The Naughty List by L.A. Kelley

tumbles into chaos.” His face twisted in anguish. “Please, help me, Rosalie. I’m certain The Book is in Penrose’s. I need someone who knows all the hiding places and would notice if merchandise was altered or moved.”
    “What does this thing look like?”
    David pantomimed a volume roughly eighteen inches wide by two feet high. “Leather bound, inscribed with runes, locked with a solid gold clasp.”
    She wrinkled her brow in thought. “I haven’t seen it, but several storage areas in Central Receiving aren’t used often. Maybe—”
    David’s face lit up. “You’ll help me?”
    Rosalie was taken aback. This is crazy, her brain insisted. You can’t possibly go along with him. A normal girl would be spritzing pepper spray around like air freshener and chase his hiney right out the door. Simply because he’s exhausted and kind and liked your smile is no reason to— S Ko&#ounhut up brain. Logic went out the window several hours ago. “I guess, I will.”
    “Thank you, Rosalie, thank you, thank you!” David jumped up and kissed her with exuberance. He immediately pulled back and blurted out, “Sorry, sorry, not a stalker. I swear.”
    “S’okay,” she mumbled, flustered. “The store won’t be empty for another couple of hours, but I don’t have a key.”
    “No problem. I can dash-away to any place either in my line of sight or I’ve been to before.”
    She started. “Dash-away? Are you serious?”
    “What can I say? Ever since an ancestor of mine read that dumb-ass poem the word stuck.” David stifled a yawn.
    It was hard not to note the fatigue shadowing his expression. Rosalie motioned him to the couch. “Why don’t you put your feet up? I’ll make coffee.”
    David slunk wearily toward the sofa, but paused first to plug in the Christmas lights. “Nice,” he noted with approval. “Makes even the elf hat tolerable.” She shot him a doubtful look. “Seriously,” he insisted. “You should see our tree. We only put up handmade ornaments. The Kloss’s are huge fans of macaroni art and glitter.” David sunk into the cushions and rubbed his eyes. “You’re a good person, Rosalie. Your name is definitely on the Nice List.”
    “I don’t know,” she murmured lightly, measuring the grinds into the coffee maker. “I have mighty naughty thoughts about Stephanie. You’d be surprised how planning various forms of execution brightens your whole day. What would The Book say about that? Do naughty thoughts count or what?” He didn’t answer. “David?” She turned around. He was sprawled on the couch, fast asleep.
    Rosalie picked an old comforter off the back of a chair to spread over him. It’s been a while since a guy slept at my place, she thought wryly. Having an E.L.F. collapse on the couch was certainly new.
    She watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, wondering how many days he had searched Penrose’s. As David fell deeper into sleep, the lines of exhaustion eased on his face. He had a nice face, she decided. Not classically handsome like Anthony, but… She turned away with regret. He was Santa’s kid and probably had wood nymphs lined up around the block. He’ll leave as soon as The Book is found. You’ll never see him again. Help him out and send him packing.
    At ten o’clock, she gently shook David awake. He ran his fingers through his shaggy hair. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to fall asleep.” He glanced down at the comforter on top of him. His expression softened. “Thanks.”
    “You’re welcome.” She motioned out the window. “It’s late. Everyone has left Penrose’s by now.”
    David hopped up, stretched, and then held out his hand. “Let’s go.”
    Tentatively, Rosalie placed her fingers on top of his. With a sharp tug he pulled her close and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. Before she protested, the world went black. She experienced a dizzying sensation of falling before they landed behind the customer service counter with a thump.