by Melody Anne
Okay, okay. He loved his family, even if they’d run into a few speed bumps over the years.
Crew was now married and in love, happier than Tanner had ever seen him. Well, that was good for his brother, but none of that was in the cards for him. He was just trying to make an honest buck — well, an honest billion bucks — and between his father and this freaking Judge Kragle, he was hitting walls left and right.
Tanner searched for the running shoes his assistant had picked up for him. He’d sent the man out to buy all new clothes from a local mall. When Tanner was down at those decaying apartments, he didn’t want to be tabloid fodder.
Hell, he didn’t know how to shop, hadn’t done it, well, ever that he could remember. Yes, he’d shopped with short-term girlfriends in some high-end malls on the banks of the Seine, but he’d never once entered a middle-class mall, or any mall, in America.
Wearing the scratchy jail clothes for the last three days had been seriously unpleasant, and he was determined to ban the color orange from his sight. But how much better were things now? For three weeks and more, twenty-four painful days, he was going to be stuck in denim and cotton, and even worse.
Polyester.
Tomorrow he had to put on a flipping Santa costume. Just the thought made his head itch. Who knows how many sweaty bodies had been in the same suit? He’d insisted that his assistant have it professionally cleaned. At least the senile judge had allowed him that much.
The man obviously needed to retire. It was long overdue and the judge looked like freaking Santa Claus himself. Maybe Judge Kragle should be the one down at the mall letting a bunch of sticky, snot-nosed brats climb all over him.
“Let’s go,” one of the officers said, this time not as pleasantly.
Tanner had dragged his feet long enough. If he didn’t walk with them willingly, the fuzz were going to throw the handcuffs back on him and escort him through the building in a far less dignified manner than by simply walking behind him.
This day just kept on getting better.
He’d at least managed to talk the officers into allowing him to leave through his private penthouse entrance. The last thing he wanted at his exclusive high-rise was for anyone, rich, poor, or in between, to see him being escorted off to the cheap streets by some of Seattle’s finest.
Undignified? As if!
Stepping from his apartment, he gave a long-suffering sigh as he pushed the elevator button and moved inside.
“Don’t you guys have more important things to do than escort a law-abiding citizen around?” Tanner asked.
One of the officers threw his a scornful glance. “Are you suggesting that we’re slackers, Mister Tanner?”
“I would never think that,” Tanner replied. “I was just saying that there are people out there who are actually committing crimes, and yet you’re both here ‘escorting’ me when I’ve never broken the law in my life.”
“I beg to differ, Mr. Storm,” the other officer snapped. “My mother lives in your new apartment complex. Or your old one. I think that having you stay there is sweet justice. Maybe this Christmas you’ll actually find a heart.” The guy snickered despite himself.
“Didn’t your mother tell you that I offered each tenant a large sum to move out?”
“I hate men like you, men who think they can solve all the world’s problems by throwing their wallets around. My mom has been in that building for thirty-five years. She has friends there, history, and she doesn’t want to leave. She just wants the heat and water to work correctly, and for rodents and bugs to not crawl all over everything she owns.”
“That’s the exact reason I want to condemn the building and start over,” Tanner said. He couldn’t hide his frustration.
“The building is solid, and it wouldn’t take much to bring it up to code,” the officer told him heatedly. “You just need to get your priorities straight.”
Tanner didn’t feel like saying anything else as the elevator doors opened and the three of them stepped out into the garage.
The police car was waiting for him. When he hit his head as they helped him inside, his lips compressed.
Three weeks. He just had to remember this would be for only three weeks.
Chapter Three
As Tanner found himself traveling the streets of Seattle in the back of a smelly police cruiser, he decided he was done talking to anyone and everyone. When they arrived at what would be his home for more than the next three miserable weeks, he couldn’t keep the disgusted look from his face as one the officers opened the back door and grinned — yes, it was the one whose mother lived in the building. Tanner didn’t feel too protected right now, and he really wanted to point out to both officers that it was their job to serve and protect, wasn’t it?
But this cop was enjoying the authority part of his job far too much for Tanner’s liking — the guy looked like he was itching to use his club, or even his gun. He was probably another underpaid public servant who thought men like Tanner needed to be knocked down a peg or two. No respect for the people who ensured he had a job by paying so much in taxes. Or it seemed like a lot, anyway.
“Have a pleasant stay, Mr. Storm,” the officer said before tipping his hat and leaving Tanner standing on the broken sidewalk.
Those cops weren’t worried he’d run now. They’d find him instantly, thanks to the device on his damned ankle. Thank the heavens the thing wasn’t too big and he could hide it with a thick pair of socks. His humiliation would be complete if anyone saw the depths to which he’d fallen.
Deciding his self-pity party had gone on long enough, Tanner pulled hard on the building’s heavy front door, which desperately needed some lubricant on the hinges. He was grateful to see no one about as he began his trek down the hallway. He wasn’t there to make friends, and he didn’t feel like speaking to a single person. The only people he’d likely find living here willingly were the type for whom burning in hell seemed appropriate.
Tanner reached his apartment, and he was almost afraid to open the door. The hallways weren’t cluttered, but the paint was peeling and there was a musty smell in the air as if there were leaks that no one had bothered to patch up. He was sure mold was running rampant throughout the place.
That had to be a health risk — wouldn’t it allow him to have the building condemned? He hadn’t even bothered looking through the reports from the inspection yet — he left that kind of thing to his employees. Maybe it was time he went through them himself, line by line. He did have a lot of extra time on his hands for most of the next month, even with all the hours he had to wear a Santa costume. All he knew for sure was that he wanted to tear the outdated building down and start fresh. It would certainly be a lot less hassle.
His legal team had quickly put the kibosh on the crap about historical value that local societies had spouted. Anyway, he couldn’t care less if the crown moldings had been handcrafted by early settlers of the area.
He wanted new. He wanted modern.
Squaring his shoulders, Tanner stepped inside his “new” apartment and looked around. The size of the place surprised him. A large living room was separated by a breakfast bar from a decent-sized kitchen. The appliances were extremely outdated, but the apartment wasn’t as filthy as he was expecting.
Huge windows opened out onto the grungy street, but Tanner saw potential for the neighborhood, especially since every area except his building was cleaned up. The riffraff living in the building ensured that this particular neighborhood remained sketchy, but he’d been told that respectable businesses would come back if this building was replaced. Nearby, a new complex was in line to be completed next year. Things were improving here, dammit.
But he had to think about the here and now. And it could be worse. Down a short hallway, he found a roomy bathroom, again with outdated fixtures, but still decently clean. Then there were two bedrooms — with ridiculously small closets. Okay, maybe they weren’t that small, but he was used to everything being larger than normal. That
thought brought his first smile of the day. It quickly disappeared when he heard someone call out.
“Hello?”
Who in the world would be coming into his place uninvited? No one even knew he was here, not even his brothers and his sister. He hadn’t wanted to tell anyone. If his siblings got word that he was being forced to don a Santa suit, they’d be first in line to point cameras directly at him.
His only consolation was that the judge hadn’t listed where he was to do his community service when the reporters swarmed around him after the hearing was over. He didn’t doubt that they’d figure it out, though. This would be too juicy a photo op for anyone in the media to pass up. He’d just keep his fingers crossed that it didn’t happen.
Walking back out to the living room, he found a petite blonde with bright blue eyes looking at him, a welcoming smile on her face. Before he was able to say anything, she spoke.
“Your door was open so I thought I’d see who was in here. They’ve frozen any of the apartments from being rented, so…” Her meaning was loud and clear. She thought he was a vagrant who had found a warm place to sleep.
Jeez. She wasn’t the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree to be confronting someone who could be a criminal.
He approached her. “I won’t be here long,” he replied, his manner stiff. “But I am living here for now. Do you always just walk into other people’s homes?”
His unpleasant tone made her take a step back, and he had to give her a few points for at least being a bit nervous.
“Sorry about that, but like I said, your door was open and these apartments aren’t being rented,” she said, leaving it hanging in the air. When he said nothing, she continued. “How long are you staying?” She didn’t look him in the eye this time, but instead looked around the empty room. Nothing in it except for one large duffel bag.
“That’s undetermined right now,” he told her. He’d learned never to give out too much information and he didn’t care what this woman thought about him, so let her wonder how he’d managed to rent an unrentable apartment.
The woman looked at him with wide eyes and a wavering smile, but she still just stood there as if trying to determine whether she could trust him or not. What if he were a serial killer? Did she have no self-preservation instincts at all?
“I’ve lived here for two years. It’s a great place if you can get past the mice,” she said with a laugh. “At least there are a lot of storage areas.”
“Mice?” Tanner looked around uneasily.
“Yeah, but I’ve named them, so I’m not so scared of the little critters anymore.”
“Named them?” Tanner almost found it amusing that he kept repeating what she said. Almost.
“Yeah, you know, like in Cinderella. Or A Little Princess — but Melchisidec was a rat, and there’s a difference, of course. I would say the Disney mice would help you unpack, but you don’t have anything here. Were you making sure you liked the place first?”
Tanner realized that he hadn’t ordered a bed, a couch, anything. He wasn’t looking forward to being here, and he just hadn’t thought that far ahead. Of course he would need some basics, even for only from now until Christmas. His assistant should have been on top of this. Maybe it was time to hire a new one.
“Everything will be delivered later today,” Tanner said as he moved toward the door. Would this woman take the hint?
“Oh, that must be nice not having to move it yourself. I despise moving. It’s so physically and emotionally exhausting and then you always lose something in the process — every single time, no matter how organized you are or how carefully you label the boxes.”
“Yes, moving is unpleasant,” Tanner said dryly. “Well, I have some phone calls to make…” He held open the door she’d blown past when entering his place illegally. He’d really begun to care about legality.
“I’m sorry. I’ll leave you be. My name is Kyla, by the way, Kyla Ridgley.” She walked right up to him and held out her hand.
Tanner looked at it for a moment as if he didn’t know what to do, but then his manners kicked in and he held out his own hand. “Tanner,” he offered, and nothing more.
“Well, it’s great to meet you, Tanner,” she said, and then her warm, slender hand was somehow clasped in his.
Tanner nearly took a step back when their fingers touched. It felt like a spark had just ignited between the two of them.
“Um, great to meet you,” Kyla almost gasped. She jerked her hand from his and dashed through the door.
When she slipped inside the apartment right across the hall from his and quickly closed the door behind her, Tanner stared for several moments at the space she’d been occupying.
Maybe his “jail” time had just become a lot more bearable. With a slight smile lifting the corners of his mouth, he picked up his phone to call his assistant.
Furniture was his first priority.
Then, he was going to find out a bit more about his new neighbor. A three-week fling might just make this situation a whole lot easier to swallow.
Chapter Four
Kyla leaned against her door and took a deep breath. Normally, men didn’t intimidate her. She’d grown up with a loving family, and had enjoyed high school and the first two years of college. She’d had a healthy dating life.
Then…boom.
Her picture-book world had fallen apart in the blink of an eye. On a family vacation, they’d all been driving down a mountain road after a fun day of snowboarding. And then their car had skidded on black ice.
She was the only survivor.
After a week in the hospital, she’d been released, with nowhere to go where she felt safe. After dropping out of school — she couldn’t face anything or anyone — she’d found herself at this apartment, both her place of refuge and a spot where she hoped to heal someday.
She knew it wasn’t her fault that her family was gone. But why was she the only one to live? Why wasn’t it her mother, who did charity work, or her father, who made a difference in the world through his teaching? Why couldn’t her brother have survived? He’d graduated from high school the previous June and planned to join the military after college. He’d have been an officer and a gentleman.
No, she’d been the one to survive. The only one who still didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life. So now she found herself taking odd jobs, just trying to hang on, instead of really living.
She’d been left her parents’ home when they’d passed, along with a substantial inheritance, but she couldn’t find it in her heart to use the funds or to stay in that house. She hadn’t been there since the accident. She was too afraid to face the memories of those empty rooms. Seeing her dad wrestling with her brother on the living room floor, hearing their laughter and her mother’s sweet singing ringing in from the kitchen. They were such an old-fashioned family in many ways — more than half a century later, they’d somehow captured the best of the 1950s without the worst that went along with it.
Never again would she and her brother wake up on Christmas morning and rush downstairs to open the gifts her parents had so lovingly picked out. The realization that these memories would play continually and vividly in her mind, although she would never see her family again in real life, whatever that was, made it all too overwhelming to face.
Kyla shook off the thoughts. It had been months since she’d allowed such painful memories to intrude so forcefully, but with Christmas not much more than three weeks away, her family was front and center more than ever before.
After all, December 23rd was the day her life had been irrevocably changed, the day she’d lost her family and suddenly found herself an orphan. It didn’t look as if she’d ever again be able to enjoy the holiday she had once cherished.
Kyla was trying to put herself out in the world again, trying to meet people. She wasn’t interested in dating, but the odd tingling her new neighbor had inspired shocked her. He couldn’t have touched her heart — it was encased in ice. But he’d s
till had some effect on her, and considering his standoffish behavior, that made no sense at all.
Maybe it was because he’d been so cold in the way he spoke, and then so very hot to the touch. No matter. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and then told herself she wouldn’t think about her temporary neighbor again.
Heck, the current owner of this stupid mass of brick and mortar, whoever had taken it over wanted them all kicked out on the street. She really didn’t know how long she was going to get to stay. The thought of moving, of leaving the place she’d chosen as somewhere to heal, was terrifying. She didn’t want to leave yet. She just wasn’t ready.
Kyla felt herself drawn to her kitchen. What was going on? She went there slowly and was surprised when for the first time in two years she found herself succumbing to the urge to bake. It was something she and her mother had always done together, since before Kyla could have been any use at all except in licking the bowls. They would spend all day in the kitchen, whipping up goodies for family, friends, and neighbors. It had been a tradition, one that had died the minute her mother’s heart had stopped beating.
As Kyla set out the items needed to make cookies, she found herself singing Christmas hymns, feeling a measure of peace that she had feared she would never feel again.
Three hours later, she pulled out the last batch of gingerbread men — and women and children, of course — and looked at her covered counters. Tears sparkled in her eyes as she painted frosting faces on the ones that had cooled off. When she lifted one up and took a bite, a soft smile lit her face. It felt like her mom was right there beside her. Kyla closed her eyes to relish the warmth of the moment.
Reluctantly coming back to reality, Kyla whispered, “Merry Christmas, Mom,” before putting everything away, turning off the lights in the room, and getting ready for bed. Tomorrow she had work to do at the mall.
For now she was going to get lost in a good book while she waited for the forgetfulness of sleep to take her away.
