by Wendy Knight
Sort of.
No key card.
Frantically, she ran back to her car and dumped the contents of her bag on her seat, but the key card wasn’t there. She tore the car apart, looking under the seat and mats and in the cup holder. Losing the key card could be cause for dismissal.
Her phone beeped. Five percent left. Using the flashlight was killing her battery. The key card wasn’t there. It wasn’t anywhere.
She bit her lip and resisted the urge to cry or stomp her foot or throw things or curl up in the snow in the fetal position. She needed a plan.
No plan came to her and she stomped her foot in the snow while fighting tears and threw her cocoa mug across the parking lot. Except that was littering so she slipped and slid across the parking lot after it.
She only fell twice.
Soaked and shivering, fingers numb and brain frozen, she stared at her car, trying to will it to life.
The car did not respond.
CHAPTER FOUR
Crew pulled the big truck into the lot and shifted into park. Her car was there, but Azura was nowhere to be seen. The temperature had dropped to the low teens and he had no idea how long she’d been out in the cold. All her text said was, “I need help.”
When he’d called her, he’d barely been able to get the address through her chattering teeth and her voice shook from shivering. He hadn’t asked for details, just thrown on a coat and left. Now, with no sign of her, he was wondering if he should have taken the time to ask for details.
Crew checked his phone again to see if she’d sent a text while he’d been driving and had found another way home, but there was nothing. He frowned and unbuckled his seatbelt, his hand on the door handle, when she climbed out of her car. She was soaked, her hair frozen, without even a winter coat, and she slid and promptly crashed to the ground as soon as her foot hit the pavement. Crew swore and jumped from the truck, jogging through the snow to where she was struggling to her feet. “H—how—d—d—do you d—d—d—o that?” she chattered.
He took her arm, holding her steady when her feet slipped out from under her again. She was like a giant popsicle, all frozen and icy. “Do what?” he asked distractedly, leading her to the passenger side of his truck.
“W—w—walk. W—without—without falling.”
He glanced down at her heels and at his own sensible boots and looked back up at her with a raised eyebrow, but she was too busy trying to make it to his truck to notice. “W—w—wait. I f—forgot—forgot t—t—to lock it.”
“Let’s get you in the truck and I’ll go lock it, okay?” he opened the door because he wasn’t entirely sure her frozen fingers wouldn’t just snap in half if she tried to use them. She slid again as soon as he let her go, so he held on to her as she climbed inside and settled onto the seat.
“W—w—warm,” she breathed, holding her shaking hands toward the heater.
“Keys?” he waited while she fumbled in her jacket pocket—not even a warm jacket—and attempted to dig the keys out, growling in frustration. Finally, he fished them out himself and ran to lock the car. Her purse sat on the seat so he grabbed it before he hit the lock button and slammed the door.
“Th—thank y—you.” She took the purse and settled it in her lap, recoiling slightly at the cold. Crew jogged back around the truck and climbed up into the driver’s seat.
“You okay?”
She nodded. “Th—thank y—you,” she said again.
“What happened? It’s after five in the morning. On a Sunday.”
“I f—fell a—asleep.” She shivered violently, her teeth chattering loud enough that he could hear it from his side of the truck. “A—and th—then I l—l—lost my keycard. A—and m—my car w—wouldn’t start. A—and m—my—my phone died.”
“How long have you been out here?” He shifted into drive but had no idea where he was going so he sat in the parking lot, watching her shiver. Even half frozen, she was beautiful.
“Almost a—an h—h—hour.”
“It’s seventeen degrees out there, Azura. Why didn’t you call earlier?”
She at least had the decency to look abashed, ducking her head. “It w—was four in—in the morning and—and I was a h—horrible person.”
He leaned back, trying to fight the smile playing at his lips. “You were?”
“I—I w—w—was very mean. Yesterday. And—and the day before.”
“Well, I did run you off the road with my truck. I hope that’s not why your car won’t start.” He buckled his seatbelt and turned back toward the road. “Where am I taking you?”
“You—you slipped on the I—ice. I’m in the Hawthorn apartments on—on Sixth. The—the mechanic checked m—my car and—and said it was fine.”
She hunched over on herself, arms wrapped tight around her middle, as close to the heat as she could get. Her hair had thawed enough that it was dripping on his leather seats, and she tried to pull it all over her shoulder.
Away from the leather and onto her already frozen jacket.
“It’s winter. Most people wear winter coats in winter.”
She nodded. “I know.”
That was it. No explanation as to why she was out in a light jacket in seventeen degrees. He watched her out of the corner of his eye while he navigated the empty streets.
“Did I wake you up?” she asked quietly after several minutes of driving. Her shivering had subsided mostly and her teeth only chattered when she tried to yawn.
He signaled for no one and turned right onto Sixth Avenue. “No. I get up at five.”
“On Sunday?” She sounded exhausted.
“Every day. It makes it easier than messing up my internal clock on the weekends.”
She nodded, fighting to keep her eyes open. “Why do you get up at five? There are no classes that early.”
“I go to the gym and I get some work in before my first class.”
She turned toward him, her whole body twisting in her seat in an attempt to keep her cold, wet hair from touching her skin. “You get up at five to go to the gym? And work? I thought you were an architect major.”
He glanced at her quickly, the wheel sliding through his hands as the truck straightened on the road. “Been checking up on me, Azura?”
She sighed, curling in on herself even more. “Holly seems to know a lot about you. She keeps me informed.”
“Holly. The elf?”
Her lips quirked in the barest hint of a smile. “If ever there was one.”
“That’s amusing given your aversion to all things Christmas.”
She shrugged. “You know what they say about opposites attracting.”
He wanted to ask her what was up with all the Christmas hate, but she was exhausted and for the first time since she’d realized he was the one who had driven her off the road, she wasn’t hissing and snarling at him. So he only motioned toward the parking lot in front of their apartment building. “Which one is yours?”
“4A. Right over there.”
He pulled into her empty parking stall and shifted into park, killing the ignition. “I’ll help you inside. Maybe you should invest in some snow boots. And an actual winter coat.”
She undid her seatbelt and opened the door but waited patiently for him to come help her down. His truck had a six-inch lift and huge tires, and she wisely seemed to understand that climbing down onto black ice in six-inch heels was not a smart move. He grabbed her waist and lifted her down, his heart pounding in his chest as her body brushed against his. It was so quiet in the frozen night that he was sure she could hear it—
Except her feet slid out from under her the minute they hit the ice and she collapsed. He just caught her, laughing despite himself when every curse word known to man escaped her full lips. “I hate ice,” she ground out.
“The ice doesn’t seem to be fond of you, either,” he said as he fought to keep them both upright while still laughing and sliding on the ice himself.
She held on to the truck and wre
nched her shoes off. “The ice is fond of me. That’s why it keeps trying to get me closer.” Barefoot, teeth clenched, she padded across the ice and up to the sidewalk. “Ice loves me.”
“Clearly,” he murmured while he watched her dance on her toes across the concrete, trying to touch it as little as possible while fighting to get her key in the lock.
“It’s cold, it’s cold, it’s cold.”
He reached around her, twisting the handle and the door swung open under her touch. “Yesss,” she breathed and hopped inside. He half-expected her to shut the door in his face but she left it open, motioning him while she bounced over to the lamp.
Crew followed. Her apartment was small but gorgeous, like it belonged in one of his family’s magazines. Decorated very rustically with lots of what appeared to be handmade decor and subtle yellows and blues. “Nice place,” he said quietly because he assumed that somewhere, Holly would still be sleeping.
He was wrong.
“Where have you been? I’ve called your phone, I called your office! I didn’t even know who else to call, Z! I was scared to death and I can’t drive! Do you know what time it is?” The tiny elf was bellowing like a giant twice her size, and Crew’s feet froze to the floor. “You said you were going back to the office!”
Holly was in an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants, elf makeup washed off and her red hair in a messy bun, hands planted on her hips like a miniature warrior queen standing in the doorway of what Crew could only assume was her bedroom.
“I did.” Azura finally managed to get the lamp on, which was pointless now that Holly had already flipped the switch for the living room and it was ablaze in light. “But I ran into some problems—” Somehow, inexplicably, her hand caught on the lamp as she pulled away and it crashed to the floor, shattering into thousands of shards of glass and slivers of wood. The light above them flickered and the lightbulb exploded with an audible pop and the room was plunged into darkness.
“What the hell just happened?” Holly bellowed.
“Azura, you okay?” Crew dug his phone out of his pocket and held it up, shedding very weak light on the subject. She was frozen in place, staring around her in shock.
Barefooted.
“Don’t move. I’ll throw you some shoes.” Holly disappeared into the darkness and the bedroom light came on. Seconds later, she appeared, holding what appeared to be bunny slippers. “Ready?”
Azura sighed, shoving her dark hair away from her face. She looked ethereal in the semi-darkness. “Ready. I think.”
Holly tossed the slippers, first one and then the other, ever so gently and they soared through the air, right into Azura’s hands. Except something happened between Azura catching them and Azura putting them on her feet and suddenly there was more shattering of glass and an icy breeze blew through the living room.
“What was that?” Holly gasped. “Azura!”
“The window—” Azura turned in a slow circle. “I—I broke the window. With a bunny slipper.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Crew was nice enough to stay and help clean up the glass and restore power to the living room. Somehow, she’d tripped the breaker when she knocked over the lamp, which made absolutely no sense. He also found a large piece of cardboard so they could cover their window until there was time to do something more permanent. Azura walked him to the door in a haze, almost afraid to put one foot in front of the other for fear she would break something else. “Thank you. So much. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
She was so tired, her words slurred. Super attractive.
He grinned, that devastating smile that nearly stopped her heart the night before at the party. “You’d be a popsicle, probably.” The smile died and his dark eyes searched her face, sending shivers skittering deliciously across her spine. “Seriously, be careful. I think the sleep deprivation is getting to you.”
Yes, sleep deprivation. That was what caused her car to not work, the lamp to fall over, and the window to break. The keycard disappearance, she could understand though. She’d been so tired. “I promise to sleep the rest of the day. Thank you again.”
“No problem.” Leaning around her, he waved at Holly. “Take care of her, Elf!”
Holly giggled like a star struck teenager and waved. Crew grinned one more time and was gone, and Azura shut the door gently behind him, leaning her forehead against the cool wood. “This day sucks.”
“Does it?” Holly asked, bouncing over with way too much energy for seven in the morning. “We just spent two hours with Crew Bacall and he’s an absolute doll. I can think of worse ways to start the day.”
Azura opened her eyes just enough to peek at her crazy roommate from the corner of her eye. “I started this day with a car that won’t work, a lost keycard that will probably get me fired, and freezing my tail off. So yeah, there are worse ways to start the day.”
“Oh honey,” Holly padded over and wrapped her in a hug. Azura was five-nine, and Holly barely broke five feet, but somehow her hugs felt larger than life. They felt like a promise that everything would be okay. “You just need some sleep. You’ve been working too hard trying to impress those bosses of yours. They love you. They love your dedication and how hard you work. Stop killing yourself just for job security.”
“Job security is everything, little elf. Everything.”
Holly squeezed her shoulders one last time and moved away, dragging Azura with her. “Time for bed.”
Azura was too tired to argue. She was too tired to brush her teeth, and she couldn’t remember the last time that happened. She changed out of her stiff clothes and into soft sweats, wondering if she would ever get warm again. Sleep was all she cared about.
So why was Crew’s gorgeous smile the last thing she remembered seeing before she passed out?
AZURA slept for twelve hours. The whole day, wasted. When she did finally wake up, she was too tired to function and vegged out in front of the TV under several blankets with a giant bowl of popcorn and extra butter. Holly had gone to the mall for work, and Azura felt no need to even get out of her sweats, ratty as they may be. Her hair was still all stiff and weird and she needed a shower, but no one ever came over on Sunday night.
Netflix had a new horror series that she’d been wanting to try, but Holly was strict on the no-horror household, and since her little elf roommate was so understanding about Azura’s Christmas aversion, Azura abstained from all things scary.
But Holly wasn’t there.
Azura brushed popcorn out of her hair and watched absently as it landed on her chest and lap but was too tired to clean it up. And she was alone.
Watching horror.
In December.
“As it should be,” she said aloud to the empty apartment, nodding firmly.
Her voice echoed, bouncing off the broken window and the walls and she was suddenly very aware that she was alone.
With a broken window that any ax murder worth his salt could climb through.
“You’re an adult, Azura. Knock it off,” she hissed, not loud enough to echo off any walls this time. Just in case.
Focus. Focus on the show.
People were dying left and right, and didn’t they deserve her attention? She’d hate for their deaths to be in vain. There were creatures crawling along the hallways. She hated things that crawled. They creeped her out. And they were crawling through the dark—her hallways were dark—
Someone knocked on the door and she screamed. Screamed so loud she nearly choked on the popcorn and the light fixture above her head swayed. And then, like any brave, self-respecting adult, she bolted to her feet and sprinted to her room, leaping the coffee table in one smooth motion.
“Ms. Conley?! Ms. Conley? Azura!”
More pounding on the front door but Azura was safely in her bedroom with that door shut and locked, breathing hard and covered in popcorn. She’d left a trail straight to her from the couch that any good serial killer could follow.
Rookie mistake.
Not that she ever hoped to be a professional escaper of bad guys.
“Ms. Conley, I’m coming in!”
The murderer knew her name?
Slowly, adrenaline subsided, and rational thought made an appearance. By the time the landlord had the door unlocked and was rushing in, she’d realized the full extent of what she’d just done and was frantically trying to figure out a way to make it through the next five minutes gracefully.
Nope, there was no way.
Sighing, she unlocked her bedroom door and met her landlord with all the dignity she could muster—covered in popcorn with ratty hair and threadbare sweats. “Hey, Mr. Miller.”
“Are you okay? I heard screaming—is someone here?” He’d moved from the kitchen into the living room with his set of keys raised like a weapon, adorable in his protectiveness. Of course, it might be because at one point, he’d been hoping she would marry his son, Jake.
Jake, who had followed his dad into the room, hammer ready to fight her demons.
“Hi, Jake.”
He blinked, drawing himself up short when he saw her. Not the best look for running into one’s ex-boyfriend.
“It’s—I’m not feeling well,” she said by way of explanation, motioning to all of her.
“I heard screaming,” Mr. Miller said again. “Is everything okay?”
Azura could feel every inch of her face fill with fire and she knew when she blushed, it wasn’t the adorable spread of pink across her cheeks but the fire-engine red that colored her whole head, including her ears. It wasn’t pretty. And yet, there it was. “I was watching a scary movie and the window is broken, so an ax murder or a possessed dog could just climb right in and then you knocked and I’m very sleep deprived.” She swallowed hard.
Mr. Miller nodded slowly. He was older, with kind eyes and graying hair. He’d been a model landlord for the two years that Azura had lived there. Of course, she’d never broken one of his windows before.
Jake’s lips twitched but he said nothing.
“So, this is the window?” Mr. Miller spoke with the traces of a Romanian accent, and his simple clothing belied the great wealth he had amassed in the many years since he’d come to America. She’d always loved listening to him speak.