Once Upon A Christmas Eve: A grumpy brother's best friend holiday romantic comedy novella (Love in Swans Cove) by Elodie Nowodazkij

Author:Elodie Nowodazkij [Nowodazkij, Elodie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Elodie Nowodazkij
Published: 2023-08-07T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 6—Landon

I shoot a warning glance Douglas’ way before booking it after Julie. She’s already on the first floor, while I’m already mentally dialing his old man, convinced it’s time for him to find another occupation for his son. Douglas III doesn’t own the building. I’m not even sure he owns a sense of self-preservation. The way he looked at Julie? My blood is still boiling.

Julie’s voice comes out brittle and stretched thin. “Santa’s gone. I should have gone after him immediately.” The regret in her voice is tangible, sending a slight shiver down my spine.

“We’ll find him,” I reassure her, attempting to infuse my voice with a confidence I’m not entirely feeling. Julie’s lost puppy-dog eyes have a way of short-circuiting my brain.

She’s slumped over on the stairs like a rag doll, the very image of utter despair. “He’s not here,” she whimpers, her gaze meeting mine. “Not on the fifth, fourth, third or second floor.”

Something about Julie’s anxiety lands a blow to my gut. I can’t ignore it, not when it comes to her. “We still have a few doors left to knock on.” I suggest, trying to be the voice of reason and wanting to smooth out the lines of worry etching her brow. “Let’s give Apartment 1C a shot.”

I stretch out my hand, and she tentatively slips her fingers into mine. Her touch sets off a curious flutter in my chest, a sensation that’s new and oddly pleasant.

The soft curls of her hair frame her face, and her Christmas pajamas—emblazoned with the words “single and ready to jingle”—don’t hide her generous curves.

I know attraction. I recognize lust. But this sensation flooding me is deeper, more profound, prompting my jaw to set into a tight clench. After these few hours with Julie, I’m going to need to make an appointment with my dentist. I’m about to shatter a molar.

“Let’s move,” I command, my tone gruff. She cocks her head, curiosity sparkling in her eyes, but refrains from commenting and shuffles down the hallway with those zombie slippers, similar to those I gifted her years ago, slapping the floor.

We rap on the door of Apartment 1C, but our knocks echo in the hallway, disappearing into the abyss. That’s three strikeouts in a row. Same on 1B.

In the midst of the blacked-out building, on this Christmas Eve, the ticking of the clock feels like a doomsday countdown rather than a cheerful reminder of the festive season. Not like the season is festive to me.

“One more,” Julie’s voice rings out, a defiant note seeping through the gloomy silence. Her knuckles rap against Apartment 1A’s door, the echo bouncing off the cold, dark walls with stubborn determination.

Nobody answers, but loud cheers slice through the air.

Julie knocks harder—until the door creaks open, sounding like the eerie beginnings of a haunted house version of “Deck the Halls.” A bunch of carolers, swaddled in horrifyingly festive sweaters, greet us. It’s like stepping into a Charles Dickens novel, only scarier. They look like the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and yet-to-come, with the gusto of a high school cheerleading squad.

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