“Well, some change is bound to happen,” Belinda said.
“I know,” Noelle grumbled. She bowed her head. She really did. Same way she understood that the retail industry was changing. She also knew she was acting irrational and childish about the entire situation. Ever since Belinda announced the sale, however, she’d been unable to catch her breath. It felt like there were fingers clawing inside her looking for purchase. A continual churning sensation. Like she was about to lose her grip.
James Hammond’s arrival only made the feeling worse.
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it though,” she said referring to the prospect of change.
Belinda nudged her shoulder. “Sweetheart, you wouldn’t be you if you did. Cheer up. Mr. Hammond will be out of your hair soon.”
“Not soon enough,” she replied.
“What wouldn’t be soon enough?” Hammond’s voice caused her to start in her chair. Turning, she saw a nurse pushing him toward her. He was slouched down in a wheelchair, a hand propping his head. Noelle caught a glimpse of a white bandage on the back of his scalp.
“The bandage can come off tomorrow,” the nurse told them.
“How are you feeling, Mr. Hammond?” Belinda asked.
“Like someone split my head open. Who knew such a little device could pack such a wallop?”
“Lots of things pack a wallop when they’re going thirty miles an hour. We pulled the toy from the shelves. Though I doubt it would have been popular anyway, once parents heard what happened.”
“Don’t blame them. Thing could slice an ear off.” Groaning, he leaned forward and buried his face in both hands as though one was suddenly not enough to hold it up. “I’m going to have Hammond’s pull them too as soon as I get back to Boston,” he spoke through his fingers.
“That won’t be anytime soon, I’m afraid. You heard what Dr. Nelson said,” the nurse warned.
“What did she say?” Noelle asked. She didn’t like the sound of the nurse’s comment.
Hammond waved a hand before cradling his head again. “Nothing.”
“Mr. Hammond has a slight concussion. He’s been advised to rest for the next couple of days. That includes no air travel.”
“You mean you’re staying here?” No, no, no. Noelle’s stomach started to twist. He was supposed to go away, not stick around for the weekend.
“The doctor merely recommended I rest,” James replied. “No one said it was mandatory.”
“Perhaps not, but it’s generally a good idea to take doctors’ advice,” Belinda said.
“We’re talking about a handful of stitches. Nothing I haven’t had before. I’ll be fine. Why don’t we go have our lunch as planned and finish our conversation? I could use some food in my stomach. What kind of soup did you say they made?”
“Gingerbread,” Noelle replied.
“The only place you should be going is to bed,” the nurse said.
Much as Noelle hated to admit it, the nurse was right. He was looking paler by the minute. She remembered how unsteady he’d been right after the accident; he could barely sit up.
Funny, but he still looked formidable despite the pallor. A virile invalid. Noelle didn’t think it possible. Must be the combination of square jaw and broad shoulders, she decided. And the dark suit. Black made everyone look intimidating.
Again, he waved off the nurse’s advice. “Nonsense. I rested while waiting for the doctor. Why don’t we go have our lunch as planned and finish our conversation? I could use some food in my stomach. What kind of soup did you say they made?”
“I just told you.”
A crease deepened between his eyes. “You did?”
“Uh-huh. Two seconds ago.”
“That only proves I’m hungry. I’m having trouble listening.” He pushed himself to a standing position, squaring his shoulders proudly when he reached his feet. His upper body swayed back and forth unsteadily. “See?” he said. “Fine. Let’s go.”
Noelle looked over her shoulder at Belinda who shook her head in return. “I’m not going to negotiate anything while you’re unsteady on your feet,” her mother-in-law said. “I won’t be accused of taking advantage when you’re not thinking straight.”
James laughed. “You’re a smart businesswoman, Belinda, but I can assure you, no one ever takes advantage of me.”
“That I can believe,” Noelle murmured.
He looked at her and smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Mrs. Fryberg. Now how about we go get that lunch we missed...”
It took two steps for him to lose his balance. His eyes started to roll back in his head, and his knees started to buckle.
Noelle reached him first. “Okay, that’s enough,” she said, reaching around his waist. Thanks to the size difference, it took a minute to maneuver him, but eventually she managed to lower him into the wheelchair. Unfortunately, the downward momentum pulled her along, as well. She landed with one hand pressed against his torso and knee wedged between his thighs. Man, but he was solid. A tall, lean block of granite.
She looked up to find herself nose to nose with him. Up close, his eyes were far more dappled than she realized, the green more of an accent color than true eye shade.
He had freckles too. A smattering across the bridge of his nose.
Cold-blooded businessmen weren’t supposed to have freckles.
“Think you might listen to the nurse now?” she asked.
“I was light-headed for a moment, that’s all.”
“Light-headed, huh?” She pushed herself to her feet. To her embarrassment, the move required splaying her hand wider, so that the palm of her hand pressed over his heart. Fortunately, he was too dizzy or distracted to comment.
“Any more light-headed and you would have hit the floor,” she told him. “Are you trying to get more stitches?”
“I’m not...”
“Face it, Mr. Hammond, you’re in no condition to do anything but rest,” Belinda said. “We’ll talk when you’re feeling better. Monday.”
“Monday?” He’d started to rest his head in his hands again, but when Belinda spoke, he jerked his head upward. The pain crossing his face made Noelle wince. “Why wait until then? I won’t need that many days to recover.”
“Maybe not, but that is the next time I’ll be able to see you. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. The only business I’ll be discussing is whether the stuffing is too dry.”
“What about Friday?”
Noelle answered for her. “Black Friday, remember? Around these parts, it’s the kickoff for the annual Christmas festival, the biggest weekend of our year.”
“I’ll be much too busy to give you the proper time,” Belinda added.
Noelle watched the muscle twitching in Hammond’s jaw. Clearly, he preferred being the one who dictated the schedule, and not the other way around.
“Let me get this straight.” Whether his voice was low by design or discomfort, Noelle couldn’t guess. His tension came though nevertheless. “I’m not allowed to fly home for the next twenty-four hours...”
“At least,” the nurse said.
The muscle twitched again. “At least twenty-four hours,” he corrected. “Nor will you meet with me for the next five days?”
“That’s correct,” Belinda replied. “We can meet first thing Monday morning, and conclude our preliminary negotiations.”
“I see.” He nodded. Slowly. Anyone with two eyes could tell he didn’t appreciate this change in plans at all. Noelle would be lying if she didn’t say it gave her a tiny trill of satisfaction. Payback for his wanting to toss Fryer.
“Fine,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “We’ll talk Monday. Only because my head hurts too much to argue.” Noelle had a feeling he wasn’t kidding. “What was the name of that hotel?”
“The Nutcracker Inn,” she replied.
“Right, that one. I’m going to need a room, and something to eat. What did you say that soup was?”
“Gingerbread.” It was the third time he’d asked. She looked at the nurse who nodded.
“Temporary short-term memory loss can happen with concussions. It should recede soon enough. However, I think you might have a more pressing problem.”
“I do?”
“He does?”
The two of them spoke at the same time. “I’m not sure the Nutcracker has any rooms,” the nurse replied. “You know how booked it gets during the holidays.”
“Wait a second.” James tried to look up at the nurse, only to wince and close his eyes. “Please don’t tell me there’s no room at the inn.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” the nurse replied. “Did you know that once we even had a baby born—”
“I doubt Mr. Hammond will have to do anything quite as dramatic,” Noelle interjected. No need for the conversation to head down that particular road.
The nurse offered a tight-lipped smile. Apparently, she didn’t appreciate being cut off. “Either way, you’re going to need someone to look in on you. Doctor’s orders.”
“The concierge will love that request,” Hammond muttered.
“We could arrange for a private duty nurse.”
“Good grief,” Belinda said. “That doesn’t sound pleasant at all.”
“Pleasant isn’t exactly on the table right now.” Hammond’s eyes had grown heavy lidded and his words were slurred. It was obvious the entire conversation was exhausting him, and Noelle couldn’t help but feel bad.
Although she doubted he’d appreciate the compassion. A man like Hammond, with his disregard for sentiment and tradition, would despise showing any hint of vulnerability.
“Of course pleasant is on the table,” Belinda said. “This is Fryberg.” The meaning behind her emphasis was obvious.
Hammond let out a low groan. Still feeling compassionate, Noelle decided the noise was coincidental.
Her mother-in-law continued as if the noise never happened. “We’re not going to let you spend your weekend in some hotel room, eating room service and being attended to by a stranger. You’ll spend the weekend with me. That way you can recuperate, and enjoy a proper Thanksgiving, as well.”
The strangest look crossed Hammond’s face. Part surprise, part darkness as though her mother-in-law’s suggestion unnerved him. Noelle didn’t picture him as a man who got unnerved. Ever.
“I don’t want to put you out,” he said.
“You won’t. I have plenty of room. I’ll even make you some...oh, shoot.” A look crossed her features, not nearly as dark as Hammond’s, but definitely distressed.
“What is it?” Noelle asked.
“The Orion House Dinner is this evening. I completely forgot.”
In all the craziness, so had Noelle. Fryberg’s was being honored for its fund-raising efforts on behalf of homeless veterans. “Would you mind?” her mother-in-law asked. “I don’t want Orion House to think I don’t appreciate the honor. The project meant so much to Ned.”
“I know,” replied Noelle. After Kevin’s death, her father-in-law had channeled his grief into helping as many veteran programs as possible. Orion House had topped the list. “He was very passionate about wanting to help.”
“That he was,” Belinda said, getting the faraway look she always got when they discussed Ned. The family had been through a lot these past years, and yet they continued to channel their energy into the community. Their dedication in the face of grief made her proud to bear the Fryberg name.
“Would you mind stepping in instead?”
“Not at all,” she told her. “I’d love to.” It’d be an honor to accept an award for them.
“Thank goodness.” The older woman let out a long sigh. “I was afraid that because of our words earlier... Never mind.” Whatever her mother-in-law had been about to say she waved away. “Let me pull my car around. I’ll help you get Mr. Hammond settled, and then go home to change.”
Help her...? Wait... What exactly had she agreed to do?
Noelle opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. Nothing came out though. That’s because she knew what she’d agreed to. As surely as the sickening feeling growing in her stomach.
Somehow, James Hammond had become her responsibility. She looked over to her mother-in-law, but Belinda was busy fishing through her purse. And here she thought she would be free of the man. Talk about your sick karmic jokes. If only she’d been the one hit in the head.
“Do you need an extra copy of the discharge instructions?” the nurse asked her.
“No,” Noelle replied with a sigh. “I know what to expect.”
There was only one consolation, if you could call it that. Hammond looked about as thrilled over this change of events as she was.
Goodie. They could be miserable together.
* * *
A few minutes later, James found himself being wheeled outside behind a tiny bundle of annoyance, who marched toward the waiting sedan with her arms yet again wrapped tightly across her chest. A voice behind his headache wondered if they were permanently attached to her body that way.
“Why don’t you take the front seat?” Belinda opened the passenger door. “I’ve pulled it all the way back so you’ll have plenty of leg room.”
Front seat, back seat. Didn’t make much difference. Neither were the cockpit of his private plane. His head felt split in two, the world was tipping on its axis and he wanted nothing more than to be in his bed back in Boston. Damn drone.
He pushed himself to his feet only to have the world rock back and forth like a seesaw. A second later, an arm wrapped around his biceps, steadying him, and he smelled the sweet scent of orange blossoms. The elf. He recognized the perfume from the confines of the elevator. Funny, but he expected her to smell Christmassy, not like Florida sunshine. Maybe they were out of sugar cookie perfume this week.
“Something wrong?”
Turning his head—barely—he saw her frowning at him and realized he’d snorted out loud at his joke. “Do you really need to ask?”
He was being an ass, he knew that, but with stitches in his scalp, surely he was entitled to a little churlishness?
The frown deepened. “Watch your head,” she replied.
James did as he was told, and as his reward, the orange blossoms—as well as her grip—disappeared. In their absence, his headache intensified. He found himself slumped against a leather armrest with his fingers pressed against his temple to hold his head up.
“Fortunately, we don’t have to drive too far,” he heard Belinda say. “Noelle only lives a short distance from town.”
“Great.” What he really wanted to say was that two feet was too far what with the lights outside dipping and rocking as they passed by. Thankfully the sun had set. If those were buildings bobbing, he’d be lurching the contents of his stomach all over his Bostonians. He closed his eyes, and did his best to imagine orange blossoms.
“The nurse seemed to think the worst of the dizziness would pass by tomorrow,” Noelle said from behind him.
“Thank God,” he whispered. If true, then maybe he could snag a ride to the airport and fly home, doctor’s orders be damned. He bet the elf would drive him. After all, she didn’t want him at her house any more than he wanted to be there. He’d caught the look on the woman’s face when Belinda foisted him on her.
Foisted. What a perfect word for the situation. Stuck where he didn’t want to be, dependent on people who didn’t want him around.
Story of his life.
Great. He’d moved from churlish to pity party. Why not round out the trifecta and start whining too?
How he hated this. Hated having
no choice. Hated being weak and needy. He hadn’t needed anyone since he was twelve years old. Needing and foisting were incompatible concepts.
“It’s too bad you can’t look out the window,” Belinda said. “The town looks beautiful all lit up.”
James pried open one eye to see building after building decorated with Christmas lights. Ugh. One in particular had a giant evergreen dripping with red and green.
“That’s the Nutcracker Inn. The Bavarian market is next door. It’ll be packed on Friday for the festival.”
“I doubt Mr. Hammond is very interested in a tour, Belinda.”
“I’m merely pointing out a few of the landmarks since he’s going to be here all weekend.”
Not if he could help it, thought James.
“The man can’t remember what kind of soup they serve—I doubt he’ll remember what the place looks like.”
“There’s no need to be harsh, Noelle Fryberg.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Actually, James rather liked the harshness. Beat being treated like a patient. “Pumpkin,” he replied.
“Excuse me?” Belinda asked.
“The soup. It’s pumpkin.”
“You mean gingerbread,” Noelle replied.
“Oh. Right.” He knew it was some kind of seasonal flavor. His cheeks grew warm.
Belinda patted him on the knee. “Don’t worry about it, Mr. Hammond. I’m sure you’ll be back to normal by tomorrow.”
“Let’s hope so,” he heard the elf mutter.
James couldn’t have agreed with her more.
CHAPTER THREE
THE NEXT MORNING James woke to what had to be the best-smelling candle in the universe—sweet with traces of allspice and cinnamon—which was odd since he didn’t normally buy candles. Maybe the smell had something to do with the stinging sensation on the back of his head and the vague memories of dark hair and kitten eyes dancing on the edge of his brain.
And orange blossoms. For some reason, the first thought in his mind was that as delicious as the candle smelled, it wasn’t orange blossoms.
Slowly, he pried open an eye. What the...?
Christmas with Her Millionaire Boss Page 3
