Santa's Posse (4 page)

“Oh, yeah, I’m
good.  You can let go.”

“Are you sure?” He
cocked his head, studying her with concern.  “You seem a little…”

She laughed and
gave a dismissive wave.  “No brain injury,” she assured him.  “I’m just
preoccupied.”

“I see that. 
Anything I can do?”

“Nope.”  She
roused herself.  “Hey, what are you doing here?”

The instant she
said the words, she realized they didn’t sound particularly friendly, and might
even be construed as suspicion on her part—as if she might be thinking he was
some kind of a stalker.

He finally
released her, but kept his hands poised in front of her for a brief few
seconds, apparently in case she toppled over.  He hitched a thumb at the door
just across from her front door.  “I was just dropping Daniel off,” he told her,
and then glanced at her open door.  “Do you live here?”

“Just moved in. 
So Daniel and his mother are my neighbors?”

He nodded.  “Yes,
they are.”

“I was just on my
way to my car to grab my tool box,” she said.

He weighed the
declaration with a nod.  “So your
plans
for the evening involve a tool
box.”

She gave him a
curious look, unsure what he meant by the remark, but suddenly, his meaning hit
her like a mallet upside her head.  “Oh.”  She chuckled ruefully.  “Okay, so my
plans
aren’t particularly exciting, since they do involve my toolbox,
but…”  She raised a finger for emphasis.  “If I’m going to get off my air
mattress and onto a real mattress tonight…”

“No need to
explain,” he assured her.  “Need any help?”

“I don’t want to
impose…” she said, letting the words hang in the air. 

“It’s not a
problem.  Why don’t I have a look and then we’ll assess which tools we need.”

She turned to
enter her condo, when he spun on his heel and began jogging away.  He turned
back briefly and called out, “Be right back.”

She watched after
him, and her eyes widened when he crossed the street and entered the condo
directly across from her own.  He was gone all of two minutes.  When he retuned
to find her waiting in her doorway, he grinned.  “By the way, I’m your neighbor
too.”

She wasn’t sure
how to respond.  So he was her neighbor?  Talk about a coincidence.  But then,
she realized the condominiums were ideally located, being so close to the
mall. 

Her unit’s close
proximity had been the reason she had selected it.  If need be, she could
easily walk to work.  Perhaps its nearness to his workplace was the same reason
he had chosen to live in this particular condominium community, she speculated. 

“Well, this is a
surprise,” she said with a smile.  “We’re … neighbors.”

He nodded.  “I
think you’ll like it here,” he told her.  “The community has great amenities,
and my squad car parked across the way serves as a handy, dandy deterrent to
would-be burglars.”

“Good to know,” she
said, nodding her head up and down in measured intervals.  “Does that mean, in
the event of an emergency, I can call you rather than 911?” 

Kellie immediately
regretted the question.  It sounded like a flirtatious question, and she truly
hadn’t intended it to.  She felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment.

She suspected he
noticed, since he smiled.  “I’m at your disposal,” he said agreeably, meeting
her gaze.    

She gulped.  Since
he was standing so close to her, she realized
his
proximity was doing
strange things to her pulse rate.  What was wrong with her? she wondered.  It
wasn’t as if she hadn’t met attractive men before.  She met them all the time
in her line of work. 

But as far as
serious romantic entanglements, she’d avoided them like the plague.  Career
came first—always had.  Much to her mother’s chagrin, her single-minded
devotion to her job had assured her success and she had, at the age of
twenty-nine, achieved her lifelong goal—to be a mall manager before the dawn of
her thirtieth birthday.   

She was lost to
her thoughts and didn’t realize Miles was watching her curiously.  “Are you
sure you’re all right?” he asked. 

To her surprise,
he reached a hand toward her and gently scrubbed his thumb across her
forehead.  The gesture, although anything but sexual, still caused her heart to
give an erratic thump.  She pulled back as if she’d been scorched.

He gave her an
even more curious glance.  “You have a black mark on your forehead,” he
explained.  “Looks like some kind of grease.”

“Oh,” was all she
could manage, and then she roused herself.  “You’re out of uniform,” she
announced.

He grinned. 
“Yes.  I usually change out of my uniform when I’m not working.  Are … you …
sure you’re okay?”

Kellie didn’t
immediately respond, but instead, studied him without realizing she was doing
it.  Curiously, she found him even more imposing dressed in civilian clothing than
she had when he was in uniform.  He wore jeans and a teal t-shirt and she could
more easily see the breadth of his muscular chest and the impressive size of
his biceps.  Although the t-shirt was loose fitting and didn’t hug his stomach,
there was no disguising the six pack beneath the fabric.

He eyed her with
concern.  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“No.  Yes.  I
mean, I’m not used to seeing you out of uniform.” 

Did she really
just say that?  She nearly groaned.  What a ridiculous thing to say.

“You’re not used
to seeing me
in
my uniform,” he pointed out with a chuckle.  “We just
met today.”

Her cheeks really
flamed then.  She raised a tentative hand to her head.  “Maybe I did sustain a
brain injury,” she remarked absently.  Her eyes widened when she found a goose
egg had erupted on her forehead.  “Ouch,” she murmured.

“Does it hurt?” he
asked, startling her when he gently probed her forehead with his fingers.

“It’s fine,” she
assured him, pulling back.  “What’s a little frontal lobe damage?”  He grimaced
and she laughed.  “I’m fine, really.”

He still watched after
her with concern as he followed her inside the condo.  She gestured toward the
stacks of unpacked boxes.  So far, she had only unpacked the bare essentials.  “Excuse
the mess.” 

“Moving is a big
job,” he said with understanding.  “I like your place.”  He flashed a quick
grin.  “But then, I should, since it’s exactly like mine.”

“Really?”

“Yep, but my
kitchen is…”  He surveyed the space and aimed a finger to the opposite wall. 
“My kitchen is over there.”

Kellie paused
briefly to study the space.  “I love it,” she said with a smile.  “I can’t wait
to start painting and making it my own.”

“Adding your
personal stamp.”

She nodded. 
“Yes.”  She directed him toward her bedroom, but he made a beeline for her
freezer. 

“Any ice up here?”
he asked.

“There’s a
dispenser on the door,” she told him.

“Do you have a zip
loc bag?”

“I might.”  She
began ruffling through a box in the kitchen and found a small box of sandwich
bags.  She pulled one out.  “Will this work?”

He nodded and took
it from her.  He filled it with ice, sealed it, and to her surprise, crossed
the distance between them and held the ice bag against her forehead. 

“Oh, that’s what you
wanted it for,” she said.  “I didn’t see that coming.”

He searched her
face then.  He held up two fingers.  “How many fingers?” he asked urgently.

“Four,” she told
him, biting back a chuckle.

His eyes widened in
alarm and he looked so stricken, Kellie quickly corrected herself.  “Kidding! 
Two.  You’re holding up two fingers.”

He heaved a sigh
of relief.  “For a second there, I figured we’d be spending the next several
hours at the hospital having your brain scanned.”

“I have a hard
head,” she assured him.  “I have brothers.”

He gave her a
puzzled glance. 

“My brothers were
forever conking me upside my head.  I managed to live through it.”

He gave a rueful
laugh.  “I have little sisters.  I barely lived through it.”

She continued
toward the bedroom, where Miles promptly scooped up the instructions to the bed
frame.  “Looks easy enough,” he said finally.  When she gave him a chagrined
glance, he smiled.  “Er, I mean, wow, this looks complicated.”

“That’s better,”
she murmured.  “At least
pretend
I’m not a moron.”

“Hey, enough of
that talk,” he said with a chuckle, and then quickly got down to business.  He had
the frame assembled in no time. 

He was just
finishing up tightening the last bolt attaching the headboard to the frame when
Kellie heard her doorbell ring.  It wasn’t until she swung open the door and
saw the delivery man holding out a pizza to her that she remembered she’d
called in an order.  “Oh, hold on just a sec,” she told him.

She quickly
retrieved her purse and paid him.  After depositing the pizza box onto the
island in her kitchen, she hurried back to check on Miles.  She found him
wiping black gunk off his hands.  “All done,” he told her.  “Where’s your
mattress?”

“Oh, don’t worry
about it,” she said.  “I’ll put the bed together later.”

“Really, it’s not
a problem.  Why don’t we get it done?”

She glanced back
toward the kitchen.  “I ordered a pizza earlier and it’s here.  Are you
hungry?”

He smiled.  “Looks
like you’re springing for dinner after all.”

“It’s the least I
can do,” she said.  “I really appreciate…”

He waved off her
gratitude.  “Not a problem.”

She directed him
to the only piece of furniture in her living room—her sofa, while she pulled up
a box to serve as a table and then retrieved paper plates and the pizza.  After
putting the items onto the makeshift table, she grabbed sodas from the
refrigerator.  “I hope you like root beer,” she said, “since it’s all I’ve
got.”

“Root beer’s
great.”

The two visited
while they ate the pepperoni pizza, and Kellie found herself enjoying Miles’ company. 
She learned he’d been a deputy for twelve years, and had been a commander for the
last two of those years. 

“What’s next for
you?” she asked.  “Do you plan on continuing your rise up the chain of
command?”

He considered the
question.  “I’m not sure.  I like where I’m at.  How about you?  What’s next? 
The Mall of America?”

She chuckled. 
“You never know.”

They sat
companionably for a moment longer, but he startled her when he reached out to
check the bump on her head.  Suddenly, he rose to retrieve a napkin, which he
doused with dish soap.  He returned and began gently scrubbing the black mark
off her forehead.  She quickly took the rag from him.

“What the heck is
that stuff?” he said.

“Something off the
bed frame,” she told him.  “Why?”

“It’s stubborn,
and I want a look at the goose egg on your head.  If I’m not mistaken, it’s
turning an angry shade of purple.”

“Ah, well,” she
said dismissively.  “I’ll live.” 

Just the same, she
rose and went to the powder room to check out the damage.  She gasped.  She
looked horrible.  She’d forgotten she was dressed in well-worn jeans, an old
t-shirt, and socks that had seen better days.  By the time her eyes traveled to
her forehead, she’d already decided she looked a fright.  But the knot on the
forehead added emphasis to her rough appearance.

She hastily
scrubbed away the rest of the stubborn grease, exposing the lump that was
indeed purple.  She hadn’t realized how hard a blow she’d sustained.  When she
returned to Miles, his eyes widened.  “Great,” he muttered worriedly, “welcome
to the neighborhood.”

“It’s nothing,”
she assured him.  “Besides, it was my fault.  I wasn’t watching where I was
going.”

“What day is it?”
he demanded.

She gave him a
puzzled glance.  “Uh, Thursday.  Wait, no, it’s Friday.”

“Name the
president of the United States.”

She shook her
head.   “Really, I’m fine.”

He appeared
skeptical, and he continued watching her carefully as they finished eating. 
Once they were done, she put the leftovers in the fridge.

“Let’s get that
bed put together,” he said. 

“Oh, it can wait,”
she told him, suddenly feeling tired.  “One more night on the floor isn’t going
to kill me.”

He shook his head
adamantly.  “It’s going to be cold tonight.  You’d be better off in a warm bed,
off the floor.”

His concern was so
genuine, she couldn’t help smiling.  “If you’re sure you don’t mind…”

“Not at all.  Where’s
the box spring and mattress?”

She had hauled
both into the second bedroom, and directed him to it.  He retrieved the items
one at a time and had the bed assembled in moments, refusing to let her help. 
He even assisted her in putting on the sheets and blankets. 

“No comforter?” he
asked.

She shook her
head.  “I have my eye on a new one at the linen store in the mall.”

She led the way
back to the living room, where she glanced around.  Suddenly, she felt
self-conscious again, particularly when she discovered him watching her.  To
her surprise, he took her hand and led her toward the front door.  He paused
and met her questioning gaze.  “Grab your keys.”

She gave him another
puzzled glance.  “Where are we going?”

“To my place,” he
told her.  “What is it they say?  If someone has a head injury, they shouldn’t
sleep for an hour.”

“I didn’t plan on
sleeping in the next hour,” she told him, and then frowned.  “Wait, I think
you’re thinking of swimming after eating.  Don’t they say you shouldn’t swim
for an hour after you’ve eaten?”

He looked
puzzled.  “Yeah, I’ve heard that.  But I’m sure I’ve also heard something about
it being a bad idea to sleep soon after sustaining a blow to the head.”