Chapter 2
Noa
Storytime always wipes me out but in the best possible way. I stack the last few abandoned picture books on their shelf and roll my neck, grateful that most of my regulars arrived early today to finish their shopping before the snow.
The street outside is already dusted white, and holiday lights twinkle through the flurries. Time to close shop and head upstairs to my cozy apartment with a mug of tea and the new Chloe Petals romance novel. I can just feel my soft blanket and the cocoon of my sofa calling me.
I run my hand along the shelf of children's holiday books and give myself exactly five seconds to imagine reading one to a child of my own someday.
I'm counting out the register when movement catches my eye through the swirl of snow outside my front window.
A man in an expensive coat paces next to an electric car, gesturing wildly with one hand while holding a phone to his ear with the other.
Through the heavy flakes, his tall figure cuts an impressive silhouette—all long legs and broad shoulders in that perfectly tailored coat.
Even in his agitation, there's something magnetic about the way he moves. Powerful.
I recognize him as the distractingly handsome older guy from earlier—Brian Klein, whose fingers zinged against mine when I handed him his credit card. "Older" is probably an insulting term, but he's older than me in all the best ways.
If I were reading one of those romance novels, I might say Brian Klein is a silver fox. Gray streaks in his hair, flecks in that perfectly groomed stubble... a carefully tailored suit.
He kicks one of the tires and immediately winces, shaking his fancy shoe. Even through the glass, I can read the curse words on his lips.
I shouldn't get involved. I should finish closing up and head upstairs.
But I can't tear my eyes away from him. Earlier, I tried to be professional and not stare, but now I soak in the sharp line of his jaw, the way his dark hair curls slightly at his collar, and the snow adding white to the sexy speckles on his head.
His whole body radiates controlled power, like he's used to commanding rooms, closing deals. Making things happen.
But something about his desperation tugs at me—plus I'm pretty sure I know exactly what's wrong with his car.
The public charging station on the block has been malfunctioning all week, according to my regulars.
It's hard enough for people with street parking to find a place to charge.
I should offer a charging station through the shop.
..capitalize on that captive audience. Hmm.
I grab my coat and unlock the shop door, letting in a blast of frigid air as I push it open. I shout into the wind, "Car trouble?"
He spins toward me, phone still pressed to his ear.
In the fading daylight, his blue eyes appear even more striking than they did in the shop.
"I'll call you back," he says to whoever he's talking to, then gives me a sheepish look.
"The battery's dead. I've been arguing with the rental company for twenty minutes. "
"The charging station's been broken."
He rolls his eyes. "Yes, I see that now." He blows out a breath. "They're supposed to bring me a replacement car and tow this one, but the service rep seems to think it's reasonable for me to wait multiple hours for this nonsense." He purses his lips and seems to stare at me, waiting for a reply.
I watch his lips as he talks, noticing how expressive his face is despite his apparent attempt to maintain a professional demeanor.
This guy is all man, a real adult. Definitely a fox.
I see it now, the difference between him and the people I've dated before— the ones my sister mocks and calls man-babies. His hands, when they aren’t gesturing in frustration, are elegant—a businessman's hands, yet they show surprising strength in the way he holds his phone.
I hesitate, then add, "I have tea upstairs. And heat. You're welcome to wait while they sort out your car."
His eyes widen slightly. "You shouldn't invite strange men up to your apartment, Noa." He hesitates for a moment, and his face softens. He rubs a hand on the back of his neck, wrinkling his nose. "I overheard one of the children use your name."
I smile and tug my sweater tighter against the cold. "You're not that strange." I look up at the sky as the flakes really start to gather steam. "Just a guy who bought his mom a book about a sexy actor. Besides, it's nearly sunset, and I was going to light the menorah. Would you like to join me?"
A gust of icy wind ruffles his hair, and I resist the urge to reach up and smooth it back into place. What is it about this man that makes me want to comfort him and ease the tension I can see in the set of his shoulders?
His expression shifts; something softens around his eyes. "I was supposed to be going home to see my family, but..." He gestures at the dead car, then glances at his watch. "Are you sure?"
"It's the season of miracles, right? What's more miraculous than finding someone to warm you up when you're stranded?" I'm rambling now, but the snow is picking up, and he looks so lost standing there in his fancy coat. "Plus, I make delicious tea. And I might have some donuts..."
He raises his brows. "Jelly filled?"
"My dad's recipe. He stress-bakes during the holidays."
Brian looks at his phone again, then at the darkening sky. A particularly fierce gust of wind whips snow between us, and I watch his resolve crumble. "Alright. Thank you. Just until the car service arrives."
"Of course." I gesture toward the side door that leads to the stairs of my apartment. "Though fair warning—I might talk your ear off about books. It's an occupational hazard."
I lead him toward the side entrance, very aware of his presence behind me.
He moves with an athlete's grace despite his obvious exhaustion, and when I glance back, I catch him studying me with an intensity that sends warmth through my chest despite the bitter cold.
What am I getting myself into, inviting this gorgeous stranger into my space?