Chapter 2 Magnolia
Magnolia
My imminent death is stopped short.
A thick band wraps around my waist, pulling me back before my hands even reach the banister. My back presses against something solid and warm.
Comforting words that don’t make sense are being whispered into my ear.
Whoever holds me rocks me from side to side as though to calm me. The strange part is it’s actually making me feel safe. The reassuring words finally form a coherent thought in my mind.
“I’ve got you,” a deep voice says close to my ear. “You’re safe.”
A hand gently brushes my hair from my face. Long, manly fingers flash in front of my eyes as the man catches the last strand, tucking it behind my ear.
“Did I scream?” I ask.
The man behind me chuckles as he loosens his hold on my waist. He steps back, releasing me, and I immediately feel cold.
He replies, “No. Not a single sound.”
“Oh good.” I straighten my cropped pink blouse. It matches my perilously high heels to perfection. I flex my toes to see if I can still feel them—just barely.
I’ll wear mid-rise heels tomorrow if the building is still standing. Maybe running shoes. I’m sure those would look nice with my business attire.
“I didn’t think anyone else would use this staircase.” His voice is like warm caramel, and my stress is the ice cream melting under it.
I’m in control again. No longer at risk of screaming. Shoe choices don’t matter right now. I need to save the Very Important Papers and get out of the building.
I turn around to meet my assaulter turned rescuer.
It’s not the villain I was expecting. Although, maybe he is, because he is good-looking, and usually, those are the ones you least suspect.
He’s clean-shaven and wearing a suit. There is no tie, and his top two buttons lay open. I can count each beat of pulse in his neck.
He must be frightened too. No one wants to be burned alive.
“Will you be okay walking down the stairs?” he asks as he gently touches my arm. I didn’t even realize he was still holding it since I was so busy staring at him.
“Yes, I think I’ll take my shoes off so they won’t be ruined,” I manage to say.
“Excellent idea. I don’t mean to hurry you along, but in case the raging fire is below us, I’ll help you,” he tells me as he kneels down and unbuckles both my shoes in record time. His fingers brush against my skin as he loosens the final strap.
I rest my hand on his sturdy shoulder as I step out of them. Looking down at his head, I realize his hair is the same color as a dark rye whiskey.
If we don’t get out of here, I’ll never be able to try that new recipe I came up with, and I’ll never know if my own rye whiskey will be any good.
“This is just a fire drill, right?” I wiggle my feet, feeling the blood rush back to them now that I’m not in five-inch heels.
The man stands up, handing me my shoes. “No, this is real. We need to get out of here.”
He has a strong, chiseled jaw. He’s clean-shaven and has smile lines on his face with beginning crows’ feet at his eyes. His skin is tanned, showing that he spends a lot more time outside than I do. And he’s without a doubt the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.
He’s much taller than me now. I glance down at my bare feet, thankful that the red nail polish I painted on my toes two weeks ago still looks perfect. That would have been embarrassing. Toes have a magical ability to stay painted and never chip, thank goodness.
Several papers lie around my feet. These are the papers I promised my boss that I wouldn’t look at—yet now I’m staring down at them along with a stranger. Luckily, he seems preoccupied with picking up another folder from the ground.
“Oh dear, we’ve made a mess of it, haven’t we?” I say as if I didn’t just learn the building was actually on fire.
I don’t do well in tense situations. It’s easier to pretend like it’s not happening, so I bend down and scoop papers into my arms while keeping ahold of my shoes.
I slide the papers into a neat stack. I hand the man a few of the papers that are closest to him.
The folder that had been in his hands is empty, so it would make sense that these loose papers are his.
“Thank you,” he says as he picks up his own stray folder.
He grasps my hand and tugs me toward the stairs, having enough of a sense of self-preservation for both of us.
He keeps a firm grip on me, his steps even and sure, as though he runs down ten flights of stairs every day. “I don’t know what floor set off the alarm, so we need to hurry.”
I’m holding a stranger’s hand and running down a flight of stairs. I realize in the moment that this is odd. But then again, the building is on fire, and maybe this man has a hero complex.
Who am I to take that away from him?
Besides, my legs are shaking, and he’s keeping me upright. I grip his hand a little tighter.
When we reach the landing below, he helps pick up the scattered papers that are waiting for us. Then he grabs my hand again, and we’re flying down the steps once more.
“Which floor do you work on?” I ask as I let my legs do the work of carrying me down the stairs, reminding myself to breathe while we run.
“I’m coming from the tenth,” he explains.
He doesn’t sound breathless enough to be coming from the tenth floor, and I tell him so—between gasps.
“Don’t worry, you’ve got this.” He flashes a grin over his shoulder. “It’s all downhill from here.”
If I could breathe, I would give him a sarcastic laugh, but we’ve reached the fifth floor and the time for laughing is over.
We stay silent as we descend another flight of stairs. At the rate sweat is accumulating under my shirt, the papers will be soaked soon.
“Where is the rest of your office?” he asks me.
“On the eighth floor,” I reply.
He snorts a laugh. “No, I mean the other employees.”
“Hopefully already outside. I had to pause to grab some papers for my boss.”
“They left you there by yourself?” His voice holds a sharp edge to it, and I wonder if he’s as tired as I am from sprinting. He hides it well.
“Isabel, my boss, needed me to bring something from her office. And I thought it was just another fire drill.”
His warm hand squeezes mine. I’m conscious of how dry his hand is. He must not have nervous sweat glands like I do. I wonder if, under that jacket, there’s even a hint of perspiration.
Pretty sure even my back is dripping at this point.
“Remind me, what business is on the eighth floor?” he asks.
His conversation helps me forget why we’re running down the stairs, and his easygoing attitude and broad shoulders make me feel safe. I could burrow into a hug from him. Lay my head on his chest.
“The cuddling office,” I say as I jerk my gaze away from him.
He stops abruptly, my hand still connected to his by that firm grip. “Cuddling?”
“Did I say cuddling?” I ask as I stare at his angular jaw. “I meant the Burlinson Restaurant Supply.”
“Ah, Burlinson.” He smirks and continues forward.
And now we’re on our way down the stairs once again, and I’m left with no doubt who’s leading our journey.
Hint: it’s not the restaurant supply assistant, who just thoroughly embarrassed herself.
I decide to take back a little of our power dynamic. “What office do you belong to? I don’t think I’ve been to the tenth floor.”
He doesn’t turn around, but he does answer clearly. “Maintenance.”
I stare at his suit, wondering if that’s why there’s no tie.
Brilliant. Maintenance staff who wear business suits make an office seem like it’s always running smoothly. It seems a little strange that it would be on the tenth floor, but I’ve never worked in that type of job before.
“Plumbing?” I guess.
His arms fill out that suit so nicely.
“Infrastructure.”
Infrastructure. What kind of job is that? It sounds made up. Or maybe this fire is his fault…He could have been messing with wires he shouldn’t have.
Missing a step, I catch myself, thanks to my bare feet, but manage to stub my toe in the process.
“You okay?” he asks, but doesn’t slow, tugging me after him as I gasp in pain. “Do you want me to carry you?”
“I’ll power through,” I manage to wheeze.
We finally reach the bottom floor, and he pushes open the exit that leads to the alley.
There’s a tall gray fence in front of us, blocking the view of the street.
To our right, there’s a loading dock, but if we turn left, we can follow the pavement to the front of the building.
He releases my hand and tucks the manila folder inside his jacket.
And now I’m especially jealous of men’s clothing.
First, they have actual pockets on their jeans, and second, they have even bigger pockets that can hold papers inside their coats?
There’s something inherently unfair about all of this.
I take the time to tuck all the loose Very Important Papers back into the folder, then slip my shoes back on. They still pinch terribly. But because the city sidewalks often have bits of shattered glass, I don’t dare keep walking barefoot. The only blood-red I like is my nail polish.
My hands shake as I attempt to buckle my shoes, and I nearly topple over. But the man catches me with a steadying hand on my shoulder.
“Thanks,” I say as I look up at the person who nearly killed me only a few minutes ago.
Now that we’re outside, out of danger, I can appreciate the full picture in daylight.
His eyes are blue—a light cerulean shade.
I wonder how a label that color would look against the backdrop of the bourbon we just distilled.
Too bad that batch won’t be ready for another four years.
And something tells me that this man with the gorgeous eyes isn’t available either. Because who would ever let him go?
He smiles down at me, and it feels like the temperature just rose ten degrees.
“I’m Nash.”
“I’m Magnolia.”
“That’s a nice name,” he tells me.
“Thanks. My mom has a thing for trees.”
A whoop of a siren breaks our staring contest.
“We really need to get to the front of the building, so they don’t go in looking for us,” he urges me.
I shake my head as I realize I’m ogling this man’s eyes and hoping to use their exact shade to sell bourbon.
“Right. To the front we go. Thanks for catching me up there.”
Nash shrugs and holds out his hand to help me stand straight. “Really, it was my fault. I should have been paying attention to the doors.”
I grasp the front of my shirt and pull it away from my body. “I’ll tell you what. I’m never skipping leg day at the gym again.”
He smirks and leads the way around to the front of the building. “They seemed to get you down those stairs just fine. And they didn’t stop your smart mouth.”
Following behind, I stare at his back and realize that those fantastic blue eyes belong to the most amusing man I’ve ever met.