Barbara Wallace – Christmas With Her Millionaire Boss (страница 7)

But more than she preferred. He was but an unwanted responsibility after all. The tightness eased, and the familiar numbness returned. “I’m glad. I’d hate to think you had to sacrifice too much.”

“Bare minimum, I assure you. Belinda would have my head if you died on my watch. In case you hadn’t guessed, she takes her responsibility to others very seriously. Especially those injured in her store.”

His store now. James let the slip pass uncommented. “Good policy. I’m sure your lawyers appreciate the extra effort.”

“It’s not policy,” she quickly shot back. Her eyes simmered with contention. “It’s compassion. The Frybergs have always believed in taking care of others. Belinda especially. I’ll have you know that I’ve seen her literally give a stranger the coat off her back.”

“I apologize,” James replied. “I didn’t mean to insinuate...”

She held up her hand. “Whatever. Just know that lawsuits are the last thing on Belinda’s mind.

“You have no idea how special the Fryberg family is,” she continued. Driving home the point. “Ned and Belinda were...are...the best people you’ll ever meet. The whole town loves them.”

“Duly noted,” James replied. Must be nice, having a family member care so much they sprang to your defense at the slightest ill word. “I’ll watch my language from now on.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

They both fell silent. James sat back on the sofa and rubbed his neck, an uncomfortable itch having suddenly danced across his collar. Normally silence didn’t bother him; he didn’t know why this lapse in conversation felt so awkward.

Probably because the entire situation was awkward. If they were in Boston, he would be the host. He would be offering to whip up a cappuccino and his signature scrambled eggs, the way he did for all his overnight guests. Instead, he was sitting on her sofa, feeling very much like the obligation that he was.

And here he’d thought he was done feeling that way ever again.

Noelle broke the silence first. Tugging on her sweatshirt the way an officer might tug on his jacket, she cleared her throat. “I’m heading back into the kitchen. You might as well go back to sleep. It’s still early. Not even seven-thirty.”

“You’re awake.”

“I have cooking to do. You’re supposed to rest.”

“I’m rested out.” Headache or not, his body was still on East Coast time, and according to it, he’d already slept several hours past his usual wake time. “I don’t think I could sleep more if I wanted to.”

“Suit yourself,” she said with a shrug. “TV remote’s on the end table if you want it. I’ll be in the kitchen.” The unspoken Stay out of my way came loud and clear.

She turned and padded out the door. Although James had never been one to ogle women, he found himself watching her jean-clad rear end. Some women were born to wear jeans, and the elf was one of them. With every step, her hips swayed from side to side like a well-toned bell. It was too bad the woman disliked his presence; her attractiveness was one of the few positive things about this debacle of a trip.

He needed to go back to Boston. It was where he belonged. Where he was...well, if not wanted, at least comfortable.

Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet. The room spun a little, but not nearly as badly as it had yesterday, or even fifteen minutes earlier, for that matter. If he managed to walk to the kitchen without problem, he was leaving. Grant him and Noelle a reprieve.

Plans settled, he made his way to the kitchen. Happily, the room only spun a little. He found his hostess in the center of the room pulling a bright yellow apron over her head. The delicious aroma from before hung heavy in the air. It wasn’t a candle at all, but some kind of pie. Pumpkin, he realized, taking a deep breath.

His stomach rumbled. “I don’t suppose I could get a cup of coffee,” he said when she turned around.

She pointed to the rear cupboard where a full pot sat on the coffee maker burner. “Cups are in the cupboard above. There’s cereal and toast if you want any breakfast. Do you need me to pour?” she added belatedly.

“No, thank you. I can manage.” He made his way over to the cupboard. Like everything else in the house, the mugs were simple, yet sturdy. He was beginning to think she was the only delicate-looking thing in the house. “You have a nice place,” he remarked as he poured.

“You sound surprised.”

“Do I?” he replied. “I don’t mean to.”

“In that case, thank you. Kevin and his father came up with the design.”

That explained the resemblance to the Christmas Castle.

“I’m curious,” he said, leaning against the counter. She had bent over to look in the oven, giving him another look at her bottom. “Is there some kind of rule that the houses all have to look...”

“Look like what?” she asked, standing up.

“Alike.” Like they’d all been plucked off a picture postcard.

“Well the idea is to resemble a European village. That’s part of what makes us such a popular tourist attraction.”

She was tossing around his words from yesterday. He’d insulted her again.

Which he knew before asking the question. Hell, it was why he’d asked it. Their exchange earlier reminded him how much he’d enjoyed her backbone yesterday. Next to her cute figure, pushing her buttons was the only other thing that made this trip enjoyable. “I’m sure it does,” he replied.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

James shrugged. “Nothing. I was simply noting the town had a distinctive theme is all, and wondered if it was by design. Now I know.”

“I’m sure you already knew from your research,” she said, folding her arms. She had the closed-off pose down to a science. “You just felt like mocking the town.”

“Actually...” What could he say? He doubted she’d enjoy knowing her anger entertained him. “Maybe I did.”

She opened her mouth, and he waited for her to toss an insult in his direction. Instead she closed her lips again and spun around. Immediately, James regretted pushing too far. What did he expect? Surely, he knew she wouldn’t find him as entertaining as he found her. Quite the opposite. She disliked him the same as everyone else. Pushing her buttons guaranteed the status quo.

There was one thing he could say that she might like.

“Your pie smells delicious, by the way. I’m sorry I won’t get to taste it.”

That got her attention. She turned back around. “Why not?”

Leaning against the counter, he took a long sip of his coffee. Damn, but she made a hearty cup. “Because as soon as I have my coffee and grab a shower, you’re driving me to the airstrip so I can fly back to Boston.”

* * *

Noelle almost dropped the pie she was taking out of the oven. Had she heard right? Not that she wouldn’t be glad to see the back of him, but... “I thought the doctor said no flying.”

“Doctors say a lot of things.”

“Yeah, but in this case...” She flashed back to his falling into her at the hospital. “You could barely stand without getting dizzy.”

“That was yesterday. Clearly, that’s not the case today.”

No, it wasn’t. He appeared to be standing quite nicely against her counter, all wrinkled and fresh with sleep as he was.

The guy might be annoying, but he wore bedhead well.

Still, she couldn’t believe he was serious about flying an airplane less than twenty-four hours after getting whacked in the head. What if he got dizzy again and crashed the plane? “It doesn’t sound like the wisest of plans,” she said.

From over his coffee mug, he looked at her with an arched brow. “You’d rather I stick around here with you all weekend?”

“No, but...”

“Then why do you care whether I fly home or not?”

Good question. Why did she care? She looked down at the golden-brown pie still in her hands. Setting it on the cooling rack, she took off her oven mitts, then nudged the oven door shut with her hip.

“I don’t care,” she said, turning back around. “I’m surprised is all. In my experience, doctors don’t advise against things without reason.

“Why are you so eager to leave Fryberg anyway?” she asked. She could already guess the answer. It’d been clear from his arrival he didn’t think much of their town.

Unless, that is, he had a different reason for returning to Boston. Something more personal. “If you have Thanksgiving plans with someone, wouldn’t they prefer you play it safe?”

His coffee cup muffled the words, but she could swear he said “Hardly.” It wasn’t a word she’d expected him to use. Hardly was the same as saying unlikely, which couldn’t be the case. A man as handsome as Hammond would have dozens of women interested in him. Just because he rubbed her the wrong way...

She must have misheard.

Still, it wasn’t someone special calling him home. And she doubted it was because of Black Friday either. He could get sales reports via his phone; there was no need to physically be in Boston.

That left her original reason. “I’m sorry if our little town isn’t comfortable enough for you to stick around.”

“Did I say it wasn’t comfortable?”

“You didn’t have to,” Noelle replied. “Your disdain has been obvious.”