Marrying Miss Kringle: Lux

by McConnell, Lucy

  He ran his hands through his hair. Some of the best hackers in the world were scanning the internet, looking for him. If Stella could find him, that meant they could too. Cold sweat trickled down his back. He had to get rid of her—she could be in danger too. The idea of sweet Lux, with her glasses and thin frame, facing off with the kind of men who wanted him dead made him sick. Bye.

  Wait, what is this loop Stella mentioned?

  He cursed. Find a way to heat the water. You could run pipe like a loop, past the core.

  Son of a Grinch that’s brilliant!

  He stared at the screen. Did you really just type “Son of a Grinch?”

  Sorry! Christmas curse.

  Quik couldn’t help but smile. Lux was two parts childhood wonder and seven parts fascinating woman. Before his life of solitude, he was divorced and in the military—surrounded by scientists, eating, sleeping, and breathing their top-secret project. There wasn’t a lot of time for diversions. At least, not the kind Lux offered. Which made it harder for him to acknowledge that after this conversation, he would have to shut the email account down. Perhaps that’s why he left himself an out.

  Christmas curse forgiven. Hope the adjustments work. Let me know how it goes.

  Her reply didn’t come through as quickly as before. He could imagine her long and graceful fingers hovering over the keyboard, her hair brushing across her forehead as she wondered if he’d lost his senses. Maybe he had.

  I will keep you posted. Over and out.

  It was his turn to hesitate. “Over and out”—was that a reference to his military service? Was she trying to tell him that she knew who he was?

  Out. He got out of the account and proceeded to delete it from existence. If Lux wanted to talk to him again, she’d need to show up in person. That was good. He felt safer looking her in the eye.

  He typed Lux’s name into a search field. Nothing came up without a last name. He glanced around the room, looking for inspiration, when his eyes landed on the blue scarf she’d given him before she left. That fancy letter K had to stand for something. He added the K to the last name field and hit search. Four possibilities came up.

  He ruled out the barista in WA, the stripper in Wendover, NV, and the mother of four in Tennessee, which left him with Lux Kringle, last known residence Pasadena, California. He clicked on the more information button and was rewarded with a list of her degrees. Impressive.

  Now that he had her name, he put it into another search engine hoping for updated contact information. He got nothing. Not a cell phone number, not an address, not even a former employer. Lux Kringle was off the grid, a fact that both impressed and unnerved him.

  The question was, were they on the same side or enemies? That was a question he couldn’t answer without more data. In order to get more data, he needed more time with Lux and her mysterious machine. He closed his eyes, knowing he shouldn’t, but he prayed for Lux’s return.

  Chapter Nineteen

  217 Days until Christmas Eve

  Quik trudged up the half-mud, half-ice river bank. With his fishing shack at odds with the lake, he didn’t go out that far on the ice. The feeling of fading into the cold, becoming part of it, woke him at least once a week. He had a lot of bad memories to deal with, but that one lingered. Besides, the ice was melting. It was May, after all.

  Knitted in with the scary moments of that day were the warm ones with Lux. He’d gone over and over the time in her sleigh and decided that it must have felt warm in comparison to the frigid waters, and that’s why he’d thought something weird was going on. He’d been in shock, suffered a trauma, and his mind wasn’t processing information correctly. For example, there was no way Lux wore a tank top outside and didn’t freeze. Her beautifully rosy skin would have been bright red if she had. No, that must have been his imagination filling in the blanks after the fact.

  Having decided all of that, he had to admit that his imagination was pretty convincing.

  His heavy boots slipped and his knee landed on a rock, taking his mind off Lux’s skin and on to the sharp pain in his leg. He cursed and headed for the four-wheeler parked on the edge of the lake. Three large trout, almost frozen, clicked together in his sack. The auger used to break through the ice balanced on his shoulder. The blade was dull, and he’d need to sharpen it before he went out again. The sun was dropping faster than he liked. Getting caught out at night wasn’t smart. He should have headed back earlier—would have if he hadn’t been distracted by thoughts of Lux.

  He stowed his catch in a plastic tub that he’d bungee-corded to the machine before turning the key and pressing the gas. The four-wheeler fired right up, the lights falling across the pathetic patches of snow. What was once a stunning landscape with fluffy mounds of fresh snow was turning into a mud-and-muck mess. The back of his coat would be covered in mud splatters by the time he got to the cabin. Most parts of the world were warming up, getting ready for school to let out and the splash pads to turn on. Not up here. A couple weeks still remained before the roads would harden enough to travel into town and back. Nighttime temperatures were still below freezing, and his wood supply was running low. He pointed toward home and gunned it.

  When he rounded the entrance to Boulder Canyon, the engine sputtered and died. Cursing, he turned the key only to have it grind pathetically. He looked down, considering his options. The cabin was still a couple of miles away, and he hadn’t brought his snowshoes. He’d freeze before he got there. His mind went into survival mode. The machine was good for warmth for another ten minutes. With a grunt, he looked for a place to build a cave.

  There. One long and skinny tree had fallen against a rock and left just enough space for him to fit. He’d hunker down until sunlight and then hike home. If he didn’t freeze to death in his sleep.

  Thirty minutes later, Quik was tucked inside his shelter. He had a military-grade silver blanket wrapped around his back like a super cape. Another worked as a barrier between him and the hard-packed snow floor. Outside, the wind howled and the trees swayed. He prayed his one lopsided tree would hold and he could get some sleep.

  * * *

  Several hours later, Quik hadn’t slept a wink. His hands shook from the cold. That was a good sign. When they stopped shaking was when he needed to worry. He needed sleep, but at this point, he was afraid that if he closed his eyes, he wouldn’t open them again.

  No one would find him here. He took in the small, rectangular space he’d been able to carve out and shuddered at the idea that he’d dug his own grave and crawled right in.

  Can’t think that way. Stay positive.

  His eyes watered with the cold. Inside the cave was probably twenty degrees warmer than outside the cave, but that wasn’t saying much. He’d been exposed to the frigid temperatures for far too long.

  Despite his best efforts, his mind continued to bring up subjects he didn’t want to think about. His son was one of them. Most of the time, he could imagine Oliver happy and healthy and oblivious to the horrible people who used him as blackmail to keep Quik under their thumb.

  Quik’s eyelids drifted shut, and it took monumental effort to lift them again. He stared numbly at the wall. For a second, he thought he heard sleigh bells.

  Now I know I’m losing it.

  The world was quiet, and then the bells came again. Moving with frustrating slowness, his limbs stiff, he crawled forward and stuck the top half of his body out the opening. Seeing the sleigh and the reindeer and the figure with the fur-lined coat was too much. Several bells were attached to the harness, and they glinted in the pale moonlight. Quik could only stare as the lantern bobbed closer to his cave and then stopped.

  The figure hopped off the sleigh, snagged the lantern from its post, and approached his four-wheeler. “Hello?” called a distinctly female voice.

  The voice shot enough warmth through Quik that his mind jolted into a state of awareness. “Hello!” he called, waving his arm above his head.

  “Quik?” came the reply. “Is
that you?”

  “Yes.” He laughed with relief. Struggling to get his back end free, he ended up rolling out of the hole and landing at his rescuer’s black-boot-clad feet. His eyes trailed up a green velvet cloak, lined with white fur, to find Lux’s wide eyes peering down at him. There was a small line of confusion between her brows that he wished he could smooth away. “Would you mind giving me a ride home?” he asked.

  Lux reached down to help him up, her hands bare. Strange. At her touch, the chill fell away like pine needles on a dead tree. “How long have you been out here?” she asked, her hands still on his arms.

  “Too long.” He should ask her what she was doing here, the reason she was out at night … without gloves. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He must be seeing things. What was he thinking about?

  Lux looked at his four-wheeler. “Is that yours?”

  He nodded, wondering if he’d ever feel his ears again.

  “I’ll take a look.” She released him, and he stumbled back. “Careful,” she said over her shoulder as she grabbed her messenger bag off the seat and tromped over. She pulled off the seat to get a look at the engine and sniffed loudly. “Smells like a fuel leak in the line.”

  “I just replaced it.” His teeth chattered, and he gathered the foil blanket closer as the wind picked up.

  Lux gave him a look that said I’ve got this. “Can you hold this?” She held up the lantern.

  Quik made his legs move; they were stiff but not useless. The reindeer with the gray patch on his chin followed Quik, his snout by Quik’s boots. “Is he tame?”

  Lux brushed her hair off her forehead. “Dunder’s as tame as a reindeer can be.”

  Dunder nipped at Quik’s pants.

  “Hey!” Quik jumped away.

  Lux shook her head. “Here, give him this.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a carrot. Quik took the bright vegetable and stared. The orange flesh was crisp and the green stalk wasn’t limp. Carrots this fresh and this large wouldn’t be around these parts for a couple of weeks—even in his greenhouse. Quik brought it to his nose and drank in the fresh scent.

  Dunder bumped him with his antlers. The poky parts. Quik took in the animal’s lowered head and flared nostrils and handed over the vegetable without an argument. Dunder turned his attention to eating, and Quik turned his attention to Lux and his four-wheeler. To his surprise, Lux was installing a new fuel filter.

  Quik pointed. “How did you …?”

  “We have the same model.” Lux patted the engine. She touched it as if the metal were at room temperature instead of below freezing. Lux pulled a rag from her bag and wiped her hands clean. “That should do it.”

  “What about the leak?”

  “A loose hose, no biggie.” She shrugged. “Start her up.”

  Quik stepped around her, removing the key from his pocket as he moved. She placed a hand on his arm, and his shaking stopped but his heart rate accelerated. For over a month, he wondered who Lux worked for and how she knew so much about him, but staring into her deep green eyes, the only thing he wondered was if she would stay for dinner. He laughed to himself. When he got cold, he got loopy.

  He turned the key and nothing happened. “Dead battery.” He tried again. “Nothing.”

  Lux’s eyes were large as she looked at where her hand met his arm. “Try again.”

  He leaned over to see if there was any reading on the gauge. Something sparked red and gold, and the four-wheeler roared to life.

  An alarm on Lux’s phone went nuts.

  “What’s that?” he yelled over the engine.

  “What?” Lux cupped her hand around her ear.

  “That spark. Did you see it?”

  She lifted both hands and shook her head.

  Quik was too cold and too tired to carry on a conversation by yelling. “Follow me.”

  She stepped back, breaking their physical connection, and he shivered. The ride to his cabin was miserable. He continually glanced over his shoulder to make sure the swaying lantern was still behind him. He pulled into the garage and shut down the engine. Turning, he saw Lux go for the barn.

  This was his chance to get answers, and he wasn’t going to let it fly by.

  He pushed open the wooden door to find Lux adding wood to a small stove. A stove that hadn’t been in the barn the last time he looked. “Where did that come from?”

  “I brought it.” She shrugged as if people carried wood-burning stoves with them on a regular day.

  He shook his finger at Lux. “See, that’s exactly the kind of thing that makes me wonder what on earth you are up to.”

  The temperature was already starting to rise, but that might have been because he was standing close to Lux. She had a way of making his heart beat faster, which raised his metabolic rate, which in turn raised his internal temperature. Only this time there were no sharp pins and needles as he thawed out.

  She shut the door to the miniature stove and stood tall. She was just tall enough that he could kiss her with ease. Not that he was thinking about kissing her. Kissing took easy conversation to a whole other level that made interrogation difficult.

  “I’m not up to anything.” She walked to the other side of the sleigh, where there was a large object covered by a blanket.

  “Then what’s that?” he demanded.

  She whipped the blanket off to reveal a miniature substation. “What do you think?” She clasped her hands in front of her chest.

  He slowly made his way over, taking in the amazing details. “It’s … stunning.”

  She blushed. “Thanks.”

  By the tip of her shoulder and the way she moved her jaw, he could tell she’d slaved over the prototype and was proud of her work. She should be; the contraption was darn near perfect. He pulled at his beard. “What is this for again?”

  She dropped her shoulder. “A toy factory.” Her hands got busy folding the blanket and then stowing it in the sleigh.

  “Yes, you said that. What’s it really for?”

  She flipped around. “Excuse me?”

  “A toy factory would hire a US-based company to build their substation—they wouldn’t have their daughter or sister design it.”

  “They would if she could.”

  “But you couldn’t—you needed me. Which leads to my second question: how did you find me?”

  “Find you?”

  “You came to Alaska looking for me, didn’t you? The church rewiring was a trap to get me to reveal who I am.”

  “Who are you?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Okay, your name is Matthew Thomas Quik, and you’re an electrical engineer.”

  “Keep going.”

  She shrugged. “That’s all I’ve got.” She pulled a wrench out of her bag and tightened a bolt.

  Quik watched. “I’ve got a hundred reasons not to trust you. I don’t know anything beyond your name and that you’re building this modified substation at the North Pole. I should kick you out and tell you not to come back.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You already did that.”

  “Yeah. A lot of good that did me.”

  She pushed her glasses up on her nose and checked the other bolts, effectively avoiding eye contact with him. However, this wasn’t a liar’s trick. The way she avoided him was more like she was shy. Which was endearing. “What do you want to know?” she asked quietly.

  He thought for a moment, wanting to pick a question that would test her honesty. “What’s your last name?” That was something he’d figured out on his own, and she didn’t know that he knew the right answer. If she lied, he’d be able to catch her right quick.

  “Kringle.”

  “What’s your dad’s name?”

  “Harvey Kringle.”

  “How many sisters do you have?”

  “Four.”

  “Brothers?”

  “Zero.”

  “Reindeer?”

  “Twenty-eight with a new one expected soon.” Dunder snorted in
agreement. Lux winked at him. “Dunder is going to be a grandpa.”

  Quik filed the information away because it wasn’t important. He wanted to know about her. “Where do you live?”

  “North Pole.”

  Quik nodded. He’d heard of the Alaskan town that looked like they’d hired elves for city planners. “Do you always tell the truth?”

  “Of course.” She looked properly offended. “I’m a Kringle. It’s a family trait.”

  “Who do you work for?”

  “My dad.”

  “Does he pay you enough?”

  “Money? No. But there are other perks.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and leaned against the sleigh.

  Quik took the spot next to her. He expected Lux to be defensive or at least annoyed by his questioning, but she was chill. “Like using the company reindeer?” he supplied.

  Dunder stamped a hoof.

  “Exactly.”

  Quik scratched his neck. Lux’s face was open and clear, she didn’t fidget, and her breathing patterns were regular, which all added up to her telling the truth. There was something weird going on with this woman, and he couldn’t figure it out. What he did figure out was that he liked being with her. He enjoyed her openness and her relaxed personality. There wasn’t any stress to look right, dress right, talk right, or entertain. Lux gave him space to be himself and yet she made him feel valued. He turned, leaning his hip on the sleigh, and looked deep into her eyes. They swirled with emotions, nervousness, and something else he couldn’t name. “Are you a good guy or a bad guy?”

  A broad grin lifted her cheeks. “I am one of the ultimate good guys. Our family mission is to make children happy. What could be more ‘good’ than that?”

  He had no answer because he’d fallen into her gaze—trapped by her beauty and the overwhelming attraction growing between them. Lux leaned closer and his temperature bumped up by several degrees. He brushed his fingers up her arm, and his gaze dropped to her lips.

  An alarm went off on Lux’s phone. She frowned slightly and stepped back, putting distance between them as she shut it off. There was a crackling noise, and Stella’s voice came over the speaker like a walkie-talkie. “Stella to Lux. Where are you?”