“If all goes well, I’m being released the day after tomorrow,” Noel said.
“Gina and I will be here to take you to our place in Indigo Bay,” Marjorie said. “We’ve got plenty of room at the house and enough people to take turns driving you to rehab. Gina is there and my son and daughter-in-law live nearby.”
Noel stared at Marjorie. “You’re kidding.”
“Why would I kid about that?”
“You’re very kind, ma’am, but I can’t take advantage of your hospitality.”
“Nonsense. You wouldn’t be in this situation if not for Gina’s car, and besides, no one should spend Christmas alone.”
He looked toward Gina, suddenly understanding that she lived at home. Which meant they’d be living under the same roof for a while. Her face was impassive, but not hostile. She wasn’t exactly rolling out the welcome mat, but she wasn’t yanking it out from under him either.
“I won’t leave until you agree,” Marjorie cut in.
Noel’s heart warmed, feeling lighter than it had in a long time. “That’s extremely generous, thank you,” he told Marjorie. “But I don’t want to intrude or make things awkward.” His eyes locked with Gina’s.
“Gina is fine.” Marjorie waved his statement away. “You can’t be alone while you recover, and you certainly cannot skip physical therapy. So what will you do, stay in a hotel? Fat chance.” She looked offended at the very idea of a hotel. “This area is very popular during the holidays, and I’m sure everything that’s not a dump has been booked for months. You’ll be much more comfortable in a home with someone to look after you.”
Noel wondered what Marjorie’s version of a dump would be. She’d probably be horrified at the motels he used when he wasn’t crashing in the van. “I’m sure I can figure something out,” Noel said. “I have a van, and I’m no stranger to camping out.”
“A van, as in an RV?” Marjorie pressed.
“Well, no,” he admitted. “Just a regular passenger van. But the back seat folds down into a bed.”
Marjorie slammed her hands onto her hips. “Noel Hamilton, do you intend to get better or not? How are you possibly going to climb in and out of a van?”
He hadn’t really thought about it too much. In truth, he’d been trying not to think about it. Recovery was going to be difficult, but what choice did he have?
“Not to mention, where are you going to park it?” Gina piped up. “I doubt they’ll let you stay in the hospital parking lot.”
“Wal-Mart?” he suggested.
Gina rolled her eyes. “And you’ll drive to rehab how, exactly?”
“Exactly,” Noel growled. “Which is why I’m not doing it.”
“That’s not an option,” Marjorie said.
“You may as well accept,” Gina said. “My mother never takes no for an answer.”
He sighed. The orthopedic surgeon told him to stay off his leg entirely for two weeks, then take another two to four weeks of physical therapy. There was no chance of that, but if he could hole up at Marjorie’s house for at least a week, maybe it’d be okay.
“Well, thank you. I really appreciate the offer,” he finally said. “And I won’t be in your hair very long. I have to be in New Orleans by December eighteenth for a job.”
“What kind of job?” Marjorie asked.
“Sand sculpture. There’s a Christmas competition at the Coconut Grove Resort.”
She looked skeptical. “Like … sand castles?”
“It’s a little more complicated,” he explained. “The winnings are pretty big.”
“And I take it you win these competitions?” Marjorie asked.
“Some,” Noel said.
“Which totally explains why you live in your van and were stumbling around drunk on Thanksgiving night,” Gina said.
He ground his teeth. “None of your business, and also, not the issue.”
“Well, you made it my business by jumping in front of me,” she snapped.
“I didn’t—” Noel began.
Marjorie held up her hands. “Now come on, you two. No more arguing.” She skewered Noel with her hazel eyes. “Noel, be reasonable. You cannot recover properly in your van, and you cannot skip rehab.”
He knew that. He’d known it from the minute his knee had crumpled beneath him when it made contact with Gina’s bumper. But he’d been trying to avoid the actual logistics. He’d tried to convince himself that all he had to do was get out of the hospital and pick up where he’d left off.
Marjorie continued. “But perhaps we can speak to your doctor, and if you follow their recovery plan, maybe you can be in New Orleans for your competition. I’m sure they’ll provide a referral for a rehab center down there.”
“Doesn’t sand sculpting mean physical work?” Gina broke in. “I don’t see how—”
Noel twisted his blankets in his fist. Marjorie had thrown him a lifeline, and it felt like Gina was trying to yank it back. “It’ll be rough, but better than not being there at all,” he said.
“I’d be happy to pay for an airline ticket and save you the drive,” Marjorie said.
Noel shook his head. “I need my tools, and they’re all in my van.”
“Well, let’s not worry about that right now,” Marjorie segued smoothly. “Perhaps one of my sons can drive your van for you and you can meet him there.”
She was sweetening the pot, and she knew it. He regarded her carefully. There had to be a catch.
“Let me guess,” he said. “You do all this for me, and I sign a no-fault agreement for the accident?”
“Hey!” Gina stomped across the room, brown eyes blazing, fists planted at her sides. “My mother helps people all the time, and she never, ever expects anything in return. So why don’t you drop the attitude?”
Their eyes locked, the sudden tension pulsing between them like two magnets with competing charges. Push-pull. Noel felt it as keenly as he did the pinprick of pain coming from the IV in his arm.
He lowered his eyes. “I apologize, Mrs. Andrews, and I accept your very generous offer.”
Marjorie beamed. “Now, we’ll have no more arguing. This situation is what it is, and we’re going to try to make the best of it.” She reached out and patted his ankle through the blankets. “We’ll see you the day after tomorrow, honey. We’d best be going now to get your room ready.”
Noel waited for them to leave, then reached for his phone on the bedside table. The paramedics had found it on the road and brought it along, not that he’d been aware of it at the time. The pain from a torn ACL was no joke. Noel remembered seeing videos of athletes falling, clutching at their legs, with injuries later confirmed to be the same as his. He’d thought they were being dramatic, but now he understood. It had been horrendous pain, unlike anything he’d experienced before.
He scrolled through his phone and pulled up Tony’s number. Tony Jennings was his friend and sort of manager. Noel kept things casual with his business dealings, but he needed someone to organize the competition schedule, pay the entry fees, and set a calendar. Tony was perfect for the job.
“Where are you?” Tony asked when he answered.
“Aiken, South Carolina. In the hospital,” Noel said.
There was a slight pause. “You’re kidding.”
“Nah, some lady hit me with her car and tore my ACL. I got out of surgery this morning.”
“Dang, man,” Tony moaned. “That stinks. What about New Orleans?”
Noel bit back a smile. That was Tony—minimal sympathy, straight down to business. “I think I can still make it,” he said.
“In three weeks? How long will it take you to heal up?”
“Dunno. I’m going to be crashing with the locals for a bit until I can put weight on it. Then I’m out.” He thought of the way Marjorie would scowl if he heard this conversation and couldn’t help smiling. She was spunky, that one. Like her daughter.
“But you can’t drive,” Tony pointed out.
“I’ll figure it out,�
� Noel said. He rubbed the bridge of his nose while he thought. He might take Marjorie up on the offer of the flight and save himself the twelve-hour drive.
“You have to be there by the twenty-first,” Tony reminded him. Competitors had to check in and have their finalized designs approved and their tools checked to make sure no one was cheating. It was standard procedure, but it squeezed Noel’s timeline even tighter.
“I’ll be there,” he said.
“I trust you, man,” Tony said. “You can’t skip this one. Prize money is twenty-five grand.”
Twenty-five grand. Enough to pay off some credit card debt and hopefully put down a big chunk toward his upcoming medical bills. Noel could practically feel the meter spinning for every second he sat in this bed. He might have talked big, but deep down, he knew Gina’s insurance wouldn’t cover anything. He’d stepped out in front of her car; there was really no reasonable way to blame her.
Still, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. Just to get under her skin, if nothing else. It was fun to see her all ruffled up like an angry hen.
“I’ll be in touch,” he promised Tony.
They hung up, and he leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes. Gina’s face rose immediately to his mind: the smooth skin, the big brown eyes, and her full lips.
Maybe staying at her place wouldn’t be too bad after all.
6
“I’d feel much better if he could stay in the apartment,” Gina said as she and her mother left the hospital.
This morning had taken a very weird turn. She’d been prepared for the scruffy vagabond, yet the man who lay in the hospital bed had been completely transformed. Without all the hair, Noel was … well, there was no getting around it: he was handsome. Extremely. He had a square, straight jaw, and his nose looked the right size for his face without the bushy mustache. His hair was still long, at least chin length, but it wasn’t the unkempt mess she’d seen the night of the accident. The nurses had obviously made him their pet project, and it showed.
She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
“How would he manage the steps to the apartment on crutches?” Her mother shook her head firmly. “Sweetie, it’ll be fine, don’t worry. The guest room is on the main level and has its own bathroom. And besides, that young man looks like he could use some friends. And some fattening up.”
“Mom, you can’t save everyone.” Gina sighed. She didn’t want Noel in the house. Didn’t want him around her boys. Didn’t want him around her. Talk about awkward. “In case you forgot, this is the man who is threatening to sue me for an accident I didn’t cause.”
“I know, dear.” Gina’s mother gave her a sly smile as they reached the car in the hospital parking garage. “But perhaps we can convince him otherwise.”
Gina slid into the passenger seat. “So he’s right? You are hoping he’ll sign a no-fault agreement?”
“Not exactly,” her mother said. “But you never know what can happen when you show compassion instead of aggression.”
“That’s directed at me, I suppose,” Gina said.
Her mother gave a shrug as she started the car and backed out of the parking space. “I was speaking in general and specific terms,” she said.
Gina blew out a frustrated breath. Everything felt mixed up. Her mother was kindhearted to a fault, a staple of the town, and earnest in her desire to be a good person. Gina knew that the invitation for Noel to stay at the their home had come from her heart. But there could be more to it. How far-fetched would it be if they spent some time together, got to know one another, and then … what? Noel had been drunk. He was a stranger. He could be dangerous. And sometimes, Gina had to admit, her parents could be a bit naïve. Would they recognize a threat even if it stared them in the face?
And underneath it all, there’d been something else. An undercurrent of energy that had nothing to do with the accident or medical bills or where Noel stayed during his recovery. His eyes, she’d discovered, were gray, like the bay on a chilly winter morning. They’d been speculative, suspicious, and even a little arrogant. But also …
An unfamiliar twist of butterflies lit her stomach, and Gina tensed. “Are you kidding me?”
“What?” her mother said.
“Nothing.” Gina shook her head. No use telling her mother about any of her doubts. Marjorie Andrews was in the business of saving lost souls and, especially in Eva’s case, setting them up with her children. The last thing she needed to hear was that Noel could have caused a whisper of butterflies. Gina would never hear the end of it.
When they got home, she went straight to her bedroom and called Ben.
“Gina, relax,” he said after she’d explained the newest developments. “The guy is fresh out of surgery and barely able to walk. What’s he going to do?”
Gina got up and shut the door to her bedroom just in case one of her boys came wandering by. “I don’t know, Ben. You’re the police officer; you tell me.”
“If the apartment was an option, I’d be all for it. But it obviously isn’t. So lock your doors at night and trust Mom’s instinct. She was right about Eva.”
Gina rolled her eyes. “She got lucky with Eva. And lucky those crazy cult people went away.”
After Eva was kidnapped by the cult and then rescued by Ben, they’d all had a few tense months wondering if the cult’s bloodlust had ended, or if they would seek revenge. Ben had stayed at the house for several weeks, making sure his police car was conspicuously parked out front every night, and they’d installed a full home security system complete with alarms, cameras, and motion-activated lights. But for all the precautions, the threat never materialized, and gradually, they’d been able to breathe easy again.
“I’m pretty sure Noel isn’t in a crazy cult,” Ben said over the phone.
“I didn’t say he was,” Gina said. “But he’s still here, under the same roof, and I have to look out for my boys.”
“Fair point. But what do you want me to do?”
“At least run some kind of background check. And can you come over in uniform when he gets here? Kind of give him a little scare?”
“Background check, yes. But you’re ten times scarier than me, big sis, and we all know it. Put your game face on, and he won’t even dare to ask you to pass the salt at dinner.”
“Sure. My game face.”
“It’ll be okay,” Ben said in a gentler tone. “I promise.”
They hung up, and Gina sat on her bed, staring into space for a long moment. Her game face for the past year had been about keeping her private sorrow away from the kids. It had been a long time since she’d gone toe to toe with a young, attractive man.
7
“Here’s the guest room.” Marjorie opened the door and stepped back so Noel could enter first. He was unsteady on his crutches, even though his knee was stabilized with a thick brace. It felt like he was dragging an additional fifty pounds around by his biceps.
The room was nice, definitely falling under the category of middle-aged decorator. The bedding was floral and ruffled, matched by prints on the walls. The light beige carpet still bore vacuum tracks, and the dresser held a small TV.
“This is great, thank you,” Noel said. He had a headache, and his knee was killing him. He glanced at his watch and was relieved to see it would be time for more painkillers in an hour. He’d refused the opioids, but his bottle of ibuprofen was a must.
“I’ll let Gina help you get settled,” Marjorie said. “Would you like to join us for dinner tonight, or would you rather have a tray?”
“A tray, please, if it’s not too much trouble,” Noel replied. He was wiped out, and the thought of sitting down with Gina and her family and making small talk throughout a meal was formidable.
“No problem.” Marjorie smiled and pointed. “That door leads to your bathroom. I already put out some fresh towels.”
“Thank you,” Noel said. Her smile warmed his heart.
“Now, when do you start physical therapy?”
He tried to think back to the ream of paperwork they’d given him when he was discharged. “Not for a few weeks. Someone is supposed to call me to set it up.”
“Very good. We’ll make sure to get you there,” Marjorie said.
The question of New Orleans hung in the air. Marjorie knew the competition began the day he was supposed to start therapy. But for now, Noel figured they would both ignore it. A lot could happen in two weeks, and he planned to be at the competition no matter what.
Marjorie left, and Noel took a seat on the bed with a sigh. It felt good to get the weight off his leg. Surgery had been two days ago, and he’d spent most of the time imagining ways to slip out of the hospital and take off. But who was he kidding? He’d never get very far on this knee, not until it had a chance to heal.
The room was on the front of the house, at ground level, facing the curved brick driveway. Marjorie had pointed out the ocean to him as they’d driven up the Seaside Boulevard, but it was tucked away behind the stately homes lining the street. He could smell it though, the tinge of brine in the air and the promise of freedom, of sand, of creation.
The sound of a familiar engine got him off the bed to hobble to the window. Gina had driven his van from the motel parking lot, while he’d had a much more luxurious ride with Marjorie in her Cadillac. Well, good. She could suffer a little in his piece of junk. The power steering was going out and Noel knew Gina would have had to wrestle with it all the way from Cinnamon Hills.
She parked in the driveway and threw the door open to the van. She was so little that she had to climb down from the driver’s seat using the running boards, her hand grasping the door for balance. Noel grinned. He never used the running boards, even thought of taking them off. But as he watched Gina and her cute little curves trying to maneuver it, he changed his mind.
His knee throbbed, and he leaned heavily on the crutches as he went back to the bed. Marjorie had left the door open, and a few minutes later, Gina knocked on the doorframe, then poked her head inside. Her dark hair swung over one shoulder, and she pushed it back impatiently. “What do you need from the van?”
Sweet Noel Page 5
