Spring River Valley: The Winter Collection (Boxed Set) (13 page)

“Well, this was a date, so I had planned to hang around for a while.”

“Good. Take her home, get some ice for her ankle. If she develops a headache, slurred speech, vomiting, or exhibits any irritability—”

“Quinn, really.”

“She seems pretty irritable already,” Max said with a smirk.

Preston laughed. “No, that’s her regular personality. She’s prickly. We all call her Iron Audrey.”

She glared at the EMT. “You’re going to suffer on the day of your next flu shot. I promise you.”

“She’s a mean one, Max. Be careful. But like I said, if she shows any sign of not feeling right, I want you to take her to the ER. Everything looks fine, but head injuries are tricky.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go the hospital now?” Max asked. First aid had never been his strong suit.

“No. I’m fine. I’m a little sore.”

“Well, now you have a sore head to go with your sore head, Nurse Audrey.” Preston laughed. “I can have the resident on duty give you a call later to make sure everything’s okay.”

“Fine, fine.” She hopped off the step of the ambulance and put some weight on her foot. “See? I’m good. Max, I guess I’m getting in your car after all.”

“Stay here. I’ll bring it around now that the fire truck is gone. Thanks, Quinn. Glad you were on hand.”

“Happy to be of service.”

Max left the rig and retrieved his car. This time he helped Audrey get in. She still looked a little nervous. “Which way is your place?”

“I’m at the corner of Bellevue and Fifth.”

“Perfect, I can stop off on the way and pick up my favorite axe.”

Audrey checked her phone for the fourth time since climbing into Max Shannon’s car. Still no call or text from Cassandra.

She’d given up thinking her date was an axe murderer, largely because he’d spent so much time joking about it. She figured real axe murderers took their jobs a lot more seriously. Nevertheless, she really didn’t relax completely until he pulled up in the small parking lot of her apartment building.

The snow was falling steadily now, contrary to every weather report that day, which had promised a cold but clear evening. Her ankle throbbed in her too tight boot, but at least her head didn’t hurt anymore. She wasn’t worried about having a concussion, but the prospect of climbing the stairs to her second-floor one-bedroom left her unenthused.

“I’m up there.” She pointed to her living room window, where a small electric candle glowed. “I think I can make it, if you want to get going.”

“Get going? I still owe you dinner.”

“You really don’t. Let’s just call it even, since you helped me when I fell. Obviously tonight wasn’t meant to work out, so we should probably cut our losses.” She opened the car door, eager to get inside and into a warm bath.

“I see why you have so much trouble with men.”

Halfway out of the car, steeling herself for the shock of putting some weight on her injured foot, Audrey stopped. She twisted around to eye him. “Trouble with men?”

“Well, Cassie told me you have a pretty bad track record with dating. I can see why. You give up too easily.”

Stunned, Audrey tried to form a reply, but nothing came out. She’d thought Cassie would be discreet and tell her prospective match that Audrey was fun-loving, sweet-natured, and a solid eight on a scale of one to ten. She hadn’t, for a moment, thought the cupcake girl would go blabbing about Audrey’s miserable batting average. “I…really? What exactly did she tell you?”

“Nothing really. Just that you’d struck out a lot. It seems like you let the small stuff get you down. So the restaurant caught fire and you conked your head and hurt your ankle. We can still pull this evening out of the gutter and have a good time, if you want to.”

“By have a good time, I suppose you mean have sex.” She was fuming. Her damp coat, which had been slowly leaching the heat out of her body up until now, suddenly felt like a sauna wrap.

He held up his hands in protest. “Whoa! No, that wasn’t at all where I was taking this.”

“No?”

“Hey, I haven’t even gotten a good look at you. Why would I be talking about sex?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you saying whether or not you want to have sex with me depends on my looks?”

He raised a brow as though the question perplexed him. “Are you saying you’d have sex with someone without knowing what they looked like?”

“No! Obviously not.”

“Well, there you go. Come on, I’ll help you up those steps, and then we can decide how the rest of the evening will go. We can order dinner, put your foot on ice, watch a movie, play trivia, have a few beers. I don’t care. I just don’t think we have to throw in the towel.”

“And then of course we can check each other out and decide if we want to have sex or not?” Audrey’s jaw hurt from clenching it. She’d been out with some real winners, but this guy took the cake.

He opened his car door. “Sure, if that’s what you want to do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“That’s fine.” He came around the side of the car and held out his hand. She wanted to refuse, but the idea of hauling herself up two flights of stairs had her shivering again. She took his hand and stood.

A dull pain shot up her leg. Not enough to cripple her, but it would make getting around a chore. If she hadn’t desperately needed the help, she would have told him to get lost.

Together they managed to hop and hobble to the stairs
, and one by one she hoisted herself up until they reached her front door. “Well, thanks for this,” she said. “I can definitely take it from here.”

“Aw, there you go. Giving up again. We haven’t even had a real conversation.”

“We’ve had plenty of conversation.” She put her key in the lock and shoved the door open. The warm glow of her cozy apartment greeted her. As she limped over the threshold the thought occurred to her that she really didn’t have any idea what he looked like. She’d only seen him in the dim light of the car, the flashing lights in the parking lot of Colette’s and now the half-watt glow of the electric candle from her window. Maybe checking him out would save the evening from being a total loss. No. He was too much of a wise ass. It didn’t matter if he was good looking or not, she wasn’t going to consider him for a second date, let alone, of all things, sex.

“Well, I’m sorry you won’t give it a shot. I’ve been on my best behavior.”

“If this is your best, I’d hate to see your worst.”

He clutched his chest as if wounded. “Am I really that bad? I didn’t even stop to pick up my favorite axe. If you have a meat cleaver, though, I can make do.”

“Once again, you’re talking about chopping me into little pieces, and you wonder why I’m not interested in continuing our date?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just, you’re so serious. You need a little zing to lighten you up.”

With her hand firmly on the handle, Audrey turned and started to shut her front door. “Look, Max, I wish I could say this was fun, but all I really want to do is soak my foot and go to sleep.”

“Oh, you can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

He pointed to his temple. “Your head. You’re not sleepy are you? I’m supposed to watch out for that.”

“No, I’m genuinely tired, but not from the head bump. As a registered nurse, I can assure you, I don’t have any symptoms of a concussion.”

“Your left eye just twitched.”

She sighed. “Yes. Yes, it did. Good night, Max. It was…a fun evening.”

He shook his head. “Good night, Audrey. Good luck.”

She actually almost regretted closing the door on him, but Max Shannon was all over the place. She had no idea who he was or what to make of him. He was some kind of sarcastic, compassionate clown who intrigued her and irked her at the same time. As she locked her door, she checked her phone one last time. Still nothing from Cassandra. That girl was in for it. She needed her matchmaking credentials revoked.

With a grateful sigh, Audrey shucked her coat, moaning
when she saw the grease stain across the back where she’d landed on the dirty ice. That would be a hefty dry cleaning bill. She tossed her hat and gloves, flung her purse on the couch, and set her sights on the bathroom, where a good long soak and a couple of aspirin awaited.

She’d made it halfway there when her doorbell rang.

“Ugh. You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered to herself before calling out, “Who is it?”

“It’s Max.”

Is this guy for real?
“Go away.”

“I’d love to, but I can’t. You’re not going to believe this, but my car won’t start.”

“You’re right. I don’t believe it.” She pivoted on her good foot, unsure of whether to head back to the front door or just ignore him and go take her bath.

“I will swear on a stack of Bibles, it’s the truth. I think the battery died.”

“I’m fresh out of spare car batteries.”

“I need a jumpstart.”

“Oh, and I have jumper cables.” She’d made it back to the door, which she opened a crack.

“You do?” The one of his eyes she could see through the crack looked hopeful.

“Yeah. They’re in my car, which is still in Colette’s parking lot.”

“You’re funny.”

“And you must have forgotten the first rule of axe murdering is never let your intended victim lock you out of her apartment.”

He contemplated that for a minute. “You’re right. That is the first rule. And the first rule of axe victimism is never open the door when the guy comes back with some lame excuse that his car won’t start.”

She slammed the door closed and locked it. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I could really use some help.”

“You have a cell phone. Call Triple A.”

“I called my roommate, and he’s going to come and give me a jump, but he’s still at work and he can’t get here for an hour. I’ll freeze if I wait for him out here.”

Audrey leaned against the door and sighed, deeply and wearily. This night was just never going to end. Then her phone rang. She sprang toward the couch, forgetting her ankle for a minute, which reminded her of its existence with a burst of pain. “Hello, Cassandra?”

“Hi, Audrey. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. I had a major oven malfunction tonight, and I’ve been—”

“Save it, sweetheart. I need to know the deal with this guy Max.”

“Uh-oh. Why?”

“Why? The smart ass is standing outside my door trying to convince me he’s not an axe murderer so I’ll let him inside.”

There was a long silence, and when Cassie spoke, her voice held a mixture of confusion and mirth, much like Max’s. “He’s not an axe murderer. I can vouch for him.”

“But what about the supposed ‘other’ guy he told me about?”

“Oh. He wasn’t supposed to say anything.”

“Cassie.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but your real date got sick and canceled at the last minute. Max is my cousin. He is definitely a smart ass, but he’s not dangerous in any way. I promise.”

Audrey lowered herself to the arm of the couch, taking pressure off her very sore foot. “So he’s the pinch hitter for tonight?”

“I didn’t want to let you down. I knew you’d feel awful if I told you your date canceled. And Max is a fun guy. I really thought you two would hit it off. Apparently…not?”

“I’ll let him in.”

“You won’t regret it.”

“Right.” Audrey hung up. “I already regret it.”

*

“So she vouched for me?” Max asked the moment Audrey opened her door. He’d heard the phone conversation through the door, and the term ‘pinch hitter’ had actually caused him a stab of guilt. Audrey was expecting the man of her dreams, and instead she’d gotten the guy who couldn’t resist a free dinner on his cousin’s dime.

“Yeah, she says you’re harmless.”

He pursed his lips. “Did she actually say ‘harmless’ or just not a psycho killer?”

“She didn’t actually say you weren’t a psycho, but she did imply you weren’t a killer.”

“I’ll have to thank her for that. So I can come in out of the cold?”

“Sure.” She backed up, limping badly, and let him inside. She’d taken off her giant parka and turned on the lights in the apartment, so for the first time since she’d stuck her head into his car window, he saw her. Cassie had said she was hot, which was more than true
. Her smoky eyes, her shiny hair, and those lips, painted a demure but sexy shade of crimson to match her tight red sweater, had him wishing she’d pose for him. The camera would love her. Her bone structure was perfect, the arch of her brows almost poetic. After one look, he wanted to lift her hair off her neck and block a close-up of the perfect curve where her jawline met her throat.

“You’re staring.”

“Sorry. I was just thinking you could be on a magazine cover.”

“
Axe Murderer’s Gazette
?”