Chapter 13
“It’s a false alarm,” I say when Leo steps out of his truck, meeting me the next evening in front of The Memory Bank. “The package wasn’t your ceramic tree like I thought. It’s babydoll clothes.”
His gaze dips to the box beneath my right arm. “For Mitzy?”
“You know it.” I found vintage doll outfits for an amazing price.
It was too good to pass over. Plus I haven’t seen Mitzy these last few days with her stroller.
Not that unusual, since the temperatures have been below freezing.
As if on cue, winter’s icy breath pulses against my skin, making me glad I wore my heavier coat today.
He shakes his head, but his eyes shine with amusement. “So you’re cool with being her enabler?”
I laugh. “Her babydoll addiction exists with or without me. Those dolls might as well be fabulously dressed.” I soak in his warm smile but notice the faint lines fanning from the corners of his eyes.
Guilt stabs me. He’d gotten called out last night, and I’ve no idea how late he’d been working.
Did the man get any rest? “I texted you the second I opened the box and saw it wasn’t your tree. But you must’ve already been driving.”
“It’s all good.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and pops a shoulder against the lamppost. While Dean Martin is crooning through the speakers and the Christmas lights—swooping from the poles overhead—glitter against the darkness, Leo adds allure to the already charming scene.
“It’s okay to confess to wanting to see me.
I would’ve stopped by without the ruse of the package.
” His teasing smile saves him from a retaliatory swat to the arm.
Not that he’d even feel it with his thick coat.
“It totally was not a ruse.” I shift the box to hold it under my left arm, but Leo swiftly relieves me of it. “I should’ve opened the package when Mark left it by the back door, but I was kind of busy. Today being Black Friday and all.”
Leo drums his fingers on the sides of the box. “Who’s Mark?”
“My FedEx guy.”
His brows wing upward, disappearing beneath his hat. “ Your FedEx guy?”
I roll my eyes. “Not mine mine. Mark’s the delivery dude for all of Main Street.
” Mark also happens to be thirty years older than me and, more importantly, married with five children.
“The point is, I’m sorry you came here, and I don’t have your package.
But I got an email that another delivery’s scheduled for tomorrow.
” I raise my phone as if he could see the FedEx notification, then stash it in my tote bag slung over my shoulder.
“I’ll be sure to open it before texting you and not just assume.
” I’d thought for certain Leo’s tree would arrive first, considering Jared had shipped it days before I even ordered Mitzy’s stuff.
But alas, nothing is ever predictable in both love and shipping ETAs.
His mouth curves into an easy grin. “It’s seriously okay. This means I get another chance to see you tomorrow.” He steps closer. “Have you eaten yet?”
I haven’t had time to eat today. I don’t get the foot traffic like department stores on Black Friday, but it was steady.
Not that I’m complaining. Hours fly by on days like these.
Though, come six o’clock, I was ready to lock the door.
I’d only been closed for a few minutes before Leo pulled up.
“No, but I’ve got a date with a giant bowl of Lucky Charms.” And an entire evening’s worth of reading Secret Santa letters.
He tilts his head, masking half of his face in shadows, his low voice the very essence of temptation. “Can I convince you to cancel that date?”
My vocal cords ice over at the heat in his voice.
I flick my gaze to my shop’s front window.
It’s not the twinkle lights framing my most recent Christmas display that I’m seeing.
No, I’m glimpsing the ghostly memory of Greta from two weeks ago who determined to climb out of her mental and emotional rut.
A swell of boldness overtakes me. “Maybe. It depends on what you’re offering.
” This is a dangerous game. One where I don’t know the rules but mindlessly participate anyway.
“It’s got to be something that can trump carbs and sugar.
Those are my two favorite food groups.” Granted, cereal isn’t the best option for dinner, but my laziness will not be denied.
He laughs. “I know an Italian place with the best garlic breadsticks and lasagna. It’s a town over, but worth the drive. Since you fed me last night, it’s only fair I take my turn. You up for it?”
Oh.
Talk about taking an icepick to my fragile hope.
He’s not asking me on a date. He feels obligated to even the score, since he thinks he crashed my Thanksgiving dinner.
Am I disappointed? Yes. Am I going to pass on a chance for a free Italian meal?
I’m not that delusional. “You had me at breadsticks.” My growling stomach confirms I made the right choice.
“Good.”
“Care if I drop that off at Mitzy’s first?” I nod at the package in his arms. “She lives above Zilo’s Florist, but her entrance is around back.”
“Lead the way,” he says as if the flower shop isn’t four storefronts down, but it’s sweet of him to join me.
Our breaths puff before us as we cut through a narrow alley and walk the short jaunt to Mitzy’s. We climb the stairs, and I knock on her door, which has seen better days. We wait several seconds before I try again. I exchange a glance with Leo. “Maybe she’s out.”
Then I hear it.
A low guttural moan.
My gaze snaps to his, but he’s already pounding on the door. “Mitzy,” he calls. “Are you okay?”
Another groan, only this one’s twice as loud.
“Something’s wrong.” I rattle the doorknob. It’s locked. I can’t even get help from the flower shop below because it’s closed. “What do we do?” Panic pitches my voice higher. “What if she’s seriously hurt?”
“Call 911 and get help sent over.” His voice is calm and steady. “I’ve got something in my truck that can open this. I’ll be right back.”
My blood’s pounding in my ears. “Okay.”
He sets the box down, squeezes my shoulder, then flies down the steps, jumping the last several.
I make a quick call to EMS and give them the information.
By the time I hang up, Leo returns with this metal knife-looking thing.
He slides it between the jamb and the door in line with the latch.
His profession undoubtedly makes him skilled at opening doors because within a minute, he pries it open without breaking the lock.
We rush into the apartment and find Mitzy collapsed on the floor.
We both kneel beside her, but I let Leo take the lead.
“Mitzy.” He’s assessing her for injuries. “We called for help.”
She moans, and her lashes flutter. She slowly opens one eye, then the other. Her dull brown gaze latches onto Leo. “Hello, handsome.” Her voice is raspy. “What’s happened?” She tries to sit up, but Leo gently holds her still.
“We found you on the floor,” he says soothingly. “Are you hurting anywhere? This is important, Mitzy, because I can’t have you moving until I’m certain you haven’t sustained any injuries. It’ll make things worse.” He gently strokes her hair from her forehead. “And we can’t have that.”
Mitzy expels a dreamy sigh, and I’m about to join her.
She takes her time to answer, no doubt soaking up all of Leo’s ministrations. Smart woman. “I think I’m okay, young man.” She squeezes her eyes shut, then reopens. “Just felt a bit woozy.”
Leo runs his hands over her head and seemingly goes through a mental checklist before finally assisting her to a seated position. “Would you like me to carry you to the sofa?”
Mitzy’s eyes sparkle. “Yes, please.”
I’m not certain if she’s truly unable to stand or just milking the attentions of a good-looking guy, but I think she made the right choice. Leo carefully gathers her into his arms and gently deposits her on a blush-colored couch. I grab the pillows from the adjacent chair and prop them beneath her.
After several seconds, Mitzy confesses, “I ran out of water.”
“What?!” Leo and I say in unison.
Her gaze turns sheepish. “It’s been too cold to go out, and I can’t drink from my tap because of the rust in the pipes. So I haven’t been drinking much.” She glances to her left, where a babydoll is lying in a bassinet. “Plus, little Jacqueline had a case of the sniffles.”
I’m already digging out my unopened Dasani from my tote. “Here.”
She gratefully takes it, but her hands are shaky. I reach to help, but her gaze seeks out Leo. He dutifully holds the bottle for her while she takes measured sips.
Noise sounds on the stairs.
“That would be emergency services,” I say.
“Up here,” Leo calls, even as Mitzy’s eyes widen.
Within seconds, two men stride through the door, and Leo takes control, explaining the situation.
I guess he knows them, considering their familiar manner.
Mitzy refuses to be transported to the hospital, but certainly doesn’t mind the EMTs fussing over her, checking her vitals, taking her temperature, and asking her questions.
Once she signs a release form, the medical team is on their way.
“Well, that was an ordeal.” Mitzy leans back against the cushions. “I’m sorry to be so much trouble.” Her chipper tone is the exact opposite of apologetic, making me wonder if maybe she’s been lonely.
I finally glance around her apartment. I’ve been inside Mitzy’s place barely a handful of times, but the space is as I remember it—quaint and tidy.
I know that most of her dolls are kept in the spare bedroom, except for the select few she keeps out, such as the swaddled figure in the cradle by the armchair, the curly-haired doll in the wooden highchair, and the one she claimed has a cold in the bassinet beside her.
Which reminds me.
I grab the box of baby outfits that was abandoned by the door and place it next to her on the sofa.
She squeals in delight and rummages through like a kid on Christmas.
“Greta?” Leo waves me into the kitchen but remains close, as if we’re sharing secrets. “She’s stable now, but we didn’t fix the problem.”
I nod. “The water.”
“Yeah.”
I watch as he tests the faucet, then opens the cabinet beneath the sink.
I never once thought to consider critical-thinking skills an attractive trait.
But the way his hands flex at his sides and the way his brows furrow over a pensive gaze as he’s mentally searching for a solution has my mouth going dry.
He folds his arms over his chest and leans against the counter.
“I can run to Home Depot and grab an under-the-sink filter system. That will make her water safe to drink.”
“Good idea.” Tilly’s parents have one of those in their house. “I’ll stay with Mitzy and see if I can get her to eat something.”
His face softens. “Sorry about the Italian restaurant.”
I’d completely forgotten. “Don’t be.” I smile. “I’m just glad we were here to help.”
He watches me for several soul-stirring seconds before saying, “Me too.”
“Oh, maybe I can get Mitzy to leak the name of her landlord. They really should be responsible for clean pipes.” I briefly have the idea that Mitzy can be my Silver Creek Secret Santa recipient, but she needs clean water right away, not three weeks from now so Fletcher can get his coveted sob story.
“That shouldn’t be a problem. I’m pretty sure Chief Todd owns this building.”
“Really?” Garrison Todd is a pillar in this community. If his name’s on that deed, then I’m pretty sure he has no idea about Mitzy’s rusty water. He’ll make everything right.
With our plan in motion, Leo heads to the store to get the water purifier, and I tend to Mitzy.
She’s dutifully drinking her water, and I do housekeeping tasks so she won’t have to exert herself this week, like running the vacuum, dusting her furniture, and throwing in a load of laundry.
By the time Leo returns, I’m heating up soup (from the cans I found in the cupboard) and making grilled cheese sandwiches.
Of course, Leo bought a top-of-the-line water filtration system that he spends the next couple of hours installing. I manage to get him to eat a little, but the man is on a mission.
It’s nearing ten o’clock by the time we leave Mitzy’s apartment. No soul is in sight on the back alley behind Main Street, but Leo insists on walking me to my door.
I gently bump his elbow with mine. “I think Mitzy loves her new tumbler.” Along with her new water purifier, Leo bought her one of those expensive, temperature retention cups so she could always keep water nearby.
It was ridiculously thoughtful. “She cradled it close like one of her dolls. I think you’re her new favorite person. ”
He chuckles. “Yet she still scolded me for not saying goodbye to Jacqueline.”
She totally did. We reach the bottom of the staircase leading to my door, and I’m surprised Leo climbs the steps alongside me. “Despite that, you’re a good guy, Remington Orileo Mathis.”
I expect him to smile at my words, but instead, his gaze is … smoldering. I’ve never been smoldered before, and it’s quite the heady feeling. My fingers are all twitchy as they wrap around the doorknob.
“I’m glad you think so.” His voice pairs well with moonlight. “Sweet dreams, Greta.”