Brew Ha Ha Box Set: Books 1-4

by Bria Quinlan

  And with that, I headed back to my empty, cold, dark apartment to get ready to move into a cozy little paradise.

  8

  Eight calls.

  I’d called Micah eight times. He hadn’t returned them when I’d reported my heat-hot-water-electric issue. Not when I’d called to see when they were going to be back on. Not when I’d called to say I’d be moving out on the agreed upon date and needed a parking pass for a moving van. And not when I’d called while walking back.

  By the time I’d run all my errands and headed home it was dark out and I was getting chilly and annoyed. Plus, I really had no interest in sleeping in a cold, dark room again.

  I climbed the three flights to my apartment and slid the key home into the lock.

  Nothing.

  I checked the number on the door. Yup, I lived there. I pulled the key out and tried it again. Nope. Still didn’t turn.

  I rooted around for my cell phone and checked my messages. Nothing. Not one thing. Who doesn’t call back a tenant in an emergency?

  I considered calling him one more time, but figured he’d just ignore me again. Micah had never been the best super in the world, but I’d never thought he’d lock me out of my own apartment.

  On the upside, I always left my bedroom window cracked. Jason had told me over and over again that it was a bad idea. That I should at least get a bar to block the window from opening more since the fire escape landing was right outside.

  I kept meaning to. I kept forgetting.

  Now, that meant I had another way into my apartment.

  I tromped back downstairs and out the front door. On the sidewalk, I glanced up to Micah’s apartment, but the light was out. Without any other options, I headed around to the side of the building to begin my MacGyver entry.

  The first step was just getting onto the fire stairs. It took several tries to jump high enough to loop my bag’s strap over the first rung of the stairs and pull them down. Then, it flew up, clanging against the landing above it when I tried to unhook my bag. I was making such a racket even the stray cats were taking off.

  After two more tries, the bag was looped over my shoulder and the ladder was firmly in hand. I climbed up the cold, rusty metal, inching by dark windows and hoping I didn’t scare poor Mrs. Windsor on the second floor. All I needed was to try to explain her heart attack to her children.

  When I got to the landing outside my bedroom, I tried to wedge the tips of my fingers into the small space between the window and the outside sill. Since I barely opened the window, they barely fit. It took all my strength to open it from the odd angle, working one side and then the other. And I still couldn’t really fit my fingers through.

  What I needed was a crowbar or something I could slide into that tiny spot.

  And Jason was convinced it would be easy to break in and rob me.

  With a relieved sigh, the window gave and opened just enough for me to slip inside. I dropped the bag in and then crouched to follow it, leaning in and placing my hands on the floor as I scooted through like an oversized worm.

  When I reached my butt, I was sure for a moment I wasn’t going to fit. Who knows how I’d have backed out of that? Just as I slipped through, I felt a spiky scrape on my leg and a yank on my pants as they got caught on something sharp outside on the fire escape.

  After a few tugs—and a few shakes—it became obvious I wasn’t getting out of this without ripping my favorite yoga pants.

  On the upside, no one was around to see me get out of this without my dignity instead.

  I turned on my side, resting on my head and shoulder on the floor. Clearly I was going to have one heck of a crink in my neck the next morning. With my free hand, I worked at my yoga pants until I could shove them down with my feet. When they were almost off, they caught on my shoes, so I toed those off onto the fire escape. As soon as I was free, I slid all the way in, pushed the window open, and reached out to grab my shoes, searching for them in the darkness.

  It wasn’t until I spotted them that I realized a beam of light was coming from behind me.

  “Just ease back in the window and turn around slowly,” the deep voice commanded.

  I glanced over my shoulder and could see two men silhouetted by the light from the building’s hallway, but everything else was blinded by the flashlight aimed at my face.

  My hesitation must have annoyed him, because the voice came with an edge this time. “Ma’am you’re going to have to come back in. We’ll talk about this. Calmly.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Officer Darby. I’m going to have to ask you to raise your hands and turn around slowly.”

  Oh my goodness. I was hanging out the window with my butt covered only by my haven’t-been-packed-yet panties. Not to mention the police had managed to get into my apartment when I hadn’t been able to. How the heck had that happened?

  I slid back in, wishing I could melt through the floor, and turned to face them, my yoga pants held up as a shield in front of me.

  “You’re going to have to drop the pants and come this way.”

  “Why are you in my apartment?” I wasn’t dropping the pants even for the cops.

  “It’s not your apartment,” a second voice whined. “You moved out.”

  I raised my hand to shade my eyes from the light. “Micah?”

  “She moved out.”

  “Sir, it doesn’t look like Ms. Lane moved out.”

  “She gave me notice.”

  “For the end of the month. Which isn’t until tomorrow.”

  Forget divinity. I needed pants. I hitched one leg up and pulled my yoga pants on, then repeated the process with the other leg without turning around or bending over.

  “I called you nine times today. First about my heat being off. Then about my electric and hot water. Then just to try to find you. You couldn’t return a call but you could get the police here and the door open before I could even climb through my window.”

  “I didn’t want you robbing the place.”

  “Of what?” I shouted. I was sick of this. Sick of the whole darn week. My high from finding a place to live was pretty much gone. “My own bed? My clothes? Maybe I’d steal my used toothbrush.”

  “Ms. Lane, you’re understandably upset. You’re having quite the week.”

  “That’s right I am.”

  Wait. What?

  “First assault. Now breaking and entering. I thought I told you to stay out of trouble.”

  That sounded vaguely familiar. Hadn’t Abby just told me to stay out of trouble? And to make myself dateable. But, on the sliding scale of how much I was willing to listen to her, that advice was pretty low on just about any list I could come up with.

  “See?” Micah demanded. “You’re going to have to pay for that window.”

  “Nothing’s wrong with the window.”

  “Then how’d you get in? Huh?” Micah stalked past me and began examining the frame behind me.

  Meanwhile, I examined the wide bulk of the silhouette behind the flashlight.

  Micah muttered to himself, looking for something wrong with the window. This still wasn’t fixing my situation.

  “Officer Darby, I have a question.” I glanced at Micah over my shoulder, considering pushing him out the window. Besides the law enforcing witness, the idea that the fire escape would stop any type of fall whatsoever ruined the joy I got from the vision. “Isn’t it illegal for a landlord to turn off your paid for utilities and lock you out of your paid for apartment when you have a signed agreement?”

  “Actually, it is.” I could hear the humor tingeing his voice, a low chuckle closing out the sentence.

  “So, not only am I not under arrest, but I might have a case for filing, um, something?”

  “Well, not a lot of a case since there were no damages. But you could be a pain about that if you wanted to.”

  “No. I really just want to sleep somewhere warm, with lights and hot water, my last night here.”

  Officer
Darby lowered the light and I caught a glimpse of a strong jaw and short, dark hair in the dim light. Exactly the kind of guy my friend Jayne would go for. He probably rode a motorcycle and glowered a lot. The kind of guy I avoided at all cost. Definitely not the kind of guy I wanted to keep running into while my life was falling apart.

  “I think that’s fair. Mr. Marrow, can you get this apartment turned on again?” But, apparently, he was also the voice of reason.

  Micah came around to stand beside me and grumbled that he could.

  “Within the next thirty minutes?” Officer Darby obviously knew how to ask the right questions.

  Micah grumbled under his breath as if I was the person who turned off all my utilities two days early and he had to run around cleaning up my mess.

  “So, thanks for coming.” I headed toward the door, hoping to walk Officer Darby right past it and push it shut behind him.

  “Not so fast, Ms. Lane.” The door did fall shut, but Officer Darby was still on my side. “Do you want to explain to me this run of bad luck you seem to be having lately?”

  “Not really.”

  “Do I need to rephrase my question?” He stared down at me, one hand resting casually on the belt above his gun, the other braced on his hip.

  “You said I hadn’t broken any laws.”

  “Somehow I suspect you’ve been bending a few this week.” Thank goodness it was dark because I knew he had to be giving me that steely-eyed cop look. He was probably the inscrutable type the actors who played cops studied to be all…inscrutable.

  “I really am a law abiding citizen.”

  I was. I really was. I just wasn’t looking so good on my downward spiral.

  “This better be the last time I’m called out for you.”

  “I promise it will be. Nothing else is going to go wrong this week. I’ve had a distinct run of happy-things since last night.”

  “All right.” He drew out the word like he didn’t believe me. “Just, really, behave yourself.”

  Officer Darby pulled the door open and I got a peek at sharp, rugged lines, deep blue eyes and jet black hair. I might have been staring a bit. He was only five inches taller than me, but he filled the doorway like it was built around him.

  “Also, Ms. Lane?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s Wednesday.”

  He pulled the door shut behind him as I tried to figure out what that meant. A man of mystery. But, hopefully not one who would be showing up again anytime soon.

  Especially not once I moved into Ben’s. I had a feeling, climbing half-naked through your own window was even more frowned upon in fancy-shmancy neighborhoods.

  9

  The lights were still off when the heat kicked in. I lay on my bed listening to the air push through the vents and waiting for it to be warm enough to take my coat off.

  You’d think after not having pants on while crawling out of the cool night air and into my own home I’d be…wait a second.

  Wednesday.

  Every time I thought my humiliation was over for the week, nope. I was pretty sure the underwear I was wearing was dark blue with a bright yellow day of the week across the butt.

  Obviously I must be wearing the wrong day.

  I spun around chasing my own rear for a moment before flashing myself in the mirror.

  Figures.

  I was wearing Tuesday.

  I listened to the heat clicking on, feeling torn between thankfulness I’d never have to face Officer Darby again and disgust at myself for wishing I’d have to face Officer Darby again. You know, just to look at him. It was nice to see a guy who looked like a guy. I bet Officer Darby didn’t own a cashmere sweater.

  But, a cop? Talk about the controlling alpha-male stereotype.

  No, thank you.

  To be fair, he’d handled the situations with both the crazy men in my life with ease and humor. Both of which were things I’d realized I’d been lacking. Not that I needed a hero…I mean, a caregiver.

  Whatever.

  When the lights came back on, I focused on what needed to be done, packing up the last of my stuff and laying out just what I’d need for the next day.

  As I put away the last items, the barren room lost any small amount of charm I’d managed to shove into it. Moving to Ben’s cozy haven was going to be a huge upgrade in charm factor.

  Slowly, almost as if I were savoring the last night there, I wafted into sleep, glad to be on my own and not managing the emotions of anyone else. I hadn’t realized how much I’d had to do that. Jason was temperamental and judgmental and probably just plain mental, but none of that had been obvious to me until it was.

  I tried to brush away the feeling of stupidity. But hindsight really was 20-20. Maybe better.

  All the what-ifs that led me to dating Jason—the alone in a strange town right after college, a new job, an older guy taking you under his wing—to the reasons I stayed with him—it’s what I knew.

  After one day as a single girl on the town I felt something I hadn’t known I’d lost. A lightness of being. A lack of concern to balance and explain and soften everything going on around me.

  I was more than happy with my new situations. I was content. The type of content that lasted.

  And I had one person to thank for all that newfound contentedness. Jason.

  I’d been blind, but he’d ripped the shades off and pushed me into the world. And it was a much better world without him—even if I had managed to basically flash a cop.

  10

  I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock, the feel of warm air, and the fulfilled dream of a warm shower awaiting me in my own bathroom.

  It was heaven.

  I stripped the bed and put the sheets in the laundry basket by the door. This was good-bye. Not that I minded. Evacuating the cookie cutter apartment and getting to spend a year in the old-school charm of the apartment waiting for me a few neighborhoods over was probably going to spoil me for life.

  And yet, just like anytime you leave something behind, it all felt very bittersweet. Even the six block walk to the rental place to get a moving van was a journey in good-bye. Farewell, broken sidewalk! So long, crosswalk no one ever stopped at! Arrivederci, takeout Italian bakery!

  You’d think I was moving to Paris, not two neighborhoods over.

  After maneuvering the rental van back to my place, I brought the rest of my boxes down, shoved them in the back, and headed toward Ben’s place ready to grab my keys and kick him out. Nicely, of course, since he was so great. Not to mention my new landlord.

  Jenna waved from where she waited on the curb, a spot in front of her filled with two lawn chairs. I’ll be honest. I would have paid good money to see Jenna fighting off a parker. I’m not sure if she had a dark side, but I seriously doubt that’s what would have brought it out.

  I pulled up alongside the spot as she folded the lawn chairs, leaned them against a tree, and eyed it to see if the van would fit.

  I’ll never understand parallel parking. How many hours of your life are wasted because of it? First you have to find the spot and calculate if you fit. Once you’re reasonably sure that you can shove a few tons of metal between two immovable objects, you have to wait until the guy who wasn’t paying attention and pulled up on your rear bumper even though you have your reverse lights and your directional on smartens up and goes around. Then it takes at least two tries to get in right—four if you’re someone who doesn’t usually drive.

  Hours. Hours of life wasted in which I could be doing something more exciting.

  Like napping.

  Unfortunately, living in town meant parallel parking. I probably hadn’t attempted it in over a year. And that would have been in the tiny Zip Car I’d rented to go holiday shopping last winter.

  This wasn’t going to be pretty.

  I backed the van up a little, and then realized I was at the wrong angle. Pulling out of the spot, I eyed it again to decide my best approach. Edging further into the lane, I watched th
e bumpers in front and behind me. Then carefully, carefully I backed up. Front bumper. Back bumper in my side mirror. Front bumper. Back bumper in my side mirror. Everything was going fine until Jenna started shouting and waving her arms.

  I went to slam my foot on the brake, but hit the gas. The rear wheel jumped the curb and I banged into one of the old oaks lining the road.

  “Stop!” Jenna looked panicked. She rushed to the back of the van as I eased it out of the spot and put on the hazard lights.

  Going around to join her, I eyed the car behind me’s bumper to make sure I hadn’t managed to ding it too. Thank goodness I’d somehow stayed clear of the sleek urban tank a soccer mom probably drove twice a year.

  Jenna stood next to the tree, her hands holding bark onto a small two inch area as if she could repair it just by thinking good thoughts. In the scheme of things, the damage to the tree was minor, but in this neighborhood I wondered if it was the equivalent of murder.

  As Jenna focused on healing the tree, I checked out the van’s bumper. It had almost no damage. There were some smudges, but when I rubbed the cuff of my sweatshirt over them, they basically disappeared.

  “Don’t worry. We can fix this!” She shouted because volume always equals truth.

  “How?” Unless, she really was a fairy. I glanced toward her again. Probably too tall…and, you know, too human.

  I’m not sure how she thought we could fix a tree, but I was willing to let her try since the flip side was the fact that I’d killed city property.

  “I don’t know. But Ben will. He can fix anything.” She turned and sprinted into the building as I stood next to the kitty-corner van and damaged oak.

  “What exactly is going on here?”

  I knew that voice. It was beginning to signal every disaster I’d had recently. Even coated in liquid chocolate, I knew the sound meant nothing good.

  There, of course, was Officer Darby.

  And, sadly, there really was no way out of this. I might as well just face it head on. “I, um, may have backed into that tree.”