2. Josie

2

JOSIE

T hanks to the damn assignment taking so long, I found myself caught in the tail end of the traffic pouring out of the hockey arena. What should have been a fifteen-minute ride home turned into forty. By the time I reached my apartment building I was beyond tired, annoyed, and hungry.

With a sigh I grabbed my things and locked my car behind me, before walking to the entrance to the building.

"Miss Scott," the doorman greeted me with a kindly nod. He was an older man who was always very sweet, and I usually made a point of making time for him. Yet, after the day I'd had, all I could muster was a smile in greeting as he held the door open for me.

I could hear my comfy couch calling my name, along with the leftovers in the fridge, and maybe the half-pint of my favorite ice-cream in the freezer. My stomach growled loudly at the thought.

Feeling my phone buzz, I pulled it out of my handbag as the elevator doors opened and I stepped inside. The score of this afternoon's hockey game tonight flashed across my screen and I winced. Damn another loss. Hitting 8 for my floor, I leaned back against the wall shaking my head at my phone.

At the sound of someone calling out, my head snapped up. A hand slid in-between the doors, preventing them from closing as the owner of the voice forced their way in. Despite the baseball cap covering most of their face, it was clearly a guy. A tall guy. My eyes fell onto the large gym bag hanging on his shoulder. For a brief second, I caught a symbol on it, but he moved, making it disappear. I tried to be discreet as I checked him out further. Track pants covered his long legs, and his sports jacket pulled taut over his broad, upper body and arms. Very muscular arms I may add.

Before he could catch me ogling him like a total idiot, I ducked my head and returned my attention back to my phone. Yet, I was all too aware of him leaning against the side of the elevator and I couldn't help but sneak glances at him from under my lashes. The silence in the elevator was a bit stifling but I was always too awkward to initiate conversation first. Especially with a guy.

As the elevator rose, it jerked suddenly making me stumbled to the side, gripping the railing. With a loud, mechanical groan, the elevator screeched to a jarring halt.

"What the fuck?" The words left my mouth before I could stop them, and horrified, I looked up at the stranger, our gazes clashing. "That wasn't meant to come out," I blurted, feeling the heat flushing my cheeks. A hint of a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.

"Are we stuck?" I asked, looking over at the panel of buttons at his side. He reached over and pressed the number five button, but nothing happened. My grip tightened on the railing as he started pushing random buttons, but even when he pushed the emergency button nothing happened. When he muttered something close to ‘shit' under his breath I knew it was not a good sign.

"Oh god we are stuck." Panic squeezed at my chest as I gripped the railing harder. The thought of being trapped in a giant metal box horrified me and I felt my heart beating faster by the second.

"It's okay, someone was most likely notified when the elevator stopped. They'll send someone to come get us," the stranger spoke, his voice firm and confident. I said nothing, but I had a sinking feeling no one knew we were trapped.

I wasn't claustrophobic. No, it was the thought of being stuck for God knows how long that had me freaking out. Maybe the stranger was right, and someone was already on their way—but would it take an hour? Three? Ten? Would we be stuck for days? My thoughts were spiraling, scaring the shit out of me.

Turning my attention back to my phone, I saw I now had no reception. So, calling 9-1-1 was out of the question. Or anyone else for that matter. Groaning, I rested my head back against the wall, clutching my useless phone in my free hand. I felt the guy's stare, compelling me to speak. "No service."

My horror and anger at the situation shifted to resignation. It felt like a fitting end to a day that had gone from shit to shittier. All I had wanted to do was come home and relax but it seemed today was not my day.

With my feet aching, I slid down the wall and sat on the ground, stretching out my legs as I placed my handbag and camera bag beside me. I figured I might as well get comfortable.

Lydia really owes me.

As the stranger dropped his bag to the floor, I watched him from the corner of my eye as he followed my lead, sinking to the floor. His legs were so long that they almost reached the other side of the elevator, and his huge presence seemed to make the already small elevator feel smaller.

His baseball cap was still lowered so I couldn't see his face clearly, but it didn't take a genius to know he was attractive. Once again finding myself staring at him, I blushed and forced myself to look around the elevator. There really wasn't anything to look at, given that it was just a big metal box with a panel of buttons. On the plus side, the lights remained on, so it wasn't pitch black.

Silence stretched between us, almost deafening over our breathing and the occasional shuffle as we shifted. I wasn't confident enough to start a conversation and he didn't seem to be in the mood either. The silence between us grew more awkward with each passing minute.

I could feel the cold seeping through my jeans through the floor of the elevator and I pulled my knees up. Not knowing what else to do, I checked my phone again, hoping we'd magically regained cell service, but of course my phone flashed zero bars still. I groaned under my breath. Great.

The silence dragged on, filling the space around us like an enormous bubble waiting to burst. I couldn't take it anymore. "I'm Josie," I introduced myself, my voice sounding high-pitched and a little manic. Inwardly, I facepalmed myself.

Way to go. Now he'll just think he's stuck in here with a crazy person.

Slowly, his head turned in my direction. While the brim of his baseball cap hid most of his face, I was certain I could feel his eyes on me. It was as though I could sense him taking in every line, every freckle, on my face.

"Wyatt," he finally spoke, and I felt a little thrill at the sound of his voice, though I told myself it was only because it was preferable to the silence. "Nice to meet you," I replied with a small smile.

Inwardly, I marveled at how well his name suited him. Not to mention, I found his name attractive, which was weird in and of itself. I chalked it up to not having much to eat since lunch, staying late at work, and being trapped in an eight-by-eight metal box with a total stranger. A hot stranger.

Suddenly, my thoughts took a darker turn, as I realized that I was, in fact, trapped with a stranger—one who could easily overpower me if he wanted. Though I wasn't getting ‘killer/stalker' vibes from him, that didn't stop my mind from racing. Discreetly, I shifted away from him an inch. Oblivious, he reached forward and grabbed his gym bag as I kept my eyes on him. As he flipped it around, I caught a proper glimpse of the logo, and my mouth fell open in surprise. It was the Toronto Knights hockey team logo.

I flicked my gaze upwards, trying to determine if there was any recognition in the limited view I had of his profile. Did he play for the team? I was sure I would have heard if there was a professional hockey player living in this apartment building. Nothing that exciting would remain a secret, but I was coming up blank. I reminded myself I'd lived there less than a year and I kept to myself most of the time. While he rummaged in his bag, his head tilted to the side, catching the light, showcasing his sculpted jawline what looked like kissable lips.

Holy shit.

I'm not sure what it was, but suddenly I knew exactly who I was trapped with. Wyatt Boone. The lead Forward for the Toronto Knights hockey team and the best hockey player in the league.