V is for Valentine (Holly, Idaho Book 3)

by Jeannie Watt

  Danny pulled up to the dark warehouse, and the headlights glinted off the new windowpanes.

  “Nice change from the plywood,” Sandra said.

  “They won’t be finished until Monday afternoon,” he explained as they got out of the car and stood admiring the work of the window crew. “They have about half of the opposite side left to go.”

  “It is a lot of windows,” Sandra said. “Glad I don’t have to wash them.”

  “Washing aside, it’s part of what I love about this building.”

  “It’s perfect for a brewery.” Her expression grew serious. “Speaking of which, Fork Horn didn’t jump on my offer. The rep causally mentioned that they were considering another potential site.”

  “Ah.” His tone belied the way his stomach knotted. He wanted the brewery as his first resident.

  “I think he’s bluffing, and I mentioned the river locale and the possibility of a deck.”

  “Good selling point.”

  “I’ll bring this deal home,” she said, folding her arms over her chest, still studying the building. “My concern is parking. We need that lot next door, and I’d like to nail it down before we start doing walk-throughs with potential clients so that the price doesn’t jump.”

  “Have you made inquiries?”

  “As myself, yes.”

  “Covert.”

  “Strategic.” She dropped her arms. “This looks great and will look even better in the daylight.” She gave him a sideways look. “Did you say something about pizza?”

  He grinned. “I must have.”

  As they drove by the old high school on the way to Pizza Bob’s, two things jumped out at Danny. First, the lights were on. Second, Felicity’s car was still parked in front—over an hour after she’d said she was going to leave. He let out a breath, hoping that she hadn’t fallen off a ladder or anything as he swung into the parking spot next to the Audi.

  “I need to check on something fast. Shouldn’t take me more than a minute or two.”

  “I’m good.” Sandra smiled at him. “No need to hurry as long as you leave the engine running and the heat on.”

  He took the steps to the front door two at a time, taking care not to slip on the rime that was forming. He couldn’t see Felicity through the windows in the multipaned oak doors, so he pulled out his keys. Before he could unlock the door, Felicity came into view. She crossed the entryway to open the door.

  “Did you forget something?” she asked.

  “No, but it seems you did.” She gave him a perplexed frown, so he added, “You forgot to go home.”

  “I had a few things I wanted to finish. We do have a time crunch here.”

  Since she was carrying a loaded joint knife, it appeared that she was doing more than finishing up a few things. She was still hard at it.

  “We’ll make it. We’ve gone over the schedule and the timeframe more than once.”

  “It’s tight.”

  “You’ve been here since five thirty. That makes fourteen hours.”

  She gave him an impatient look, but he wasn’t having it.

  “You shouldn’t be working alone. It’s not safe.”

  “How much trouble can I get into with a trowel and a tray of joint compound?”

  He started to answer when she interrupted him. “I appreciate the concern, but I do not need a keeper.” The last word came out as an emphatic growl. She glanced out the window at his car, where Sandra sat reading her phone, the light illuminating her red hair, then brought her attention back to him. “Why don’t you go on your date, or whatever, and leave me in peace?”

  He bowed his head and raised his hands in a gesture of defeat. “Sometimes, Felix, you are impossible to deal with.”

  “I don’t need ‘dealt with.’ Again, I appreciate the concern, but I’m perfectly happy working at a time when I’m awake, and, if I avoid ladders, there is no way that working alone in this building is a safety concern.”

  “Have it your way,” he said grimly. “But if your car is still here after we finish our pizza, I’m coming in.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him and made the same face that she’d made every time he’d drawn a line in the sand while they’d been growing up.

  “How I choose to spend my time is none of your business. I don’t go putting my nose into your affairs, asking you where you are at all hours.” She shot another look at his car, indicating she thought she knew. “I let you live your life and function without sleep. Allow me the same courtesy.”

  Danny rolled his eyes. “It’s a safety matter. Go home, Felicity. Get some sleep.”

  The fact that he’d called her Felicity, instead of Felix, was not lost on either of them. She propped a hand on her hip, exhaling loudly.

  “Thank you. I will.” Her chin jutted as she added, “When I’m good and ready.”

  *

  Impossible to deal with.

  Right.

  Felicity slapped mud on the wall so hard that it splattered as his taillights disappeared down the street. Not that she was watching his car through the window as he headed off on his date with a woman who looked suspiciously like his business associate. It might not have been her. It had been impossible to tell, but her hair was red.

  She smoothed the mud, then stood back to view her progress. She’d promised herself she’d finish this office before going home. Stevie was with their dad watching the game while secretly reading her phone because she wasn’t a big basketball fan, so there was no reason for Felicity to not meet her goal, which was taking longer than anticipated. But she’d get there.

  Felicity smoothed a knife-load of compound down the next seam. Setting small attainable goals and achieving them was how she’d worked her way to her current success in life.

  She set down the joint knife and tray and picked up her phone, scrolling through her music until she found a late-night jazz playlist. Nothing like a mournful sax to calm the nerves.

  It took longer to finish the office than Felicity expected…or perhaps she was taking her time hoping, just hoping, that Danny dare drop in to take her to task. She was on the final wall when a thunk came from beneath her feet, the sound of Bertha kicking in, but instead of warm air drifting out of the wall vents a few seconds later, there was…nothing.

  Felicity let her head drop back as her shoulders sank a good two inches.

  Again? If she left the furnace off, the building would be freezing cold by morning.

  She set down her trowel, picked up her phone with the instructions for resetting Bertha, and wound her way through the new hallways to the basement door. It was her second trip that day to bring Bertha back to life; however, it was a lot creepier descending into the nether regions of the old building at night than it had been during the day. When Danny had been there.

  The furnace room lock was cranky and resisted the turn of the key until Felicity jiggled it just so and tugged at the proper moment. She hauled back on the heavy door, jammed the rubbery doorstop beneath it, and then snapped the string of the overhead lightbulb. Bertha sat silent just as she had earlier that day at the rear of the room that had apparently once been the custodian’s retreat. There was a padded office chair near the open washroom door, and a bank of four lockers lined the wall between the washroom and a closet. The room was cozy in an industrial sort of way.

  Felicity let out a sigh as she approached the cranky furnace.

  “You need to do your job, Bert,” she muttered as she headed for the control panel. “At least until the paint is dry. Ten days. Can you do that for me?”

  She opened the control panel, then jumped as the heavy door began moving under its own weight, pushing the prop across the smooth concrete inch by slow inch. Felicity let out a half laugh, pressing her hand to her chest. If she were the nervous kind, she’d find the moving door unsettling, but she wasn’t. Much.

  She ignored the door and followed the instructions on her phone, the last step being the red reset button which she confidently pushed with her
forefinger. Nothing. She pushed it again, harder, then jabbed at it until she heard the sounds of life emanating from Bertha’s metal interior.

  Crisis averted.

  For now.

  Behind her, the door clinked shut, having completed its slow arcing journey across the furnace room floor. She reached for the handle and pulled. The door refused to budge.

  Auto lock. Interesting.

  She pulled her keys out of her jeans pocket and slid the blue master key into the slot beneath the handle and turned—or rather, attempted to turn. Frowning, she pulled the key out, made certain it was indeed the correct one—the blue master key—reinserted and twisted, first lightly then with more force.

  Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead as she jingled the key and tried to turn it again, feeling the ominous twist of metal in her hand as the key began to bend.

  Really?

  She let her forehead drop forward until it met the heavy metal door. What were the odds?

  Do not be a defeatist.

  She raised her head and stepped back to study the door. If she had the proper tools, she could perhaps knock the pins out of the hinges. She went to the bank of lockers and opened each in turn, discovering a pair of coveralls, a library of paperback books, and nothing else. A quick check of the tiny washroom and closet was equally disappointing, although there was a decent supply of paper toweling if she needed extra when painting. She knocked her fist against the last locker and a hollow bank echoed through the room.

  She had no tools.

  But she did have her phone.

  She could call her sisters, but Danny had the only other set of keys to the building, so that would do no good. She could call the city engineer at home and explain that she was the victim of a vindictive door. Or she could man up and call Danny to get her out of there using whatever means possible.

  Except she didn’t have his number. Why didn’t she have his number?

  Pizza. He’d said they were going to pizza, and there was only one pizza place in town. She scrolled through her phone until she found the contact number for Pizza Bob.

  Her hand squeezed the phone in her pocket as she looked around the room. The sole window was high on the wall, only inches below the ceiling, and she may or may not fit through it. To get to the window, she had to have something to stand on that was taller than the old office chair, and even if she did have something to stand on, the idea of getting stuck in a narrow window frame on a cold night did not appeal.

  She let out a defeated groan and pulled the phone out of her pocket.

  Score one for karma.

  *

  “So you two were rivals?” Sandra asked as she sipped her drink. The pizza was gone, and it was almost time to call it a night, but neither of them made a move to end the evening. Danny wasn’t in the mood to return to his parents’ empty house, and Sandra seemed no keener to return to her rental.

  “Forever. It was irritating, yet, I don’t know, kind of part of my existence.”

  She smiled over her straw. “I get it. I had a rivalry with another girl in my class. Athletics and academics. It kept us on our toes.”

  “Did she ever lock you in a tool shed?”

  “Uh…no.” Sandra laughed. “Not that kind of rivalry.”

  “Excuse me.”

  Danny looked up to see the server who’d delivered their pizza with a cordless phone in one hand.

  “You, uh, have a phone call,” the teen said, as if perplexed as to why someone wouldn’t simply call his cell. Danny was a little perplexed himself.

  “This could be interesting,” he said to Sandra. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.” She made a low slurping sound with her straw as Danny raised the phone to his ear.

  “I need help.” Felicity’s voice was clear and clipped.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m on the site.”

  “All right.” She didn’t sound as if she were in pain—not the physical kind anyway. “What’s up?”

  “Am I interrupting your date?”

  “No.”

  He heard her exhale. “I’m in the basement. The furnace room to be precise.”

  “Okay…”

  “The key isn’t working. I’m locked in with Bertha.”

  Danny pressed his lips together so that the “what did I tell you” did not escape.

  “I know,” she snapped. “You warned me. Please come rescue me.”

  With that the phone went dead. She may have lost her signal being deep in the recesses of the old building, but he suspected that instead she’d had an overload of humble pie.

  He handed the phone back to the server and thanked him, then reached for the ticket, giving Sandra an apologetic look. “I need to go. I’ll drop you at your place on the way.”

  “Anything serious?” Sandra asked before pulling the straw out of her drink and finishing it with a quick swallow.

  “Just a rival who has gotten herself in over her head on the worksite.”

  “It’s a good sign that she’s calling you for help.” Sandra began pushing her arms into the sleeves of her jacket.

  “Or it might be that I’m the only one with keys to the building.”

  Sandra laughed and scooted out of the booth. “Do you want me to come along?”

  Danny could see that she wanted to, but he shook his head.

  “I don’t think this is easy for Felix—for Felicity. Maybe I’d better handle it alone.” He pulled cash from his wallet and set it on the table leaving an extra generous tip, then slid out of the booth to join her.

  “Good point,” Sandra said as he opened the door and they stepped out into the chilly February air. “Although I have to say you’re not being very rival-like tonight.”

  He gave a small laugh. “I guess I’m what you might call a protective rival.”

  And he wanted to get Sandra to her apartment so that he could get back to the school and free Felix from Bertha’s evil clutches.

  *

  It took a freaking eternity for Danny’s steps to sound on the basement steps.

  At least she hoped they were Danny’s footsteps. Thirty-five minutes alone in the confines of the furnace room had played havoc with her brain. Even if it wasn’t Danny, what would it matter? She was safely locked in the furnace room. No one would be getting her there.

  She only hoped that Danny could get her out. If he couldn’t, then she figured he could drop tools through the small window, and she’d pound out the hinge pins. He might have to break the window to get the tools to her, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

  And she was feeling desperate. She’d never liked small spaces, and this one seemed to be getting smaller by the moment. The footsteps stopped just outside the door.

  “Felix?”

  Was that a note of concern in his voice? She’d expected a healthy dose of “I told you so.”

  No doubt that was coming.

  “Yes,” she said dryly. “I’m here. Still.”

  “You okay?”

  “I’m not clawing the walls yet. But it’s not far off.”

  The key was in a little worse shape than it had been before. She’d tried turning it once too often and now she was afraid that if she turned it again, it would snap.

  “I think you may have to break the window outside and drop in the tools I need to take care of things on this side.”

  “Okay.”

  She heard him sliding his key into the exterior lock, but before she could tell him not to bother, he jiggled it a couple times and then she heard the distinctive sound of the hasp sliding free.

  Heat washed over her as he pushed the door open.

  “Honest. It was stuck.” She held up her key, which was legit bent at the top.

  “I believe you.”

  “Can I see your key?” she asked, flummoxed at why his had worked and hers had not.

  He shrugged and handed it over. “I’ll just stay safely outside.”

  “Good idea.
” She slid the key into the lock and tried to turn it. She shouldn’t have felt so stupidly relieved when it didn’t turn, but she did. She pulled the key out.

  “Want to try?”

  He took the key and repeated her actions.

  “This is a problem,” he said when the key once again refused to turn.

  “You think?” She let out a long breath. “What say we exchange phone numbers, you know, in case something comes up in the future?”

  “Good idea.”

  They pulled out their phones and tapped in numbers, then pocketed them again. Felicity shifted her weight and looked past him. “Thank you for the rescue. I need to go home.” She’d had enough of the old building for one day.

  “Do you think it’s time?” he asked dryly.

  “I got a lot done after you left. I made my goal.”

  “It’s sometimes acceptable to have a moving goal. You know…to adjust to the circumstances.”

  “Do not bring up rigidity,” she warned him.

  He merely lifted his eyebrows in an I-don’t-have-to-because-you-did expression. Her mouth tightened. She was exhausted. She needed to get home.

  She didn’t seem to be moving.

  And neither was he, and there was something about the shifting atmosphere between them that brought every nerve in her body to high alert.

  Do not look at his mouth.

  Her traitorous gaze slid south from his eyes to the lips that she’d always rather admired. Firm and nicely shaped.

  Danny. This is Danny. Knock it off.

  “Are you all right?”

  Felicity’s guilty gaze snapped up. No. She was not all right. She was crazed with exhaustion and having very unacceptable thoughts in this dimly lit furnace room that they were still standing in for some unknown reason.

  “Just a little Bertha-related PTSD kicking in.”

  “Let’s get out of here.” He jerked his head toward the staircase.

  “Yes.” She stymied her urge to escape at all costs and headed toward the stairs with her usual confident stride. She’d gone a little crazy there in that furnace room.