Hold The Elevator

By Karen McCullough

Vivian raced across the lobby floor as the elevator doors started to slide closed. She had maybe two minutes before she’d be late for work and who knew how long it would take the next car to arrive.

“Hold it, please!” she called. “Hold the elevator.”

She couldn’t see the only occupant, but a man’s hand slid forward and stopped the door from closing. Her heart was racing by the time she made it through the doors. “Thank you,” she breathed out between harsh intakes of air.

“You’re welcome.” The voice was smooth and deep.

“You!” she said, staring at the owner of that voice. A man of medium height with dark hair and light, greenish eyes watched her with a quirky smile.

“Oh, sorry.” Heat rose in her face as she realized how odd that must sound. “It’s just that…” How did she explain? She’d noticed him in a crowded elevator car just a few days ago and something about the loose but confident way he held himself or the good humor of his expression drew her. Then yesterday, she’d seen him again. That time, he must’ve felt her gaze on him; he turned and looked back at her. His lips twisted into a half-grin and something lit his eyes before the elevator pinged for the twenty-second floor and he got out. Vivian was pretty sure she’d seen a momentary flash of regret following the interest as the doors closed.

“Nothing to apologize for,” he assured her. “I’ve noticed you a couple of times since I started work here last week.” He pressed the button for the 22nd floor with his left hand, then hesitated, waiting for her. He wasn’t wearing a ring.

“Twenty-five,” she said.

“Ah. You’re with Berwick and Reynolds? They have the whole floor, right?” He pressed the button for her floor.

“Right. Yes, Vivian Westmont, account executive.”

He held out a hand as the car whooshed upward.

“Larry Parker. Most junior architect at Corcoran Associates. Just started work here last week.”

“Well, honestly, I’m a very junior account executive, too,” Vivian admitted. She shook his hand. Warmth spread from the contact of their palms. He held on a second longer than politeness demanded.

“Have you got a minute?” he asked.

She looked at her watch, torn between duty and interest. Duty won out. “I wish I did, but I have a meeting in ten minutes, and I can’t afford to miss it.”

He drew a breath. “How about coffee later? You get a coffee break?

“Oh. Yes.”

“Good. Are you free to meet me in the lobby coffee shop?” He put a bit of emphasis on the word “free,” and she realized he was asking about more than just time. The elevator pinged his floor.

“Yes, I am,” she said as the doors slid open.

His smile lit his face. “Ten-thirty?”

“I’ll see you then,” she promised.

💕💕💕💕

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Karen McCullough is the author of more than two dozen published novels and novellas in the mystery, romance, suspense, and fantasy genres, including the Market Center Mysteries Series and three books in the No Brides Club romance series. Karen won the 2021 Bould Award for flash fiction, an Epic Ebook Award for fantasy, and has been a finalist in the Daphne, Prism, Dream Realm, International Digital, Lories, and Vixen Award contests. Her short fiction has appeared in a wide variety of magazines and anthologies. More information is available at her website: https://www.kmccullough.com .