Despite my better judgment, I turned to its source. My lungs forgot how to function as I took in the gorgeous man leaning against a sleek black sports car. I was assaulted by his unexpected perfection. Sculpted athletic frame in a finely tailored suit. Neatly trimmed blond hair mussed in a casual fashion contrary to the extremely intense vibe he gave off. An angular jaw lined with scruff, and eyes so blue the sun could rise in their depths and be perfectly at home. This man was unsettlingly attractive, and every ounce of his attention was focused on me. “I’m sorry, what?” I asked vacantly, his stunning good looks zapping my brainpower. “That’s an awfully confident smile you were wearing. Think you could just walk past me without me noticing?” He pushed away from the car and stretched to his full height—an impressive stature easily over six feet. Confident smile? What is he talking about? I’d have thought he was flirting had his expression not been accusatory. Menacing. “I’m sorry, you must have me confused with someone else.” I tucked my chin and turned to continue my walk, a tendril of unease urging me onward. “Stop,” he commanded in a tone that seized my muscles and froze me in place. “You’re not from here.” Accusation softened into curiosity. I turned to look back at him over my shoulder. “No, I just arrived today from the US.” He began to approach, and my pulse kicked up a notch with every measured step closer. “And you truly have no idea who I am?” I glanced around with wide eyes, wondering if I’d inadvertently stumbled across some modern version of the Peaky Blinders. “I’m sorry, but as I said, I’m new here.” “And what is it you think you’re doing here?” He was now a few short feet away from me, within lunging reach. We were on a city street in what was left of daylight. Granted, the street wasn’t particularly busy, but I told myself I should be safe. Should.